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

Page 797

During a previous quarterly report meeting, Killieman had to stop Vulcan from throwing mud at Fernus. Well, Vulcan was actually just loudly rebuking Fernus for his inhumanity, but his spittle and tears were a bit too sticky.

I have only one request.

A smile played at the corners of Killieman's lips.

[At least for now, a fight cannot break out.]

He looked up and saw the starry sky of this world.

There, amidst the dazzling starry sky, a fully revived necromantic empire is at war.

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

"Tarasin? Tarasin?! I don't recommend you take the risk!"

Hades roared into the other end of the communication, he hadn't expected the war to advance so quickly during the weeks he'd been bedridden.

The situation is clearly decided between the Silent King and the Storm King. Despite possessing immense ambition and extremely low moral standards, the Storm King is inevitably sliding into a disadvantageous position in the face of the Silent King, who commands the entire army.

Hades' eyelids twitched violently. Once the war between the Silent King and the Storm King was decided, the remaining one would definitely come directly to the Human Empire—

A fierce wind howled! Gaussian rays, thick enough to annihilate three Titans, struck down from the planet's surface, and in an instant, countless similar beams of light lit up the plain.

The intense heat instantly vaporized the space necromance closest to the impact point. Riding on its mount, Tarachin raised its arms high, letting the storm generated by the impact whip up its metallic cloak.

"Hades—I'm so glad to hear your voice again!"

Tarasin roared. Its planet had broken away from its star millions of years ago, and now, the use of devastating weapons had given it a sunset it hadn't experienced in a very, very long time.

The bright, warm light shone on Tarachin.

"You—have—no—know—how—it—has been—this—week—been—so—interesting!"

The battlefield was enclosed, and both sides were using time-reversal weapons at all costs. If kilometers were the smallest unit of measurement, then at least a year had actually passed in this star field—through countless small time reversals.

However, from the perspective of the human empire, which was outside this star system, only a few weeks had passed.

"I have to go and see!"

The cloak was too much trouble, so Tarachin reached out, untied his cloak, and let it drift away in the wind.

“I will certainly acquire many more interesting collections—but it’s time to face them! You have things to resolve, and so do the fearful dead!”

At least for now, Talasien decided to meet those two old men—he didn't want to merely be a bystander in the final battle between the Silent King and the Storm King; Talasien was no longer just a historian.

This historian had been observing coldly for thousands of years, but finally, unable to bear the idiocy of the royal family within its own race, it threw down its pen and angrily drew its sword.

"Calm down, Tarasin!"

Hades' voice came on intermittently on the channel.

"If you want to achieve the best results, then you shouldn't expose yourself too early—at least stay away from the Silent King and the Storm King! Or get a more cost-effective body to scrap!"

A crackling electronic sound emanated from Tarasin's throat.

“I’ve consulted Eurycan! I must go! Hades—you don’t understand, you don’t understand—you humans still have newborns and commoners worth defending, but the fearful of the dead are gone!”

"Even if I don't go this time, haha, I, Tarasin, will only gain more troops—but so what?! They'll just be a bunch of puppets!"

Now is the perfect time to curse both Storm King and Silent King. When has such a good opportunity ever existed? You can curse both at once.

Tarasin unilaterally shut down communications, laughed a few times, and, staff in hand, rushed toward the final battle zone designated by the Silent King and the Storm King.

There, two madmen, the culprits who caused the extermination of the Fearful Ones, are fighting each other, but one of them is already in a sorry state.

The other, the true king, sits high on his throne, coldly observing his dynasty.

………………

Damn, that Tarahim lives such a carefree life.

Hades abruptly disconnected from the communication, scratched his head, and looked at the command screen—it was almost time, and the banquet was about to begin.

He was now somewhat worried, partly about the dinner party, and partly about Tarachin and the war, the war between the space undead was about to come to an end.

This is why Guilliman was so eager to agree to cooperate with another empire.

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

The chandelier in the hall was shining brightly.

Flowing light streamed down from the intricate geometric structure made of white crystal, and countless sparkles shone on the men and women attending the event. A musician in a white suit adorned with fine gold began to play the violin, and after a melodious and gentle bass note, a musician beside him with a flowing skirt began to play the dulcimer.

The light and melodious music blended with the subtle fragrance, and the exquisitely designed dishes lay quietly on multi-tiered plates woven from colorful porcelain—awaiting the arrival of the diners.

Thankfully, Hades wasn't on the invitation list for the banquet, otherwise these little guys wouldn't have survived five seconds.

The thought popped into Killieman's head at an inopportune moment, and he gave an awkward laugh, feeling a little nervous.

At this moment, Robert Guilliman, wearing a blue helmet with pearly white and shimmering gold patterns, seemed to glow against the azure sea. It was a rare moment for Guilliman to pull himself out of his pile of documents and pay attention to his personal appearance.

