Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

Open a bounty

This book will be on the shelves tomorrow. I'm addicted to coding, so I'm going to offer a reward.

100 monthly tickets 1000 words

100 blades, 1000 words

10000 rewards for 1000 words

The cumulative deadline is 30 words

The minimum number of words on the shelves is 10000. If the manuscripts are not enough, they will be used to make up for it in subsequent updates. The minimum number of words per day is 4000, and the excess will be used to make up for it.

As of press time, the monthly ticket is 800, the reward is 16.77, and the blade is 168

Then, I hope that those who see this will click on the comments for the listing.

Chapter 59: A Lifetime of Combinations (7, K)

"Nairo, are you asleep? I can't sleep."

Parisa crawled next to Nairo and asked in a low voice.

Naro sat up. The slave quarters were not as spacious as the believers' quarters, but the slaves still tried their best to keep them clean.

Under Lorgar's orders, the slaves no longer had to huddle in the cramped slave dormitories. Some of them were arranged to live in the believers' dormitories, while the believers were gathered together in some of the believers' dormitories.

Each room was filled with similar people, and at least they became equal in terms of living conditions.

Nero didn't know whether this was good or bad, but the other slaves were all worried. These brown-skinned companions looked at Nero with expectant and nervous eyes.

"What are you worried about?" Naro asked.

"Liberating slaves from the gods' bondage is blasphemy." Parisa bit her lower lip. "He also wants us to give up our faith in the gods, which will only lead to us being abandoned by them."

Nero recalled the days within the high walls. He used to be a teacher, but he was enslaved because he once testified for a slave. That happened not long ago. Degraded to a slave, he followed Kor Phaeron out of the high walls and came to this desolate lowland.

But he was still lucky. If he had not been reduced to a slave, if he had not followed Kor Phaeron to the Low Desert, he would not have met Lorgar.

Despite this, Naro was also terrified by Lorca's arrangements.

He was ten years old, and he had lived his whole life in faith in the gods.

There are millions of believers and three million slaves within the high walls, all of whom believe in the gods devoutly. Even Lorgar cannot suddenly make them give up the faith they have upheld all their lives.

Everything Lorgar did was a blasphemy against the gods, so they were afraid and feared the punishment of the gods.

Nero was also anxious because his faith was denied, but when he faced those pairs of expectant eyes, his heart calmed down.

"If the gods were omnipotent," Nero said, "they would punish our Lord when he asked us to renounce our faith."

Parisa looked at him in horror.

"If the gods were omnipotent," Nero added, "they would punish me for blasphemy."

Naro closed his eyes after he finished speaking. He waited for a long time but nothing happened.

"Since they didn't punish my Lord, nor did they punish me, it means that they are either not omnipotent, or they don't care about human belief, or both. If the gods are not omnipotent, why do we still believe in them?"

Parisa was terrified by him, her thin body trembling like a dead leaf in the wind, her cracked lips moving to form broken prayers. Nairo, however, calmly pointed toward the vent, where sunlight streamed down upon them through the rusted iron bars.

"Look, the sun hasn't dimmed, the sandstorm hasn't come." Nero's words were like a hammer breaking through the shackles, creating cracks in the slaves' faith. "If the gods can't punish even the nonsense of an old slave, why should we fear their wrath?"

Naro was very uneasy and actually very scared.

Lorgar liberated them and made them stop believing in the gods, but he did not deny the existence of the gods.

Lorgar was a prophet, and the gods could tolerate his blasphemy.

But he was only an old slave, and the gods would show him no mercy.

He was really waiting to die just now, but the god of death did not come, and there was no punishment from the gods.

This actually made Naro feel at ease. He was convincing others as well as himself.

……

"This is blasphemy!"

In the dusky dormitories, the gathered believers discussed the matter, equally terrified by Lorgar's words. Their faith was even more steadfast than that of the slaves, for they were the beneficiaries of the Covenant faith. Even if it had nothing to do with the faith, they would voluntarily uphold it.

In the eyes of many people, Lorgar's status has changed from a prophet to a heretic.

"Akshida, you should say something!" a believer shouted.

"Aranji, what do you want me to say?" asked Akshida.

"He is no prophet!" Alanji roared, the white tattoos on his dark skin twisting and baring his fangs. "He is an abomination, a desert-born mutant. The Powers did not bless him, but cursed him!"

His words were echoed by many people, which made Alanji more confident.

Akshida remained silent. If Lorgar were a prophet, they would surely serve him devoutly. But Lorgar himself denied it, even asking them to abandon their faith in the gods. This was undoubtedly heresy. Compared to abandoning the gods, the cost of abandoning the prophet was clearly lower.

Akshida could understand them, but he was unwilling to join them.

"Perhaps it wasn't him," said Turesa. "It was those two, Erebus and Wop, who deceived the Prophet!"

Her words were echoed by more people. The Colchians were always compromising in nature. They were afraid to betray the gods, but also unwilling to betray the prophets.

So they would rather believe that someone is bewitching the prophet and causing him to turn away from the glory of the gods.

They believed that if they could just get rid of the people who were deceiving the prophet, everything would be back on track.

Akshida thought they were horribly childish.

"We must drive them out to prevent them from bringing the curse of the Power to all of us!" Alanji continued to incite the others, "This is the only way for us to achieve self-salvation, and the Power will bless us again!"

The faithful, many of whom were opponents of Kor Phaeron, were restless.

Lorgar killed Kor Phaeron, and he became the new ruler.

Kor Phaeron was just a heretic expelled by the Covenant, but Lorgar actually wanted them to turn their backs on the gods, which was worse than before.

