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

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The archangel pointed this out without hesitation.

I still retain a sliver of reason and dignity—otherwise I would have immediately called upon the Underworld.

How can humanity contend with the sun? How can they wield their swords and spears against this colossal celestial body? Can the sun be killed? Will it bleed? Can its neck be severed? Only a bottomless black hole can devour such a being.

Hades?

The Lord of Mankind said with a smile,

You can certainly call him, why not?

Yeah, why not?

Saint Gilles's dim, blood-red eyes were brightening again, and he unconsciously curled the corners of his mouth, revealing the tips of his small fangs.

Because I'm looking forward to that punch that actually lands on you.

The archangel said that he accepted the spiritual energy thrown by the Lord of Mankind without hesitation.

He knew what the Emperor was going to do—the ruler of mankind was never one to wage war or do pointless things.

The emperor wanted to cut off his flesh and feed it to his underage offspring.

Then the Lord of Man can escape.

He ran, he wanted to run far away.

But his descendants will succeed in stopping him.

And this is exactly what Saint Gilles wanted.

He will stop him and make him face his own mess.

He will swallow any humiliation before that happens.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 729 Not Acting Like a Human Being

(At the request of readers, the "+" sign has been changed to "''")

You realize what kind of sin he is about to commit.

This makes you feel panicked.

--------

Magnus let out a short scream.

For a wizard accustomed to gazing into the warp for extended periods, everything that just happened was incomprehensible, even now.

The deity descended, with extraordinary arrogance and wildness. This golden god was almost boundless in his madness—He simply descended!

Magnus is screaming.

Then, perhaps a few seconds later, or perhaps a few years later, in a moment of dizziness, the crimson Fool finally regained a sliver of clarity.

Then he faced Him directly.

That golden, eternal sun.

He is so radiant that all filth will have nowhere to hide beneath Him, with no shadowy corner. Light shines from all directions, piercing between cells, penetrating the depths of the soul, no matter which way the Primal looks—

This eternally cold, eternally scorching golden sun will forever hang directly above his head, and people can only look up at him and worship him.

Does he really want to fight against this being?

Magnus felt a sharp whistling sound rise from his throat again, an instinctive reaction to something too incomprehensible.

He knew that the Lord of Mankind might have an extremely magnificent side, but he never imagined that the true form of the Lord of Mankind would be so unapproachable. Anyone facing Him would only have one emotion: to tremble and kneel down.

Magnus was ready to turn and run; he had been forced there by Macado in the first place.

Furthermore, the Primarch did not hesitate to assume that other Primarchs, such as Guilliman and Corax, would also choose to avoid war.

But just as the Crimson Primarch made up his mind to leave, something called out to him.

That is... Him.

A pale golden-haired man was tilting his head and looking at him from the next corner. His long, molten gold hair cascaded down like a waterfall, and he blinked his inorganic eyes.

'Aren't you going to help your brothers?'

【I……】

Magnus instinctively took a few steps back, his voice trembling. He was momentarily unsure of the Lord of Mankind's attitude toward the matter. Shouldn't the Emperor oppose this farce?

'You can go and see them.'

The burning phantom spoke casually, then looked up and gazed in that direction. Amidst the intense golden light that nearly blinded him, he suddenly saw two discordant colors.

It is Mortalian and Saint Gilles.

The Lord of Mankind did not stop speaking.

'I am grateful for the choice you made, Magnus. You have shown wisdom far beyond my expectations, so I have decided to forgive you this once—and I should forgive you all more.'

The last sentence sounds more like a monologue.

'But don't do that again, Magnus.'

The Lord of Humanity spoke calmly, then tossed something to Magnus. Magnus caught it hastily, and the golden figure vanished immediately afterward.

'I've prepared a surprise for each of you—come over here.'

The last words faded from Magnus's ears, but the giant suddenly began to tremble violently. In his hand was a green-skinned scepter.

Magnus remembered this scepter… This was… This was the green-skinned boy he taught…

Is that green-skinned creature dead?

Has the Lord of Humanity already discovered it?

Magnus trembled, whether from the death of the green-skinned wizard or from the discovery of his evil deeds by the Lord of Man.

The Primarch trembled as he stroked the scepter. Unsurprisingly, he found remnants of psionic energy among the gems inlaid at the top of the scepter—a deliberately preserved fragment of memory—the key being—

The green light that appeared was the first glowing spell that Magnus taught the Greenskins.

"Greetings, wise one."

A familiar green-skinned creature appeared before Magnus, only larger and more ornately dressed.

“I think you will eventually receive this memory, which means I died at the hands of your own kind, but you don’t need to be harsh. War and death are the truth of this galaxy.”

"I'm keeping this memory only to say a proper goodbye to you,"

Mag the boy lifted his wizard's robes and bowed deeply.

"Thank you for your guidance; you truly embody the principle of education for all—but I suggest you don't be so generous next time, as it will only hurt you. This cruel galaxy is not suitable for people like you."

