"The Blood God's Gift."
The bloodletting vampires let out hoarse growls, their chaotic minds barely piecing together a realization—
Standing before them was a gene-primarch!
If they could sacrifice him, Khorne would surely grant them supreme glory!
The greediest of the bloodletting vampires leapt into the crater first, raising his flaming greatsword high, ready to sever the child's arm as a "greeting gift."
However, just as the blade was about to fall—
The child opened his eyes.
They were a pair of eyes as pure as molten gold, with sparks of starlight flickering in the depths of his pupils, a light far too ancient for a mere infant.
He tilted his head slightly, seemingly curious about the hideous demon before him, then surprisingly broke into a naïve and innocent grin.
"Bang!"
A soft pink fist casually swung out.
The bloodletting vampire's head exploded like an overripe watermelon. Foul black blood and brain matter splattered across the face of the companion behind him. The headless body stood stiffly for a second before crashing to the ground.
The rest of the bloodletting vampires froze.
They looked down at their companion's mangled corpse, then up again at the giggling toddler. For a moment, their chaotic minds couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
"ROAR—!!"
After a brief moment of shock, rage replaced confusion.
The remaining bloodletting vampires lunged at once, their flaming greatswords weaving a deadly net.
But the toddler merely clumsily got to his feet and took a wobbly first step—
"Boom!"
With the second step, the ground cracked open, and a shockwave shattered the nearest three vampires into pulp.
"Hehehe."
His laughter grew even more gleeful as he casually waved a chubby hand, sending another demon flying like a ragdoll into a rock wall.
Just as the demons plunged into chaos, a second golden light streaked across the sky.
Boom—Boom—!!
Athena descended like a meteor onto the battlefield, sending out a ring-shaped shockwave upon impact.
The Spear of Victory swept outward, releasing a crescent-shaped wave of psychic energy. Within a radius of a hundred meters, the demons were obliterated before they could even scream—
The bodies of the bloodletting vampires disintegrated in the golden light, crumbling like sun-dried clay dolls. Chaos sorcerers' staffs exploded suddenly, and the resulting feedback from chaotic energy burned them into twisted charcoal.
Even those heretical shock troopers who had sensed something wrong and hid behind buildings were torn apart one after another. Their power armor crumpled like soda cans under invisible pressure.
When the dust settled, Athena slowly rose from one knee.
Her golden hair billowed in the aftermath of her energy, each leaf of her battle skirt's armor chiming softly. Her eyes, filled with wrath, were more captivating than the psychic energy dancing at her spear's tip.
"Die."
This single word fell like frozen judgment.
The Spear of Victory slammed into the ground, releasing a radial burst of pure psychic energy.
The entire town's surface was instantly coated in a golden light. All remaining chaotic entities were incinerated by the sacred blaze, and the corrupted fungal mats on the buildings curled and peeled away like mold under scorching sunlight.
Once the last trace of filth had been purged, Athena turned to look at the crater.
The tan-skinned toddler was sitting at the bottom, gripping half a demon's horn in his pudgy little hand and gnawing on it like a teething stick.
His bloodstained face wore an innocent expression, and his molten-gold eyes blinked curiously, reflecting the goddess's majestic figure.
"Mama!"
The clear, childish voice pierced the silence.
What???
Athena's Spear of Victory froze midair.
Her usually composed expression revealed rare astonishment, and even the divine light swirling around her momentarily halted.
This term of address was clearly beyond the Goddess of War's domain. Even she, who remained calm before entire armies, found herself at a loss.
"Heh."
The toddler stood up shakily, his sandy little feet stepping forward clumsily.
He waddled like a penguin, yet persisted in approaching Athena.
He stumbled over some debris but simply giggled, stood up, and continued. When his drool- and blood-stained little hands finally grabbed hold of her armored boot—
"Crack!"
Spiderweb-like cracks appeared beneath Athena's feet.
It wasn't due to his weight, but rather the unconscious release of psychic energy from the gene-primarch, resonating mysteriously with her divine power.
Athena looked down at the tiny figure barely reaching her ankle. He was looking up at her, his dirty little face shining with a radiant smile.
The Spear of Victory in her hand trembled slightly, as if trying to remind her of something.
