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

Page 804

Tarasin said,

“No undead has ever faced this question, including you, Szalak. You never dare to call yourselves undead, but the fearful dead are gone—yet you still pretend to wear their skin and act as if you have never done anything wrong.”

“And I saw the problem,”

Tarasin said calmly. Because the time slowdown had failed, the undead in the surrounding space heard Tarasin's words. They were so shocked that they could not react.

"And decided to solve it."

Tarasim opened his arms and saw that the Silent King's face was growing darker and darker.

"How do you know... I don't want to solve this problem?!"

The next moment, the berserk beam that Taracin could not possibly withstand rose up again! Not only this attack, but Taracin could feel that the space where it was located was sealed off, which meant that its personality current would not be able to escape successfully after its body was destroyed.

"?!!!"

The Silent King is far stronger than Talathim imagined—it even had the ability and energy to fight Talathim again after its fierce battle with the Storm King!

The entire body of Tarachin was almost completely faded by the white light; this might be its last moment of existence.

Tarasim raised his staff, facing the Silent King's attack head-on.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The Silent King's overburdened body emitted metallic creaking sounds as it gained a massive amount of energy at the cost of consuming matter.

It held on, watching the light fade—Tarasin stood swaying before it, yet did not fall.

But only the final blow will suffice.

A light even more ferocious than the previous three strikes erupted!

This galaxy needs a true ruler, not a tyrant, not a buffoon, not a rule that devours everything; it needs a ruler with restraint and sufficient resolve...

The Silent King unleashed his final attack—

"Don't make me bail you out again, Tarasin, behave yourself."

Timing was perfect; a hundred semi-transparent giant hands reached out from the air around Tarasin, blocking an attack for him. But the astrologer had no intention of playing games with the undead from space—

The next moment, accompanied by the sounds of sacrifices echoing throughout the Eye of Silence, Talasi disappeared once more.

The warp immediately began to churn, and a massive current of psionic energy surged out from the breach, crashing into the area.

As for where the sacrificial sounds came from?

[Guilliman] blinked, and at that moment, most of the Primarchs around him suddenly clutched their heads.

Except in the corners.

Motalian, who stared straight at him without blinking.

They are just believers who blindly trust in gods.

[Killiman] withdrew his gaze and slowly took a sip of his drink.

He used the simplest and most brutal method: the moment the ships arrived in this world, he deployed nine thousand psionic bomb ships.

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

Another Fate Line

[You mean I should go find my other self alone?]

Horus stared at the Emperor in disbelief, while the Emperor nodded solemnly.

“I’m going to recall my wolf and eagle. You go and persuade your other self—or replace him—and then come with me to attack Terra. I must see my other self one last time—I must reach Terra.”

Go see... is he some kind of bastard who would do anything to become a god?

Was his other self really a bastard who wanted to dominate the galaxy, or a guy who hoped humanity would be safe forever so he could lie on the sofa at home eating junk food or gambling away fortunes at the casino?

The Lord of Mankind felt a rare, genuine anger rising within him, unlike when General Guilliman spoke to him; he felt more sorrow and regret than rage.

He couldn't understand, truly despised, and truly condemned his other self—why choose such a path?

So much so that he briefly ignored the troubled expression on Horus's face.

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

【…】

Fugen, feeling dizzy and disoriented, stood up from the ceiling of the Silent King's prisoner ship. Before anyone could react, several ships near the Silent King's fleet suddenly exploded, and a massive psionic shockwave struck them directly.

On the ship in the gravity-time continuum, the Primarch felt a little nauseous, but it turned out that the attack was not over yet. The Primarch could feel countless points of light, like the explosions of Alpha-level psykers, bursting open in different areas of the Eye of Silence—damn humans, how could they waste so many Alpha-level psykers exploding like that?

At his feet, Danteok and Abaddon lay prostrate on the ceiling, looking as if they were dead. Fugen helped Danteok up and then coldly threw a remark at Abaddon.

