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

Page 753

Where the pearl necklace is woven, the beautiful woman sheds tears.

With a slight tremor of her wrist, the beads on her wrist scattered.

"...?"

Long, slender yet sharp claws parted the tangled mass of gauze and jewels, revealing a thousand hazy and unreal impressions amidst the dazzling array of gems.

"Motalian?"

A hissing sound, like the opening of a snake, rang out. The beautiful woman spoke, but her mouth was split open and covered with purple scales. Her right half of her face was covered with a jewel-carved, pointed mask. If Madame Psyche removed her mask, people would see her true face, twisted like a demon.

I just went to see Karas, Herrera.

In the mirror-like reflection of the gemstone, Mortarian smiled, his smile appearing hazy and illusory due to the influence of the palace's interior.

Madame Psyche wasn't unwilling to try better ways to contact Mortalian, but inside the palace, a psychic demon prince was currently indulging in pleasure. The beaded string that Madame Psyche was just weaving was commissioned by the demon prince Angron and was made from the pubic bones of sixty-six pairs of deeply loving lovers—Angron decided to adorn his third heart. This time, the demon, drowning in desire, chose love to embellish his decadent life.

If she were to use a different method of communication, then Angron would immediately sense Mortalian's emotions and soul. Then, this guy, who indulged in the gladiatorial arena, singing and having fun amidst the cheers and applause of the crowd, would immediately drop everything and come over like a fox that has smelled meat.

"Then I guess something good is about to happen."

Mrs. Psyche smiled, but her serpentine face was sinister and menacing. A purer light flickered in her eyes, as if she were still the same as before.

"Don't rush to say—"

She raised her hand.

"How is Karas doing lately? Is he alright?"

At least better than me.

Mortarian's laughter faded, then he laughed self-deprecatingly.

No god is more enlightened and democratic than Robert Guilliman.

"That's true."

Mrs. Psyche said that she watched Angron revel day and night, or suddenly descend upon some planet of the Empire to bestow blessings, but apart from that, Lady Slaanesh never demanded any KPIs from her.

According to Motalian, Robert Killman required him to clock in every morning, noon, evening, and early morning.

The check-in process takes the form of a work report.

Daily check-in, weekly check-in, monthly check-in, yearly check-in, and weekly, monthly, quarterly, and annual reports, with random checks on reports from time to time. You have to be there early in the morning, at noon, and even at night.

This sounds somewhat horrifying, although Mrs. Psyche vaguely remembers Hades screaming in his high fever that he didn't want to clock in.

"You need to rest sometimes."

Mrs. Psyche said seriously, and Mortalian was momentarily dejected as a result.

“If all else fails, I’ll ask Angron to let you relax for a while… Don’t worry, Mortarian, I won’t let him do anything reckless.”

[...I do not accept any emotional empathy, Herrera.]

"But you need to rest."

Mrs. Psyche's expression turned serious. She removed the mask from her right side, revealing an extremely ferocious face, and then turned the mask over to her left side.

This is a form of intimidation.

"It really doesn't work,"

Mrs. Psyche gritted her teeth,

“I will go and beg Anglon to exchange a sincere, thousand-year-old love for him to help Guilliman relax, so that you can also get a short rest.”

All we need to do is let Mortalian escape from Guilliman's work hell for a short while.

Mrs. Psyche thought that Karas might not understand the intensity of Mortalian's work, while Mrs. Psyche, who was more empathetic, had a deep understanding of Mortalian's life of hardship.

Mortarian laughed again.

[Angron will be killed instantly—but that's a double blessing.]

He laughed, and Mrs. Psyche was pleased to see that Motalian seemed more at ease; she hissed with delight.

So what's the good news?

Mortarian's smile widened, and the veins on his hand, gripping the gas mask, bulged.

[Deploy troops, Herrera.]

[Killiman has decided to send troops.]

"—?!"

"send troops?!"

Mrs. Psyche almost screamed, and in an instant, all the music played by the flying flowers and green leaves stopped, and the handsome or beautiful Slaanesh demons stared longingly at their beloved wives.

"real?!"

Like a demon crawling out of hell, its long, sharp claws gripped the silk tightly, tearing the fabric and drawing out a blood-like liquid. Its gaping mouth and eerie purple eyes stared at Mortarian.

【real. 】

Mortarian smiled and nodded.

[Don't get agitated, Herrera. You and I both know we've waited too long for this opportunity... We can't act rashly.]

"I know, I know, I know!"

Mrs. Psyche shrieked and wildly plunged her hands into the pile of jewels.

"Is he here? Is he here?! Mortarian, answer me! Is he here?!"

【exist. 】

The first rebel stated this with certainty.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

Mrs. Psyche laughed, a laugh that was utterly heart-wrenching—

"I want to see him, I want to see him—even if I see a bald old man—I'd be willing!"

I think he's more likely an overweight person.

Mortarian said calmly, and amidst the scattering of gems, the First Rebel's reflection vanished.

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

【Main World】

"Ah!"

Hades suddenly sneezed. He felt a chill. What strange thing was targeting him?

He turned his head and speechlessly saw Tarachin frantically taking pictures of him, and Gilliman looking at him with concern.

"Star God sneezing video, got it!"

Tarasin gave a wink.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 775 They all pointed to that point on the star map

"Today's weather is sunny; the surrounding psionic energy concentration is high; there are no Kahns within a ten-mile radius, making it a suitable day for travel."

My only failure was living long enough...

Ezekiel Abaddon sighed inwardly. Now middle-aged, the wars that once thrilled him were long gone, leaving only ruins and embers of the dead flickering in the distance, offering a sliver of solace.