After he became the ruler of the empire, there was almost nothing that required Guilliman to pay extreme attention to his image.

Killieman glanced at his brothers again. While he was sure he hadn't made a mistake, the rest... well, that was another story.

Mortarian sat silently in a secluded corner, seemingly remote—but actually able to quickly support every position in the hall.

Alternatively, if Mortarion set up a sniper rifle there, he could take out everyone in the hall, but the Primarch might prefer a Hades-trait rapid-fire machine gun.

Saint Gilles, smiling, sat down with Vulcan and Anglon, whispering something—Gilliman, Saint Gilles, and Anglon all knew that the angel's actions were likely intended to protect Vulcan.

The Vulcans are a good person, but sometimes they can be stubborn and unable to cope with unexpected situations.

Magnus was somewhat at a loss as Conrad entangled him, while Corax calmly sipped his tea beside them. Guilliman believed that the twins also wanted to protect Magnus.

Magnus has recovered somewhat from his psionic weakness. Since his opponents at this meeting are all psionic Primarchs, Magnus no longer chooses to use psionic energy to enlarge himself. Instead, he obediently makes himself smaller, and his horns have shrunk considerably.

Magnus was actually not suitable to attend the meeting, but Guilliman had deeper considerations... Knowing that the other Magnus was dead, perhaps after seeing this Magnus... the others on the other side would reveal something.

This is why Guilliman and Mortalian decided to invite Magnus after discussing it. Magnus himself is probably unaware of this at the moment. Compared to the other Primarchs, he is now more like a studious professor who wants to come and talk to others about psionic issues.

However, his mission got off to a bad start; he was already entangled with Conrad, and the bat chuckled.

They're coming.

Guilliman took another deep breath and nodded to Mortalian—who reluctantly rose from his chosen spot, a mist rising, and the Primarch vanished the next moment.

A Primarch was needed to greet the guests on deck. Guilliman wasn't quite suitable. He had considered Saint Gilles, but after careful consideration, Mortarion was chosen.

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

[wow.]

[Angron] let out a soft gasp, and out of sight of everyone else, [Motalion] simply rolled his eyes.

White lights shone on the red carpet, and on both sides, the Ultra Warriors honor guards raised their swords and flags. The bugle sounded, and in the darkness of the starry sky, white mist rolled up and tumbled to their feet.

Bathed in blinding white light, the enormous yet slender alien stood opposite them, far larger than its usual Primarch form, and the Skull Primarch bowed slightly to them.

Welcome... to the Empire.

Motarian's gas mask emitted a mist that swirled in his eyes. He stepped forward, standing in front of Guilliman, and gestured for the Primarchs to follow him.

Thank you for your hospitality. I'm delighted to see all of this.

[Guilliman] said politely, and then walked directly into the hall with Mortalian. He did not greet them, and the Primarch behind him simply chose to follow him.

[wow~]

During the walk, [Angron] quickened his pace, pressed himself against [Motalian]'s back, and whispered something in a rather provocative manner.

[The other one of you is just as uniquely charming~]

【Motalian】rolled his eyes again.

[I don't recommend you investigate him now; he's quite capable—if you don't want [Guilliman] to cause you trouble next, Angron, you should keep your hands to yourself.]

[What a pity...]

[Angron] whispered, his eyes shining as he scrutinized the Mortarian again... Oh... This seemed to be a true reflection of Mortarian's inner self; the Mortarian of the other destiny line might have grown into the appearance that the First Rebels envied most.

Tall, thin, completely different, utterly out of place.

I wonder what Mrs. Psyche would think if she saw Motalian like this. This Motalian... Oh ho ho ho, Mrs. Psyche would probably feel quite sorry for him.

[Anglon] naturally thought of his good colleague, Mrs. Psyche. In fact, the decorative beaded necklace he wore today, which ran through five hearts and nervous systems, was a gift from Mrs. Psyche to Anglon.

He possessed an extremely strong aura of paternal love.

[Vulcan] spoke slowly, like bubbles rising from a swamp.

Whether it's a misperception or not, [Vulcan] always felt that this Mortalian would have a strange connection with Typhon.

[The chaos in their world was weak—the Empire backfired on the warp, and some of them seized control of the chaos.]

[Motalian] said in a low voice, offering a reminder.

In reality, their world was much the same. Tzeentch weakened the three gods, while Guilliman successfully betrayed Tzeentch and subsequently seized power from him—including the remaining three gods.

The brothers of Mortarion will never know that the three gods they worship have long since lost much of their own consciousness, with only a small fraction remaining.

This is why their "masters" never speak directly to the Primarchs, but rather through hints and foreshadowing.

[Killiman] undermined them—or rather, turned against them.

