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

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Hades believed that Neos's strategy possessed a simple and practical beauty.

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

The Silent Eye

There's nowhere to be found...

The Grey Phoenix's dejected soliloquy dissipated in the wind, and beside him, the silent Son of Steel, Danteok, remained silent as well.

Like the silent gaze of this vast, desolate place.

Further away, the stars are gazing upon this place—where the fate of the tail-to-tail destiny will once again unfold.

He couldn't wait any longer.

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

【small theater】

Hades received a reply from Mortarian.

【ugly,】

The original replied,

[I don't have eyeliner, and it's not gold—did Neos do it? Got it, I'll continue cursing him.]

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 773 [216] oops

Terra

"This is also a good thing..."

"The Mechanical Sage," or rather, Tarachin murmured, with two towering Ultramarines flanking him, escorting him to the reception room.

At Taracin's request, the meeting should be secretive, not displaying imperial grandeur, and preferably quiet, so that it would not be observed by most people or things.

This was supposed to be a solemn and serious matter, but Tarachin's words repeatedly made the Ultramarines feel ashamed. If you looked closely at his tense face, you could see that he was forcibly pursing his lips.

Tarasin strolled along the towering corridors of the palace, where countless golden sculptures looked down upon this foreigner from the dome—a sight that would make any foreigner nervous.

But Tarachin moved with ease, as if it were home. It seemed even more familiar with the place than the Ultramarines who had been working there for years. It strode lightly across the red carpet and occasionally glanced elsewhere with its green eyes.

The Ultra Warrior accompanying Tarasin even felt that if no one was around, Tarasin would not hesitate to reach into the palace and secretly take some of it back.

What they didn't know was that Talazin not only possessed a considerable collection of human Terran royal palaces, but this alien race, renowned for its collections, also had squads of Ultramarines from different eras. In addition, Talazin even had a collection of human Imperial Guards.

Of course, these things were unknown to humans other than Hades and Neos, just as Tarachin leaked the space necromancy technology without the knowledge of the space necromancy other than Orikan.

Both sides got what they wanted, and ended up doing the same thing.

"Tarrazin?"

A deep greeting rang out, and Tarasin watched as the two Ultramarines beside him respectfully took a step back each, before bowing to the true supreme ruler of the human empire.

"Long time no see, Hades."

Tarasin said lightly, "That's wrong. Actually, it sees Hades every day. It has planted many spies and mechanical sages on Hades' side, and Hades is well aware of this."

Sometimes, if the mechanical sages offered local specialties that Hades was not interested in, Hades would save a portion for Tarasim.

The two alien races were so closely allied that Tarachin was convinced that if it asked for the potion bottle at Mortalian's waist, Hades would, after a moment's thought, go and get it one as a keepsake.

After all, most of the weapons flowing off the Empire's planet-forging production line that glow green are thanks to Tarasin.

"You guys go ahead and do your things. I'll talk to Killieman."

Hades told the two Ultra Warriors that Tarachin was standing aside watching the show, casually reaching his hand towards the wall next to him, where the natural luminous pearls embedded in it were also rare items.

The two Ultra Warriors exchanged a glance and then left respectfully. Tarachin played with the shimmering bead in his hand, waiting for Hades.

"Have you been quite busy lately?"

Hades said, his tone becoming noticeably more casual, and turned to Tarasin, gesturing for him to follow him.

"Busy, but not too busy; in short, a little busy."

Tarasin made up a story, put the beads away, and then looked at the vase placed beside the corridor.

Hades was speechless for a moment. Tarachin, who bickered with Eurycan every day, had also learned the essence of language. There was a rustling sound behind him, but Hades ignored it.

Stealing? What's wrong with letting Tarasin steal some?

Talazin arrived empty-handed—an evil alien race had come to steal from the Empire; Talazin brought weapons of the Necromancers—nothing happened to the Empire today; Talazin brought technology of the Necromancers—the Empire's greatest ally praised the Empire's culture, and the Empire subsequently gifted his ally with cultural gifts.

"How's it going over there lately?"

Hades mentioned it casually, not expecting to get any answers.

But these words successfully made Taracin stop what he was doing. The space necromancer was clearly in a dilemma, and Hades turned around.

"There's a slight problem."

Tarachin coughed twice, and replied somewhat guiltily,

"According to Euricane, more than half of the Fate Lines had similar problems, so it sent a small team to check them out—and they all lost contact."

"All lost contact?"

Hades opened his eyes wide, while Tarachin coughed twice in a very human-like manner.

"It's not impossible, after all, crossing the Fate Line is extremely difficult. In fact, Eurican used some special methods... to successfully send them over, but there has been no news since."

"Is it possible that the problem lies with this dispatch team itself?"

Hades asked instinctively, but Tarachin shook his head with absolute certainty, looking at Hades with a hint of offense.

"I'm absolutely certain there's nothing wrong with this army!"

Because! Yes! It was Tarachin's soldiers whom Orikan had taken!!!

Hades blinked. He was still planning to ask Tarasin what exactly the "similar problem" he was referring to was, but they were almost in the reception room, so he decided to talk to Killieman about the contract first and ask later.

After all, although Tarachin was very easygoing with Hades, he still had to show some strength when facing Guilliman.

Today, Tarachin has even been given a more exquisite body, with silver and green runes carved on it, showcasing the power and mystery of this alien race.

"Killiman, Tarasin is here!"

Hades called out and then pushed open the door to the reception room.

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

Another line of fate

【? ? ? 】

Terra

[Long time no see, Mortarian, the First Rebel.]

"Speak calmly, though with an air of authority that comes and goes," said Robert Guilliman, the Emperor of the Empire, as he sat on his eternal throne, the threads of the Empire's destiny hanging down to his gleaming crown.

