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

Jill, the future commander of the 12th Legion, was beaten to death by the Father of Genes with punches in the Triumph Hall, along with almost all the senior leaders of the 12th Legion.

Angron's gaze swept over the warriors clad in blue and white armor. "Take off your helmets."

The war dogs naturally would not disobey the orders of the Father of Genes. Amidst bursts of hydraulic hisses, they took off their helmets and tucked them under their armpits.

"I'm sorry, Jill." The boy stood on tiptoe, and the Primarch's arms fell around his neck, the hug light as if catching a falling feather.

Gil was at a loss for words. He saw the shadows cast by the Gene Father's long eyelashes in the Nuceria sunset. His eyes were filled with compassion that he had never seen in anyone else's eyes.

Why should I apologize to him? Did the Primarch do something wrong?

No! How could the Primarch be wrong? He was the only one wrong!

So what should he do now? Should he apologize to the Primarch?

No, the Primarch would not accept his apology. What he needed to do now was...

Jill pressed his ceramite knuckles gently against the Primarch's back, his pressure as cautious as if touching fragile glass. "My Lord, we will always be your children."

"Then help me, Jill, help me free this world."

"Yes, my Lord. Your will is our mission!"

……

"We have our own Primarch now!"

Locke's voice trembled with excitement, and the captain could understand his excitement.

Although the Space Marines are powerful supermen, they are just a group of children in front of their genetic father. Moreover, the actual age of many Space Marines may not even be as old as a mortal like him.

"Now we have our own Primarch," Locke spoke passionately. "He will lead his Legion in the way he chooses. We serve him, just as we serve the Emperor. The War Hounds will be the sharpest sword in the Primarch's hand! Our hopes or plans no longer matter. His will alone is the reason for our existence!"

The captain said, "My Lord, the liberation of Nuceria is not yet complete, and the Primarch refuses to board the ship. Should we take some drastic measures? The orbital bombardment is ready."

Locke was filled with rage. He really wanted to press the button and raze Devash to the ground. Those despicable people who were full of lies dared to point the muzzles of the war dogs at the Father of Genes. They must pay the price for this!

But Locke still maintained his sanity. He could not make decisions on his own until the Primarch gave the order.

He is just a legion commander. What qualifications does he have to command the legion bypassing the Primarch?

Even if he wanted to do so, the other brothers would not agree. They would immediately arrest him for treason.

Locke: "Tell Gil to ask him to ask the Primarch for instructions."

The Primarch would probably refuse them; orbital bombardment was simple, but it had no honor in it.

But it doesn't matter, three thousand war dogs are ready, and they can crush the Primarch's enemies at any time as long as he gives the order!

……

Jill: "My Lord, the Legion Commander requests an orbital strike on Devash."

"Orbital bombardment is denied," Angron said firmly. "There are millions of innocent people within the walls of Dvash. Orbital bombardment would cause unnecessary casualties!"

"My Lord!" Jill knelt on one knee. "Please allow us to capture this city-state for you. The war dogs will tear through the enemy's defenses before dawn!"

Angron: "Warhounds may join the fight, but only in coordination with the Rebellion."

Angron understood these warriors' desire for honor, but he could not deprive the rebels of their honor. He hoped that these warriors could cooperate with each other and work closely together.

Angron knew that the Warhounds had a bad reputation in the Imperium, not much better than the Ninth Legion, for the Twelfth Legion never took prisoners and had even executed mortal auxiliaries on the battlefield for bringing shame upon their allies.

There is a widespread 'rumor' across the Imperium that deploying War Dogs in battle has only two outcomes: glory, triumphant slaughter, or simply slaughter.

Although the Emperor's decree forbade all Legions from slaughtering their own troops, and this practice was quickly rectified, contempt for mortals remained widespread among the warriors of the XII Legion.

Angron must correct his brood.

Angron reminded Jill, "Nuceria's warriors are no pushovers. The High Knights' personal guards rival those of Space Marines. Never underestimate your enemies!"

"Yes, my lord." The serious tone of the Father of Genes made Jill hide the contempt in his heart.

The War Dog Legion has always had extremely strict internal discipline to curb their violent nature.

But they can see the kindness of the Father of Genes towards mortals. As the descendants of the Father of Genes, they must learn to make themselves friendly as well.

