Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

Page 869

[My only worry now is our... Emperor. I thought I had forgotten his cold-bloodedness, but now it seems I've remembered it all.]

Horus turned his head thoughtfully to look at the humanoid figures that had half-melted into the palace walls and floor. The filthy shapes were half-melted into the palace, like half-dissolved cocoons, and slowly struggled and wriggled their facial features. Horus believed that at least half an hour ago, these strange palace decorations must have been living people.

The two Horus were still hurrying towards the entrance to the underground palace. Horus continued his conversation while cautiously observing the surroundings.

To be honest, I was quite surprised by him.

He glanced at Neos again. For some reason, Neos had become quiet, like a puppet with its strings cut, a quietness that was somewhat frightening.

[He was so approachable. Our emperors almost never explained, never compromised, and hardly ever spoke—well, I used to think the 'emperor' was actually dying, but unfortunately he outlived everyone else.]

The Wolf God's right eyelid twitched. No explanation, no compromise—

In fact, the Emperor was like that before, especially according to other Primarchs. Later, the Emperor changed and became almost unrecognizable as the brutal figure he once was, but some essential aspect of him seemed to have remained unchanged. At least in the eyes of the Wolf God, the Emperor's essence and core had never changed in the slightest.

He's just changed his skin.

An emperor who was cruel to others and then allowed the Wolf God to become a war commander; and an emperor who was jovial to others and then caused the archangel to fall from heaven—well, the Wolf God couldn't say which was worse.

Emperors love only humans; this is a kind of universal love—in other words, emperors actually love no one. Those who possess universal love are the most cruel.

Perhaps he realized that good communication would be more beneficial for his soldiers.

The Wolf God said, then touched his nose guiltily.

He looked at the quiet emperor again, countless moments flashing through his mind: the golden ring, the crown, the four-colored chaos, a shard of broken starlight, the blood-red eye filled with pain, and then atonement, never to see himself again, never to see the Milky Way again.

In a daze, the Wolf God timely grasped the subtle confusion that was vaguely buried in a dark corner of his heart.

[...I don't really care about his attitude and tone of voice anymore...it's the same?!]

Before the words were finished, the Wolf God was suddenly startled. The reason was simple: Neos, who had been unusually quiet just moments before, suddenly jumped off the Wolf God's arm armor at a speed that neither of the two Primarchs could keep up with, and landed on the ground almost headfirst. Then, Neos started running towards the front, shouting incantations that no one could understand.

【My Lord?! Wait?!】

The Wolf God was shocked and immediately tried to catch up with Neos. Horus also led his team to follow, but they seemed to be forever separated from Neos by a space. The mad figure walked on the floor full of countless twisted human figures as if it were flat ground. After he passed by, those human figures that were originally slowly struggling seemed to come alive and began to writhe and twist extremely actively.

"I see you!"

"Nios shouted, stumbling forward,"

"I know—I know! You only told half the truth—you don't trust your children?! No! You just think that no one will follow your plan after knowing the whole truth! Hahahaha—you deserve it! I deserve it too!"

Nios laughed loudly and rushed to the entrance of the underground palace, which had already been violently torn open by humanoid roots that grew from the floor and walls. At this moment, it was like the gaping maw of a wild beast, spewing out hot, dark air.

Without hesitation, the emperor jumped down, ignoring the screams of the Wolf God behind him.

....................................

Fusion...

Fusion...

Mortarian struggled to stay upright, feeling as if an entire warship was pressing against him, trying to crush him to pieces.

But he still struggled to move his fingers, writing the incantations with the flowing black blood. The Primarch felt his vision becoming increasingly blurry, a sign that he was about to fall into a coma or die suddenly.

In a daze, in a dirty, dark room, he vaguely recalled some fragments—something he had once forgotten but later treasured.

........................

Another Fate Line

【? ? ? 】

"Look, number fourteen, this is chaos."

"[The Lord of Mankind]" said casually, standing behind Number Fourteen. This was the first time he had called Number Fourteen out alone. He idly played with the little guy's thin arms and hands, forcibly turning the Primarch's head to an angle where he could see the eerie gods in the warp. He felt the Primarch's breath catch in his throat, followed by a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

[What...what is that?]