If he had died ten thousand years ago, he wouldn't have faced the annihilation of his legion; if he had died a few thousand years ago, he could have retired at the height of his power—but the root of all this is that he lived too long.

He successfully witnessed the fall of the Empire and the retreat of the Primarch, and then successfully lived to witness the Empire's resurgence and the Primarch's return.

Abaddon's gaze was blank, letting the eerie sea of ​​light from the warp reflect across the window; the brilliance of the warp had been growing dimmer in recent days.

In fact, they hadn't left the warp for some time. With the establishment of the Nirvana System, the Empire was returning in a completely new guise—their senses had reached too far into the earth.

Even more, Abaddon pondered, Huron's ships had even openly entered the Warp and begun conscripting Space Marines who had fled there for their crimes.

Huron's speech was: "Wash away your sins before the Empire reclaims the warp!"

Huron would then send these Space Marines, whom he had tricked, to the most dangerous and dirty battlefields. Those who survived ten battles would have their serious crimes reduced to minor offenses and minor offenses reduced to no crimes, and then he would try to enter them into the Empire's Nirvana system.

It's said that this action was tacitly approved by Hades. Abaddon took a deep breath. Is this what those buddies meant by "mercy"?!

Damn it! He still has Abaddon in the Warp! And Huron, the Red Pirate, is openly recruiting and stealing soldiers right under his nose!

Abaddon took a deep breath. There was no need for him to argue with a dog that barked so much when it had a leash around its neck. At Abaddon's signal, the Black Legion advanced deeper into the warp.

After the Battle of Baal, Abaddon knew that the situation was hopeless.

Or rather, he was considering things from the wrong direction.

He had been trying to warn the Empire about Hades, but he never expected that after everyone returned to Terra, although Robert Guilliman was nominally in charge, most of the real power was actually in the hands of Hades.

The Blood Lord, on the other hand, is too weak in the real world—Abaddon can sense that the Warp and Chaos are declining together.

It's over, it's over!

According to Abaddon's plan, after witnessing Hades' heretical behavior of teaching the Greenskins, the Primarchs would secretly try to stop Hades—but unexpectedly, nothing happened at all!

Abaddon didn't understand, nor did he want to understand. If the role had been played by any other Primarch instead of Hades that day, it would have been met with strong rejection from the other Primarchs—so he didn't understand! Why?!

But Abaddon's deployment was not without results... As far as he knew, Waldo, the Lord of the Guards, had become increasingly active since his trip to Bar.

At least within Izekel's information network, Waldo would absolutely not appreciate Hades.

But even so, what can be done?

Abaddon sighed deeply, his gaze unconsciously shifting to the information Chaos had given him. Slumped into the soft sofa, the dejected Abaddon faced a bloodied human body nailed to a bronze frame, upon which Chaos's instructions to him were etched in blood.

Abaddon looked down; blood flowed onto the filthy deck, and a few sharp, high-Gothic words trickled out from the cracks.

"The Silent Eye".

"Necrons."

"Seduction".

Abaddon swallowed hard, then covered his eyes with his hands. The battle against Baal had ended in a crushing defeat for the Blood Lord...

What exactly does Chaos want to do?

He might know.

Abaddon tried to contact the gods, but they all turned away, as if they had gone far away or gone into hiding.

But—there was no other way. Slaanesh, who was at the top of the six, had already fallen, and the army of the false emperor Hades had begun to infiltrate the warp. Abaddon had no other choice. He did not want to be dragged out of the warp by Hades' army and beheaded and hung on the cathedral.

If he, Ezekiel Abaddon, were to die, he would die in the battle he initiated; he would rather die standing than be dragged out and beheaded without dignity.

In his heart, Abaddon never did anything wrong—his only mistake, or rather his right, was not kneeling before Hades.

Abaddon remained silent, his eyes fixed on the high Gothic words written in blood. The corpses used for sacrifice stared down at him. Finally, he made up his mind.

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

"My prophet Eurycan has vanished..."

The voice of the Three Holy Lords, the Unifier, and the Silent King Szalak was hoarse. The Pharaoh asked questions in the silent royal court, but none of the dead answered his questions.

King Silent Szalak was used to no one answering him—he was the supreme leader of the Fearless Ones, the undead of the cosmos, and anyone who dared to answer King Silent Szalak's question would be executed unless he designated a Fearless One to answer.

"Its last known trace was on the ship of the National Library Director, Tarasin... Tarasin... Tarasin..."

The Silent King seemed somewhat troubled, and when his fleet reached the edge of the galaxy, he received numerous accusations from dynasties against Tarasim, who apparently stole many of their treasures to decorate his own museum.

The Silent King had no intention of heeding the accusations from those old fogies. Due to their rigid thinking, many of the space undead overlords still believed they were in the age of the fearful dead, and thus they would fly into a rage over the slightest sign of offense—this was a matter of noble pride and could not be taken lightly.

But the civilian and slave audiences they cared about had long since become space undead completely obedient to them, and would not have any interest in their offended dignity whatsoever.

Szalak had no interest in Tarasin either—as long as that reckless fellow didn't steal from it, the Silent King wouldn't spare it a single ounce of energy to deal with the matter.

But its former prophet Orikan is crucial.

Even if the Silent King has no feelings for Orikan whatsoever, and only regards him as an extremely useful time engineer, it does not mean that Orikan is unimportant.

Orikan is the most outstanding time engineer among the Fearless, without exception. He stands out among his peers, and is also one of the few who can manipulate time and perfectly deceive other space necromancer time engineers.

This also led to Eurycan's eccentric personality. It always liked to make prophecies, and if things did not go as it predicted, Eurycan would travel back in time to interfere with fate until its prophecies were perfectly fulfilled.