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

Wop: "Silvervine?"

Angron nodded.

As a world that has survived the Dark Age of Technology, Nuceria possesses a wealth of astonishing technology. Despite the turmoil of war during the Age of Strife, much of this technology was lost, and high-ranking knights deliberately sealed away much of it to maintain their rule.

But the existing technology is still terrifying enough, such as the Butcher's Nails and the Silver Vine.

Once implanted with the Butcher's Nail, even the Primarch could not escape its torment.

This bloody nail eats away at the host's brain like a cancer, twisting the noblest warrior into a bloodthirsty puppet.

This blasphemous creation can even penetrate the boundary between the material universe and the warp. Even Angron, who has ascended to demon status in the official history, cannot escape its control.

The Emperor had considered removing the Nail from Angron, but even though the prototype of the Butcher's Nail lay in the cellars of Mars, and even though the Emperor had conducted meticulous research, he was still powerless to do anything about it.

If we think about it from another perspective, although the Butcher's Nail has great side effects, it can indeed greatly enhance the combat potential of the implanted person.

So is there an implant that has no side effects and is as effective as a butcher's nail?

Some brothers, yes.

It’s Silver Vine!

Unlike the Butcher's Nails used on gladiators, the Silver Vine series of implants are essential transformation items for the Royal Guards and can be regarded as a true legacy of the Dark Age of Technology.

It can enhance the mortal body to an astonishing level, even allowing the implanted person to compete with Space Marines in close combat, with almost no side effects!

The only flaw is that it is difficult for a mortal body to fully utilize the performance of the silver vine, and when the silver vine is completely destroyed, it will cause considerable damage to the brain of the implanted person.

According to the habits of the crazy people in the dark technological age, mortals who were implanted with silver vines would also undergo a large amount of genetic optimization to achieve the purpose of adapting to the silver vines. In addition to the silver vines, there should even be many supporting implants, but only the silver vines were passed down intact.

And if silver vines could be implanted into Space Marines, it would definitely produce an effect of 1+1 being greater than 2!

Although it is difficult for mortals to fully utilize the performance of Silver Vine, Space Marines can!

"How is it?" Angron asked expectantly.

Wop: "I actually thought you'd be very averse to mechanical implants."

Angron: "Silvervine is not the Butcher's Nail, and I am not him. I will not be weighed down by the past, nor will I be held back by the future that has yet to come."

Wop pondered for a moment. "Although Silver Vine's current performance is indeed perfect, I still recommend that you seek a professional for a comprehensive diagnosis."

“The Adeptus Mechanicus?” Angron asked.

Wop: "No, it's Medea."

Angron said "oh", as if he finally remembered that his brother also raised an iron man.

"Isn't she only able to use civilian technology?"

Wop smiled. "Why do you think Silver Vine is military technology? Don't you think Silver Vine and the Tech-Priest are a good match?"

Angron was suddenly startled. Silver vines had always been installed on high-ranking knights and their personal guards. In M30, they were a military product, but what about in the Dark Age of Technology?

In order to pursue the ultimate in scientific research, mechanical priests usually take the initiative to transform themselves into semi-mechanical bodies with a large number of mechanical parts. The highest-end great sages may have only their brain hardware that is not mechanical.

Among the large number of mechanical parts, prosthetic limbs are a crucial one.

Because two hands are often not enough, these extra mechanical prostheses can greatly improve their scientific research efficiency.

Implanting silver vines is equivalent to implanting dozens of mechanical prosthetic limbs at the same time, and its flexibility and space utilization are much higher than traditional prosthetic limbs. This is simply the mechanical holy body that the oil man has always dreamed of!

Wop: "The prototype of the Butcher's Nail is hidden in the Exarchion vaults on Mars, so I suspect there must be a deeper connection between Nuceria and Mars. The treasure troves of those high-ranking knights may contain even more forbidden technologies."

"Who is Ixakion?"

"I don't know, but those who can leave a cellar on Mars are ruthless people."

