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

Page 858

Makado roared back,

"Didn't you say he'd wake up once he digested Tyron?!"

"?!"

Taracin seemed to be briefly stunned, but it couldn't immediately answer Makado. Makado heard a painful scream and the sound of a piece of metal being crushed. The already chaotic communication immediately fell silent.

"Zizzizi..."

"Aha!"

Tarasin's voice came from within again, but it sounded like the Endless King had now changed bodies.

"Where were we—oh right! You said Hades hasn't woken up yet, right!"

"According to my prediction, he should be awake by now. If he hasn't, it might be because his conscious mind isn't ready to awaken yet—or it could be for some other reason. Old Ma, I can't give you a definite answer in this situation. Everyone is encountering something like this for the first time. I feel that the Outer One is also different from what I remember back then. I suspect that this might be due to some kind of influence caused by the encounter with the Star Gods!"

Macardo's face darkened. A space necromancer called him "Old Ma"? But now was not the time to question that necromancer.

Do you have any good suggestions?

He asked patiently, but the communication with Tarasin was going bad again—it seemed that the outsider had already approached the space of Tarasin's new clone.

"Run!"

Tarachin shouted almost without hesitation.

"Run! Run with that bastard Hades! Old Ma, it's not very kind of you to say this, but you should still let the human empire retreat. Your ragtag army is useless against the outsiders. You might as well try to live a little longer—this grudge is between us, the Deathbringers and the Star Gods! It has nothing to do with any other race in this galaxy!"

Makado took another deep breath.

“Now I know why Hades chose you as an ally. I used to scoff at his foolishness, but I take back my mockery. However—well—the Primarchs are already heading your way. Most of their army is retreating, while the capable Primarchs are going to their aid. What do you think?”

"..."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then, as if gritting his teeth,

"Yes...you can come,"

It said, "I can provide them with some short-term psionic boosting devices—but don't let them steal the glory of us Deathbringers killing the Outer Ones!"

Makado sneered, and then came another agonizing scream from the other end of the communication line, followed by the hissing sound of something burning and turning into gas, and the communication was cut off again.

Communication was not restored. Macado took a deep breath and looked wearily at Hades, who was still sleeping like a log. He suppressed the urge to kick the wounded man lying there.

Makado rubbed his temples, waiting for Hades to wake up naturally.

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

eat!eat!eat!

Just because it's always been this way, does that mean it's right?

Hades felt dizzy and hungry again. The booklet he had opened seemed to have a magical power, making him suddenly feel ravenously hungry, with a hunger that seemed to gnaw at his very bones.

This reminded him of the beginning of his life in this world, when the barren crops on Barbaros left him hungry for three days and five meals a day.

He stubbornly closed the book again, and the original words on the cover disappeared, leaving only a mess.

The more powerful he becomes, the closer he gets to the essence of this world.

That is-

Ascend the steps! Become a god!

There was only one way to get there, to reach the summit, Hades thought in a daze: it was to eat, to devour the flesh and blood of his enemies, to eat the fruits of his plunder, until he grew into a behemoth—only then could he escape the fate of being eaten.

Only by avoiding being eaten can one survive and take up the sickle to protect what one wants to protect.

There are true gods in this galaxy, and only gods can protect a region.

Hades put down his book and slowly stood up. His sharp, star-like black eyes reflected a kind of penetrating madness and an insatiable hunger.

Just like the outsiders who are now roaring at him.

They are all starving now.

There can only be one winner, Hades thought to himself: the one who eats "people" will live, and the one who is eaten will die.

This is a natural law, just like a seed planted in the soil will sprout. Now that the seed has been planted in the soil, it must sprout and break through the soil.

Chapter 858 [300] Before the Battle

[Motalian] remained silent, burying his nose in his fanged demon mask and taking a deep, deep breath.

Amidst the swirling black smoke that obscured his vision, the figure of Mortarian, the Grim Reaper, appeared hazy.

It's crazy.

[Motalian] thought to himself as he slowly walked forward, watching indifferently as Mortalian, the Grim Reaper, issued orders to the Death Guard—while his own army had long since been sent back by [Motalian], since there were probably more "Mental Limit Warriors" there than [Death Guards].

[Motalian] simply let them return to [Barbarus], another destiny line, and let the Legion fight amongst themselves.

He stood listlessly a little behind Death, listening absentmindedly to Death's commands. Then the entire ship began to tremble violently, the engines warmed up, and with a huge, muffled "whoosh!" it charged towards the front.

They were some distance from the front lines, at least not as close as the Ultramarines currently at the forefront, but judging from the speed at which the outer forces were rushing towards them, it seemed that the two sides would only encounter each other within half a day.

During this time, Mortarian, the Grim Reaper, remained as if he were dead, merely reading through one document after another submitted by the Death Guard and signing one order after another.

Yu Guangzhong, among those papers, the first rebel glimpsed words such as "mobilize all" and "lift the ban on the sealing device".

But he remained uninterested, listlessly inhaling the poison gas, until Karas, clutching a stack of documents, kicked open the door with a bang and stormed angrily toward Mortarian, the Grim Reaper.

Seeing Karas's imposing manner, both Mortarians shuddered simultaneously.

Fortunately, Karas, who had a particularly sharp tongue, didn't even glance at the Primarch. He simply rushed over and shoved the documents in his hand into Mortalian's hand, demanding that the Primarch sign them before he died.

[Karas...please spare me, I'm about to die anyway, I at least hope I don't see these disgusting papers an hour before I die.]

"I grant you permission not to review any official documents for the seven minutes before you die."

【……cruel.】

Karas remained impartial. These documents included not only battlefield dispatches but also various plans for the Stormstar region. Whether they survived or not, these papers signed by the Primarchs would be quite useful evidence.

