My Adoptive Father Above, Please Accept Your Dog's Bow!

Father, please accept this dog's kowtow!

Sacred Terra.

Staring at the mountain of paperwork before him, Magnus felt like dying. No matter how he calculated, he never expected that bastard Cat-lliman would steal his spot.

Unlike that dog Hogg, almost no one worried about him dying. Even if the universe met its Silence, there would likely still be a lump of rotting meat in the void shouting nonsense like, "I did nothing wrong."

But Cat-lliman was different. The entire administration of Imperium currently relied on this administrative brat. With him gone, the other Primarchs were dragged in to act as heartless grading machines.

They say necessity is the mother of invention. After high-intensity labor, that brute Angron actually awakened a talent, learning to link the minds of other Primarchs to act as a central processor.

"Damn it, why don't I have a talent like that?"

Magnus was filled with regret. Why didn't Emperor add this function when creating him? It left Angron free to slack off and drink tea while his brothers were worked like oxen and horses.

Magnus wasn't the only one with such thoughts; almost all the Primarchs envied Angron to death. But talent is talent—it wasn't something one could just choose to have.

Meanwhile, during the grueling sessions of paperwork, the Primarchs began to doubt their own abilities. Why was the pressure so immense just because one Cat-lliman was missing? Was Cat-lliman actually a spreadsheet in human form?

Noticing his brothers' low morale, Horus suggested a break for black tea. The proposal was immediately well-received, and everyone abandoned their work to head for the lounge.

After ten thousand years of Longchang Enlightenment, Horus had become much more composed, but even he couldn't handle working for a year straight.

Draining the last drop of tea, Horus asked Magnus,