[An even greater psychic shock is yet to come... If you don't want to die, I suggest you pray to Hades.]

He also wanted to torture Abaddon to extract information.

Half-conscious on the ground, Abaddon finally vomited.

Pluto...

【Don't attack, Hades!】

Outside the banquet hall, Saint Gilles, the only one far from Guilliman, hurriedly sent a message: they should still not let Hades show himself.

"receive--"

The electricity crackled and hissed over there, and the archangel heard Hades's subsequent cry.

"Tarasin! Stop showing off!"

No more.

Thank you all for your blessings, I saw them.

Luckily, I reviewed, and I think I should be able to pass. This time, I studied from 1 pm to 10:30 pm on Sunday, and then studied again from 11:40 pm to 1 am. I studied so hard that I felt like I was about to ascend to heaven. Fortunately, I feel I can pass, as long as the teacher doesn't make things difficult for me, haha.

Chapter 818 [260] Immortals lined up like hemp

Courtesy first and then soldiers?

No, no, no, at least they need a piece of land suitable for them to gain a foothold.

[Guilliman] smiled, sensing the obvious panic on the opposing side—all thanks to the psionicists who were exploding in every corner of the Eye of Silence.

Within Guilliman's vast empire, there exists a special kind of being: those who specifically store psionic energy. He found inspiration in the world of ants; by selecting individuals with similar talents and channeling the abundant psionic turbulence of the Chaos Empire into them, a psionic bomb can be obtained in just under a hundred years.

By properly arranging and stacking these people, an astonishing effect can be achieved. This method is so simple and brutal, especially when facing psionic beings.

In order to compress the space of the suicide ship as much as possible (the smaller the space, the harder it is to be detected, and the lower the transportation cost), the psionicists would be stripped of their limbs and internal organs, leaving only their nervous system and brain, which are strongly related to psionic abilities. They would be piled up inside the ship, wet and drenched, and would never die under Nurgle's protection.

This is the insignificant and ruthlessly cruel capital within the vast empire under Guilliman's command, even against opponents possessing extraordinary talent and formidable abilities—

But against the [Killiman], which relies solely on sheer numbers and logistics, it's like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

[Killiman] would never do anything foolish like a general dueling with his commander; he would much rather watch his soldiers wear down the enemy through bloodshed and time.

He stood by the porthole, the dim light of the Milky Way casting a shadow on the cold-blooded king's chiseled profile. In the distance, countless people had perished, like dazzling fireworks blooming in this vast and cold universe. Their deaths would not be in vain; the gates of hell had been opened, and the subspace was forcibly drawn into this space, trembling and shattering everything.

[Killiman] listened intently to the dying prayers of the psionicists he had sent out—

No psyker will utter a painful cry; they will shout the final incantation as commanded by Guilliman.

This is Robert Guilliman's ideal state, where people do not strike because of pain or dissatisfaction; they each perform their duties and remain steadfast in their posts from beginning to end.

Even though some people are dissatisfied now.

The Villain King calmly raised his head, sensing for the first time so clearly the anger of his other self. A raging fire was burning in his azure eyes. Guilliman looked at him, his jawline taut, the muscles twitching unnaturally.

[A highly efficient and creative method.]

The hoarse, soft voice was like a gentle breeze, but the cold-blooded king sensed the harbinger of an impending storm.

【but,】

Guilliman spoke softly, then turned his head and gazed into the distance for a moment.

Excuse my bluntness, but is this how you treat... the Imperials?

[They wanted me to treat them this way.]

The villainous king smiled and gestured for his subordinates to prepare to leave; the atmosphere at the banquet had already plummeted to freezing point.

In the chaos, Magnus clutched his head and crouched on the ground in agony, while [Luojia] looked at him helplessly; the two Vulcans had already begun to roar in a small area; [Kolax] became even more agitated, and with the expansion of the high psionic field, he could hardly control himself, and his long hair was once again blown up by the flames and gale like a charred rope.