A deep, twisted roar echoed from the northern part of the town like muffled thunder rolling across a desert, snapping the goddess out of her daze.
Athena narrowed her eyes. Her divine body clearly perceived the beat of chaos war drums ten kilometers away, and the grind of tank treads over gravel.
Khorne's legions were regrouping, and the commotion here had undoubtedly drawn their attention.
She had to move immediately.
Athena knelt on one knee, her golden battle skirt's armor plates clinking crisply.
She reached out her left hand and gently gathered the little one into her arms.
The young primarch was surprisingly warm. The psychic energy flowing beneath his skin was gentle like sunlight, entirely different from the chaos energy ravaging the battlefield.
"Hungwy..."
The little one squirmed in her arms, instinctively reaching for her breastplate with his tiny hands.
His molten-gold eyes held the primal hunger of a human child yearning for food.
Were it an ordinary infant making such a move, divine power would have long repelled him. But the essence of a gene-primarch allowed him to approach the goddess's divine body unhindered.
Athena was not angered. On the contrary, a loving smile appeared on her face.
Her slender fingers gently brushed away the dust from his face, and as her knuckles passed over his soft cheek, tiny golden sparks flared—the physical manifestation of a psychic resonance.
It seemed that after fully "bonding" with Samuel Young, her dormant maternal instincts had been subconsciously awakened.
She had never experienced such an overwhelming desire to protect.
Each breath, each murmur from the young one in her arms struck her mind like a primordial warhorn.
Perhaps this too was part of Samuel Young's "calculation"—entrusting the most precious descendant to her in the midst of chaos, to awaken her sleeping divine maternity.
But the practical issues came next.
Athena gazed down at the infant primarch in her arms, golden divine patterns swirling across her eyelashes.
Though the divine body of an Olympian deity theoretically possessed full lactation functions, her currently unimpregnated state rendered this "gift" like a sealed sacred vessel.
Her fingers traced the child's skin, which glowed with a faint golden hue. She could feel that this perfect body was trembling slightly from a lack of energy.
The Emperor's bloodline required far more nutrients than a mortal infant, and the deserts of Tatooine were like a blazing furnace greedily evaporating all life energy.
More importantly, when they used the Emperor's portal to arrive on Tatooine, they had brought enough supplies—but none of the biotechnicians needed to prepare the primarch's custom nutrients.
Moreover, no one had anticipated a gene-primarch being born on Tatooine.
The Imperial Fists led by Sigismund had even fewer specialists. Combined with the harsh battlefield conditions, the emergency rations they carried likely couldn't sustain the primarch's needs.
Wait—!
Athena suddenly looked up, her gaze like a sword piercing the southern horizon.
She sensed divine power rippling from the south—the unique energy rhythm of the Goddess of Marriage, Hera—like a sacred hymn woven from roses and frankincense.
If anyone on Tatooine could currently provide perfect nourishment for the primarch, it was Hera.
At that moment, the Spear of Victory in her hand began to vibrate at high frequency. The Greek inscriptions on its tip transformed from defensive runes into a flowing amber cocoon of light.
These divine glyphs, infused with the goddess's essence, wove a complex "swaddling" matrix around the primarch, allowing him to temporarily draw sustenance through divine resonance.
"Hold on, little one."
The goddess's voice now carried the layered harmonics unique to an Olympian deity.
She pressed the cocoon-like swaddling against her breastplate. The previously indestructible golden armor shifted and reformed like liquid, creating a recess at the heart adorned with olive branch patterns.
Under the nourishment of Athena's divine power, the young gene-primarch finally stopped squirming restlessly.
The goddess's embrace emitted the unique "scent" of Mount Olympus—
The chill fragrance tempered by war and wisdom, mixed with the freshness of golden olive branches, and a faint trace of solemn, eternal divinity.
It formed an invisible barrier that sealed off Tatooine's searing winds and the battlefield's stench.
The baby's eyelashes quivered, eyelids struggling between exhaustion and comfort before finally closing in deep slumber.
His breathing steadied. His tiny fists remained clenched, as if still wrestling some unknown fate even in his dreams.
Athena looked down for a moment, ensuring the primarch was safe, then stepped away from the lifeless town.
Her boots crossed the scorched earth. Behind her, wind and sand stirred the ashes like the sighs of countless lost souls, only to dissipate the moment they touched her figure.
