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

Page 850

The voice was not the one he had heard before, the one belonging to Hades, but the one he knew well, the one Hades who had died young on Barbarossa.

The voice fell silent, as if deep in thought.

“I think I’m completely dead, but that person’s dark domain has awakened the will of the last small piece of dark domain I left for you. So I can talk to you for a short while now, Mortarian. But only for a short while, after all, I’m not the real me, but… uh… something like a soul echo?”

Hades then let out a long sigh of relief.

"Luckily I left you a fragment of the Dark Domain, otherwise you would have been swallowed whole by that guy. He's really something else—I never expected my other self to be so strong."

Chapter 848 [290] Mortarian and [Mortarian]

"But to be honest, in the end you still sided with the traitors, Mortarian."

[. ]

Mortarian felt his heart stop for a moment, his blood cease to flow, and a cacophony of voices screamed in his mind, trying to say no—but after countless explanations, Mortarian knew clearly that Hades was telling the truth.

The Primarch remained silent, like a dying fish; having just been baptized by the Dark Domain, it was completely unrealistic for him to act under these circumstances.

"Although it may be painful for you to say this, I think I may have indeed envisioned such a scene... It was indeed somewhat frustrating, I originally thought... I originally thought I had done my best to correct the mistakes."

Hades' voice continued to mutter to himself. As he said, the original body felt an indescribable anger, resentment, and regret. He wanted to shout out his anger. Was that what he wanted to do? Was it because he couldn't wait to accept the power offered by Chaos? Didn't he consider other ways out? But this world is just so rotten. If you can't become a part of its rottenness, then all you will face next is death. This damned galaxy rejects anyone who is not a blood-and-war individual.

Hades' death is the best proof; the faint hope was extinguished, while the rotten survived.

[Motalian] wanted to curse and smash his scythe on the ground. Let whoever wants to do it do it; he wouldn't. If this was the fate of the Primarch, then it would have been better if he had never had a will in the first place.

Although he had imagined Hades's rebuke a thousand times, when he actually heard those words, the Primarch felt his soul burning with anguish.

"but……"

Hades was silent for a moment, then the voice spoke again.

“You did your best, Mortalian, I think you did your best—so there’s nothing to blame, and perhaps no one should be blamed except Guilliman and the Emperor.”

This is a statement that is absolutely correct and without any problems.

However, Mortarian's thoughts did not linger on those words for long. He was still immersed in immense powerlessness, anger, and grief. He watched helplessly as countless vibrant lives withered away because of his own inadequacy, and his futile efforts ultimately backfired, resulting in nothing.

He felt anger, immense anger, stemming from within himself. It was the powerlessness in the face of overwhelming reality, and the helplessness after his frantic screams. The entire galaxy was like this; before the mountains of fate, even the Primarch was so insignificant, unable to save the life of an old friend, or avenge him afterward.

Even if [Motalian] had indeed swung that scythe at [The Emperor] back then—the imagined ecstasy of revenge only lasted for a moment, followed by even greater bewilderment and helplessness. The blood of revenge could not resurrect an individual who had never had a soul, and the future... that even darker future had already quietly arrived.

He completed his plan, fulfilling the oath he had sworn to Barbarossa years ago, but nothing changed. The sun still did not rise, and the bubble of utopia was permanently shattered—until perseverance became numbness, until resilience became forbearance, until he truly saw that fate, only then did the faint light of hope shine again.

But it was nothing but a mirage.

He failed again, so hastily, yet with a certain fatalistic echo. Perhaps being devoured by his best friend in the mirrored fate was a good ending, at least his soul would finally rest in peace—regardless of whether he forgave himself.

"But—cough cough, but, Mortarian."

As if sensing Mortarian's resentment, Hades suddenly spoke again.

“You haven’t completely disappeared yet—Motalian, uh… let me think of an analogy. Well, it’s like my power has created a cut in your soul, and then another part of me, after devouring the cut I created, suddenly stopped—maybe it automatically assumed that what was here wasn’t an unnamed psionic being from the warp, but some kind of rare psionic being, so it stopped.”

Of course, it's also possible that an old man existing next to Hades' physical form struck the sleeping Hades with a stick—who knows, the probability of this happening is not zero.

"And the curse I gave you just happened to stop Guilliman's control from going any deeper. However, the contract on you is not completely washed away yet. A large part of it was devoured, but a part remains on you—this is your contract with Guilliman, and only you know what was left behind."

The contract… [Motalian] thought, and the damned face of [Guilliman] reappeared in his mind.

