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

Page 698

But after a long silence, Corax ultimately refrained from saying anything discouraging, because he realized that his brothers' trip was not a rash act because they were unaware of the Lord of Man's strength.

Rather, it is the true realization that comes after understanding the costs and consequences.

In other words, all the Primarchs present were genuinely determined to give the Emperor a good beating, even if it came at a terrible cost.

More chilling to Corax than the fact that he beat up the Emperor was that "all his brothers had the same mentality."

The Emperor truly succeeded in uniting the Primarchs and exploiting hatred.

But I don't think they can last long.

Corax said, his completely black pupils gazing into the distance, where some kind of subspace realm had already descended.

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

"I'm so glad to see you all."

The black-haired man smiled and said, holding a teacup in one hand, squatting on the half-person-high dining table, then slowly lowering himself down by holding onto the tabletop.

He looks like a cautious middle-aged man.

But Mortarion and Saint Gilles both appeared to be on high alert, one drawing his scythe and the other his spear, watching the Lord of Man's every move intently.

At the request of Mortarion and Sangilius, Hades temporarily removed the Dark Domain from their bodies, as the two Primarchs wanted to use their psionic powers to fight the Lord of Man.

Neither of the two Primarchs dared to make any rash moves, and at the same time, they tacitly began to set up their psionic fields together, pulling down the warp and turning this place into their domain.

"I'm sorry, I have to tell the truth,"

The Lord of Humanity leisurely sipped his tea; he even had the time to savor it.

"You can't beat me like this."

【I know. 】

Mortarian said, his scythe rising like a serpent, baring its fangs at the Lord of Man. More and more white mist surged from the gaps in his bone armor, suddenly obscuring Mortarian.

Amidst the swirling white mist, a taller, thinner figure rose to his feet. His back was hunched so low that he was almost taller than the ceiling, yet for some reason he remained standing there, proclaiming the formal invalidation of the laws of physics.

It could no longer be called human; it was more like a giant insect in the mist. But it was not a complete entity. In places where joints, armor, and flesh should have been connected, only white mist was surging, connecting the broken segments of its body.

On the other side, Saint Gilles also revealed his true nature without hesitation. Most of his essence had been lost, which weakened him, but did not mean that he could no longer fight.

The intense power had dissipated, leaving only a babbling brook. Thus, the conflict between them was no longer sharp, and Saint Gilles tried to accept the power of both water and fire—which gradually made his form grotesque.

Blood energy rippled out along with golden light. In a single thought, gods and demons would appear. From different angles, with different intentions, and at different times, onlookers would see Saint Gilles in completely different ways.

Is this my true nature, Father?

Saint Gilles spoke slowly and deliberately, his scarlet eyes, which gleamed with golden light, filled with such sorrow.

No… I think my true nature is inherently more brutal, because you weren’t surprised by the ghoul army.

"I really didn't expect that."

The Emperor spoke honestly, standing calmly between the two mutated Primarchs.

"But this is not a bad thing. It means that you have stepped out of the path I set. This is the life you chose yourself. You have truly grown. Even the nature of warp beings will change."

"but,"

The Emperor fell silent. He casually glanced at the corpses of Macardo and Orpeson lying on the ground, and with a thought, Macardo and Orpeson were immediately escorted out of the room, where they were forced to curse outside the space.

"That's not enough."

The Lord of Mankind set down his cup, under the cold gazes of the two Primarchs.

“I was absent from your education, but most of you have grown up very well. I never thought that two of you would reach this level. Although the process was bumpy and the outcome was a close call, I am very satisfied with it.”

What do you want to say?

A chirping sound, similar to the friction of some kind of hard membrane, rang out, followed by a piercing, mocking sound.

Are you trying to lecture us now?

"Exactly."

The Lord of Humanity spoke, his eyes blazing with golden flames, his black hair moving without wind!

“You are too young to understand the true meaning of the warp, so let me explain—”

? !

In that instant, something terrifying, bizarre, uncanny, beyond the precise capture and description of the senses, distorted, slow, flowing, solid, and surreal descended.

Height and width are stretched infinitely, extending to blurry lines beyond the reach of sight. That existence is descending, crammed into here like an elephant forcibly squeezing into a microwave oven.

gold.

When facing Him, you can only accurately describe Him with this one word.

But when you look at Him and see His broken, twisted, incomplete, filthy, and dirty body, you clearly know that He is a "failure," He is a product of "failure," He has not reached that true heaven, even though He has grasped that sword many times—the hilt of the sword almost willingly jumped into His hand.

But He did not raise the sword.

On the contrary, He chose self-harm and self-mutilation.

It's as absurd as finding five dollars on the ground and not picking them up, a starving pedestrian refusing free food and lodging, or a dying patient refusing to go to heaven with a beautiful angel; or like no one would refuse to subconsciously turn off a tap, or use their hand to brace themselves before falling—this is a serious violation of instinct.

But He did it.

And they took pride in it slowly, immensely, and arrogantly.

Prove yourself to me.

He said.