However—
"Think and thirst for knowledge! Know and yearn for complexity!"
"Only Tzeentch is sacred! Be not bound by anything!"
Sharp incantations suddenly tore through the desert silence, like rusted blades scraping across the fabric of reality.
Athena stopped in her tracks. In front of her, the air twisted as if ripped by invisible hands. From the warped rift emerged a group of gaunt, robed sorcerers cloaked in bizarre patterns.
Their skin was a sickly shade of indigo, and their heads were studded with multiple eyes glowing with chaotic light, each pupil spinning wildly, probing the threads of fate.
Before Athena could react, the sorcerers raised their hands in unison, and a flood of psychic energy surged forth like a tidal wave.
Gravity collapsed in an instant, the sand beneath her feet sinking into a vortex;
Time's flow froze, the airborne dust crystallizing into eerie stillness;
Reality's structure was rewritten, and countless whispering runes shimmered in the air, attempting to erode her divine mind.
Roar~—!
With an inhuman shriek, more enemies spilled from the void.
Tzeentch-worshiping shock troopers in armor crawling with writhing glyphs raised their plasma guns, their hum a blasphemous hymn.
Pink and blue Horrors hopped around shrieking, each leap branding chaos runes into the earth.
Massive Tzeentchian demons with ever-shifting geometric forms and bird-like maws chanted twisted prophecies with many mouths.
They surged forward, blade, spell, and curse all aimed at one target—the gene-primarch in Athena's arms.
These fanatical Tzeentch-worshipers and warped demons knew full well they could not match the Olympian Goddess of War in direct combat.
But their goal wasn't to defeat her—it was to taint her charge, even with the slightest touch.
The will of Chaos whispered promises of eternal corruption and ascension into their ears.
So long as they could stain the Emperor's pure bloodline, their mission would be fulfilled. And the warp's corruption would take root in the primarch's soul, one day blossoming into a glorious flower of damnation.
Faced with the "prison" of multiple chaotic energies—
Collapsed gravity fields, frozen time flow, torn spatial rifts—Athena's face remained cold and perfect like a marble statue from the Parthenon.
There was no panic in her gaze, only burning eyes reflecting the incoming blasphemy.
In the next instant, her divine form erupted in radiant psychic light.
This light was not the twisted imitation of chaos sorcerers, but pure divine power from Samuel Young—like dawn piercing an endless night.
Gravitational restraints shattered, time's shackles broke, and space's folds were forcibly smoothed.
Reality re-stabilized around her, as if chaos had never existed.
"Foolish creations."
The Goddess of War's voice rang out like a judgment bell.
The Spear of Victory turned into a golden lightning bolt in her hand. The trail it carved through the air etched burning Greek runes.
The first wave of Horrors didn't even have time to mock before they were struck—
Slash—Splurt—!
The sound of the blade slicing through chaotic flesh was sharp and merciless.
Their bodies did not bleed when severed but shattered like brittle stained glass, their warped forms dissolving into ash with screeches.
"Waaah!!"
One Horror's head flew high, its toothed mouth still opening and closing—but only meaningless hissing emerged.
"Ahhh!!"
Another was skewered through the chest. Chaotic energy gushed like boiling water from its wound, only to be vaporized by blinding golden light.
Their destruction wasn't death, but purification—erased by pure psychic energy, even denied the right to return to the warp.
Athena's stride never faltered, the spear tip dripping with burning chaos remnants—embers of divine retribution.
These fanatics had made one fatal mistake: overestimating numbers while underestimating true divine power.
Without a greater daemon's leadership, without a fallen primarch's suppression, they couldn't even reach Athena's skirt armor.
She had no intention of tangling with this rabble.
When the last chaotic incantation crumbled into blue ash around her, she shot southward like a stream of golden lightning.
Her speed surpassed mortal perception. Only the exploding corpses left in her wake marked her path—
One after another, the heretics' bodies were sliced apart by sacred sharpness. Their many-eyed heads wore dumbfounded expressions as they flew, and the Horrors became blue torches in an instant. Their shrill laughter ended in silence.
A sorcerer who tried to bind her with psychic chains suddenly went rigid, looking down to find a glowing golden hole through his chest.
Athena's figure had long vanished across the southern horizon.
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