"So,"

Mag said,

Goodbye, teacher.

As his memory faded, Magnus felt his soul burning. He didn't know what to think or how to react; he only felt an indescribable absurdity.

The Red Giant even felt a moment of embarrassment. He had initially only intended it as a pastime, but later began to anticipate the Greenskins' astonishing learning talent—he had indeed been interested in a few Greenskins who uttered philosophical pronouncements, but that was merely…

Yes……

Magnus could think no more. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, but reality gave him no time to ponder. In the distance, Magnus noticed the people who had raised the blade of rebellion.

The Crimson Primarch suddenly went limp, and everything went black before his eyes, as if the scythe of death had brushed past him.

Mortarion has "evolved" once again.

A deathly fog.

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

Humans are always afraid of the unknown, the darkness from which one cannot see far, the fog so thick that one cannot see one's own hand in front of one's face... In the records of various civilizations, there is always a place of poisonous miasma that is perpetually shrouded in white fog.

Whether it's a swamp, a mountain, or a deep forest.

It is associated with poisonous gas, insect chirps, and death.

A middle-aged man with black hair hummed his own song as he walked along a path strewn with white ashes. Wisps of mist around him tried to tug at the hem of his clothes, but each time they failed.

Laziness is not a good thing.

"Nios said, waving his hand to clear the smoke. Compared to his other brothers, Mortarian certainly didn't have much of a drive," he said.

Fortunately, subsequent education helped him change this, and the Lord of Humanity was satisfied with this.

He continued walking until the fog thought it had led him astray, and then the Emperor walked straight toward the very core of the fog, where a more essential being awaited him.

'Is it a backward village?'

The black-haired man said curiously, "Deep in the mist, a small village appears here. I remember when I first came here, it was a desolate place."

Neos still remembered the true nature of Saint Gilles, a place that had once been a tyrannical land spewing forth molten, scalding blood.

But afterwards, Saint Gilles, who loved art, reshaped that place into a corner of Eden, where blood turned into clear springs, green shade covered the desolation, and birds chirped.

Neos had also glimpsed his golden son in Roger Dorn's dream.

Unlike the original barren, rocky land, Dorne built an endless defensive fortress within his soul using rocks. Its defensive sophistication and completeness of equipment even put the Lord of Humanity to shame—it was a fortress that could never be breached.

Nys believed that even if Khorne himself came, he would not be able to breach this fortress—because its concept was "unbreakable."

A chirping insect brought Neos back to his senses.

Neos blinked, watching the child run past him.

It's unimaginable.

Amidst the thick poisonous miasma and beyond the realm of absolute death, Mortarion surprisingly chose to build a village, where life and human activity suddenly appeared.

Even though the village was engulfed by a nearly blinding white fog.

Neos squinted and saw farmland in the distance, where degraded plants were growing and people were working in the fields. There were even fertilizer wells in the fields.

In Killieman's rural fantasy, these things would likely never happen, Neos thought at the opportune moment that Killieman would probably build a modern farm like that of a large-scale rancher—

Instead of the rather primitive farming methods he was seeing before him.

This is Mortarion.

The Lord of Humanity shook his head, as stubborn as ever. His tenacity was almost synonymous with inflexibility; he was unable to accept new things and abhorred change. A primitive village—

This will indeed appear in the mist of the Pale Lord.

After a flurry of comments, Neos satisfied his desire to critique his offspring and continued walking. The villagers instinctively avoided him, just as Mortarion himself did.

Surprisingly, there were quite a few children in the village, and the Lord of Humanity could constantly hear the laughter of children playing around.

Children are a symbol of peace and prosperity in a region, and also represent the future flourishing of that civilization.

The Lord of Humanity walked through streets devoid of aesthetic appeal, the fog constantly accompanying him, growing thicker and thicker...

Finally, he found his rebellious offspring under the largest tree in the center of the village.

Beneath the bone-white tree trunk, a hooded boy of average build leaned against the tree, a sickle in his hand, silent, as if rooted there like the bone tree itself, like a guardian deity of the village.

'Trying to appear knowledgeable without saying a word?'

Neos raised his hand in greeting, using what he considered to be humorous words.

He knew that Mortarian disrespected him, so he didn't need to respect Mortarian either.

[Old man, hurry up and die.]

A brief, foul mouth, an ultimate enjoyment—Motalian didn't waste any words. The statue-like boy suddenly stood up, and the earth immediately trembled violently.

'Then I'm going to disappoint you—your lifespan will be shorter than mine.'

Nyor said, leaping up to dodge the ancient tree's branches that lashed out from the ground—Makado's socks, the roots of that ancient tree looked like a giant insect-like limb; no wonder Nurgle favored Mortarion.

You even tracked me all the way here...

A pale face suddenly appeared, and Neos, who was suspended in mid-air, immediately double-jumped to dodge. The long, curved bone scythe just grazed his feet.

This is Mortarion's territory, therefore the Pale Lord has absolute authority here.