bookbashuk Page 860
Page 860
Compared to Corax, who was spitting out blood foam with every breath, Conrad was clearly more active. He was shouting noisily, which obviously made the shrike [Corax] even more irritated. Prince Khorne brandished his blood claws, abandoned Corax in front of him, and pounced on Conrad.
But Conrad, like a badger in a melon patch, skillfully dodged every attack from the shrike, which further enraged Prince Khorne, and the shrike's attacks became increasingly rapid.
Robert Guilliman is getting special treatment!!!
Conrad's scream was deafening; even Corax wanted to cover his ears, but in that instant,
Conrad seized the opportunity, his twisted smile undisguised, and thrust his lightning claw at the shrike's neck. The shrike, engrossed in its attack, was startled and had no time to defend, so it had to move away—resulting in the lightning claw striking its face and drawing blood. Corax could see the shrike's nose and half an eyeball swirling in the air.
good chance!
Ignoring the intense tearing pain in his chest, Corax lunged forward, his dark figure flashing through the air like a black lightning bolt, his claws aimed straight for the shrike's second heart.
laugh!
Corax felt resistance from his right hand, heard the sound of armor and bones breaking, and then a blood-red phantom that was so fast that he could hardly react rushed towards him!
[Ugh!]
Corax was suddenly pulled by a tremendous force from behind, and the blood claws rushing towards him barely grazed his neck. The Raven Lord felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down his forehead. When he turned around, he saw Conrad smiling at him and releasing Corax's feather-like cloak.
"Look, if Guilliman had given us a psionic boost, that coordinated attack would have taken him down long ago."
Conrad stuck out his tongue, but the cold glint in his eyes remained fixed on the direction of the shrike, where the blood-red monster stood up again, its muscles contorted, growing even larger.
[That's good, it seems he's entered the third stage.]
Conrad blinked innocently, and the next moment, he vanished, leaving Corax, who had abruptly turned his head, to face the shrike's fury.
....................................
【Shut up!!!】
Angron screamed in despair and kicked the writhing maggot on the ground. The madman on the ground, with its limbs severed, was now like a small, mobile spray bottle, constantly spewing out various colored liquids from its various openings, determined to spray Angron in the face.
Angron clearly regretted not having a weapon like Saint Gilles' spear. He wanted to knock the maniac unconscious, but the distance he could cover to do so was not far enough to maintain his dignity.
The raging maniac suddenly stopped, collapsed on his back, and winked mischievously at Angron.
I will not die.
He let out a maniacal laugh.
[Motalian won't let me die.]
He blinked. This statement did indeed raise doubts in Angron's mind—the Primarch still remembered Mortarion on the other side, and his impression of him was clearly better than theirs, and he seemed more rational.
So why?
Angron shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. He didn't need to listen to this madman. He spat on the ground and then kicked the maniac in the head, the sound of his skull shattering clearly audible.
Hades, Hades, please help your brother, descend upon me, I can't take it anymore.
"Angron said in a low voice."
..............................
【You came.】
Guilliman didn't even bother to look at the other person. He heard two footsteps behind him, one after the other. Before the footsteps arrived, a billowing white mist that had reached the Primarch's knees was already high.
【coming. 】
Mortarian said calmly, standing next to Guilliman.
What about Saint Gillespie?
He asked, a question that seemed to age Guilliman even more. The Primarch sighed and shook his head.
He went to join our father.
【…】
This is not a good choice.
"Motalian said in a low voice, and the Primarch raised his eyes, staring at the sphere of light that seemed to cover the entire galaxy.
The outer side...
How do you plan to play?
Killman asked a question out of the blue.
[...Listen to Taraxin.]
Mortarian lowered his voice, as listening to the words of an alien race was clearly difficult for the Primarch to accept, even if that race was their ally.
But that's the only answer.
As Mortarion spoke, the Endless One's cry arrived on the battlefield.
"Hello?! Hello! I'm ready! How's it going on your end?!"