The reason why the birthplace of the Mechanicus is Mars is because Mars has been a scientific research holy land for human civilization as early as the Dark Age of Technology.

There are a lot of ancient forbidden technologies buried there that may not be excavated, and there is even a maze.

Every vault on Mars contains the legacy of a top-notch Dante from the Dark Age of Technology. The most famous vault is undoubtedly the Moravec Vault. The Emperor once sternly warned the Fabricator-General not to open it, and all other vaults were ordered to be sealed without exception.

Therefore, Mars actually has no shortage of forbidden technologies during the dark technology era, but these forbidden technologies are all time bombs disguised as black boxes.

The Emperor ordered the cellar to be sealed because he was afraid that the oil men would mess around. If they accidentally started another Iron Man rebellion, even if it was only on a small scale, it would undoubtedly be a disaster for the new human empire.

Angron: "I remember."

Wop suddenly asked, "Don't you think our conversation is a bit too serious? It feels like we're laying out our final wishes."

Angron lowered his head. He wanted to appear relaxed, but he couldn't.

His father is about to leave. How big a heart does a person have to have to be able to laugh out loud at a time like this?

"I won't say more." Wop patted Angron's shoulder. "Anyway, remember, I will always support you!"

"You said the same thing to my other brothers."

"I'll also tell more of your brothers, but this doesn't affect my support for you, does it?"

What if there is a conflict between us? Who will you support?

Angron did not dare to ask.

All that Worp had done so far had been to prevent him and his brothers from killing each other.

Asking this question is tantamount to denying all the efforts Wop has made, which is too cruel.

Angron said softly, "I am going to meet my Legion."

They had walked a long way. He stubbornly pulled Wop from Dewash back to Desia, and even wanted to pull him back to the snow-capped mountain where he was found. But this journey always has an end, and all good things must come to an end.

"Have you decided?"

"Ah."

"Want me to accompany you?"

“I want to adapt in advance.”

“Adapt to what?”

"The days without you around."

Wop wanted to comfort him, but he didn't know what to say.

He had always thought Angron was a good boy, but it seemed Angron was just as heavy as his brother.

Angron: "Will you still be here waiting for me when I return?"

"Maybe." Wop wasn't sure, "but I still don't understand how I left."

Angron pointed to his chest. "Then there's no need to figure it out. Just like you taught me, follow your heart."

……

The engines spewed out flames and the Stormbird formation rose in an orderly manner.

Inside the cockpit, the young Primarch of the XII Legion remained silent as a mountain. Outside the porthole, the orbital fleet shimmered in the void, awaiting his arrival like stars.

Gil secretly observed his father and could not see any emotion on the boy's face.

There was neither the comfort or joy of reuniting with his children, nor the sorrow of parting with his father.

Angron's gaze was fixed on the flickering observation screen, watching Desia slowly shrink from his field of vision. The city's outline gradually blurred, from a magnificent city-state to a black dot on the earth, and then to a vague coordinate.

He never looked away until there was nothing left to see.

"Father." Jill lowered his head and spoke in a very low voice, "With your permission, the Legion can come to the surface to meet you at any time."

All war dogs understand that it is the war dogs who need the Primarch, not the Primarch who needs the war dogs.

The foundation for the creation of the Legion came from the Primarch's gene seed. Even without war dogs, the Primarch could still rebuild the Twelfth Legion.

But without the Primarch, the Warhounds were nothing.

So don't ask what the Primarch can do for the Legion, ask what the Legion can do for the Primarch!

Angron suddenly asked, "Are you my son?"

Jill's voice was firm, "Of course, all the war dogs are your sons!"

Angron: "That's why. My father told me that it was time for me to find a son of my own, so I came."

Jill was stunned, not understanding the necessary connection between the two.

After thinking about it for a while, Jill seemed to understand.

Wasn't that the man who traveled alone among the stars, fearless of hardships and dangers, searching for the lost Primarch across the galaxy?

