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

Page 680

You will be alright—I promised our father I would bring you back; it was his order, and he still believes in you, Saint Gilles.

Is that so?

Saint Gilles said indifferently, his eyes lowered, his long, golden eyelashes trembling.

I don't really believe him.

The archangel then laughed, revealing his fangs. He stretched, adjusted his sleeves, leaned back in his chair, and swirled the wine in his glass.

He is not trustworthy.

Saint Gillespie stated that,

I have never seen such a despicable and brazen person. My last shred of respect for him came from the fact that he was the ruler of mankind, our father, but now… I have no desire to respect him.

Saint Gilles was silent for a moment. Horus, who was opposite him, was obviously extremely astonished. Saint Gilles sighed and shook his head in his heart. Only on this point would Horus never empathize with him.

+But...+

Saint Gilles put away his smile, his eyes revealing a half-smile.

But I can understand him.

He gave another bitter laugh, as if mocking his own fate. He had done all he could, and he had completed the path of his destiny.

From beginning to end, Saint Gilles had a clear conscience.

It's all fate.

Unlike Conrad Coates' hesitation on the path of prophecy, Saint Gilles forged ahead relentlessly, knowing what he would face and that he could not stop.

He also knew... Saint Gilles' smile was chilling, and what the Lord of Mankind really wanted to do after the state religion became too prosperous.

However, an unexpected incident occurred. On the path of prophecy, Guilliman shouldn't have left prematurely; Saint Gillespie had given Guilliman ample room to re-establish control.

But Killieman left prematurely, and his fate changed.

He didn't blame Killieman either.

He was just... a little angry and tired.

Saint-Gilles calmly swirled the wine in his glass; it was no longer the sweet red wine of Bar, but a sour, bitter liquid, reaping the bitter fruits of his own actions.

Throughout human civilization, there are countless works of art worthy of praise, and each era has its own legends worthy of celebration. They may praise loyalty or frankly condemn betrayal, but in any case, there is always an unchanging core that runs through the entire history of human art and literature.

That is—the art of destruction.

Only utter destruction and fall can truly touch the soul, dragging beauty into the mire and utterly tearing the good apart. A dramatic ending should be like this, where warriors sacrifice themselves in the last ten seconds of the ceasefire and justice is pronounced at the moment of hanging.

For an endgame, for their endgame, for Horus Lupecal and Sanguielles, that is enough now.

They didn't need to go back. Simply because of the Lord of Mankind's belated regret and pity, pure destruction was cleaner, and Saint Gilles was unwilling to show himself again.

His end will be to ascend to that unspeakable sanctuary, carrying with him both good and evil.

Saint Gilles looked at Horus with a hint of pity in his eyes—Horus should not be like this either; they should all leave.

Saint Gilles extended a hand and grasped Horus's hand, causing Horus to stiffen abruptly.

Come with me.

Saint Gilles said softly,

+Returning to peaceful slumber...We no longer need to appear; there is no place for us on the ark sailing towards the new world.+

He sensed Horus's hesitation and indecision, and at the same time, this fictional little world began to collapse in the face of reality's cries.

Saint Gilles felt a burning pain, and black, ashen blood crawled up from the soles of his feet. He was still trying to slow it all down, but his evil was calling to him with a dying cry.

Saint Gilles himself had no sympathy for his own self, whose eyes were blinded by desire and killing.

His white feathers turned gray and black, and at the last moment, the two sides of yin and yang would merge. The extreme opposition was perfect. If it did not move towards the middle, it would move towards the ultimate destruction.

【I……】

Horus hesitated. Saint Gilles' invitation was so sincere and earnest, like a tempting red fruit. Death and destruction were easy, and even if a great flood came, they would no longer have to worry about whether they could board the ship to the New World.

The touch of his hand was soft yet cold. Ignoring the increasingly grotesque legs of Saint Gilles, Saint Gilles before Horus now appeared like a true god, calm and aloof, radiating a holy white light.

But there was only a faint temperature.

Horus then recalled another hand, from his father, rough and hot, filled with hope and fervent gaze.

Not long ago, his hand was grasped by Neos, who made a promise he could never break.

Horus's lips trembled.

Ah! How much he wanted to die!!!

He could hardly accept what he had done, could hardly face the stinging gazes of his colleagues, could hardly hear the sighs of the Lord of Mankind. He had messed everything up, yet he had been forgiven.

The conscience and shame of the wolf gods could not allow him to continue. They were urgently urging him to die and leave with Saint Gilles, so that the new world could be left to those whose hands were not yet stained with blood!

But... but...

Horus's pupils trembled, and tears of pain and sincerity streamed from his eyes as he looked at Saint Gilles with such regret and reluctance.

His reason was simple and straightforward.

I can't...

Horus murmured, leaning forward over the coffee table to grasp Saint Gilles's hand in both.

I cannot betray him again.

+……+

Saint Gilles was speechless, his gaze suddenly turning icy. This was the biggest difference between him and Horus, but now that they had both chosen their own paths, Saint Gilles was unwilling to say anything more.

He shouldn't have asked for it.

Horus rose hastily with Saint Gilles. The archangel withdrew his hand, and a violent aura appeared around him in a chaotic manner. Darkness crept into the whites of his eyes, and his fangs seemed ready to spring.

+Then I should go.

Saint Gilles said calmly, his eyelids twitched violently, the world began to blur, and in the midst of the violent struggle, he saw a black, vicious dog pressed against his throat.

"To stay or not to stay?! To stay or not to stay!!!"

Hades roared,

"What exactly is Neos planning?!"

