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

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"Are you interested in... telling me more about Barbaros over there? And do you have me with you?"

Hades blinked.

"Judging from your reaction... there's another me on your side, isn't there?"

In a daze, Hades felt that the [Mortalian] opposite him seemed to be dead.

An extremely pale and weak aura emanated from [Motalian], but the next moment, this long-dead soul struggled to crawl out of hell and sat down opposite Hades, barely clinging to life.

[in this regard……]

【Motalian】He felt his hands trembling. He would use lies and sophistry, feigned submission to disguise himself, but on this topic, in front of a familiar "old friend," he wanted to follow his heart for once.

[I will tell you the whole truth... You have the right to hear this, Hades.]

Upon witnessing the Primarchs and Hades in this timeline, Mortarion realized that Hades had already gained the complete trust of most of the Primarchs.

This would prove that Hades is a morally upright person, not a hanged man like Guilliman.

A rustling sound arose, and Hades leaned forward in front of the warm fire, his single eye sparkling with a thirst for gossip.

“I’d like to hear more… but if the memories make you feel bad, you can stop at any time, Mortarian.”

[Motalian] blinked. No, no, he had been in pain the whole time.

And we will never stop because of pain.

And so the story begins.

[Let me begin from the very beginning of my memory... the story isn't long.]

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

Another Fate Line

Terra

"Number fourteen,"

Eerie light and shadow fell on the guests from the chandelier in the hall, and the scepter dragged on the floor, making a strange rustling sound.

[Macardo] bowed deeply, leading [Ilda] behind him through the palace.

"The true name that our Lord gave him is, and his personality is set as rebellion and resilience. You can just call him Number Fourteen—not many people here call him by his real name."

"Resistance and resilience?"

【Erda】 uttered those two words softly between her lips.

"This sounds like a little guy who would be perfect for an uprising against the oppression of the old century... but why did the Emperor create him now? Number Fourteen seems somewhat out of touch with the Great Crusade he is about to embark on."

"Our Lord believes that every human virtue that has ever touched or shone in his history should be preserved and passed down—he hopes that each of his sons will be a human being with different virtues."

"son……"

Erda's fingertips traced the wall beside them. The magnificent semi-relief murals were somewhat covered in dust. The palace was too large, and some areas had been abandoned in a semi-permanent manner.

"Didn't he think about his daughter?"

[Erda] asked jokingly, to which [Macado] sighed and then shook his head.

“I tried to persuade him, but he was satisfied with his decision.”

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Erda shook her head.

"The emperor seems to have little experience in raising children."

“The methods of raising children vary from era to era and region to region… I think he must have considered a free-range management approach to create twenty-one Primarchs…”

[Macado] sneered.

"I think he took into account the natural loss rate."

Erda shrugged. She recalled the thirteenth person she had just visited, a rational blond little fellow. With just one glance, Erda knew that the Emperor would like the thirteenth person. At least compared to the twelfth person, the thirteenth person was clearly more in line with the Lord of Humanity's dream of conquest and empire.

"So, is number fourteen on his list of 'wasteful resources'?"

[Macado] paused.

"I think we should leave it at that for now—the fourteenth is the Primarch, and any Primarch with a psionic manifest gene is on that list. He's very cautious about that."

"But I felt he was quite friendly to that little red-skinned guy, number 15."

"He can..."

[Macado] pondered for a moment,

"I found the dual identity of father and mentor in that eager little boy."

"And what about this little guy, number fourteen?"

They walked through long porticoes and through heavily guarded gates, starting from a circular hall, from which twenty equally spaced corridors extended to the distant, tightly closed gate.

“Another synonym for resistance is nonconformity and rebellion.”

As Macado spoke, he raised his scepter and opened the door before them, a door darker than those of the other Primarchs.

[Ilda]'s eyes lit up, not because of the Primarch, but because of the decorations of the Lord of Man; all the Primarch's rooms were resplendent in gold.

She saw a little guy standing barefoot in the center of the room on a carpet woven with gold thread. His white hair was smooth. He was so short that the tip of the sword he was holding was just touching the ground.

Compared to his other brothers, the room appears to be in its original state, with the Primarch having left no trace of his own private life there.

The first impression this little brat gave Erda was that he was a wicked fellow, seemingly the weakest and sickest among his brothers, but the indomitable fire in his eyes never went out.

In short, he's bad at the game but has a huge addiction to it.

"Oh, poor little fellow."

"Erda" said gently, crouching down to bring herself to the child's eye level.

Number Fourteen was staring intently into Erda's eyes, seemingly searching for any contempt or disrespect.

[Erda] could easily guess that [Lord of Mankind] definitely displayed a superior attitude when teaching this little guy, which is exactly what Number Fourteen wanted to overthrow.

The Lord of Mankind is abusing these children.

The more Erda saw, the more certain she became of this fact—

The Lord of Humanity has become an absolute tyrant, consumed by his inner greed and lust for dominance.

【Erda】glanced discreetly at the expressionless 【Makado】. Her feigned submission and arrival in Terra was also a ploy to win over the allies.

“I am a friend of your father, and I have come to visit you—have I disturbed you?”

Number Fourteen pursed his lips tightly, and after three seconds, the child spoke seriously, performing a standard Terra salute.

