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

Page 747

I just don't like all mediocre people like you—but not you, Mortarian.

That's true; the Blood Lord's blessing makes Corax unhappy with anyone who performs mediocrely.

"So, after I finish my report, shall we go to the Blood Arena for a little while?"

Motalian said that this skinny guy, without his armor, wasn't even a third as wide as Corax.

Corax chuckled and shook his head. He looked thoughtfully at the chain-like markings on Mortalian's neck. The golden markings gleamed dimly, making it look as if half of the crown had been removed and then locked upside down.

Guilliman will be angry.

The demons who revere battle and bloodshed have finally yielded.

"I'm alright, but you'll be targeted, Mortalian."

That workaholic isn't so stingy as to refuse even a single day's work to his trembling, overworked subordinates.

"Motalian said casually, then looked up again into the depths of the palace, where the light of gold and blue never faded—the Kingslayer, the Emperor Robert Guilliman, was waiting for him."

Unlike Corax, who was heavily armored, Mortarion was not allowed to wear armor and carry weapons into the palace because of Guilliman's quirky sense of humor, but this indifferent guy didn't seem bothered by it.

Mortarian was simply wearing his casual clothes from Barbarossa. Due to etiquette, the garment, which was originally a half-hooded, half-cloak outfit, was not worn by Mortarian, instead revealing his white hair and face.

Corax took another step back, seemingly quite wary of the presence deep within the palace.

He is calling you.

"Corax said cautiously, then realizing that Guilliman had already noticed them, the Blood Shrike had to leave first. Before leaving, Corax gave Mortalian a slightly sympathetic look.

Mortarian, however, maintained a calm and composed expression. After watching Corax leave, he simply walked along the palace corridors, the magnificent lights on the walls illuminating him and the resplendent bas-reliefs, depicting the glorious and grand history and present of the empire.

Guilliman loved doing this; these were some of his few hobbies that could be considered completely useless.

Motalian thought calmly, "A bunch of ugly things, unsightly."

He then came to the two tightly closed doors, the golden gate looking down at him, its surface intricately and dazzlingly carved with incantations, spells, and the secret language of the stars.

Mortarian remained expressionless. He was just about to reach for the door when, without any surprise, it opened automatically the instant his hand touched it, revealing what lay beyond.

There, the Emperor Robert Guilliman sat on his throne, with countless teleportation threads hanging down from the void and connecting to the shimmering crown atop his golden hair.

You've finally arrived, my friend.

Robert Killian gave Motalian a warm smile.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 770 Back to Terra with a Bed

How do you feel?

Amidst the churning lava, Angron wiped the mixture of blood and sweat from his brow. The Primarch looked at his offspring, Kahn, who stood expressionless on a rock, pulling a chainsaw axe stuck between the enemy's bones.

"Thank you for your concern, I'm fine."

Kahn said that Angron's words reminded him of Karas with his dark circles under his eyes on Terra, and the gladiator felt a chill in his heart. Now he was extremely grateful that his Primarch was Angron - the Lord of Red Sand was the best among the Primarchs, at least he would never abandon his offspring.

As for the Space Marines who were sacrificed to Robert Guilliman… Kahn paused for a moment, then decided to skip the topic.

Angron seemed to ignore Kahn's answer, gazing into the distance with his crimson eyes at the starry sky.

It seems we should head back—I sense the Mortarion army is setting sail again.

"The Legion will always follow in your footsteps."

Kahn wiped the blood off his battle axe and walked to the Primarch's side. Angron turned his head and glanced at Kahn.

After more than half a year of fighting against the Khorne army/Greenskins, the Lord of Red Sand has successfully calmed down. At least he no longer inexplicably associates certain ominous images with him.

The World Eaters also fought several battles with the remnants of Hydra. Even Angron, who could read minds, couldn't figure out whether the current Hydra members were loyal or treacherous.

He could sense that Khorne was extremely averse to the Alphas, yet the Alphas remained under Khorne's command—their auras didn't quite mesh, and Angron couldn't understand why Khorne had chosen the Alphas.

"Kahn, tell me... what are your plans for the future?"

Angron suddenly asked a question that no longer surprised Kahn, as Angron had often asked strange questions before.

"I will follow you forever."

Kahn answered truthfully, but Angron exclaimed and looked at Kahn again.

[I'm referring to something else—something else, something that has broken away from the Primarchy and the Legion. What do you want to do yourself?]

In the past, this topic might have been dangerous, but Kahn had already experienced Conrad, who would occasionally fight with other Primarchs, and Karas, who would angrily curse Primarchs, so it was alright.

But what can he do without the Primarch and the Legion?

"Go become a gladiator."

Kahn didn't think much before the answer came to him, and then he added something else.

"If Abaddon is still alive, I'll go after that scumbag."

The Primarch clicked his tongue and shook his head. Angron seemed to want to say something, but after a moment of waiting, he didn't speak. He clearly chose to respect Kahn's wishes.

Maybe that day really will come.

Angron looked up at the starry sky, the twinkling stars reflected on the Primarch's retina. What was the Primarch, with his exceptional empathy, thinking about?