The fallen angel beneath him resembled a chicken struggling on the ground, its enormous, tangled steel wings flapping wildly, feathers flying everywhere, before leaping onto the Valdor armor beside them.

Its force was so great that it almost dislocated Hades' non-existent internal organs.

Hades on his body is more like a solid dark slime. Saint Gilles still has a powerful physical form, so Hades cannot completely become intangible and must be physically restrained.

The concentration of psionic energy inside Sanguis was so immense that even Hades was astonished. It was like a small world completely isolated from the warp, existing in a form of absolute malice.

Hades suspected that all the psionic energy discarded by the Lord of Mankind was located here, therefore, he had to concentrate the Dark Domain and pierce that point deeply, very deeply.

As Saint Gilles struggles, endless darkness surges forth, accompanied by the shrieks of countless vengeful spirits.

The Lord of Humanity desires to bring back Saint Gilles.

Waldo said,

First, absorb most of his psionic energy to weaken him.

"That's exactly what I'm doing!"

Hades roared,

"Stop struggling!!!"

The Saint Gilles beneath him had almost transformed into something even more terrifying, its terror level comparable to, or perhaps even surpassing, that of the bone moth-transformed Mortarion.

In the moments before engulfing Saint Gilles, the archangel was like a dying addict, driven to the brink of madness by blood. He was more like a ghoul than a vampire, with a gaunt, ashen face, long, sunken eye sockets, and needle-like fangs.

Waldo pulled out a thick book, with an incense burner beside him. Mortarion, who was ready to rush up to assist Hades at any moment, frowned. The Pale Lord saw that what Waldo took out should be a book of religion.

The author's signature on the cover is Luo Jia Oririan.

Waldo turned to a page, and on the page marked with a golden feather, he found the spell entrusted to him by the Lord of Mankind.

“Killiman, Angron, we need you to come.”

"You're only telling me now?!?"

Hades's scream was ignored, and at the same time, Guilliman almost immediately rushed in front of Waldo and snatched the book, with Angron following closely behind.

The Imperial Guard is more inclined to isolate the warp.

Therefore, this task should be undertaken by his offspring. Guilliman and Angron are the best candidates, one of whom inherited a portion of the Lord of Mankind's power, and the other was once possessed by the Emperor.

Guilliman swallowed hard, ignoring Mortarion's unsettling gaze, and immediately began chanting the incantation. Angron assisted Guilliman with his psionic powers, and both Primarchs, with their heightened intuition, instantly understood the Lord of Man's meaning.

Saint Gilles, on Hades' side, began to shriek and laugh.

Kill me!

He roared, his fur flying everywhere.

He has no right to make me continue to serve him! How dare he abandon me like a flea?! Make him come out and face me! Fight me! False Emperor! False God!!

A violent spasm followed, then a shrill, almost mocking scream erupted. Saint Gilles abruptly rose to his feet, not in struggle, but more like in an embrace.

The fangs instinctively point towards the neck of an average person.

+Let me taste your blood before I perish—my foul-smelling friend, I don't find your taste repulsive, just six drops, and I will cease my struggle…+

"Aa ...

Hades let out a sharp, explosive sound, but his restraint on Saint Gilles did not loosen in the slightest. Mortarian clearly saw the darkness formed by Hades suddenly thrust out sharp spikes.

At this moment, Mortarion, who had once been embraced by Slaanesh, empathized with Hades.

Without the slightest hesitation, Mortarion no longer placed his hopes on the two Primarchs beside him who had begun to grow to enormous golden size. He suppressed his fear with anger and calm, and strode to the altar.

【Excuse me,】

Mortarian felt vomit rising in his throat and his steps became unsteady, but he swallowed it.

[Wandering spirit, let me give him a chance to shut up.]

The darkness began to writhe, and no longer only two enormous wings were protruding and struggling; that damned head was revealed, accompanied by angry curses, laughter, and foul language.

Part of the neck was also exposed, but it was not flesh; rather, it resembled bones that had been soaked in strong alkali for many days, the erosion from Hades never ceasing.

Mortarian's eyes were lifeless as he raised his heavy scythe, aiming the blade at Saint Gilles' head.

Saint Gilles' pupils dilated as he saw Mortalian's face, which was displaying an extremely malevolent smile.

On the other side, a dazzling golden light burst forth, and as that damned Guilliman recited the prayer of Loka, he vaguely glimpsed the face of the Lord of Mankind.

Then, the sickle slammed down!

【Sanguielles?!】

Saint Gilles blinked blankly and saw Horus shaking him. Horus's tears fell on him, shining like hot gold in the sunlight.

Saint Gilles saw the droplets connect like snakes on his charred body, like golden chains. In despair and in vain, he looked up and saw the eternal sun that was about to devour him.

The darkness that enveloped his entire body began to twist into pale gold—

Amidst the blood-soaked hell, beads of sweat trickled down Guilliman's forehead. He suddenly raised his voice and shouted out the final words.

Lord, may all sins be forgiven. Please bless us. Amen!

The Imperial Guards roared in dissent.

"Release Sanguielles!!!"

[Screw you!!!]

The Pale Lord roared on behalf of Hades, but a burst of brilliant golden light suddenly erupted, and they seemed to be swimming inside the sun. Everyone felt the unique psychic power of the Lord of Mankind.

Tears streamed down Saint Gilles's pale face as he stared blankly at the Lord of Mankind walking toward him against the light.

He's so stupid, really.

He forgot that the Lord of Mankind never used words to win people over, and the Emperor had no intention of bringing him back through the power of words; he had originally planned to bring the Archangel back by force.

Horus was merely a catalyst for him to enter one of the two poles of the Sanguielles world.

He had no intention of giving Saint Gilles a choice.