[No, good afternoon, ma'am—are you here to test me?]

"No, it's not."

Erda smiled and beckoned Number Fourteen over, who looked hesitant.

"I just want to chat with you. Would you like to tell me about the games your father usually plays with you?"

That's not a game—it's a mission.

Number Fourteen immediately retorted, but then hesitated and glanced at [Erda] again. The lady carried a scent of incense that he didn't find offensive, and an extremely rare air of respect.

[I can tell you some of them.]

Number Fourteen spoke cautiously, while [Erda]'s smile deepened.

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

Aside from the training time I spent with my other brothers, the Lord of Humanity, the Emperor—

But sometimes he would allow me to call him father, and he would find me from time to time to give me extra training.

The training was simple. Sometimes, he would wake me up in the middle of the night, drag me excitedly to the top of Mount Everest, and then throw me off again. He would tell me to get back up within a specific time. The reward for success would be a conversation, while failure was not allowed and the price was destruction.

I sometimes feel perplexed when an individual can exhibit mood swings, gentleness, and violence simultaneously.

I don't understand why my father would sometimes gently tell me stories of the past, and other times throw me directly into a pool of aliens to fight.

The rules changed constantly depending on the mood of those in power, and I couldn't keep up with him. He seemed anxious, as if something was driving him from behind.

In my subsequent interactions with my brothers, I gradually came to understand what kind of children my father liked.

Number 13 (Robert Guilliman), intelligent, sufficiently intelligent and cold-blooded, decisively sacrificed all the Imperial Guards following him in the second game of chess in exchange for a victory.

He will be facing off against Number Eight, who clearly doesn't understand Number Thirteen's actions. He looks at our father and angrily asks why innocent lives were sacrificed—

It was just a game, but real life was lost.

I remember the Lord of Mankind's expression at the time; he simply smiled at Number Thirteen, and Number Thirteen returned a similar smile.

I then knew that number thirteen had won.

"This is not a game; it is a rehearsal for you as leaders of your legions before going into battle. You need to understand the weight of the cost in death and sacrifice. War cannot be interfered with by personal feelings, and generals cannot be swayed by the deaths of their soldiers."

I watched coldly as Number Eight (Conrad Coates) threw down his piece and left, while another guy, very similar to him but clearly more foolish, squeezed out from the group of kids and tried to comfort Number Eight.

So from the second game onward, there were sacrifices in every round. The children were reluctant to see the royal guards who usually took care of them die, but the importance of not bringing shame to the Lord of Mankind was obviously above all else.

My brothers, however, were not always in a situation that pleased him. Number Eighteen (Vulcan) was constantly crying, and Number Nine (Saint-Gilles)'s cleverness was laughably clumsy. Some chose to fail outright, while others were checkmated by the other side while hesitating.

When it was my turn, I left immediately.

I refuse to start this game.

Because I realized that this was exactly what he wanted to see; he wanted to see us suffer because of what we had lost, and cruelly take pride in it—

Even if I win this game, or lose because I don't want my Imperial Guard comrades to die—the next game will still start, and we will still lose something.

Not following the rules.

Therefore I was punished—he ordered my guards to fight me until we were locked in a life-or-death struggle.

The imperial guard who was usually very kind to me and would carve small patterns on the hilt of my sword raised his halberd without hesitation when facing me.

Everyone else was laughing at me that day... I was so pathetic, I think I shouted something, trying to persuade the Imperial Guards to stop the attack, but it was no use.

I won, and that's why I continue to live.

But this does not mean I submit to his rules. Amidst burning anger and resentment, I swear on my life that I wish to cut off his head.

Childhood vows are always absurd and laughable. I probably did quite a few absurd things back then. I remember I found number eight...

They hoped to join him in the rebellion, but he remained trapped in the rules he had set for himself, unable to break free.

I tried to persuade others, but it was no use.

But the good news… or perhaps the worst news of all, was that these hellish days didn't last long. A warp storm tore apart Terran Palace, and I and my brothers were lost, lost in the vast galaxy—

His memories of Terra have been lost to some extent, but even so, the instincts he cultivated still flow in our veins.

In a moment of dizziness... I forced myself to sit up. The thick poisonous gas was tearing at my lungs. If it were any of my other brothers, they would probably have passed out immediately.

I landed at...

[Barbarus.]

The Barbarus language hissed from the Primarch's mouth as Mortarion looked at Hades, whose face was shadowed and flickering in the hearth fire.

"Ugh... Neos is such a bastard."

Hades said, “I saw a familiar look in his eyes, the same look I’d seen in that child’s eyes before.”

[He is indeed.]

As I spoke, my eyes were filled with indifference. In truth, the suffering I endured at Terra Palace was insignificant compared to the hardships I would face later in life, a mere tear in a vast ocean.

And the first night after landing in Barbarossa...

Then I encountered a slave-hunting team from the alien lord Nacre.

"You've been captured by Nacre?"

Hades asked, and I looked at him. Clearly, his Barbarus also had a bastard like Nacre.

No... no.

I said calmly, "Actually, I should have been arrested."

But on that day, the two men leading the Nacre slave-hunting team were Hades and Karas Typhon.