"chaos."

"The Emperor" said casually, lowering his head and tilting the Primarch's head upwards to an angle where it could look directly into the Emperor's staring golden eyes.

Black strands of hair fell onto Mortalian's face, tickling the Primarch, yet also feeling like a dark cage imprisoning him.

A shadow fell over the "Emperor's" face, but his eyes shone brightly.

Why have you become tainted by chaos, my poor child?

[What...what are you saying?!]

"You don't need to understand now; you will understand later."

[Emperor] blinked and looked away. After that, he and Number Fourteen would forget this memory until Number Fourteen remembered it when necessary.

"Number fourteen, look, there are four in total."

"But the most crucial one is only one, do you understand? Number fourteen, only one, the most crucial one—"

Our destiny and the world are established based on His jokes and contracts, and that's the question: Number Fourteen, a being who has already experienced destiny once, what will He do this time? What does He intend to do?

The Emperor's eyes were bright and piercing, like the ever-rising sun, but the next moment darkness stained the sun with gold, just like a solar eclipse.

The dark-eyed Emperor stared at the sky with a half-smile, as if he were watching an unseen enemy.

A chaotic being that has already experienced fate once.

"But He didn't choose you, how strange."

He said, seemingly confused, that he repeated himself.

"He did not choose you, number fourteen, but you were chosen by all the others."

The Emperor's hand thoughtfully stroked Number Fourteen's shoulder.

"Besides Him, all existence has chosen you, Number Fourteen. What does that mean?"

How did he know what it meant?!

Number Fourteen gritted his teeth. The still young Primarch could not understand a single word of "Emperor." He only felt confused and fooled. He did not know what this old man was trying to do.

[The Emperor] patted Number Fourteen on the shoulder.

"Think more, Number Fourteen, think more."

His voice seemed to penetrate through layers of thick water, reaching the ears of the drowning Mortarian.

"All I can tell you is to think more—break out of linear thinking."

Centuries later, when Mortarion saw Guilliman with blue flames burning on his soul, he suddenly recalled the scene on Terra.

Why didn't Tzeentch choose him? Why didn't he choose Mortarion?

Mortarian remained silent, savoring each word of the Emperor's words, recalling the scenes over and over again. Then he vaguely realized something about the game between Tzeentch and the Emperor.

Thousands of years later, when Mortarion, covered in blood, stood in the labyrinth beneath Terra, before a monster that was halfway to becoming the Dark Lord, the Primarch suddenly remembered again—all beings had chosen him, so did that include the Dark Lord?

He already had the answer.

He was chosen by the Emperor as the final scythe in the plan for revenge.

Even if [Motalian] himself is willing.

The Emperor may have told him or hinted at more, perhaps it was the Dark Lord who told him, but in any case, Mortarion will let his vengeful rage drag everyone down to hell—except Hades.

[Motalian] felt [Herrera]'s call amidst the intense dizziness—no, not yet, perhaps that moment hasn't arrived yet.

........................

[Killiman] is questioning with a cold smile.

He brandished his sword as he fought the charging black figures, feeling the confinement of authority, with the scum on the throne looking down at him in an unacceptable manner.

With a ferocious expression, the intelligent Primarch recalled the scene from years ago.

........................

"He chose you..."

Beside the warm fireplace, the Emperor turned his head away from Guilliman, staring intently at the campfire. For some reason, the golden light flickered in the Emperor's pupils, only to be swallowed by darkness in an instant.

“Killiman—I know you are smart, calm, and have a good sense of the big picture.”

Of course, [Killiman] was not misled by his adoptive parents and handed Macragge over to the Empire directly.

"You are destined to be a king,"

The Emperor's voice was extremely soft, disappearing into the crackling of sparks.

“You will not be subservient to anyone, no matter who chose you… Guilliman, no matter what you see or hear… do not submit to any being… you have the right to use everything to climb to the top and build a true empire.”

After that, countless times in the dead of night, Guilliman would recall those words, and he quickly grasped the true key, the core message the Emperor had conveyed to him: do not allow any being to surpass you—and to achieve this, the Emperor would help you at all costs.