As for the Emperor, although Jill believed that the Lord of Mankind was the genetic father of the Primarch, if the Primarch did not want to admit it, everything still had to be based on the Primarch.

The Stormbird attack formation maintained a wedge formation to break through the atmosphere and head directly for the Perseverance in low-Earth orbit.

Although there were only three thousand War Dogs gathered here and the fleet was just one of dozens of 12th Legion fleets, the War Dogs were still lucky.

The Empire has only a few Glorious Queen-class battleships, one of which belongs to the War Dog. This allows them to welcome the Primarch's return with the highest standards on this glorious battleship today!

The Stormbird's engine roared, and it flew across the deck like a returning swallow, landing in the engine room of the Resolute Resolve.

Legion Master Locke had already assembled the entire Warhound Company in formation on the tarmac, but a decree from the Primarch himself came through the encrypted channel, requesting that the meeting be held in the Legion's most sacred place, the Hall of Triumph.

The soldiers of the 8th Assault Company surrounded the Primarch and passed through the deep steel corridor of the battleship. Every blast-proof door slowly opened in front of them like a surrendered beast.

When they arrived at the Triumph Hall, 2,200 war dogs were waiting in a perfect formation.

The blue and white MKII power armor rippled with cold metal under the spotlight, and two thousand extraordinary warriors stood silently under the dome of the hall.

Legion Commander Locke stood alone at the front of the formation, with the companies' phalanxes lined up neatly behind him. Each company commander also stood straight in front of his own phalanx like a javelin.

The soldiers of the 8th Assault Company silently passed the legion commander and formed a new phalanx, with Jill also standing in front of the phalanx.

Their formation is as precise as a clock movement, and every warrior is a perfectly fitted gear.

Angron's gaze slowly swept over his brood. Their armored figures reflected a cold, hard metallic luster under the tactical light. Each piece of ceramite armor plate reflected the fine battle scars left behind, the medals of honor they had earned during their long expedition.

Just like every battle flag hanging in this triumphal hall, they all tell the story of a series of arduous and arduous battles.

The War Dogs are worthy of the name, and their brilliant achievements in the Great Crusade are among the best even among all the legions.

After a long silence, Angron looked at his brood and finally spoke.

"You call yourselves the dogs of war. This is the name given to you by the Lord of Mankind."

"You tore countless enemies apart according to your master's orders, and wrote glorious legends with your fangs and blood. So you began to take pride in it."

Having said this, he suddenly stopped talking.

The war dogs still maintained their perfect formation, but a subtle panic began to spread among them - was his father implicitly expressing his dissatisfaction with them?

Angron sensed the turbulent emotions of his children, yet remained silent. He simply felt them quietly, sharing their emotions.

In the face of unreserved sharing of emotions, any words seem so pale.

Angron understood the panic of his descendants, and the descendants also understood the grief of the Gene Father.

So they became even more silent.

"You are Space Marines. Your nobility, your strength, and your glory are all incomparable to mortals."

"But you are always missing one thing, humanity."

"Your eyes have never truly reflected the joys and sorrows of mortals. Even if you occasionally gaze upon them, it is only a glimpse of power and glory."

"You don't lack empathy, but you lack empathy for mortals."

The brotherhood of Space Marines is higher than the sincerest comradeship among mortals, and they are willing to risk their lives for their battle brothers, even at the cost of their own lives.

But if it were mortals, even the destruction of hundreds of millions of mortals would only make them sigh: This is a huge loss to the empire.

That's it.

For they did not consider themselves human, and this was what Angron grieved.

"When my brothers return, they always emphasize to their children that we are human beings, because that is what our father taught us."

"And I will educate you like my father, because I am also your father."

"You might think this is cliché, but to me, there's nothing more reassuring than knowing we're human."

"There's a warning circulating in ancient Terra: if you lose your humanity, you lose a lot; if you lose your animality, you lose everything."

"He's right. When it comes to survival, human nature often becomes a shackle."

"But those who have lost their humanity are no longer human; they have become beasts."