Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 367 Recommended Reading for Teenagers

When Magna Dorn felt very tired, he would put on his tattered woolen robe, put on his gray cloak outside, and find a place to lie down for a while - this was mainly because his fatigue was mental, not physical.

Even machine spirits could tire, a possibility that Magnar Dorn had never considered when he first opened his eyes at Perturabo's workbench.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that this lithe, free-spirited machine-spirit is now trapped in flesh and blood - even Rogal Dorn's flesh and blood is still flesh and blood.

Magnar Dorn had seen and learned so much in so many battles at the Saturnine Wall that he was now visibly worried.

At this time, the careful company of the head of the Templar Knights is particularly valuable.

He would appear when Magnar had forgotten that humans needed to eat on a regular basis and had been enduring the strange sensation that troubled his internal organs, and the young machine spirit had never had a stomachache since then.

He will appear in time when Magna needs to deal with more troublesome enemies, and every time he will sweep the whole place with his terrible martial arts. Wherever Magna appears, the most powerful elite enemies in that place will be destroyed by his outstanding descendants like dry weeds.

So much so that later Sanguinius began to joke, "Brother, your son is so outstanding that I began to doubt whether he was a gift from our father. Do you know? Now they - those who are still fighting, what do they start to call him?"

Magnar raised his eyes from under Dorn's white hair and looked at the golden-haired archangel inquiringly. The angel's golden armor still bore traces of the swords that had pierced his body. "What do they call him now?"

"The Emperor's Champion," the Archangel said in a voice that was almost too brisk. "They call him the Emperor's Champion."

Magna saw his snow-white but somewhat damaged wings slightly arched and gathered together against the master's will.

"Oh," he said wearily, "that doesn't suit him. That's my title and responsibility."

As the words fell, the air near them in the command post suddenly became stagnant. People held their breath, and although they did not dare to stop the work in their hands, some people were swallowing their saliva.

"That's right." Sanguinius seemed a little overwhelmed by Dorn's blunt answer. He raised his hand slightly, as if he was undecided whether to stop his brother, who seemed to be unable to maintain his restraint and calm expression.

"But I guess that's just what people tell each other..."

"Don't think about it."

"I'm sorry—Rog, what did you say?"

"I say, forget it." The golden-armored Terran commander stood up suddenly and threw away the gray cloak covering his body. "I've had enough!!! Whoever is in charge can take care of it!!! He is not me!!!!!! Let those golden people who are despised by everyone get out of their place!!! Then I'm going to explode, fly up and deal with the shit, and then come back to hang them all on the eternal sky!!!"

He waved his hands and finally roared unable to bear it any longer in the face of his brother's surprised gaze and everyone's horrified eyes.

"No one can take my Sigismund from me for any reason and tell my child something that makes sense, like he must be a tool!! Being a tool is never the only option for a child!! Do you understand?! No! person! or! God! can do that! If anyone! wants to do that, let him stand in front of me and tell me in person!"

He took a breath, and narrowed his burning ice-like eyes at them amid the whispers and gazes of everyone who thought he had finally gone crazy, "If you can't do it, don't try to use some great principles that are only useful to moral and rule-abiding people to make me compromise. He is my child, don't force him to grow up to replace me, that is the behavior that will make the inanimate ecstasy."

"Roger..."

Iris's flaming eyes turned to the golden archangel, "It's not your fault." He tried to make his voice soft, "It's not your fault, Sanguinius... Don't panic, you have been doing well, keep it up, keep our hope alive, my..."

He swallowed the last two words.

"Let's go to the next battlefield."

The Terran Guardian reached out his hand to the side of his seat. Sigismund was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He was wearing black and yellow power armor, holding a black sword shining with a golden force field in his hand, and looking at his primarch with his head raised proudly.

"Yes," the chief templar whispered back, in a voice that only Sanguinius could hear, "this time, I will return, and I will always be by your side."

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Inside the Iron Blood Labyrinth Treasure House
"Oh no, what on earth did he yell that the monitoring system automatically determined to be content that needed to be blocked?"

Ramizarn, who was watching the last broadcast, tutted his comment. "Your observation module automatically adds profanity to his speech and changes blood to green, skulls to sacks, and corpses to tombstones - but it doesn't block the changes to Fulgrim and his Emperor's Children. Uh, I think it needs to be blocked?"

“Is it necessary to be blocked to that extent?”

"Uh, don't you need it?"

"Oh, so it's necessary?"

"You pure-blooded Englishman! I have a feeling he'll be very angry and hard to appease when he comes back. Look at the content of the test script you wrote and see what you've pushed the kid into. It's heartbreaking to see him break down after speaking so maturely."

"Indeed, some of the liars are quite old, but my students are less than one year old."

The border collie was surprisingly tolerant at this point for the bearer of the name Perturabo, but it was clear that he still held a great deal of anger against someone.

"Noisy and tantrum-throwing are the prerogatives of babies. I did, in fact, add some stress testing. But you're right, given that he's been swearing more and more often, I'll consider doing a proper language module rollback on him when I come back, in order to delete those-"

He paused meaningfully and glanced at someone whose eyes were wandering. "Those are bad social terms that are very easy to say."

"Oh, but look at little Magna! He's learned so well, keep it up, and keep our hopes alive! Why, he adapted the words so well! He really loves reading that book!"

The border collie, who had his back to Ramizane, suddenly turned his head towards the sleeper in the life support cabin with a fierce look in his eyes, ready to press a big red button with his paw.

"What book? What line? Did you teach him to say that?"

"Ah? I didn't? But I did tell him the title of the book." The person being asked blinked blankly. "It was a book recommended by teenagers at that time, a world-famous classic novel, The Count of Monte Cristo? Wasn't the last sentence he just said the ending?"

"Is that so?" The dog's erected hair seemed to fall down a little. "So it's a line from the book?"

"Yes what's the matter?"

"Nothing." Perturabo's curled tail slowly flattened. "Get ready, we are going to call him back."

“Oh my god, it’s finally over…” Ramizane shook the cables on his head, “I can’t even lower my head to rub your fur with these things connected to me…”

"We can do that later."

"That's great, Pepe my baby."

(End of this chapter)