As for why we do this...

Guilliman's blue eyes shone brightly in the night sky, for He had chosen him, and the Emperor's true and most troublesome adversary was Him, who had chosen Guilliman.

Sure enough, He revealed a corner of His broken destiny to Guilliman.

This is what the Emperor has always feared.

We will stop it at all costs, even if it means he suffers.

..............................

[So now you've changed your mind.]

【Killiman】said slowly and deliberately, staring intently at the throne, where the beheaded black monster bowed at his feet.

[I'm not surprised at all, considering you've always had a terrible image in our minds.]

[But—I'm truly curious, where does your power come from? I believe I've been very careful in weakening all your sources of power.]

"Ouch—it hurts! It hurts so much!!!"

[Killiman] turned around abruptly, and in the pitch black, a disheveled Neos stumbled in. Then, a large hand followed closely behind, catching Neos before he hit the floor face down.

【…】

The wolf god, preoccupied with chasing Neos, slowly, awkwardly, and with difficulty raised his head and met [Guilliman]'s murderous gaze.

After [Guilliman], on that towering throne, two blasphemous beings looked at him together.

Chapter 871 [313] Plans, plans and plans

The Wolf God should have been thinking about how to leave this place gracefully—and wait for reinforcements to arrive.

Then he will realize that he can neither leave gracefully nor leave with any reinforcements.

Fortunately, he wasn't thinking about it at all. The Wolf God was simply standing on a few steps higher, holding the still struggling Emperor tightly with one hand, looking up at the scene in disbelief.

Any intelligent being would be dumbfounded at the sight, not because of Guilliman, but because of the being on the throne behind the Blue Primarch—the Wolf God—whose heart seemed to have stopped beating.

Above that, on the filthy throne, filthy, twisted flesh and blood, oozing unidentified liquid, writhed as if two boneless creatures had been forcibly squeezed into a small space. Countless messy blue bird feathers were mixed together, squeezed into the gaps between the flesh and blood, and stained again with pus and blood.

What held the two enormous figures firmly to their thrones was a similarly filthy, scarlet, dark red longsword—a sword that seemed to have been pulled from the spine of some giant beast, its fishbone-like spikes boldly pointing into the air.

That's...that's...that's...

The Wolf God's pupils dilated in shock. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His reason had already told him what the thing on the throne was, but he couldn't accept it emotionally. He unconsciously tightened his grip on the Emperor's hand, finding it hard to accept seeing such an undignified "Emperor," even though it was from another destiny.

The hurried footsteps behind the Wolf God saved him. Horus, panting, ran over. The Primarch, too, paused abruptly upon seeing the figure on the throne, but quickly composed himself. Horus resolutely and slowly raised his warhammer towards Guilliman and began to speak.

[You actually did it, Guilliman… I'm not surprised at all.]

[Seek benevolence and you will receive it.]

【Guilliman】stood there with a cold face, his expression grim. Pure white light fell from the endless sky, casting a shadow on the Primarch's face, making it difficult for 【Horus】to see 【Guilliman】's eyes.

[Guilliman] did not look at the two Horus. On the contrary, he never gave these two Primarchs a second glance. [Guilliman] stared intently at Neos, whom the Wolf God was holding, as if he had a thorn in his side.

The Wolf God felt countless pairs of eyes in the void looking at them, scrutinizing them, and carefully assessing their power and psychic abilities.

[This farce is over.]

【Guilliman】said slowly and deliberately, and a strange, immense spiritual pressure suddenly descended, causing both Horus to gasp for breath.

The Wolf God felt his heart, which had stopped beating, begin to pound wildly again, overwhelmed by some inexplicable fear and pressure—

The psionic aura of [Guilliman] was so powerful that the Wolf God even felt that [Guilliman] was more ruthless than the Archangel in his prime.

[He exerted all his strength, yet only reached Terra—a solitary endeavor, just as he had ten thousand years ago; he had no one he could truly rely on, only his tools.]

[Guilliman] flashed a brilliant, cold laugh. As he spoke, his psionic energy spread out, ready to deal with the enemy as quickly as possible while guarding against [The Emperor's] sneak attacks.