Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 32 Vulcan: Second brother, you were right, it was me who betrayed you again!
Mordred was not lying; the emperor's son did indeed have the firmest skin.

With the technology Atlas extracted from the AI ​​database, physical modification was a piece of cake.

Even under the education of that learning machine, Mordred has begun to gradually explore the mysteries of the Primarch. The only thing that bothers him is that noisy blue parrot.

Sometimes Mordred wondered if the learning machine Old Huang had given him was equipped with some kind of abominable AI. Why did this stupid parrot keep trying to make him recognize it as his father? Could it be that this thing was modified from a Little Tyrant learning machine?

"Damn it, that useless Haki Huang, he uses AI himself but won't let others use it, he's so mean."

Getting back to the main point, after confirming that there were no problems with his offspring, Forgrim decisively adopted the treatment plan. As for those so-called additional packages, they were unnecessary; he didn't want his offspring to become a bunch of freaks.

But Mordred brought him into the Hive not just for that; her main purpose was to promote her Spartan warrior modification program.

As you move forward, a training ground that is a 1:1 replica of the top floor of the Nest City comes into view, where a simulated street battle is taking place.

The two sides were locked in fierce combat, with soldiers being eliminated every moment. Even patrol knights were brought in to participate in this exercise without the sound of gunfire.

"Are those Space Marines? Why are they so thin, and why are there women among them?"

Knowing that this ignorant Fu Laosan would ask such a question, Mordred immediately stopped the simulation and summoned a soldier.

A tall female warrior, clad in dark green armor and easily over two meters tall, approached the two and gracefully gave a salute.

"Spartan Sergeant First Class Halsey-023 reporting for duty! Heh heh, living up to the Legion's expectations!"

"Hmm, not bad. I know your name. I heard that you once led a group to fight my dog-man guard one-on-one, and you were actually not killed. You are indeed a good warrior from Qatar."

Mordred's teasing made Halsey lower her head in shame. If she had a chance to travel through time, she would never be foolish enough to provoke those eight dog-men. Heaven knows why these dogs were like monsters, not only with thick skin but also able to breathe fire and thunder.

Especially that guy named Seven, who actually chased them in a Jeep and broke his own leg.

"Your Highness is joking. We were just sparring with the eight instructors. We will never dare to do that again."

Halsey dared not, for a tall, red and white canine-man appeared behind her. It was none other than Seven, one of the Eight Great Canine-Men who loved speeding in jeeps and was known as Brilliant Ice, a master of throwing axes.

"Boss, I have..."

"Shh, Seven, we'll talk about it later. Can't you see I'm working for the Legion's benefit? You go play somewhere else."

Seven scratched his head, obediently found a corner to curl up, took out his data tablet and started playing games, waiting for his boss to finish his work.

Compared to the dogs that are everywhere in the peaceful city, a dog-man with strange fur is not special. Fugrim is more curious about the so-called Spartan warrior in front of him. He can tell that this is a super soldier that has undergone deep modification, but it is clear that it is still far from being a Space Marine.

Seeing that the fish had taken the bait, Mordred gestured for Halsey to continue training, while he handed him a data list:

"My purpose in creating the Spartan soldiers was to fill the ecological niche gap between the Space Marines and the mortal auxiliary forces, and to alleviate the pressure on small legions like the Atlas and the Imperial Sons."

Through a simplified thirteen-step genetic modification procedure modeled after the Space Marines' modifications, each Spartan warrior gains significant physical enhancements and a lifespan beyond that of ordinary humans.

Combined with the harsh environment combat suit I made for it, it can be used as a knock-off mini version of a Space Marine.

What's even more ingenious is that the Spartans don't need the long training period of the Space Marines, or even a gene seed. All they need is a little Primarch blood, and once the adaptation is successful, they can be mass-produced.

With them, a small legion like ours will no longer have to worry about a shortage of troops. Do you know what that means?

"That means you'll be beaten to death by your father!" Forgrim mercilessly refuted Mordred's fantasy. The past six months of interaction had made Forgrim realize that his second brother had no respect for their father whatsoever, and now, with his knock-off Space Marines, he was clearly ambitious.

"How could that be? I'm contributing to the Great Expedition. Old Huang is probably overjoyed."

Grabbing his younger brother, Mordred led him to a corner and continued explaining his grand plan:
"Third brother, I treat you like my own brother. Don't you want the Emperor's son to be great again? Think about it. Expanding the legion requires gene seeds, and gene seeds aren't like cabbages that anyone can use."

As far as I know, even for the Fourth Legion, which has the highest compatibility and stability, not everyone can be matched with the seed; there are many who are rejected. But the Spartan warriors are different.

We can conduct a second selection from the unsuccessful candidates, turning these promising talents into Spartans to serve the legion, with a conversion rate as high as 30%.

Even if the three of them are equivalent to one, it still gives us half the manpower. Besides, it doesn't discriminate based on gender, so why not?

Forgrim was indeed tempted. The number of the Sons of the Emperor was already small, and at their current size, it might take a hundred years to catch up with the other legions.

The small number of legions means that they cannot carry out large-scale operations and can only conduct point raids. The rest must be left to the mortal auxiliary army.

Facing weaklings is fine, but if the enemy is stronger, your own offspring might be safe, but the auxiliary troops will definitely be wiped out as quickly as wheat.

Without the support of auxiliary forces, it would be a complete fantasy for Space Marines to go on expeditions; they would be exhausted even if they killed a single pig on a planet.

"But how can we guarantee their loyalty? They don't even have the genetic seed."

It was obvious from his voice that the brat hadn't read the lab log carefully, so Mordred gave him a sharp rap on the head, grabbed his ear, and yelled:
"Are you blind? I wrote it clearly here that, depending on the blood sample of the Primarch used, Spartan warriors will also exhibit characteristics similar to Space Marines and develop a strong psychological identification with the Legion."

This was determined through a comparative experiment using blood samples from you, me, and Vulcan. This attachment is even more pronounced, stemming from psychological suggestion at the genetic level.

Then I'll call Vulcan over, and the three of us can form an inner circle of the empire. You'll be the regent, I'll be the emperor, and he'll be the war general. Wouldn't that be wonderful!

Forgrim was tempted, but said he didn't want to be regent. Facing political affairs every day was undoubtedly torture. He wanted to be warlord, which forced Mordred to switch positions.

"So, you're telling me about something this good, but what's the price?"

"The price you'll pay is that you two will get a severe scolding from your father."

Hearing someone mention the Emperor again, Mordred became truly enraged and roared:

"Bullshit! If I don't tell you, how would he know? Huh? I think you're really stubborn! Wait, who's speaking?"

Mordred turned around instantly, wanting to see who was being so foolish, and then he saw a figure that shouldn't have been there.

"Rambo? What brings you back!"
"Boohoo! Seven, you idiot, why didn't you report this to me?"

As soon as he finished speaking, a golden light flew out from Rambo's collar, transforming into a golden door that illuminated a tall figure in the opposite space. It was Vulcan, who was aboard the Emperor Dream.

The moment Mordred saw the black man, she knew she was doomed. Vulcan knew, and that Emperor, that dog…

boom! ! !
The immense force struck, and Mordred, hit hard on the back of the head, went black. Before he shattered through the wall and became a meteor, he left behind only one last utterance:

"Vulcan, you traitor!"

(End of this chapter)