Motari quietly raised his eyes and looked directly at Robert Guilliman, whose golden crown was set with a gem symbolizing the loyalty of the Primals. On it, an unremarkable gray-green gem was dim, like a stone covered in moss.

Mortarian stood there, his back straight, the four corners of the royal court stretching into endless darkness, as if truly extending into the unfathomable wilderness.

During this time, screams and curses of those imprisoned and tortured could be heard, and occasionally, violent lightning bolts of psychic energy would crackle, but in that all-consuming darkness, it was all in vain.

White light shone down from the top of the void, illuminating the throne and the true master of the empire upon it, whose azure eyes gleamed.

【salute,】

"Killiman said calmly, looking down at Mortalian,"

My brother.

He reminded Mortalian, who felt a lump in his throat. The golden, inverted crown chain wrapped around his pale, thin neck lit up, and Mortalian let out a gasp.

Then, his eternally straight, eternally upright, and eternally unyielding spine slowly bent down, along with his knees that seemed never to bend.

[…Good day, Your Majesty.]

The white light shone on the pale lord's eyelashes, along with his prominent nose and his handsome yet melancholic face.

Good day, Mortarian.

Killman said casually, gesturing for Mortalian to stand up, and Mortalian stood up almost immediately, unwilling to remain on the ground for even a moment.

He would kneel before a soldier's sickbed, he would kneel before a soldier's corpse, but he would never kneel before a superior, unless... unless he needed to submit to fate first.

Only fate could force him to submit temporarily, but this temporary silence was for a better rebellion. Mortarian recalled the story Hades had told him: a king who, for the sake of his country and people, was willing to be a slave to the king of his enemy, enduring humiliation and hardship.

Ironically, Mortarion had always been inattentive to the principles and stories Hades had crammed into him, but after the Primarch returned to the Empire, Mortarion would occasionally recall those simple and naive stories on certain occasions, and subsequently truly understand their deeper meaning.

...And so he began to grow, standing in the shadow of the deceased.

Why did you call me here, Guilliman?

Mortarion asked curtly. He didn't act this way with other Primarchs. When facing his other naive brothers, Mortarion was more humble, calm, and tolerant.

Apart from Robert Killieman.

Oh, and add another one, the maniac Angron, that emotional voyeur.

Is it wrong to just see you?

Guilliman replied that Mortalian thought it was nonsense, and just as Mortalian treated Guilliman specially, Guilliman, who always pursued efficiency, would also joke around with Mortalian more often.

Just kidding?

That's probably an insult.

Thinking of this, the golden chain around Mortalian's neck shone even brighter, and Mortalian let out an uncomfortable groan, which seemed to please Guilliman even more.

Take control.

Only extreme control brings Guilliman pleasure. Against the light, Mortarian glances at Guilliman—the true control freak. Only such people would have a morbid craving for power. They want people to kneel before them, exposing their vulnerable necks, prostrating themselves on the ground, following in their so-called correct footsteps.

At this point, the control freak promises his slaves a grand future, a mediocre environment, and a more brainwashing reality—this is Robert Guilliman.

To Mortalian's amusement, in the Empire's portrayal of its ruler, Guilliman deliberately avoided a similar approach to that of an emperor. On the contrary, in the Empire's propaganda, this cold-blooded monarch, Robert Guilliman, was portrayed as possessing the virtues of compassion and gentleness, and as loving all his subjects.

That's complete nonsense.

Motalian thought to himself that even if it were true, Robert Guilliman’s so-called “love” was extremely distorted.

Working with him would be the worst thing that could happen in seven lifetimes, but only Robert Guilliman could withstand such a high-intensity workload, and only Robert could manage such a vast empire—and not give up.

So Mortarian raised his head, letting the blinding white light shine on his pale face, and gave an extremely polite and gentle smile—

If Hades from the main world saw this scene, he probably wouldn't immediately scream "Ghost!" and jump away.

In the main world, Mortarion always has the wrinkled face of an old farmer, with a mean nose and thin lips. When he smiles, he rolls his eyes and speaks in a sarcastic tone, looking like he's about to spit "he-tui!" at you at any moment.

But this Mortarion looks like a royal prince. Clearly, the owner of this face has had some kind of facial treatment, like a phoenix or an angel. Well, maybe Mortarion was meant to look like this.

Now that you see me—may I leave?

Killieman laughed and spread his hands.

Don't be so boring, my brother. You're always so melancholy, even though the empire is thriving under our rule.

Mortarian took a deep breath.

I am not saddened by the glory of your rule; on the contrary, I desire to see the human empire flourish more than anyone else.

Is this also the wish of your deceased "brother"?

Guilliman asked casually. Ever since Mortarian entered, that inhuman king hadn't blinked once. Guilliman's sapphire eyes were like inorganic gemstones, devoid of any emotion.

It contrasted sharply with his pursed lips.

Mortarian felt a faint sense of annoyance—few people knew about the past of Barbaros, except for the meddlesome Angron and Guilliman, Guilliman… damn Guilliman.

His desire for control led him to curiously peer into the pain and past of each Primarch, which ultimately became the whip he used to command them, lashing their wounds and enraging the beasts so that he could better pull the behemoth that is the Empire forward.

【Yes. 】

Mortalian answered calmly, having well controlled his anger. Guilliman would have noticed his rising blood pressure and rapid blood flow, which would then transform into a barrage of words aimed at Mortalian.

He once described to me a utopia where only humans existed… There was no war, people lived in peace and prosperity—the old were cared for until their end, the strong were employed, the young were nurtured, and the widowed, orphaned, lonely, and disabled were all provided for.

Mortarian recited that line, Hades' ultimate ideal... the place he came from, is there really such a peaceful corner in this galaxy? It's probably just an illusion.