Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 68 My Second Brother is Invincible

War is not child's play; there will be no miracles of everyone escaping unscathed, nor will there be any so-called hopes and dreams. All that exists is a blood and flesh mill of death and wailing.

Three standard Terra months have passed since Perturabo took command of the Iron Warriors. During this time, the Fourth Legion conquered three star systems, a total of 17 major planets, and wiped out a human world corrupted by parasitic aliens.

Just as Mordred had promised, he relinquished all command authority, handing the fleet over to Peturabo, and for three months he did not overstep his bounds in the slightest.

But as the Iron Warriors achieved victory after victory, Peturabo lost his initial excitement and longing, replaced only by numbness and entanglement.

Whether or not she was a Primarch, Peturabo was essentially just a country princess from Olympia. No matter how many times the chessboard was played, it could not compare to the shock of a bloody tug-of-war that spanned one or more worlds.

A comrade who might have been chatting with you just minutes ago, boasting about how beautiful his fiancée is and how he'll be getting married after the war, could be killed by a stray bullet the next second, becoming a cold number on the kill list.

Whether they are auxiliary troops or space marines, there is no difference under saturation bombardment. At most, one will be reduced to minced meat, while the other will at least have a whole corpse protected by terracotta armor.

Especially those soldiers whose limbs were shattered and whose internal organs were spilled all over the ground, but who did not die immediately, shouted for the Emperor and for the truth of the Empire, and in the end, they took the bombs with them and perished together with the enemy.

These images had a profound impact on Peturabo, making her increasingly cautious and apprehensive. She feared that her command errors would lead to the needless sacrifice of her soldiers, and could only convince herself that the imperial truth was right and that their deaths were for a better tomorrow.

The best way to avoid casualties is through firepower. Under this mindset, the Iron Warriors gradually developed the tactical habit of bombarding the ground with heavy artillery, using cold data calculations to gradually expand their advantage and ultimately avoid horrific casualties.

The only downside is that it consumes energy too quickly and is mentally taxing, but Peturabo believes it's all worth it; she is the Primarch, and she can handle everything.

In stark contrast to Perturabo's cautiousness, Mordred fought with abandon, and his Atlas army, unafraid of casualties, genuinely enjoyed this rare hunt.

With his overwhelming stats, Mordred completely abandoned any thought. For him, it was simply a matter of tearing the enemy apart. He would kill whoever Perturabo told him to, and he was having a blast every day.

At this very moment, on this ocean world called Sacred Cave Star, which has been occupied by space sharks, a fierce and bloody tug-of-war has broken out.

Clad in heavy armor, Mordred charged forward at high speed, while the Black Knights, whose coordination with her was becoming increasingly adept, quickly cleared the battlefield to cover the Iron Warriors in establishing a forward outpost.

To maximize efficiency, Mordred abandoned his Ashbringer and picked up two heavy machine guns to fire back and forth. He only unleashed his ambition against heavily armored units, rewarding them with a plasma attack and occasionally throwing a single-soldier nuclear grenade.

Yes, after conducting battlefield research on Atlas and listening to a large number of Legion opinions, the Hive Research Institute has developed a miniature nuclear grenade in a frenzied manner.

This weapon is small in size but powerful, with an absolute kill radius of 200 meters. As long as you are not afraid of death, you can become the King of Jade-Faced Grenades and be the coolest guy on the battlefield.

Most importantly, this type of grenade leaves no radiation residue after exploding, making it absolutely environmentally friendly and harmless.

Explosions, explosions, and more explosions!

The Atlas loved the feeling of being bombarded, especially the soul debris that permeated the entire battlefield. As long as it was formed into fel crystals, both they and their demonic pets could become stronger again.

Nothing is more exhilarating than the ability to become stronger through hard work. Atlas, who was more like a demon than a demon, absorbed the power frantically, even creating a small ripple in the warp, attracting countless gazes.

The god of life granted them a more resilient life, allowing their wounds to heal faster and sparing them from fatal blows.

The god of wisdom bestowed upon them more agile minds, spread a spell of dullness that confuses their enemies, and enabled them to wield psionic fireballs.

The Dark Prince granted them more agile and versatile forms, transforming them into dancing death ghosts on the battlefield, dodging the unavoidable bullets and artillery fire.

