Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

At an unknown time, within the Tzeentch Realm, Bluebird didn't actually like to pass the time by asking the little bluebird in his hand questions.

He was even more amused by Vashtor's foolish act of directly revealing his real name.

Admittedly, this was motivated by a desire to seize the name of Omnisiah before the Black King could claim it.

But this is so stupid, it made Tzeentch laugh.

Vashtor was indeed not one of them.

He was not facing Anda Weir from over 40,000 years ago, but the Emperor who had experienced the end and death, the Dark Lord!

However, Tzeentch did not remind others of their good intentions; in the past, he was the one who led people astray.

Now, this bronze chariot is being watched by both Vashtor and "Omnesia".

Who will become the master of these two divinely blessed chariots?

Chapter 55 Aaron Wells, the Little Santa Claus, Distributes Presents to His Brothers

"A lump of iron, but it can float and run faster than a leopard on the grassland."

Aaron Wel was lying on a deckchair in the yard, lost in thought, desperately trying to understand the technology required for this so-called powered motorcycle.

He considers himself to have a good IQ, but he has not received this kind of education.

My father always acted like a riddle, and I could never get anything out of him.

Marum, on the other hand, found a large broom and started scribbling on the ground, piling up all sorts of crazy, seemingly cursed "numbers" and symbols, calling them some kind of "formulas".

His speech, delivered in the solemn tone typical of the people from his hometown of Makula, was sincere and considerate, but it was still unpleasant to listen to.

The listener couldn't maintain the same air of authority as the speaker, so Aaron stopped Marum's "know-it-all" nature and didn't let him explain what a motorized motorcycle was.

Why does a suspension effect occur? Why is the brake sensitivity of the Chahetai brake set to the lowest level separately?

The voices rushed into his brain, and Aaron felt a chill run down his spine, as if five hundred Marums were lecturing him at the same time.

He began to understand why Guilliman couldn't find his father's humanity in the future. Besides the old man's own reasons, his good brother Guilliman's own factors also played a significant role!

Perhaps it was Guilliman's unusually stubborn personality and rigid manner that made his father unable to tolerate him.

Marum could only look on with regret as he took the fifth son to wash up.

He finally had a chance to speak freely.

That evening, the leftovers from lunch were reheated. Anyway, the father was busy controlling his instincts and trying to become ordinary, so he didn't have many demands for food and drink.

He's going to apply for a job as a craftsman for the Pharaoh tomorrow, and then he'll take some metal parts.

After all, you can't just make a motorcycle out of wood for Chagatai. Marum emphasized that the wood wasn't good enough, and Chagatai would fall apart while riding it.

Primarchs must be treated specially.

Even in the rare instances where the Ultramarines played football with Guilliman while he was dressed in his personal clothes, the Primarch repeatedly crushed the special-material footballs in his excitement.

The Primarch can hardly be called human.

The next morning, I saw my father, who looked more than ten years older after he had dressed up, off at the door.

Marum is protecting her behind the scenes.

Aaron thought this was normal. After all, if his father hadn't controlled his abilities, the workshop would have been bustling with activity, and everyone would have been mostly naked.

That's the end of it.

As for what Aaron himself is going to do today—

Of course it's a dream!

Strangely, he just couldn't fall asleep, and when he did fall asleep at night, he had no dreams and slept very soundly.

This means that his younger brothers haven't encountered any problems that require his help, which should be a good thing.

He simply preferred to spend some completely quiet time with his brothers, like taking a bath with Guilliman.

He still has to deliver these gifts.

With this clear purpose in mind, Aaron looked at the wall.

Perhaps, knocking myself unconscious would be the best solution?

Otherwise, once the God of Dreams unleashes his power, who knows when it will happen? He still hopes that this ability is more controllable.

Aaron made up his mind, touched his head, and patted it:

"My little brothers, I've sacrificed a lot for you."

Then he rammed his head into the wall.

Driven by a strong will, he fell asleep before hitting the wall, and happened to be lying in the corner.

Bang! Bang——

A series of explosions rang in Aaron's ears. He struggled to open his eyes, but his vision was shaky.

He was riding on something, and looking ahead was a huge metal arm, covered in blue armor with intricate gold patterns that even reached his fingers.

Beneath this arm, an endless rage was pouring out, a fury countless times stronger than Marum's explosive gun, utterly destroying the abominable creatures before it.

“You’ve come at the wrong time, brother. We’re currently eradicating these insects.”