Turesha: "Akshida, you should lead us!"

Akshida remained silent until everyone's eyes were on him.

He must take a stand now or he will become the first victim of the frenzy.

"I will go to the Prophet," Akshida said. "Whatever you wish to do, I will tell him about it."

Some believers stared at his back and clenched the daggers in their arms.

Alanji shook his head at him obscurely.

They cannot kill Akshida now, because he is the leader of the guards. Even if the guards are hesitant because of their faith, some of them will fight to the death to protect Akshida. Now is not the time for internal strife.

"When are you going?" Alanji asked.

"Now," Akshida said, "if you move quickly, you might be able to get there before me."

He stood up and walked towards the door. Alanji's expression was uncertain. He finally made up his mind, gestured to the others, and led them past Akshida. They had to kill those blasphemers before Akshida!

……

"What are they doing at night instead of sleeping?" the woman asked in a daze.

Van Mogel leaned against the wall and looked out through the iron bars of the window.

"They want to kill people." The old patriarch's voice was as rough as weathered rock.

"Who to kill?" the woman asked doubtfully.

"Lorgar."

The woman on the felt rug woke up instantly, and the other nomads who were awakened stood up one after another.

Someone knocked over a copper kettle, making a thrilling crisp sound in the silent night.

The woman stood up suddenly, and the blanket fell from her shoulders.

“Then we have to protect him!”

"Why?" asked Mogal.

"Because he protected us too!"

Mogel was silent. Lorgar protected them from the guards' guns, but it was not out of gratitude.

He raised Lorgar and gave him meticulous care, but Lorgar had no feelings for him or his tribe.

He protected them, not because of them, but because of Wop.

Perhaps because of the child's divinity, he was cold by nature, as if he lacked a sense of belonging to anything in this world. Mogael remembered the eternally frozen starlight in Lorga's violet pupils. The way the child looked at others was no different from when he observed a scorpion emerging from the sand dunes.

He is indifferent to life and everything in this world.

He is like a passer-by, who came into this world in a hurry and will leave sooner or later.

Mogael saw the truth, and perhaps he was the only one who saw it. His people had not raised Lorgar as he had, nor did they share his complex feelings for him. He, too, had selfish motives: he wanted the child to be his own.

For a mortal who raised the son of God, if he could receive such an honor in his later years, his death would be worth it.

"You're right," Mogel took out the musket hidden under the blanket and whispered to the tribesmen in anticipation, "We should protect him."

The followers of the Covenant considered Lorgar a prophet, but they also turned their backs on him because he had turned his back on the gods.

Although nomads also believe in gods, they believe in the primitive gods of this world, such as earth, fire, wind, and water, rather than the powerful forces from the starry sky.

So he named Lorca Lorca, the Rainmaker.

What the desert residents lack most is water, and he hopes that the child can become the hope of the tribe.

Therefore, they were not frightened by Lorgar's "heresy" because they did not believe in the power of the Covenant.

They wanted to protect the child, not because he saved them, but because Mogael saw hope in him.

Even though Lorgar denied his divinity, Mogal firmly believed that Lorgar was the son of God.

It is not the power of the starry sky, but the Son of God born in this world, who has the blessing of the elements.

He is indifferent to life, but not to everyone. There is still someone he cares about, the man named Wop.

Although Mogel had only met him a few times, he saw something similar in Wop, that thing called fatherly love.

Lorgar had no feelings for him because he had never considered him a father.

But Mogel could see that Lorga was attached to Wopu, and he regarded Wopu as his father.

He remembered the way Lorgar curled up in Wop's arms, his eyelashes trembling in the morning light, his porcelain-like cheek pressed against the warm human chest, as if an ordinary baby was craving for his father's breath. This incongruous tenderness and his indifference to life formed a strange sense of tearing.

Mogaier could never understand where Lorga's attachment came from, because they had never met before.

He could only think of two possibilities: either Wop was actually Lorca's biological father, and that kind of affection came from the connection between God and the Son of God.

But the possibility of this is almost zero, because Lorgar denied his divinity and also denied the gods, which is exactly what Wop taught him.

Either Lorgar still has humanity. He is the son of God, but he still has things he cares about. He is not completely indifferent to life.

Mogal had accepted that he was unworthy of being Lorgar's father, but Wop had taught Lorgar well.

The swirling nebula vortex deep in those violet pupils still revealed his inhuman nature, but beneath the cold divinity, a hint of human warmth had quietly emerged.

Mogel couldn't say why they wanted to protect Lorgar, but perhaps this was the reason.

The nomads took up their weapons and followed Mogel in silence, wanting to stop the believers.

……

Axida pushed open the door and saw Lorgar looking up from his yellowed book, and also saw Wop and Erebus. They were lying on a blanket on the floor, apparently asleep.

They had been hanging out in the library these days, and Akshida knew about it, but he didn't tell anyone.

"My Lord." Akshida knelt.

"Keep your voice down, Akshida, what do you want from me?"

"Alanji and Turesa have instigated half of the followers to assassinate your mentor. They should have noticed that he is not in the room by now and will come here soon."

Luo Jia slowly closed the ancient book and calmly looked at Akshida who was kneeling at the door. The yellowed paper made a slight rustling sound under his fingertips.

"Get up."

Akshida slowly straightened up, his Adam's apple rolling unconsciously. The Primarch who was still a child not long ago has now grown into a giant that he has to look up to.

His face was as calm as the desert night sky, but those violet eyes made Akshida feel as if she was falling into an icy cave.