The Blood God was the most generous, sparing no effort to bestow blessings upon the war, and even laughing heartily at these promising demon princes in reserve.

As for this blessing of power that no longer even needed to be acted out, Atlas had only one reaction: he wanted it all. I don't care about this or that, all I want right now is to fight! —Waaaagh!!!!
Emerald green fel energy, now materialized, flickered on the armor, radiating from Mordred, the Primarch who had absorbed most of the Blessing, to every Atlas and even Spartan warrior, completing a magnificent transformation from warp magic to mystical power.

But the more openly NTR-like the behavior, the happier the Four Gods became, and they continued to escalate the situation, as they loved watching this.

Especially when they thought of the cursed person's dark and gloomy expression, the four peddlers felt an extreme sense of pleasure, like emperors, making it the most green fantasy ever.

"Ah! With such immense power, I am now invincible! Waaaagh!!!"

With a roar from Mordred in the center of the battlefield, the fel energy that had only existed around Atlas expanded instantly, eventually enveloping the entire battlefield and creating a verdant vortex in the sky.

Even the Iron Warriors started to feel excited, sometimes shouting "I'm steel inside and out," sometimes chanting "Hey ha hey ha," and occasionally letting out a "Waaaagh."

Without any hesitation, the steel warriors who had already established forward outposts rushed out and joined the battle under the cover of Xu Jin's barrage of bullets.

After being empowered by the evil energy field, not only Atlas, but also the Iron Warriors and the mortal support army felt stronger. They jumped higher, ran faster, and were extremely happy with their minds blank, with only one thought in mind: to kill the opponent.

The only ones whose Dao heart collapsed on the entire battlefield were those space sharks. They wondered where these mad dogs came from and what they were doing.
Those big cans are one thing, but how come you, a skinny little monkey, can break through my armor with a small pistol? This is not scientific, this is not scientific! Don't come any closer!

"Hmph, hmph, ahhh—"

This scene thrilled Peturabo, relieving much of the pressure of intense mental calculations. He was just puzzled as to why the ammunition was being consumed so quickly.

Despite his puzzlement, Perturabo still allocated more ammunition supplies to the front lines without hesitation. After all, Mordred, a hero unit that could lead troops to the battlefield instantly, was simply too useful.

Watching his own battle lines rapidly advancing in the holographic image, Peturabo couldn't help but exclaim in admiration:
"My second brother is truly invincible!"

"Fricks, look! That anti-aircraft turret was cleaved in two with a single blow! Damn it, my second brother wasn't lying to me after all. This is the result of hard work and sweat!"

“Mother, I’m glad you’re happy.” Fricks, who had been promoted to Primarch’s lieutenant, was more composed, but he hesitated in his heart, wondering if he should say the words he was supposed to say.

Seeing their mother, who was beginning to care about the casualties of her subordinates and was growing up rapidly, not only Fricks, but all the Iron Warriors felt a deep sense of pride.

But in order to prevent that beautiful illusion from withering instantly when the lie was exposed, after exchanging glances with the Trident's higher-ups and receiving affirmation from all the inner circle members, Fricks finally spoke:

"Mother, we are advancing very quickly, but our supplies and ammunition are severely insufficient. Should we pause and rest?"

After finishing his report, Fricks immediately closed his eyes, praying in his heart that he would never hear that order again.

"No need! Have the nearest supply world send the supplies over. I must complete the mission. Fricks, don't you want the Legion to have its own forge world?"

“I would like to, but this order will severely strain the supply lines. Olympia may not be able to keep up with this production pace. If it were His Highness Mordred, he would definitely have the legion rest.”

This time, Fricks didn't close his eyes, but stared straight at his Primarch. However, he didn't see what he wanted in those iron-grey eyes, only a look of rage:
“Fricks, I’ll say it again, I am the commander of the Iron Warriors Legion, my orders are never wrong, you just need to obey.”

Perhaps realizing his tone was too harsh, Perturabo made a rare dry joke to ease the tension: "I know Mordred is very popular, I could even appoint him as the honorary commander of the Iron Warriors."

But you are my offspring, and I believe in the truth of the Empire. We are fighting for a great goal!

Fricks, don't you dare learn from that ambitious Goff!

(End of this chapter)