Chapter 860 [302] Sigh, a brief ascension to godhood is just for fun.
That monster is tearing the galaxy apart.
..............................
"It's unimaginable..."
Talasin muttered to himself as the space necromancer sprawled on the command chair, looking up. The intense, malevolent white light pierced its smooth metal face, creating a blazing, ghostly image.
"When did the Outer Ones become so powerful? Or is it because we haven't faced a complete Star God for too long?"
+Because all the other gods have perished.
Orikan's voice pierced through layers of destiny, landing in Taracin's ears. The Star Lord carefully handled each destiny within its dimensional realm, maintaining the most correct path—the true destiny.
+A still-intact Star God descended upon the Milky Way, shattering and driving insane the Outer Ones' kin. The banished powers thus began to concentrate among the Outer Ones, rather than wandering aimlessly within the Milky Way.
"Well."
Tarasin shrugged, then scratched his nose as if he had remembered something.
"It seems I've figured out why Hades fell into a coma."
The power that influences the outer beings likely also affected Pluto, but certainly not to the same extent as the outer beings were corrupted. After all, Pluto was nothing more than a half-baked hybrid who had only recently entered the field compared to the outer beings.
+I suggest you focus your attention on the battlefield—Tarachin, while you were just distracted by your human friend, a company of Deathbringers was wiped out because of your negligence. +
"Okay! Okay! I will!"
Tarasin suddenly shouted, leaping to his feet and swinging his arm, causing the cloak draped over his shoulders to billow.
"Cough cough!"
“Although I still want to say, Eurican, I feel we can’t win, at least the Fear of the Dead are really going to be wiped out this time—but strangely enough, I feel relieved instead—well, not really, I’m both worried and relieved now, I’m probably going crazy.”
+Stop associating with those shady human comrades of yours, Tarachin. You're acting like a warp-corrupted madman now.+
"Maybe I was just crazy all along!"
Tarasin roared, spreading his arms wide. The outer edge, which almost filled the entire field of vision of the Necromancer, poured down a holy white light, fiercely illuminating the Necromancer's true master.
"Then let's start the war! I refuse to believe we can't win without Hades!"
"It's time to show my true strength!"
Tarachin slammed his fist down, and the crisp metallic sound echoed in the command room.
"Eurican!"
The space necromancer shouted with great vigor,
"I want to become a god! Quickly lend me a hand!"
Tarasin suddenly opened his arms wide, and as the Endless One opened its arms, several geometric shapes shimmering with eerie light appeared around it.
Orikan immediately recognized that the energy contained in those creations was no less than that of the Spirit Gem that had briefly elevated the Star Master to godhood—long ago, Tarasin had briefly allied with Orikan and contributed a Spirit Gem that had briefly elevated Orikan to godhood.
+Didn't you say that was your last piece of artifact from the nascent space undead?! +
Orikan cursed, realizing that he had been tricked by Tarasin long ago. When Tarasin gave him that Eldar gem, Orikan had been genuinely moved for a nanosecond.
"That is indeed the oldest item in the War of Heaven themed exhibit—but I never said I only have one similar item!"
The Emperor of Endless Powers, the true collector of the galaxy, the King of Figurines, Tarachin, hereby appears!
Among these items was an Eldar gem—but it was picked up by Tal Rashin amidst the chaos when Slaanesh fell, and Hades never asked it for it; there was also the dark energy aggregate that was thrown out on the day of Sanguis' ascension, and neither the Lord of Man nor Sanguis asked Tal Rashin to return it; and there was the shattered Astral Core that Tal Rashin accidentally picked up while accompanying Hades on his space necromantic tomb raiding expedition, and Hades only asked for reports on the army, weapons, and technology, but not for Tal Rashin to hand over those worthless ornaments.
In addition, there are Eldar weapons in the Eldar Empire Demise themed pavilion; Iron Man's Infinite Energy in the Omnic Rebellion themed pavilion... and many other collections.