Chapter 98 Is This Still Human? (5K)

Eight hundred and eighty soldiers of the 8th Assault Company participated in the battle of the rebels.

They were the first dogs of war to land on Nuceria, an honor they well deserved.

Angron should have led and commanded them personally, but he took the initiative to stay out of it and handed the decision-making power to Gil and Onomamos.

Jill was not in a hurry to show off his excellent command of the War Dog, but quietly stared at the rebel leaders who were having a heated discussion.

If he were asked to briefly summarize the rebels' tactics, it could be summed up in one sentence: blast open the city gates, then rush in and kill the high-ranking knights.

"What do you think?" Onomamos asked Jill.

Jill looked down at the old warrior with scars all over his face. He was over two meters tall, almost as tall as an unarmored Space Marine.

He was once a gladiator and had outstanding skills in dueling.

But in terms of command, the top leaders of the rebel army were all outsiders.

Even the gangs in the Hive World would scoff at such a clumsy tactical arrangement.

"Your tactics are quite blitzkrieg-like," Jill said, choosing her words carefully. "Warhounds can serve as the vanguard, as you seem to lack sufficient heavy firepower to break through the enemy's defenses."

He had no intention of correcting the rebels' messy tactical arrangements, because even such a simple tactical war dog was capable of executing it as an efficient assault.

If he showed ambition for command or contempt for mortals, it would likely lower his evaluation in the Father of Genes' mind, which was absolutely unacceptable.

"The rebels will assist you in your battles. This is your honor." Onomamos extended his hand toward him. "In the name of our leader, we must cooperate sincerely."

Jill hesitated for a moment, then extended his ceramite gauntlet to shake the old warrior's hand. "In the name of the Primarch, the Warhounds have always been proud to fight alongside mortals."

Jill's insincere words made him feel guilty. The war dogs used to be quite disdainful of mortals, but for the glory of the Father of Genes, the war dogs were willing to reinvent themselves.

……

"boom!"

The steel behemoth deployed by the Warhounds roared deafeningly two kilometers away, and the plasma main gun of the super-heavy tank spewed out deep blue flames of destruction.

The city gate made of fine steel twisted and deformed in the violent vibrations at the subatomic level, and eventually turned into a blooming flower of death.

Close-range shooting is not limited in range, but is intended to maximize cooperation with the assault force, so that the enemy will face the death judgment of the Father of Genes before they even think of organizing a defense!

Several Mastodons roared and tore through the battlefield, and the Void Shield emitted blue energy ripples as it took the attack.

Any fool who dares to stand in their way will be crushed into a splattering pulp by the adamantine tracks of these hundreds of tons of behemoths!

The battle unfolded perfectly as Jill had expected. The armored cluster of mammoths crushed Devash's defenses with unstoppable force, and the blood and flesh splattering under the tracks played the most perfect prelude to this conquest.

"For the Primarch!"

The Mastodon's front hatch burst open like a jaw of steel, and the warhounds poured out with the Primarch's holy wrath. The volleys of grenade launchers sounded a hymn of death, and the searing barrage of bullets tore sulfurous trails through the air.

The flesh and blood of mortals cannot withstand the baptism of explosive bombs. Their bones will shatter like fragile glass, exploding into a scarlet blood mist in the air.

However, the battle situation was beyond the War Dog's expectations. Just when the bombs were about to tear apart the flesh and blood, the silver tentacles behind the mortals' heads quickly intertwined into twisted shields in front of them, blocking the bombs that should have been fatal!

Although the violent explosion also tore hideous cracks on the surface of the silver vine, these strange implants always maintained a complete defensive form.

The war dogs completed the tactical adjustment in just one second. Three bombs hit the same defensive node of the silver vine shield in succession in an instant. The fourth bomb accurately passed through the gap that had just been torn, and the mortal body was instantly torn into a ball of scarlet blood mist.

"The defense is almost comparable to that of ceramite power armor!" This astonishing discovery made Jill's pupils shrink slightly, and he completely put away the little contempt he had for mortals.

The Primarch's warning came true in the smoke of war; the warriors of Nuceria should not be underestimated.

But they are war dogs, the sharpest fangs of the Primarch, and there is no enemy in the galaxy that can stop them!

After a brief confrontation, the Space Marines have accurately mastered the combat characteristics of these high-level Knight Guards.