Mortarian stopped in his tracks.

Before him, the master of ceremonies slowly pushed open the door, letting in light, and [Killiman] smiled warmly once more.

He saw another version of himself.

Vulcan felt Angron next to him suddenly shudder.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 812 [254] Half-Star Lineup!

The door was slowly pulled open by the officials on either side—

The first one to approach us is the cold-blooded monarch, the ruler of the empire, the king of villains, [Robert Guilliman]!

With a few flicks of his fingertips, he jests with his ministers; with a golden crown atop his head, he laughs like a demigod. His eyes and brows do not exude the aura of an emperor, but rather the unhurried ease of strolling through the Milky Way. How many heroes of the past have vanished in an instant? The sun rises again and again, but all that remains is that expanse of azure on the mountaintop, laughing as it lies dormant in the universe.

Good day.

Robert Guilliman smiled, looking calm and composed.

Lord Guilliman, the Lord of the Buffalo and Horses, hurriedly came to greet him, but the eyes of the Primarchs behind him all quickly swept towards Robert's back.

Following Robert Guilliman, walking towards us is Luo Jia Oririan, the Minister of the Ministry of Faith, a fallen believer, and a misbeliever!

How much of that humble smile truly reflects his former sincerity? Full of loyalty and righteousness, yet he was misled into a mirage; a common sparrow swallows the sun, calling himself a golden crow, thus crushing the ambitions of others; the blind attendant of the phoenix tree cannot discern the truth, ultimately only making wedding clothes for others!

[Luojia Oririan] bowed slightly to the people in the room, his simple clothes perfectly highlighting [Guilliman]'s brilliance.

Saint Gilles' pupils shrank imperceptibly for a moment.

Beside Luo Jia, the blood-red eyes of Saint Gilles, a collector of inferior genes, a ghoul, and an eclipseer, reflected a pair of extraordinary wings.

Mortals are never born with white feathers; they are merely the playthings of Satan. Before the winds of war have even struck, only corpses lie scattered on the ground, wounded soldiers lament, and war brings pain. Victory and defeat are but a fleeting dream; why take them so seriously? Retreat to Peach Blossom Spring for joy, and hide your face from the moonlight.

Without any brilliance, the white moon is nothing more than a stubborn rock—moon-gazers have existed throughout history, but only a true gentleman recognizes the jade within the bare rock.

Magnus gasped, realizing that Saint Gilles' face was not as handsome as the person beside him.

The first to fall into the path of chaos, the one who broke the covenant with the three gods, the first rebel [Motalian] revealed his standard, extremely deceptive smile.

Born rebellious, yet desiring only loyal subjects, why bother scrutinizing his rebellious nature? Ordinary people are too far removed from Jin Ri to see his heart; they once met good friends, only to find them gone in an instant, why let him tread this earthly path, only to have his heart grow distorted? Golden houses and high tiles can never compare to the smiles of old friends in the mist of those years, laughing and talking about the world while drinking wine, lamenting the plight of the common people!

The people suffer!

Searching and searching, the great temple is burned down, but it's all for naught. A golden lock is placed on one's body, and ten thousand years pass in the blink of an eye. Looking in the mirror, one sees a demonic world in the mirror, and suddenly realizes that the dream is not a dream, and the truth is not the truth. The truth and the falsehood can be discerned by oneself.

Truth is truth, dreams are dreams, truth reflects dreams, dreams reveal truth, who will determine who is but a great dream in vain! A vast expanse of white, truly clean!

Behind Mortarion, Corax breathed out a sparking breath with a hint of impatience. Blood King, Tyrannical Highlord, and Shrike looked at Conrad and Corax with interest.

Bloodlust vanished, life went on; white claws gleamed coldly; ghosts and demons were but children, a few laughs and they dispersed! The nation and its mountains and rivers paled in comparison to his claws slaying heroes, his head offered to the god of war! A life of carefree wandering, only a few words from an old friend severed his spirit! A wasted life of wisdom! Alas? A blessing? A curse!

Vulcan, standing next to Corax, muttered a few words under his breath. He didn't approve of Corax's behavior and quietly nudged Corax.

The foolish swamp dragon, the immortal one, the one who weeps all day long [Vulcan]!

Birds have entered the forest, fish have entered the sea; the golden sun shines on the four seas, heartless and cruel, weary of seeing its weeping and wailing, a woman's compassion; yet, gazing into the distance, how can one not shed tears and pour out one's heart when witnessing the suffering of the world? The silver bead eventually eroded the lock, and suddenly fell to the ground, revealing the vast world, the cycle of life and death, and today I finally know who I am!

Of course... each of these individuals who plunged into chaos has their own unique characteristics, but none can compare to... Angron's pupils dilated in shock. He finally confronted his nightmare, the most terrifying one among countless fate lines.