Hearing their conversation, the leader of the rebels, who had been keeping a low profile behind them, couldn't help but burst out laughing.

That smile was like a dagger from Karas. The leader of the rebels hurriedly stood up straight, but then he thought about why he was so nervous, so he leaned back down.

"I remembered the time you fought alongside us."

Karas spoke slowly and deliberately, his moss-green eyes shining brightly.

"Your acting is terrible, another Mortalian. If you want to fool others, at least try to fool yourself first."

He pointed to the ringleader's ambition to rebel against Guilliman.

The first rebel shrugged.

[At least the results were roughly the same.]

"Of course I know,"

Karas spoke slowly, enunciating each word clearly.

"For Hades, of course it's for Hades. I should have known. Sometimes I wake up from nightmares, staring at the ceiling, wondering why everyone I know seems to be so friendly to that damn dog."

The name made the leader's vision go black, but he quickly regained his footing and said nonchalantly,

[At least you're not friendly to him at all.]

"hehe."

Karas chuckled twice, then turned his head away, unwilling to engage in this pointless conversation. But Mortarian, the Grim Reaper who had been silent just moments before, suddenly spoke up.

Because he deserves it.

Death spoke calmly, though his voice was lowered by the document before him. The First Rebel glanced at it curiously, but Death gripped the paper tightly. It bore the triple seals of the Mechanicus, the Empire, and the Death Guard.

Mortarian tensed his jaw, paused, then added a small dot of black ink before signing "Hades"—he certainly had the authority to act as his agent.

He gave hope to so many people.

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

The fighter jet bounced violently as it forced its way into the air amidst the raging turbulence. Kriegmid gripped the restraint straps tightly to keep himself from being tossed around in the cockpit like a scrambled egg.

"I don't understand—why this sudden emergency evacuation!"

The Astragalus soldier beside Krieg shouted; the army and its organization had long been scattered. Krieg recognized him as a chemical dog, the guy with the yellow teeth who was now yelling, the black stone necklace around his neck floating in the air and hitting his comical big nose.

"Why won't you let us continue fighting?!"

He shouted angrily, "Where are those damned lackeys?!"

Krieg looked around but didn't find the political commissar in the cabin; he figured the commissar was probably dead. He frowned and turned to look at the chemical engineer, a muffled voice emanating from behind his mask.

"I will follow Hades' teachings; this is his will."

The chemistry dog ​​turned and stared at Krieger.

"A Krieg who believes in Hades?! Look what I've found!"

The various Astral Army factions have diverse beliefs, but they all boil down to Hades or the God Emperor. Chemists worship Hades because his blessings are truly effective when encountering Chaos or Greenskins.

Krieg, on the other hand, was an army that worshipped the God-Emperor.

The hill between Mead's eyebrows grew higher and higher.

“Yes, I worship Hades,” he paused, “so calm down and conserve your strength. He needs us to be more loyal to him than to die now.”

"Ha ha!"

The elderly chemistry teacher made a neck-scratching gesture with his thumb.

"You brat! I'd love to die here—so my family's bastards can collect a hefty compensation!"

The notorious army of chemical warfare soldiers originally didn't have the concept of compensation, or even the concept of family, Mead thought. But later, with the implementation of the Nirvana System and the signing of an imperial decree by Hades and the Lord of the Empire, Kyliman, a more scientific and standardized military protection law was implemented, successfully—in the words of the world—protecting the interests of every soldier, even a bastard chemical warfare soldier. This protection law was clearly very effective, so effective that it allowed a chemical warfare soldier to have a "family."

Therefore, most of these chemical engineers who are able to receive benefits in their lifetime are grateful to Hades, but they are ashamed to say that they also fought hard on the battlefield. Mead hopes that they fought for Hades and the Empire, not for the pensions.

"Why are those bastards still on the ground?"

The chemistry dog ​​knocked on the window. Through the semi-transparent glass, the black and red dots stood out starkly against the backdrop of a massive formation of fighter jets scrambling to take off and retreat.

It is the cult of the underworld and the cult of mechanics.

"Because Hades needs them."

Mead muttered to himself, wondering if the red-haired woman was also left on the surface of some planet.

This is a good thing, sacrificing herself for her faith in Hades. However, Krieg still feels a tightness in his chest, hoping that next time he dies, he won't be resurrected by the Death Guard's Primarch, but will instead fall into the River Styx.

"Why doesn't that damned Hades need us?!"

The chemistry dog ​​flew into a rage and started cursing. This time, Mead ignored him. Krieg closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

"Because he wanted people to live and participate in the postwar reconstruction."

He said that these were the words of the red-haired priest, not his own.

On the ground, those red and black dots continued to wriggle, like a moving Great Wall, busily constructing the giant weapon he needed.

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

"Hurry up! You lazybones!"

Kirkland cursed, swinging the cable whip in his hand even more vigorously.

He was inside a massive black stone building, the floor of which was littered with the corpses of space undead, demons, and humans. The Guardians and the Mechanical Sages were busily working, directing various large machines to urgently construct the structure.

They already knew that what they were about to face was something that could not be harmed by bullets or swords, and only heavy weapons could cause it minor damage—which is why the Mechanicus was the most necessary force in the war.

"...It's been a long time, Kirkland, my first mentor."

A calm voice sounded behind Kirkland, and a huge shadow fell over him. Kirkland slowly turned around and saw that damn bastard.

"You dare to see me?! You worthless piece of trash who resigned!"

Jin-306 spread his hands, revealing a ":)" on the screen.

"We're all going to die anyway."

Kim said,

“I’ve come to see you, and while I’m at it, to keep an eye on you. The higher-ups have given orders—no, I should proudly say that my application has been approved.”