The other part of the contract is what Mortarion truly wants.

But before Mortarian could delve deeper into his thoughts, Hades's strange cry instantly brought him back to his senses.

"so!"

Hades' voice suddenly rose in pitch, as if he were contorting himself into a strange posture.

"Take this! This is my last Ripple! Mortarion!!! We still have to fight! We can't rest now!"

Hades wanted to comfort Mortarian, but the echoes left by his fragment were too faint; even he himself had just come to his senses before it was about to disappear again.

However, Hades was not worried that Mortarion would go on strike because of this—perhaps Hades, like the Emperor, had an almost cruel sensitivity in this regard, but Hades would not show it directly.

The Mortarion will rise again, even if it is broken. This is the Mortarion. It is almost impossible for a Primarch to easily give up the ambition and cause he has persisted in all his life, unless the person who persuades the Primarch happens to be the Emperor, and the Primarch who is persuaded is named Horus Lupecal.

? !

Wait a minute?! Wait a minute—wait a minute!

Mortarion roared in his mind, feeling himself being pulled away from where Hades might be. He roared madly, mobilizing his limbs—and finally he succeeded. The Primarch leaped forward, rushing toward the weakest and most powerless darkness.

Too many words were stuck in his throat, too many things he hadn't had time to say, too many things he couldn't open his mouth to, too many questions he couldn't ask. He had too many doubts, reluctance, confusion and grief, but time waits for no one. The Primarch looked at the small dot that was gradually moving away, and he roared out—a thousand words converged into one sentence.

A question that had perplexed him countless times, a question he had asked himself a thousand times while sitting atop his chaotic altar, raising his hand to gaze upon himself.

[Hades—Do you regret it?!]

Does he regret coming into this world? If it were another world... he could have become a god.

Do you regret coming to Barbaros? Didn't he say that [Killiman] was better?

Do you regret choosing Mortarion? He could have ignored the Primarch and been content to be the Xenomorph Lord's subordinate.

This world is a huge deception and a lie. Everyone has been let down, just another tragic contrast to their fate. But their pain, their perseverance, and all the suffering have not diminished in the slightest.

【Hades】, do you regret it?

【Motalian】 stared wide-eyed as 【Hades】 walked away with his back to him, casually extending his right hand, his index and middle fingers joined together with his thumb to form a gun shape, then nonchalantly tapping it on his forehead before releasing it again.

"No regrets,"

The laughing voice faded away rapidly along with the darkness, and the blurry light grew larger and larger in front of [Motalian]. The Primarch was extremely unwilling to wake up, but was cruelly dragged back little by little by the gravity of reality.

"Hahahaha! You're the Primarch—Motalion! I've finally seen a living Death Guard Primarch! Hahahaha, I can't even keep laughing—remember to keep up the good work, old Motalion! See you again sometime!"

[Motalian] opened his eyes and saw another version of himself. Death was crawling laboriously on the ground. The scoundrel crawled to the side of the First Rebel and was struggling to cut off [Motalian]'s head with his dagger.

When the rebel opened his eyes and looked at him, Death revealed a chilling smile. Then, he quickened his slow movements and the dagger drew ever closer.

[......]

【Motalian】stared blankly at the monotonous ceiling of the Resilient, feeling a faint sense of death rising from the depths of his bones.

As Hades said, he felt the coercive control from Guilliman had disappeared.

But he'd rather not go with Hades than before—well, would he really be willing? In reality, no matter which path he chooses, the first rebel will regret it; no path is perfect. Could he truly abandon his millennia-long, carefully laid plans and choose to leave with Hades?

Obviously not, even if [Motalian] would very much like to choose that option.

I surrender.

The first rebel said calmly.

Upon hearing this, Death's hands moved even faster. "Damn it," the chief rebel thought.

[I said I surrender! Cough cough cough!]

Black blood spilled out as Mortarian, the Grim Reaper, exhausted from the arrival of the Dark Domain, struggled to cut the first rebel's skin and flesh, which were harder than adamantite, with his blade.

[Not acceptable.]

Mortarian said, frantically trying to regain his power—if he had just regained his power, the First Rebel would never have lived to the moment he surrendered.

He gripped the small dagger tightly in his hand, cutting it as if sawing it off. "Why is it so hard, you bastard?"

[I'll swear an oath to you, Mortalian—I've just been controlled by Guilliman!]

I know, but I won't accept it.

Mortarion kept cutting and cutting, and the two massive Primarchs collapsed to the ground in a huge "T" shape. One of them was struggling to hold on with a small dagger that was too small for their size, trying to cut the other's neck. Black blood gushed from the cut, but it seemed that it was still some distance from cutting deep enough.

