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

Page 672

He has not yet finished writing it.

…………

【Barr】

The sky over Bal is always so magnificent. The intense radiation makes the sunlight so colorful. On the blood-red desert, one state church after another rises from the ground, and the originally golden walls are gilded with a layer of crimson by the sunlight.

Between several churches, the World Eaters built defensive fortresses and recruitment posts, and in keeping with the spirit of the Lord of Red Sand, the World Eater Legion carried out initial modifications to the area.

Several water and supply points were set up in the native areas of Baal—the original conditions of the Baal natives were extremely harsh, and this situation did not improve much after becoming the homeworld of the Holy Blood Angels.

Saint Gilles believed that harsh environments forge true warriors, a view that coincided with Mortalian's earlier beliefs.

But now, nobody knows Saint Gilles anymore.

The Sons of Angron have long been stationed here, and the new generation of warriors know almost nothing about why they are here, yet they still act according to the teachings left behind by the Primarch.

The World Eaters distanced themselves from the religion of Baal with respect, while maintaining good relations with the local natives. There were even small arenas built with the help of the Legion.

Strangely, the original religion of Baal has disappeared here, and there is no trace of any other religion, only the state religion remains here.

There was also a new generation of World Eaters selected from Baal who proposed further improvements to people's livelihoods, but the Legion rejected the proposal. This World Eater was later assigned to the Legion's warband, the Red Angels.

The Legion's chapters are not strictly bound by the Primarch's teachings. For example, a small number of the Red Angels chapters adhere to the Primarch's religion and possess their own unique culture.

However, the World Eater does not exclude them because of this. As sons of Angron, they are allowed to participate in important meetings governing the Legion.

For example, Louis Dante, the current Chapter Master of the Scarlet Angels in the Bloodhound Eight-Man Resolution—

This ancient soldier stood silently in the secret library of Baal, where a blood coffin lay quietly in the darkest depths.

Knowing the true history, Dante felt a bit dizzy at this moment. He was the spearman chosen by the Devourer of Worlds, fought in a thousand gladiatorial arenas, and proved his loyalty and reliability.

Since then, Dante has been in charge of the truth behind the vast falsehood. He carefully selects those who bare their fangs from within the World Eater army, transfers them to various warbands, and teaches them the true culture that should belong to them.

And kill them before the warriors' black fury.

Dante did a great job, working diligently and tirelessly.

So much so that a thousand years later, he became the oldest living World Eater, perhaps only the millennia-old World Eaters scattered throughout the subspace could surpass him in seniority.

The problem is, he is not a world-devourer.

The other seven members of Bloodhound are all pure-blooded sons of Angron. Sometimes they would sympathize with Dante's plight, but after the sympathy, Dante would continue to work.

Dante had already arranged for the next person to take his place, but he just wouldn't die. Even though he felt himself on the verge of thirst several times, he was forcibly pulled back to his senses.

Thus, this heavy truth still weighed on Dante's shoulders.

He is currently the only living, conscious, and knowledgeable Son of Saint Gilles who knows the truth.

only one.

Sometimes Dante would painfully ponder why this mission had been imposed upon him. Primarch Angron wished that the Blood Angels would preserve the flame, which is why the Devourer of Worlds was so merciful.

But Dante knew that some chapters labeled as Ultramarines sub-chapters were definitely not Ultramarines, so why didn't they have to bear the pain of inheriting this legacy?!

And now...

Dante dragged his heavy steps and slowly walked to the blood-stained coffin.

Here lies the sole survivor of that catastrophe, another Holy Blood Angel who knows the truth.

Dante felt a little hesitant. He had read the diary written by this veteran warrior, and the vulgar language on it almost pierced through the paper.

He hadn't figured out how to face the other archangel's son who knew the truth.

But in Dante's ears, it was as if he could already hear the sound of the Imperial Regent Guilliman's ships docking.

The Imperial Regent made it clear that to see the Holy Blood Angel, they needed to release Saint Gilles.

Dante hadn't figured out how to face his truly depraved father either.

He hovered his hand above the button, hesitated, and finally, as if he had made a huge decision, Dante gritted his teeth and pressed the awakening button!

A sudden burst of cold air shot out from the crack, carrying with it a thick, metallic scent of blood.

"Fuck your mother."

"The man who tore the flesh, Amit, cursed under his breath."

"Who was the idiot who interrupted your grandfather's rest?"

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 706 That Day

"Idiots, they're all idiots."

Amit stood up cursing, muttering indistinct profanities. Dante looked at him with slight embarrassment. In the past as he knew it, the Blood Angels did not seem to be a legion that was keen on low-quality people—but there were always exceptions.

The old soldier finally rose from the blood coffin, wearing only light armor, but Dante noticed that Amit had no intention of changing his armor.

Amit opened his hand

"Let's go."

Dante was startled, but Amit impatiently strode out first.

"and many more!"

Dante shouted, his eyes fixed on the Blood Angels emblem on Amit's light armor. The Flesh Rippers had their own insignia, but for some reason Amit was still wearing the Blood Angels' light armor.

You can't go out wearing this.