In short, if you have a passion for collecting that lasts for hundreds of thousands of years and tirelessly try to find things that nobody else wants in the galaxy, then one day you will amaze everyone.
"These!"
Tarasin cried out in pain.
"Is this enough for me to ascend to godhood in a short time, Eurykian?!"
Enough, absolutely enough! Eurican felt a burning rage. The energy from these treasures could send a pig soaring to immortality, and now they were being fed to a brainless idiot.
Why didn't you bring it out when you fought the Silent King?!
Orikan angrily questioned,
"I can't bear to do that!"
Tarasin cried out and gathered his collection together as if it were a precious treasure.
"I need them to fight the Silent King?! Only—only the fateful battle between the Fearful Ones and the Star Gods is worthy of them!"
....................................
This is not a good idea.
Guilliman frowned, rubbing his temples, but he was already standing inside the altar. Runes written in blood spread outwards from the Primarch, with thirteen chains-like or thorny lines extending outwards, connecting to the thirteen main Blackrock towers in the distance.
The Black Stone Towers are towering, their high spires almost piercing the planet's atmosphere, their tops hidden from view. Beneath the thirteen main towers, thirteen smaller Black Stone obelisks surround the main towers.
The rune array beneath Robert's feet was drawn by Mortalian—Guilliman clearly couldn't have drawn such a psionic array.
Perhaps you have another better method?
Mortalian scoffed, the Primarch holding the strange-smelling jar containing the ink for writing runes.
Behind the Primarch, Karas also held a bone china jar and splashed blood on the thirteen warriors chosen by Guilliman.
Guilliman's breathing trailed off for a moment, then...
But I really don't know what to do.
The emperor remained calm.
[I've only just barely grasped how to apply psionic energy to my offspring—perhaps you should be in charge of the main array, Mortarion; you're far more proficient in psionic energy than I am.]
The three psionic arrays, at the moment when Tarashin severely injured the Outer Ones, bound as much of their power as possible, preventing it from returning to the Outer Ones.
[But you are the strongest among us, Robert Guilliman. Whether you admit it or not, you are the most powerful psychic among us, without exception—the Emperor has chosen you, his authority and the authority of the Empire are in your hands, and you must learn to use them.]
Mortarian's breathing hissed from behind the gas mask, his eyes gleaming with a calm that bordered on madness.
[While I do want to reprimand you, Guilliman, you should have learned how to use your psionic powers long ago, instead of putting them into practice now—but given that you can't be absent from your office hours, I can only somewhat understand.]
This empire can live a day without Mortarion, but not a day without Guilliman.
If Guilliman goes to study psionics, who will do the office work? It can't be Mortalian.
An untimely, dry joke popped into the Primarch's mind. Death chuckled dryly to himself, the intense light from the Outer One making him feel a burning sting on the parts of him that were illuminated—perhaps he should have processed more official documents earlier, so that Guilliman could have some time to study that damned psionic power.
Mortarian blinked. Through the stinging sensation on his body, the Primarch judged that the Outer Ones were about to enter their psionic range, and time was running out.
The pale, tall, thin monster remained silent for a moment, then took a step forward. In that step, Mortarian suddenly became even more hazy, even more bizarre, even more as if he had dissolved into some other dimension.
Killieman instinctively wanted to back away, but he held back.
Feel your soul.
The Pale Lord's soft, hoarse voice came from all directions, as if from a misty valley.
+Feel your soul, Robert Guilliman, feel your authority, feel your anger, I see it… powerless because of your long neglect, but it has always been waiting for you. +
Mortalian's eyes now resembled the compound eyes of a fly, a dazzling array of colors flashing across them. There was no time to lose; he needed to immediately make Guilliman feel his authority.
This matter should perhaps have been handled by the Lord of Mankind or Macardo, but in the end, it was like Guilliman was forced into it, and the task of guiding Guilliman's psionic energy was handed over to Mortalian.