Guilliman's voice came from behind. He carefully lifted Aaron by the collar with his other hand and placed him on his shoulder.

"Hold on tight to my helmet."

Aaron quickly did as instructed, and then the Primarch took the longsword from his waist and leaped around with great agility, as if a scythe was being wielded to cut grass.

Soon, they returned to the positions of those countless Ultra Warriors who were virtually identical to Marum.

Even the Astartes need fortifications to deal with insects and greenskins.

Some of the yellow-painted Astartes, whom Aaron had never seen before, stood out. Their shoulder armor did not bear the symbol of the Ultramarines, but rather the mark of a clenched fist.

“Those are the Fists of the Empire, the sons of Roger Dorne. We have not yet found any trace of our many brothers, but at least their sons are still protecting the Empire.”

Guilliman put Aaron down and explained.

Only then did Aaron see the full picture of this world.

Looking up, there was an incredibly clear sky.

But if you tilt your gaze slightly, you will see another sky.

It was a mixture of creations, a mass of fleshy, purplish-pink sacs and tubes, encased in a crimson-purple carapace, that made one want to vomit.

Any living being would be disgusted by its appearance and would inevitably feel the urge to vomit.

Their numbers were so vast that they covered half the sky, with countless tiny dots constantly bursting forth from beneath those enormous fleshy sacs.

As they cross the boundary of the clear sky, they will be bombed by metal ships.

Therefore, these waves, composed of such dense, almost unnervingly small dots, chose to plunge directly into the ground.

When their forms were finally revealed, their terrifying appearance shone under the holy sunlight, inspiring awe.

"You don't need to worry about these things. In fact, our battle is going very well. This planet has not yet reached the point of signing an extinction order. Optimistically speaking, half of the sky still belongs to humans."

Guilliman turned and covered Aaron's eyes, leading him to a fortress built on a cleared platform.

The Imperial Fist Space Marines were the most numerous here, and none of them showed any interest in asking who Aaron was; they were all busy fighting.

Busy fighting against those endless insects.

“Guilliman, your war has completely exceeded my expectations.”

Aaron looked weak, and even though he wasn't physically present, he still gagged several times before recovering.

Fortunately, he remembered to hold the pillow in his arms tightly, so he didn't spit on it.

"This is a pillow your father bought for you, although he didn't make it by hand."

Aaron handed over the pillow he was holding. It was actually a large pillow made of reed mat wrapped with animal fur.

It was actually a toy for the wild beasts kept in noble households to tear apart. The fact that the father could consider the original's size when buying this showed that he had used one of the few remaining pieces of wisdom he had to communicate with his son.

Guilliman took off his helmet and calmly took the pillow.

He doesn't even need to use force; just a gentle pull of his hands is enough to tear the "pillow" to shreds.

"It seems that my father was much better off more than 40,000 years ago than he is now. Please thank him for me. The war situation is relatively stable. Would you like to have a chat with me, brother?"

Chapter 56 Luo Jia Wants to Write a Book

Aaron approached Guilliman, circling him and examining the armor called "Destiny," saying:

“I came to find you because I wanted to be with you. I can’t stand talking to my father, and I also have to avoid getting upset.”

Guilliman chuckled:

"I was not only angry and uncomfortable, but at that moment, I even felt like all the blood and energy in my brain had exploded."

When it comes to common topics, especially when two men share the same father, their conversations tend to resonate more deeply.

Aaron recounted the everyday stories he had told Loka, and Guilliman listened patiently, sitting on the ground and letting Aaron lean against his leg armor.

The smile on her face never faded.

"So, brother, your top priority right now is to build a motorized motorcycle for Chagatai?"

Guilliman's smile suddenly turned bitter: "The Khan is not an easy person to get along with; he is detached from us. But at least they are willing to try to win over the Khan, unlike me, who had already accepted my position before I even appeared."

Aaron's mouth became fluent:

"In my opinion, there is something wrong with the way you talk. You have to explain the reasoning to people, after all, they are not unreasonable. But you always act like, 'Look, I follow the rules so well, so I am perfect in every way and there is nothing wrong with me.'"

"This will make many people uncomfortable."

Guilliman did not shy away from the topic, and laughed:

“Brother, I understand. Actually, the other brothers could have just told me the same thing. But everyone had to pretend to be serious and listen to me finish, or they would just leave with a cold face.”

“They can say it directly.”

Although Guilliman maintained a smile during his last sentence, the melancholy in his tone was palpable.