[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te":3,"chapter-i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-686":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","I'm in Warhammer, Please Don't Praise the Doraemon Machine God",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2265509,4422,"Chapter 686: I Want to Be a Farmer, I Want to Be a Hunter","i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-686",686,"\u003Cp>“Azriel, your mother is dead.” The voice of Ezekiel sounded beside Azriel’s ear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You survived, Ezekiel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Azriel lifted his head slightly and sighed inwardly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ezekiel’s insults stirred not a ripple in Azriel’s heart; his cave-dwelling mother had been dead for countless years, her image long blurred beyond recognition in his memory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If she still lived, she must have touched something she ought not have—Azriel would have executed her himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So when Azriel heard Ezekiel’s voice, his only feeling was relief and joy that Ezekiel had survived the Lion’s fury.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His guilt eased slightly. Azriel had to admit: joining the Black Shields, leaving the Chapter, abandoning his name—these were acts of cowardice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was not afraid of death; death was the inevitable end for an Astartes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He simply did not know how to face his gene-father. As High Grand Master, Azriel had read countless secret records within the Chapter about the Primarch—he revered the Primarch, loved the Primarch, and longed to meet him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Primarch knew, or at least suspected, the crimes Azriel had committed. Azriel had no face to stand before him, no words to explain his sins, and feared he would never even be granted the chance to atone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As High Grand Master, Azriel had read the Chapter’s secret records on the Primarch and knew his gene-father was not always a being ruled by reason over emotion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When enraged beyond measure, the Lion often discarded all reason and smashed his fist into the skull of whoever angered him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Azriel believed no Astartes in existence could stand face-to-face and survive a single punch from a Primarch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To die thus meant dying in shame and guilt, with no chance of redemption.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And for the entire Chapter and its Successors, watching their Primarch crush the skull of the High Grand Master would unleash chaos beyond imagining—perhaps even fracture the Legion. Such precedents were not unknown in the Legion’s history.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a night of deep reflection, Azriel unhesitatingly returned the Lion’s Helm, symbol of the High Grand Master’s station, left a letter for Ezekiel, and joined the Deathwatch Black Shields without delay, burying his name to atone for a lifetime.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Azriel also had to admit: these years in the Deathwatch were the happiest of his life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He need think of nothing, care for no Fallen Angels, worry not over the Chapter’s descent into darkness, avoid the mad brothers—only empty his mind, follow orders, and methodically slaughter xenos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This reminded Azriel of the recent Eldar Clown. No—Eldar-Enhanced Adeptus Administratum Cultural Troupe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Azriel warned himself inwardly: within the Deathwatch, where xenos are enemies, defining what counts as xenos is a serious political matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not long ago, Azriel watched the Eldar-Enhanced Adeptus Administratum Cultural Troupe perform within the Deathwatch—a play about the three Primarchs returning and debating which roles they should assume.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I want to be a farmer!” Guilliman declared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Leman Russ stepped forward: “I want to be a hunter!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sanguinius clapped his hands: “I want to sell meat paste!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Regent!” Guilliman stepped forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Warlord!” Leman Russ followed closely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Legion Commander!” Sanguinius smiled forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“All of them are Dante’s!” the three sang in unison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the time, Azriel had been stunned by the play; now, recalling it, he felt more strongly that the play contained a kernel of truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dante suffered so much—acting as Dark Angel Regent, Dark Angel Supreme Commander, even running the Blood Angels Legion. How much more comfortable is Azriel’s life now, as a Deathwatch Black Shield.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He still serves the Emperor, repays his sins, and personally slays humanity’s enemies—and here, he has reclaimed pure, uncorrupted brotherhood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Khemeli, brother, what are you pondering?” came a gentle, weathered voice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Azriel lifted his head slightly and saw an Astartes, clad in identical black power armor, his shoulder insignia concealed, walking over and sitting beside him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Herael, my brother, my Morning Star, I am thinking of… past things,” Azriel said, his voice heavy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Khemeli was the alias Azriel chose upon joining the Black Shields—a name from his homeworld, a barren, savage planet where Azriel had been a member of a cave-dwelling primitive tribe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was laughable: the Dark Angels’ Chapter Master, the paragon of Astartes virtue, the rebirth of ancient knighthood—was a savage born from a cave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herael was the brother Azriel had met in the past few months since joining the Black Shields.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herael was a seasoned Black Shield; from other brothers’ tales, Azriel guessed Herael had served as a Black Shield longer than Azriel had served as an Astartes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, for reasons unknown, Azriel felt an inexplicable closeness to Herael—as if they had been brothers since birth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Herael cared deeply for Azriel, often fighting beside him, their martial skill the highest in the Black Shield squad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herael had once explained the meaning of his chosen name: Herael meant “Fallen Morning Star.” Azriel, half-joking, began calling him “my Morning Star.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Joining the Black Shields means abandoning the past. Whatever sins you committed, whoever hated you—none of it matters anymore.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This is the Emperor’s final mercy to the guilty. Do not dwell on it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he spoke, Herael clapped Azriel on the shoulder:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Prepare yourself. We have a new mission—a major muster. Word is, it came straight from Saint Dora.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Azriel showed a flicker of curiosity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saint Dora—the being who had never been close to the Dark Angels. Azriel’s knowledge of Him came entirely from intelligence reports and Eldar Clown plays.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Saint Dora Smashes the Sun of the Underworld System with His Round Hand.” “Saint Dora Sells the Greater Daemon at the 22nd Century Department Store.” “Saint Dora Swallows a Tyranid Titan Whole.” “Saint Dora Teaches the Psyker Ogryn to Count to Ten.” “Saint Dora Never Moves—The Universe Moves Around Saint Dora.” “Saint Dora’s Tears Can Make the Emperor Rise, But Saint Dora Never Cries.” “Saint Dora’s Hand Makes the Hungering Lord Abstain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each tale more miraculous than the last—more exaggerated than many Imperial Cult scriptures about the Emperor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s the target? Where do we assemble?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“All classified. The Adeptus Mechanicus will transport us via any available Stargate.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herael shook his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Rumors say the number of Astartes summoned is massive—on a Legion scale.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Legion scale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such a massive muster must mean a colossal fleet gathering—perhaps even one or more Glorious Queen-class battleships.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Otherwise, no vessel could hold a full Legion’s worth of Astartes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But no reports of large fleet movements have surfaced. Could they be deploying the Mountain Array?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The only single vessels in the Imperium capable of housing a full Legion of Astartes are the Mountain Array and the Rock Fortress.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking of the Rock Fortress, Azriel felt a faint sorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps he would never again set foot on the Rock Fortress, never return to his homeworld.\u003C\u002Fp>",1116,"2026-06-19T20:02:16.510Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","cc967af5874637959f15d4bbd4017e0c652ae542c26f25475e345cb3fa486c2d","i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-687","i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-685",711,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fi-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-doraemo-cover.jpg"]