After the initial discomfort, the first rebel, Mortarian, recovered. At this moment, he and his other self were both staring menacingly at Guilliman.

But this wasn't Killieman's fault; rather, it was the scene he expected to see.

His decision was absolutely correct, coming at just the last moment before the final showdown between the Necromancers in space, maximizing the turmoil and chaos.

【…】

Guilliman's unblinking eyes suddenly closed, and after a deep breath, he opened them again. The King of Villains saw that the flames outlined by the golden flames had disappeared, and the sea was lapping against the shore, leaving only deep blue.

It seems we really do need to renegotiate our tactics.

Guilliman changed the subject, his polite smile returning, and the villain extended his hand, the handshake symbolizing the start of another phase.

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

[One day later]

He's a complete bastard!!!

Killman yelled and practically stormed into his office, his fist clenched instinctively but finding no outlet, and after a long pause, he had no choice but to helplessly lower it.

On the bright side, you're a jerk too, Guilliman.

Saint Gilles followed Guilliman at a leisurely pace, closing the door behind him. Akame calmly watched as Guilliman paced back and forth in the room like a caged beast.

[I just—I just can't stand another version of myself—arrogant! haughty! rude! cruel! How did he develop this kind of personality?! How could the Macragians allow such a piece of human trash to live to adulthood in Macragians?!]

Saint Gilles covered his face and coughed a few times as if laughing. In fact, Robert Guilliman also had a good sense of humor, but he had never been willing to satirize others before.

I thought you were prepared for a team full of trash—but at least we got their help.

Killieman, who was pacing quickly in the office, suddenly slammed on the brakes. He turned his back to Saint Gilles and took deep breaths. He had just been infuriated by another version of himself, a sufficiently arrogant and conceited fellow.

We need to be more vigilant—they are more dangerous than I thought, and now I don't even think it's a good idea anymore.

You can only choose between a bad life and a worse one, that's life, Guilliman. At least we should be grateful we still have a choice.

Saint Gilles crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his wings twitching slightly out of boredom.

A few seconds later, Guilliman seemed to have recovered. He silently turned around and looked at the archangel.

I want you to know something?

[The other me still maintains a good relationship with Horus. Horus harbors rebellious intentions towards Guilliman, but has not yet taken action—this time, Guilliman separated the other me from Horus, likely intending to eliminate dissidents.]

Can we win over another version of ourselves?

Saint Gilles nodded, then recalled the unidentified humanoid creature that had been lying on the sofa.

[Or perhaps there's more than just another me... Angron, Mortarion... I think we can all find a way to break through with some unruly Primarchs.]

If the fanatic [Angron] were truly loyal to [Guilliman], he would never have uttered those words in front of the two Saints Gilles—thus indirectly facilitating the cooperation.

Killman paused for a moment, one hand on his desk, the other rubbing his furrowed brow; he was clearly deep in thought.

After a long silence, Guilliman spoke again, staring at the giant star map hanging behind his desk.

[Just now, during a break in the meeting, I received a report from the frontline observation window that the Tyranids are about to arrive. They will first engage the Silent King's flank positioned on the eastern side of the Eye of Silent.]

He says,

The situation is too chaotic... We must at least temporarily ally with the Chaos Empire now; the cost of fighting alone is too high for the Empire to bear.

Saint Gilles nodded for a moment, undeniably, and then looked at Gilles.

I can roughly deduce the Empire's overall strategic layout going forward, but Guilliman, I have only one question—

Where do you plan to place the decisive piece, "Pluto"?

Guilliman fell silent. Seeing that the Emperor of the Empire remained silent, Saint Gilles continued.

[Pluto is currently in poor condition, so we cannot easily allow him to appear before the Necromancer Array in space again, nor can we expose him to the Chaos Empire too quickly.]

In the silence, Guilliman slowly raised his head and looked at the Imperial double-headed eagle hanging high on the wall.