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

Page 779

Of course, the soul of the guy who failed in the initial bloodletting was still thrown into the demon engine and turned into fuel.

Therefore, in reality, at least two people die every month in each administrative region under the jurisdiction of an Ultramarines. In the long years without war, it is very likely that Ultramarines killed by their own forces accounted for a large portion of the total number of deaths.

This also successfully maintained the fighting spirit and intrigue within the Ultramarines.

Provided it doesn't deplete the district's entire quarter's output, Robert Guilliman welcomes all battles within the Ultramarines, whether they are fought without bloodshed or involve covert warfare.

In fact, during periods of peace, most legions have their own ways of maintaining the morale of their soldiers, and these methods often involve bloodshed.

Perhaps only that "benevolent" fellow, Angron, would not allow his offspring to die; even the swamp dragon Vulcan would let his worthless offspring become nugget eggs in the garden...

In fact, Mortarion believed that the World Eaters were the legion whose combat power declined the fastest.

But this is, after all, Mortarian's own opinion. Without war, who knows if those guys who drink themselves into oblivion, do drugs, and mess around are really unable to hold a gun anymore?

I wonder if the Angron in this world is as despicable as the one in his world.

[Motalian] couldn't stand the sight of two Angrons staring intently at his crotch, their gazes darting back and forth between his face and groin.

He refused.

Mortarian took another deep breath, and after the Ultramarines' footsteps had faded into the distance, he reached out and turned the doorknob.

[Motalian] paused for a moment.

It was clear that Guilliman had decorated the room in the style of Deathguard in this world, with somber green and bone white as the main colors, and the fabrics were cotton and linen, not silk.

Very...very simple.

[Motalian] looked around as he entered, gently closing the door behind him. To his surprise, he didn't dislike this style at all.

Although he usually displays some glittering decorations appropriately in his room, all Primarchs know that Mortarion prefers more flamboyant decorations, like the demon mask he wears.

The style here is just like that of Mortarion...

[Motalian] couldn't help but think that his thoughts once again uncontrollably drifted to the self he had just seen, so flamboyant, so unrestrained, so dissolute.

But behind the scenes, he's a frugal fellow?

【Motalian】felt a thousand thoughts surging within him. He sat down on the moss-green flax sofa, feeling somewhat awkward, as if the whole world was pressing down on him.

He instinctively reached for the ghost mask to inhale the mist, but realizing he was on someone else's turf, Mortarian had to forcibly restrain himself.

Mortalian forced himself to stand up again and wandered around the room. Finally, he found the only decoration in the entire room: a small black stone sculpture of Hades.

He picked up the little thing and felt the place where he touched it burning, as if it were being corroded by a highly corrosive liquid.

The pain brought Mortarian to his senses somewhat, allowing him to confront his own inner thoughts.

envious.

Hey.

anger.

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

Mortalian could hardly imagine that his other self was a fucking gigolo.

The moment Mortarian saw that guy, he felt nauseous and almost threw up.

What did he see?

He was himself without a mask, a polite, gentle man—damn it! It was fucking damn it!

Could an environment like Barbarossa really produce gentle and polite people?! The Barbarosians there would probably just grab a handful of dirt from the ground to wipe their bottoms and then go eat—and their swearing and greetings would be authentic.

Mortalian couldn't imagine how other people would react if they saw that version of himself.

Karas would definitely burst into laughter after a moment of stunned silence, laughing so hard he was doubled over, grabbing Mortalian's wings and shaking them while laughing, forcing Mortalian to look at himself.

And Hades?

Mortarion suddenly remembered something unpleasant. He recalled the scene when Hades first met Horus. The Primarch clearly realized that this kid was a looks-obsessed person—otherwise, why would he mention Guilliman or the Emperor so many times?

A pretty face is desirable in human society, regardless of gender.

Thinking of this, Mortarian snorted and chuckled.

Clearly, that's the truth. The [Motalian] on the other side is weak; he has submitted to and been subjugated by human society, instead of revealing his true self.

Because the entire society and empire did not accept his truth.

It's different with Mortarian; he beats up anyone who doesn't accept him until they do.

Faced with such visible power, Mortarion would make sure everyone kept quiet.

Of course, even if they feared him, were terrified of him, and spread rumors about him behind his back, Mortarian didn't care.

This is the power of Mortarion.

And that [Motalian]... a pathetic, pitiful slave, attempting to corrupt the truly victorious loser.

Mortarian believed that when he swung his scythe, he would show no mercy and would cleanly and decisively send that version of himself to his death. Then fate would collapse, and only Mortarian would exist forever, alive.

【…】

A static-like sound came from the channel, followed by Killieman's helpless voice.

[I suggest you go to the front lines. Mortalian and Conrad's front lines need support. I know you're worried about Hades, but the fighting continues. With Storm King involved in the battle, I hope you can help Conrad and his men. This is crucial; we need to minimize casualties as much as possible.]

Death, who was standing guard at Hades's sickbed, remained silent for a moment.

【Then you come and watch.】

Death made a request that was usually quite impolite, but Guilliman agreed to it almost immediately.

Five minutes from now, my desk and I will be right there beside Hades' bedside. Tarachin will also be coming over later.

Don't let that imposter get close to Hades.

[I know—his area of ​​activity is restricted to the part furthest from Pluto, Mortalian. I know what you're worried about; I'm just as concerned as you are.]

【…】

When will he be able to leave?

On the other end of the channel, Guilliman let out a sigh.