His domain thus unfolded, even if you know that He never intended to unfold His domain, but with His words, it all came naturally.

A blurry, illusory golden figure sang praises, and people knelt before Him. Hymns descended, the world danced, and a throne appeared automatically. It was not that He wanted to sit on the throne, but that the throne needed Him to sit on it—only then could the throne be a throne.

And now, this unimaginable thing exists right now, in this very moment and place.

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

"Holy crap!"

Hades stared incredulously into the distance, a faint golden flame rising from the front of his white hair, but it was quickly extinguished by Hades's thoughts. Hades's black pupils were almost entirely reflected in the golden light that flashed by.

"Does he really have a grudge against Mortalian and Sanguielles?"

Hades said that he was ready to make his move. From his perspective, the main battlefield was entirely golden, and he couldn't see anything else.

A star directly enveloped the area, and because he was not invited, Hades could not see inside the star; he simply stood at a distance, staring directly at the sun.

"I think you can wait a little longer."

"I can hardly contain myself," Tarasin said excitedly, his eyes almost glued to the image. Another rare and unique piece.

"how?"

Hades said irritably, "Haven't you gotten the footage you want yet?"

"No, no, no, no, no,"

Tarasin said,

“What I mean is, the Lord of Mankind is obviously going to say something to his offspring, and I have a feeling it’s going to be interesting—you can’t just disturb a loving father and son, can you?”

“I know you can’t see the images inside. Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll send you a signal, but the price is that you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Tarasin enthusiastically pulled Hades over and showed him the images inside with great interest.

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

I am still weak.

Now, Mortarian is so acutely aware of this, just as Barbaross was when he was under the shadow of his alien foster father.

He absolutely will not succeed.

Although he had personally faced Nurgle and Slaanesh, the feeling of being unable to breathe was still etched deep in his soul, when he looked at the Emperor, a completely different sense of oppression, like a mountain, pressed down on his shoulders.

Mortarion realized that the Emperor could easily cripple or even kill a Chaos on his own—

In the prime of such monsters, the Lord of Man might be able to accomplish the feat of killing two Chaos, if He were willing to wield that sword of the warp.

Under such immense power, he was like a child with a toy stick, facing an adult wielding a hunting rifle alone, with extremely slim chances of victory.

Even so, we must fight.

Pale Mortarian felt his body creaking as white mist frantically dissipated from his bone helmet within the golden, shadowless holy land, leaving him never to return.

But he needs to fight.

He held firm before Nurgle; he held firm before Slaanesh—and before the Lord of Men, he had even less reason to back down.

From the very beginning, even when facing the seemingly hopeless Nacre, Mortarion resolutely charged forward.

The fog surged again, and the evil spirits in the smoke spewed out poisonous mist. The tall, thin ghost figure slowly straightened up, and the golden soul that was singing beneath him slumped down and turned into part of the fog.

Just like the scene in Nurgle Garden in the past, he began to erode, step by step, each step dimming hundreds of souls, the traces of death trailing behind him, step after step.

You are very resilient.

The golden monster blinked its golden eyes.

This is why I chose you in the first place; you can disperse the fog, but it will eventually gather again.

I found you in the barren lands of the vast ocean, a perpetually stagnant cloud of dust. Compared to everything else in the warp, you were clearly less inclined to move, so I didn't exert much effort. You only resisted for a moment when I tried to capture you, trying to disorient me—that was all your initial intention.

Mortarian made a vomiting sound, which he was very good at because he often followed Hades around and sometimes he would deliberately make vomiting sounds to amuse Hades.

Or make that sound while looking at the documents that Killieman brings him.

But now he uses it to mock his father.

I am not grateful that you brought me here.

Mortarian's voice was tinged with a lazy arrogance.

And my arrival here is not thanks to you.

The golden monster chuckled.

I know, so I got a freebie.

The Pale Lord remained silent for a moment, feeling his body become even more unstable. The mist continued to linger, and the golden light stung him. Sometimes he would shrink, and sometimes he would grow larger. Mortarion felt that he had not yet grasped the true secret, but he still existed under the burning of the golden flames—never to perish.

No,

He said the golden pupils embedded in the bone armor shone brightly.

Now you need to pay the price!

He gathered the mist into a sickle and pounced suddenly—he had seen his true form!

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

I don't think you'll listen to anything I say.

Exactly.

The vampire replied dismissively, clearly more at ease here than Mortarion, for the archangel had once touched the true heavens for a fleeting moment.

The archangel walked with his spear, blood swirling beneath his feet, and where the river of blood churned, souls fell to the ground screaming.

After a moment of silence, Saint Gilles suddenly spoke.

I am still very sad.

+You're not willing to truly compete with us, even if you could simply pin us to the ground and treat us like ants. +

Should I apologize for being too powerful?

The emperor's humorous voice rang out.

This makes me so sad.

The Lord of Mankind sighed,

+I will try my best to fulfill your wishes—I am laying the groundwork for the real battle between you and me, and I am also the initiator and host of this duel. +

Saint Gilles remained silent.

+……+

You are preparing for your future escape.