The scene was somewhat absurdly humorous, even though the Primarch, whose throat was being slit, was gurgling as if he were choking.

Until a golden stick struck Death on the head with a loud "BANG!!!" sound.

"Hehehe... So this is the Hades you were calling for, right..."

A pair of feet appeared in the sight of the two Primarchs, and frost formed by psionic energy condensed beneath their feet. The old man's sinister voice came from beside Death, and he casually used his stick to deflect Mortalian's arm, which was trying to slit his throat.

[***……]

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the first rebel finally uttered a mumbled curse, then covered his neck, which was beginning to heal, and fell silent.

That's Hades, the Guardian of Death—the Hades of Barbarossa—you old codger—

BANG!

With another crisp, loud bang, Mortarian's voice finally stopped. The First Rebel felt that his other self was very dissatisfied at this moment, but due to some temporary power imbalance, Death had to shut up.

“I urge you to be rational, Mortalian—I thought you were mature enough, but I never expected you to be so childish and absurd in front of your other self. Does every Primarch have such an intense desire to compete?”

"This is the last warning, Mortarion. If you don't want to betray the empire he built, you'd better let your mind control you, not your damned soul and instincts, and the inexplicable thoughts that all Primarchs have. I don't have time to educate you now. Your damned, gluttonous commander is resting right now, so don't waste his energy."

The "he" who built this empire could not possibly be the emperor; it must be Hades.

So Mortalian fell into a sinister silence, while the Primarch lay quietly on the ground, struggling to regain his strength and hoping to one day strike Macado with his scythe.

"And you..."

Makado's sudden change of tone startled the chief rebel who was listening to the opera, and the old man revealed a huge, conspiracy-themed smile.

“A contract, is it? I love signing contracts—especially when the remaining part of your contract is Guilliman’s.”

[......]

What do you want?

Clutching the still-fresh black blood clinging to his fingers, the First Rebel frowned and asked, but before the old man could speak, Death God Mortarian chuckled and spoke.

"So used to being someone's dog... are you really Mortalian?!"

BANG!

[......]

The first rebel, Mortarian, calmly looked at the ceiling. In fact, he felt much relieved after seeing Hades, as if some completely impossible wish had suddenly come true.

I'd like to.

【Motalian】 calmly uttered these words, completely abandoning his dignity along with 【Hades】, who was running away laughing.

Makado smiled, crouched down, and reached out his hand towards Mortarion. The old man's hand hovered above the Primarch's neck, and the gleaming blue runes reappeared menacingly.

“An interesting Primarch… I think your plans are far deeper than you’ve revealed, aren’t they, Mortarion?”

Then a profound meaning flashed in the old man's eyes.

"But your plans are too far-reaching, too grand, and too abstract. That's why you almost died on the Endurance, Mortalian."

The first rebel gave a bitter smile.

[But I survived... Macado, I survived, because of everything.]

“It’s hard to imagine that I would meet such an easy-going and calm Mortarian. Well, the contract I’m giving you will be much more lenient. I believe you’re on our side.”

Chapter 849 [291] This is the Emperor

Another Fate Line

【now】

Within the eternally glorious solar system, a faint, shimmering blue light envelops the stars, providing faith and strength to all believers.

The farthest and dimmest planet from the sun moves silently, where sunlight turns into a pale dark blue. This star, with its most unusual trajectory, glides along, appearing unremarkable to the naked eye.

However, if one were to open the warp perspective, one would see the enormous and unusual warp light enveloping this planet, with countless magic arrays unfolding upon it. The waves of warp washed over this planet, and billions of whispers leaped from this planet to the deeper reaches of the Chaos Empire's starry sky.

This is Pluto—

The second gateway to the solar system, the Cthulhu Gate on it, forms a second stable channel between the solar system and the outside world. The Star Court is also stationed on it, constantly transmitting information to the outside world.

The blue demon screamed as it ran across the magic circle where the Star Speakers were hurrying by. Suddenly, it stopped abruptly, blinked, and turned its head to stare at the fleeting gold on the magic circle—the colors of the magic circle used to be the four basic colors, not gold.

The demon was unaware of what was about to happen; it was simply staring at the spot on the altar where it had just been. But the intricate lines had now returned to their bright blue color, as if nothing had happened.

Tzeentch's demon blinked, thinking he must have misread it, and hurriedly ran away again.

But in the very next instant it left, the golden thread flashed by again.

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

"Lupecal".