He pointed this out, and Amit, who was walking ahead of him, suddenly stopped, turned to look at Dante, and snorted.

"In other words, this time they are not here to save my Lord."

Amit said,

"What? The empire has finally decided to sentence my father to death?"

Dante felt a chill from the ruthless gaze of the flesh-tearer. In the scriptures, the Blood Angels were mostly humble, and according to Dante's observation, the new recruits who had been implanted with the Blood Angel's seed often behaved more noblely.

But there are always exceptions; the one tearing flesh may symbolize another side of the archangel.

This made him feel uncomfortable.

"Everything will have to wait until the Regent arrives before a decision can be made."

Dante replied, but Amit had already walked over menacingly, giving Dante a malicious smile and baring his fangs.

Dante was not afraid of this; he merely lamented that among his fellow sons of the Holy Blood Angels there were such bloodthirsty individuals—this revealed their true nature.

Amit drew a serrated dagger from his waist and handed it to Dante.

"It's pointless to say more; words are useless."

The Flesh-Tearer licked his lips; the Holy Blood Angel was showing signs of age, which made him appear even more cunning.

"Let the blood tell the story."

Dante stared silently at Amit, their eyes briefly clashing before Dante, without a word, abruptly snatched the dagger.

Blood……

Dante realized that this was both a blessing and a curse unique to his descendants.

In his early years, Dante drank the blood of living creatures, but never again, though a whisper always lingered in his soul, tempting him to drink the crimson nectar.

Within the Sons of Sangilius Chapter, which is enshrined as the World Eater Chapter, many chapters also have a tradition of blood-drinking, though Dante does not allow them to expose their chapter's culture to anyone.

Influenced by Angron, the World Eaters do not keep servants (but they do have their own mortal servants, though fewer than in a typical legion), and they prefer to maintain their weapons and armor themselves.

But the Blood Angels were different; in some chapters, Dante even saw blood slaves who were almost indistinguishable from the former Legions.

Because he was going to meet his senior, Dante did not wear a helmet to show respect. He pressed the grotesque serrated dagger against his face and slashed at his flesh.

Bright red blood streamed down his cheek, and the deeper meaning in Amit's eyes became increasingly clear. Dante remained silent, and after the serrated dagger was drenched in blood, he handed it back to Amit.

Meanwhile, the wounds on his face were healing rapidly.

Amit took it somewhat hastily, and finally stuck out his tongue to lick the fine wine. He closed his eyes, a smile appearing on his lips.

"not enough."

Amit muttered to himself, "Dante will not back down this time."

“That’s enough. You’re not just here for information, Amit.”

The dagger danced gracefully between Amit's fingers.

"I still miss the days when I could eat brains without restraint,"

Amit said, as if immersed in fond memories of the past, but Dante was unsure how much of himself Amit saw.

“You will live through a person’s life firsthand and see him die by your gun in the end—I was reprimanded by my Lord a lot for this.”

"Our Lord proclaims humility and love."

Dante coldly remarked that Saint Gillespie had once been almost a saint, but now he only left his descendants with endless suffering.

"Yeah yeah."

Amit laughed.

"If he hadn't..."

"If there is no depravity."

Dante gritted his teeth and said those words. Amit's eyes snapped open. For a moment, Dante almost thought that Amit was going to fight him, but Amit's eyes only bulged with bloodlust.

"Degeneration".

Amit's voice was hoarse.

"Is this the Empire's final judgment on my Lord? After he devoted himself to the Empire for a thousand years, cleaning up the mess for the Lord of Humanity?"

"This is the history that the empire has entrusted to me,"

Dante said his throat tightened.

"This is true."

"He has not fallen,"

Amit hissed.

"He was corrupted by the power of the warp, that's all—he shouldn't have been that damn pope, damn it!"

Amit became visibly irritable.

"Fuck Mortarian—Mortarian!"

"What the hell do you mean he came to save the Lord of Mankind, not my Lord?! What the hell, what the hell!"

"Words of caution!"

Dante raised his voice and roared, the echo of his furious shout reverberating throughout the Blood Coffin Hall, drowning out Amit's foul language.

"Nasir Amit! Considering you're a veteran fighter, this is my last warning to you! Calm down!"

"If you truly want our father to return—at least you must bow your head now! The only ones in the empire with the power to rescue my lord are the Pale King and the Underworld King!"

"Oh shit!!!"

Dante took a step back and decisively drew his sword. For a moment, he even thought Amit was enraged, but the rage suddenly stopped, leaving only Amit covering his face and taking deep breaths.

“Damn Primarchs… Mortalian and Guilliman… damn it…”

Amit was panting.

"Would you like to hear what exactly happened back then? Although I was unconscious at the time, I received a letter from the Assassin's Court afterward."

The man tearing the flesh wore a gloating yet sorrowful smile.

"Make me rational? Dante... do you think you can control your dark rage after hearing this?"

…………

Ascension Day of Saint Gillespie

[05:49 AM]

Amit fell into a coma. Three minutes later, the Pale Lord, Garo, and Severta left the dungeon where Mortarian was imprisoned.