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

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But the impact of terror goes far beyond that.

As blood and qi surged, believers spontaneously offered their heads. Above Baal, among the numerous churches of all sizes and colors, eight churches were plunged into purgatory along with the Blood Lord's horn. For the first time, the nameless among the masses revealed their true faces.

Gunshots rang out one after another from the defensive structures inside the surface of Baal.

There are no spies lurking within the Death Guard and the Ultramarines, but Alphas, who have not yet been blessed by the Blood Lord, are omnipresent within the mortal ranks of the World Eaters and Baal.

"There's much more than I imagined."

"This is what Galen, the Ultramarines commander who brought with him," said the leader of the Ultramarines, while beside him, Karas, the Death Guard commander, did not have a particularly friendly expression.

"That guy wants to clean house."

Typhon pointed this out sharply, while not far from them, Amit, who had been roughly tied up and pressed into the center of the psychic altar by Karas, was still struggling.

"Those who came were all traitors, Space Marines."

Callas said, giving a mocking look.

"Has that guy finally realized that the Primarch he stole back then wasn't suitable for him? I think we might have a chance to face Alpha's Primarch today."

"Alpha? Scarlet Alpha?"

Dante, who was handcuffed on the other side, spoke up, his expression somewhat ominous—

To prevent Saint Gilles's psychic powers from affecting his offspring, the Blood Angels were restricted from moving in advance.

"What? What do you want to ask?"

Callas raised an eyebrow, looking at Dante, whose expression shifted strangely before he finally stammered,

“I never thought that He still hadn’t abandoned my Lord.”

"It is only right that we come."

Karas said, raising his scepter, and the few psychics within the Death Guard echoed his sentiments, as he continued to strengthen the psychic barrier at the chapel.

Baal handed over the overall command of the defense to Victor, the current commander of the World Eaters. Interestingly, this commander has seven brothers, all of whom are well-known within the legion. Within the World Eaters, they are known as the "Eight Sons".

Although Typhon believed his command abilities far surpassed those of these young upstarts, the World Eaters themselves knew the true extent of Baal's defensive fortifications, and thus, Guilliman entrusted them with overall command.

The Death Guard and Ultramarines obey commands.

"Look at the blood-red earth spikes from earlier. Their spiritual energy content is enough to make Chaos not need to invest any more power. With just a little guidance, they can become a ready-made army."

Karas said casually, while the Ultra Warriors Garen and Dante beside him looked serious.

This was not an overreaction on their part. With the riots in Saint Gilles, Baal had undergone a complete reversal in a very short time. Now, apart from the defensive works built around the church, almost everything was shrouded in a thick blood mist.

It was like being in Khorne's arena.

But Karas knew that this was not entirely Khorne's doing; most of the power came from beneath their feet—from Saint Gilles, which is why indiscriminate attacking creatures of neither side would appear in these areas.

"Just hit them,"

Karas said he was a veteran who had been to the garden, and he couldn't even be bothered to lift his eyelids at the sight before him, let alone the fact that Mortalian and Hades could return to the battlefield at any moment.

Karas used his psionic powers to turn on his microphone.

“Victor, you can deploy the Death Guard’s First, Second, and Fourth Companies at will, while the Seventh Company will stay put to guard the Cathedral—you can choose to defend and wait for the Primarchs to come out before attacking.”

"That's exactly what I was thinking. Apart from a few defensive bunkers that have lost contact due to spy interference, most of the defense works and missile silos have not been breached."

A calm voice came through the channel. The Devourer's voice sounded quite rough, but the words he spoke were extremely restrained, with a kind of beauty that came from a strong man embroidering.

"How are you doing there?"

"We just dealt with a few traitors."

"I'm telling you," Victor said, blood dripping from his battle axe. "Most of the people in the command post are my trusted men, so the riot was suppressed immediately."

"What about in the sky?"

"Signals were also intercepted outside the atmosphere, and the ships of the World Eaters and Ultramarines are ready for naval battle."

"Prioritize the protection of the star system above the Holy Church."

"receive."

"A legion commander with brains," Karas thought to himself. He had lived for so long and had seen many strange people, including some who even held high positions—like Mortarian and that idiot.

There was a sudden hissing sound in the channel, and Karas frowned. A few breaths later, communication was restored.

"what happened?"

With his exceptional sixth sense, Karas suddenly realized something was wrong.

The sounds coming from Victor's side suddenly became noisy.

"The fleet has reported that something has breached their sea defenses against Baal and is rapidly entering the atmosphere. We can't target it because of the blood mist—the footage is coming back—"

Damn it, why are they green?!

"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"

A faint, joyful roar pierced through the blood mist, bringing warmth to each blood demon preparing to attack Baal.

Meanwhile, on Karas's private channel, another channel he least wanted to connect to was turned on, and the annoying little thing was yelling at him.

"Oh no!!! Senior Karas!!!"

Booz Bella, son of Hades, who had come all the way from Terra to Baal for a vacation (?), shouted with heartfelt emotion, piercing Karas's eardrums.

"Green-skinned—it's green-skinned!!! It's the one my dad raised!!!"

“waaagh!!!”

"Shut up! Blake!!!"

Booz's voice rose and fell, sounding like he was going to beat up another of Hades' sons, Black.

Karas took a deep breath and felt his blood pressure rise.

He knew about it; it was he who sent Booz Bella to that star system teeming with Greenskins and Bugs to pick up Hades, and Booz reported it to him afterwards.