[I didn't believe it before, but now I'm willing to. At least during the Great Crusade, my brothers had never been so harmonious, and—what was that line Guilliman and Hades saying again? Yes, yes, yes, increase productivity.]

but……

Anglo suddenly shuddered in his hidden thoughts as he recalled the other fate he had been told about, an extremely absurd and unimaginable one that had kept him awake countless nights as he tried to figure out why he had fallen into that fate.

Yes.

Angron had seriously considered why he would have fallen into that fate if he were in that position.

In the end, he tragically discovered that he was extremely well-suited to that fate.

He would be the true master of revelry and debauchery, able to make the masses resonate with the dying, or cheer with addicts. Empathy is so simple, drowning in the torrent of countless emotions. Are glory and faith such empty things?

Thinking of this, Angron shuddered again.

That is why the honor and gladiatorship he now upholds are all the more precious. They are the reeds that prevent his soul from drifting aimlessly with the torrent of emotions, and this is why he, Angron, exists here.

Now, back to the topic he just mentioned, how does he plan to live in the future—no, how does he plan to live now?

A glimmer of golden light shimmered in Angron's eyes. He had never felt so full of fighting spirit. He decided to take another step and be more proactive.

His brothers were already on their own battlefields, so Angron could not back down either.

He will return, he will work, a great and unwavering vow resonates in the Primarch's heart.

They resemble oxen and horses that voluntarily return to work.

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

Don't go back.

Hades looked helpless and glanced at Mortarian without saying a word.

[Barbarus is currently in its first harvest season, so we can go back and stay for two planting seasons before returning to Terra.]

Mortarian said without batting an eye, Death staring at Hades with calm eyes but an extremely stubborn tone.

“I also want to go back to Barbarossa.”

Hades made a mournful face.

"But there's still work on Terra, Moth."

【…】

[You also have an office in Barbarossa; you can rebuild it if you don't like it.]

“But I have to talk to Guilliman and Fernus. The Archbishop of the Church of the Underworld and the Great Sages of Mars are waiting for my return.”

Hades could already imagine that when he returned, he would be surrounded by a group of sages, like at a fanatical fan meeting.

Oh, right, there's also the mountain of official duties.

After settling into the heart of the empire, Hades had come to a complete understanding of Zhu Yuanzhang's poem: "Before the officials rise, I rise; when the officials sleep, I do not sleep. I am not as fortunate as the wealthy old man in Jiangnan, who still huddles under the covers even when the sun is high in the sky."

This is the truth for rulers: if you want to govern an empire, you will become its biggest beast of burden. The only good news is that Hades is ranked third to last on the list of sleeping emperors in human empires, with Guilliman and Fernus ranking second to last and first respectively.

They are known as the "Ox and Horse Trio" for short.

This workload would exhaust even a Space Marine.

Hades sighed inwardly as he watched Mortarian seem to have made an inexplicable decision. Finally, after seven deep breaths, Death looked resolutely at Hades.

"?"

[...I allow Guilliman to land on Barbaros.]

No, buddy?

"He is the ruler of the empire, he must stay on Terra."

Hades explained that he felt he didn't need to explain; Mortarian understood, Mortarian simply didn't want to acknowledge such a cruel fact.

Change Barbaross to Imperial Core.

Death calmly uttered extremely terrifying words, raised one hand, slowly clenched his fist, and a sudden burst of subspace light illuminated the villain's face.

Hades couldn't tell whether his expression was a joke or a serious one.

“Uh… how about this, you personally advise Guilliman, and if he agrees, I won’t object.”

Mortarian fell silent.

Mortarian and Hades stared at each other.

"..."

"So you're afraid to face Guilliman, aren't you?! Aren't you, Mortarian!!!"

Hades roared, stepping forward and pointing at Mortalian, who coughed defiantly.

I don't want to see him.

The truth is, if he went to Killieman and made a scene, Killieman would just pin Mortalian down on his desk.

Then make Mortalian work overtime until he faints.

That's how terrifying, that's how horrifying, this is the ruler of the empire, Robert Guilliman.

Under the watchful eyes of Hades's mischievous friends, Mortarian finally backed down.

【…】

I'm going back to curse Guilliman.

Death said indignantly.

"Why don't you come back and work overtime with me? Once the work is done, you'll have some free time."

I refuse.

This may be the first time Mortarion has rejected Hades.

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

[I'm glad to see you back, Hades—I'm still unsure about some of the Mechanicus's requests, and Fernus can't discern the wolfish ambitions behind them.]

Hades laughed, but the curve of his lips trembled slightly. He saw a somewhat tired Guilliman. Damn it, this was the super warp energy daddy who had been fed with the faith of the entire human empire, and he was working overtime to the point of looking like he had kidney deficiency.

"Ha ha……"

Hades chuckled awkwardly a few times.

"I might not be so willing to come back."

Guilliman glanced at Hades, his clear blue eyes revealing a knowing look, and the regal composure he always maintained crumbled slightly at this moment.

A muttering sound that only Hades could hear rang out.

I also want to go back to Makula.

Hades shuddered and looked at Guilliman, reading a hint of resentment in Guilliman's expression—the explanation was simple: Mortarion, having failed to persuade Hades, had gone back to Barbaros for a vacation.

In this respect, the emperor's offspring may have a strange tacit understanding with the emperor.

However, he will only be able to rest for two or three months at most. If he fails to return by then, Guilliman will use the Hyperlight Desk to capture Mortalian.