[It won't be possible for at least three days. The opposing empire will send in its army in a week. Until then, I think he'll stay there.]

This is also a sign of weakness. If Mortarion hadn't stayed on the Glory of Macragge, Guilliman wouldn't have allowed him to roam freely within the Empire.

Guilliman remained tense and silent, only to hear Mortalian scoff.

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

Space Necromancer, the old general Zandreik is playing dumb.

Obi-Long stood uneasily behind the old general, his hands behind his back. He was so aware that Zandrek was faking his stupidity, because it was different from how Zandrek usually acted when he was having an attack.

But perhaps only Obi-Long, who follows the old general day and night, can see the subtle differences between them.

Opposite General Dai Guan, Storm King's projection was roaring. The signal was weak, and the scarlet particle stream trembled wildly beside Storm King's image, as if it were frightened.

In reality, it was the Silent King's attack that caused the Storm King's signal to them to weaken.

"...Why launch an attack so rashly?! Zandrek—you Plasma Hunter—even a Dark Worker Scarab has a larger information capacity than you."

"What are you thinking?!"

"Attack on the Star God is the mission of every Fear of the Dead. Under the leadership of the noble Szalak, the last and greatest King of Silence, the Fear of the Dead will surely be restored."

"In your name, I will shatter every Star God, even though the cancer in my waist has spread, and I feel like I've recently had a lung infection, cough cough—cough cough cough!"

If it were still a fear of the dead, Obi-Dragon thought its expression would be quite something. Fortunately, it's now a space necromancer, so it can control its expression well.

It saw the image of the Storm King suddenly turn around and roar in a fit of rage, as if it wanted to stretch out its scepter and smash the crowned general's head.

After a brief outburst, Storm King turned around again, facing a madman and his loyal guard.

“I should have listened to their advice long ago... and dismissed you... You are truly insane, utterly insane.”

Obi-Dragon realized it was its turn to step forward. As a loyal guard, it stepped forward and, with a thud, knelt before Storm King.

“Great sir, for the sake of General Zandrek’s past achievements for you, I beg you to spare its life—”

"It was the subordinates' fault for not reporting the general's physical condition in a timely manner. Since being wounded by Emperor Nice in the last battle, the general has been somewhat confused and unable to distinguish the time."

"If you are to punish, please punish Obi-Long."

Obi-Long lowered its head deeply, and the old general beside it hurriedly ran over to pull it, grabbing the guard's arm, which was twice as thick as the crowned general's.

"Are you crazy, Obi-Long? Why should we punish you? Didn't we win? Get up!"

Obi-Long heard the heavy sigh from the other side.

"Just this once,"

Storm King said coldly that the signal was getting worse. Obi-Long guessed that Storm King had already arrived at the front line, where the armies of the two great dynasties were fighting each other.

It was the old general's order to attack that tore apart the last vestiges of civility between the two emperors. The long-standing resentment had become unbearable for the Silent King.

All of Storm King's previous probing attempts had already become the straw that broke the camel's back, with only the last straw remaining.

Zanderik then handed over the last blade of grass.

Obiron felt uneasy. In fact, not long ago, Taracin had secretly approached it, hoping it would incite war between the two dynasties.

If Obi-Long doesn't intervene, Tara-Sin will impersonate Storm King's man and take action himself—but he will likely face the fate of being jointly killed by Silence King and Storm King.

Therefore, it would be best to have Obi-Long, who is originally under the command of the Storm King, handle this matter.

Obi-Long hesitated at the crucial moment—its gaze wavered as it recalled the old general's seemingly nonsensical words at the last moment.

It was the old general who completed the task of the Endless Ones.

The war thus began, and the human empire gained a precious, brief respite.

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

Is Mortarian coming?

Conrad muttered to himself, his armor covered in scorch marks—the strange patterns of bullet holes left when Gaussian rays, weakened by the psionic shield, struck the armor.

So what's going on with all of this?

The Primarch gazed into the distance, where the garrison of a small dynasty had once been stationed. But now, amidst the towering buildings, the corpses of countless space undead were hung high, and drops of a rusty liquid dripped from the feet of those pierced and suspended corpses.

The shrike then began to sing.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 797 [239] Twins

I have a premonition that something bad is going to happen, something very, very bad.

Amidst the shivering gale, the voice of the Midnight Lord Primarch was carried far away, its mournful cry echoing through the air.

"?"

Sevita, who was beside him, pulled the little cub out of the mud. He didn't even look at their great father. Instead, he patted the little cub's back with concern after pulling him up with one hand.

Sevita's excessive attention to that newcomer to the legion was an attitude toward his successor, which displeased Conrad.

But he didn't have control of the legion.

Thinking of this, Conrad's dissatisfaction returned.

Fate is like a continuously descending spiral, endless; all we face are the cold stares and incomprehension of the world, and suffering—

"So what exactly is it, sir?"

Sevita interrupted Conrad abruptly, ah... he'd never done that before.

Ever since Conrad threw him into Terra and led his Legion to fight the Tau Empire, Sevita has learned to talk back to the Primarchs and interrupt them when he returns.

This must be Karas corrupting Sevita; that damned Death Guard is just as repulsive as Mortarian.

Exhausted from the long battle, Conrad was somewhat weak. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, raised his head, and let his disheveled long hair obscure his pale face.

I couldn't see what it was... but I heard a cry... blood... an angry being...

"Terrorism?"

Severta muttered strangely, gripping his chainsaw and looking up at the distant, chained-up space undead.