Only the Death Guard, the Son of Hades, and the Cult of Mechanics know about this.

It should only be known to them.

"Help—help me, senior fighter!!!"

Booz's wailing continued.

"You wouldn't want to see a green-skinned guy yelling 'I want to touch his face,' would you?!"

"Just so I could touch his face!!!"

"Shut up, Blake!!! You've been raised by those greenhorns and developed their instincts!"

Typhon felt the veins on his forehead throbbing.

He felt an unprecedented power, and Karas was certain that for a moment he was seriously considering knocking out everyone outside the Death Guard forces.

And why does he always have to clean up the messes of these two big shots?

Before Karas could catch his breath, a green-skinned creature, a burly green-skinned creature, appeared within the detection range of the Holy Church's bird servant device after a strange fluctuation of psionic energy.

Good day, everyone.

The green-skinned warlord's gaze seemed to pierce through the surveillance cameras, targeting everyone staring at the monitors.

The fluent and elegant High Gothic language began to play.

"I am the heir to the will of Hades. May I ask if I may have an audience with Hades and Lord Mortarion?"

In the deathly silence, a cry suddenly broke the stillness; Dante screamed in terror.

"Huh—huh?! Karas?!!!!"

Karas fainted from anger.

He'll faint for 0.7 seconds first; he can't take it anymore. This son of a bitch world.

The Death Guard, along with those two, was completely ruined.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 714 Carrastiphon decides to call in reinforcements

This is a serious question.

Sometimes, Callas Typhon would fall into quiet contemplation, pondering the true motivation for his life.

This could be a hatred of aliens, a yearning for fame and fortune, an inability to let others go alone, or even—and he meant even—maybe simply because he doesn't want to die.

There are many possibilities.

But the one thing he wasn't allowed to see alive was a green-skinned creature talking about Hades and Mortarion.

He couldn't catch his breath.

This is even more desperate than being swallowed by the Great Impure One and suffocating in the belly of the Great Demon Nagued, at least the former can be understood and imagined—not the present.

Green-skinned Warlord, High Gothic language, Hades, Mortarion... Can you even connect these keywords?!

Karas roared inwardly, wishing the Emperor would send down a bolt of lightning to kill him—or strike those two first.

He had lost count of how much suffering he had endured, and how much of it was the undeserved misfortune brought upon him by those two idiots back then.

Yes, he gained supreme power, but also assumed responsibilities far exceeding that. At least Karas believed that the other elders in the legions would never encounter this scene, nor would they have to bear the reputational and responsibility losses it would bring.

He was so stupid; he should have just run away when Deathwatch was recruiting that year.

Anyone can be the Death Guard, but not Karas Typhon.

He can't afford it.

When Karas Typhon's consciousness returned from his state of utter despair, he once again prayed that he would simply pass out, or that the Emperor would bestow a bolt of lightning upon him.

But there was still no sign of Mortarion and Hades returning, and he was a damned man who had to take responsibility.

Karas, your life has been ruined by your bad friends.

Karas believed that he wouldn't be in such a sorry state if he were transferred to any other legion.

At least no green-skinned man will claim to be his boss's "successor".

The scene before him became clear again. Karas calmly waved his hand, refusing the attention and offers of assistance from the other legions.

In the past, he would have absolutely condemned and scorned the act of fainting before battle, considering it cowardly and something that would be despised by other legions. But now, Karas decided to forgive himself.

He has already suffered enough.

He stared blankly at the green-skinned warlord on the screen. This green-skinned warlord was taller than the current Mortarion and wider than Hades. It even looked quite high-class, perhaps more educated than some Primarchs.

Hahaha.

When people are at their most speechless, they will laugh.

Karas appeared expressionless on the surface, but inwardly he was already devastated. Look at that idiot who was always fighting over the cafeteria, what kind of alien father did he raise?

He could allow such a large greenskin to shout "Destroy Hades, destroy Mortarion," but not in a respectful, heretical way, such as requesting an audience with Hades.

This is even more heretical than an extinct Eldar shouting "For the Regent Empire, for Guilliman!"

Karas felt his vision go black again, but he was Karas Typhon, not those two idiots. He forced himself to regain his senses and faced the green-skinned creature.

Karas finally calmed himself down and convinced himself to kill himself after the job, which took him about 1.4 seconds.

The good news is that, because the appearance and words of this green-skinned individual were so shocking, the others are still under strict control.

The bad news is, that green guy is still giving speeches.

The wind howls, the desert rises and blood-red sand flies, swirling around the hem of the Khorne Demon's robes sewn from muscle, the fine black stone stitches on them heavy and intricate, outlining the achievements of a king, occasionally flashing with the glow of psionic energy.

It just stands there.

Standing amidst the swirling dust and blood-red sand.

The war cries and roars of the Khorne warriors faintly came from behind it, and the warriors leaped faster and faster like the beating of war drums, with splattered blood droplets occasionally spraying from the blood mist behind them to its feet.

Before it, tens of thousands of Space Marines gazed upon it, the azure of the raging sea, the verdant green of the desolate swamp, the crimson of the sunlit battlefield, a red light flashing in the tactical visors, the deep muzzle of the cannon, full of longing and anticipation—

The green-skinned warlord's front teeth remained unmoved, neither humble nor arrogant, his expression unchanged.

"I wish to speak with the Underworld Lord. Is he still here?"