The implants of these elite warriors were indeed amazing, but the War Dogs soon discovered a fatal flaw: these mortal flesh and blood bodies could hardly control such advanced implants!

In fierce battles, their physical reaction speed often lags behind the functions of the implants. This disharmony is particularly deadly on the battlefield where life and death are at stake.

They are more like carriers of silver vines than battle-hardened warriors.

"For freedom! For the leader!"

Like a raging torrent, the gladiators finally joined up with their Space Marine allies.

Onomamos passed by Jill like a gust of wind. The silver vine shield that could withstand explosive bombs was torn apart like thin paper in front of the power axe. The royal guard was split into two before he could even let out a scream. The two halves of his body sprayed ionized blood mist in the decomposition field.

Jill stared at the old warrior's fighting posture and felt awe in his heart.

Every time this battle-hardened warrior swung his axe, it seemed as if he carried a tremendous force, and the sharp sound of the axe blade cutting through the air was terrifying.

He originally thought that the old warrior was at most at the pinnacle of mortal martial arts, but now he discovered that he was far more than that. Even a Space Marine wearing ceramite armor would probably not be able to escape the fatal blow of his battle axe!

Although the performance of the other rebels was slightly inferior, they still subverted the perception of Space Marines with their mortal bodies. Almost every one of them could be compared with unarmored or even armored Space Marines!

Is this still a mortal?

The war dogs came back to their senses from their brief shock, and a competitive fighting spirit ignited in their eyes.

Without hesitation, they lowered their bolters and used their gauntlets to grasp the chainswords at their waists. The teeth made a hungry humming sound the moment they were unsheathed.

If mortals can be so brave, how can the war dogs shrink back?

They can't bring shame to the Father of Genes!

"For the Emperor! For the Primarch!"

"For the Primarch! For the Emperor!"

……

On the city wall, Wop and Angron watched the battle side by side.

Wop: "Are you satisfied with these warriors who inherited your bloodline?"

Angron: "Very brave indeed."

His descendants are worthy of the name of war dogs. Each one is a brave warrior who can go through fire and water for the cause of mankind and risk his life. Their loyalty and determination are unquestionable.

It was still the early days of the Great Crusade, and many War Hounds held a deep-seated contempt for mortals, a stark contrast to the arrogance of the average Space Marine.

The arrogant consider themselves superior but still place themselves within the human category, while the contempt of the war dog considers itself above and beyond the ordinary.

As Angron gazed upon these superhuman warriors who fought so bravely on the battlefield in his name, he felt an indescribable disappointment.

Fortunately, not all warriors are so contemptuous, such as Jill.

Although this battle-hardened commander carries the inherent majesty and arrogance of a Space Marine, after carefully observing the Gene-Father's attitude towards mortals, he knows how to restrain his arrogance in time and show patience and respect for mortals.

Wop: "Are you going to give them up?"

"No," Angron's voice was as firm as steel. "I will teach them myself, lead them back to the right path, to the lost dignity of humanity, just as you once taught me."

He slowly raised his head, each syllable ringing out clearly, "I will never abandon my offspring. I believe no father would abandon his son!"

Wop was filled with emotion, "Your father should be ashamed of this."

"Why are you ashamed of this?" Angron's voice was panicked.

Wop: "I mean the Emperor."

"He is not my father," Angron said firmly. "No father would abandon his son. So from the moment he abandoned me, he was no longer my father!"

Wop didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "That's just the future that hasn't happened yet. Neither you nor he will become what it will be."

"That's different!" Angron objected loudly.

Wop stared at Angron in silence, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

He had never seen Angron so out of control, and he had never dared to speak to him so loudly before. What was wrong with him?

Angron suddenly realized his mistake. His face turned pale and he tried to explain with a trembling voice, "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean to do that."

Wop suddenly opened his arms and gently embraced the trembling boy in front of him. "I should be the one to say sorry. I overlooked your humanity."

All Primarchs possessed humanity, but Angron was the most human of them all.

The richer his humanity, the more intense his emotions.

When separation approaches, his heart is like a torn wound. The closer he gets to the moment of separation, the more the reluctance burns his soul.

It had been several months since he and Angron had met, but Angron was still a teenager.

While this did not in any way diminish his essence as a Primarch, it also revealed to Wop a fact that he had always overlooked: the growth of the Primarchs was closely related to the environment in which they lived.