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

Page 665

From that moment on, the Eldar disappeared forever from the Empire's sight. Perhaps some individuals survived in the long river of time, but along with the sinking of the Slaanesh's tail, the Eldar race was imprisoned in that time.

……

You don't look well—maybe you should take a break?

Hades blinked, looking at the somewhat unfamiliar Guilliman. The gold dust scattered during the ceremony still clung to the Primarch's cloak and armor, glittering in Hades' eyes.

Unlike the ossified and atomized Mortalian, and the darkened and crow-like Corax, Guilliman still looks like a perfectly normal person at first glance, just proportionally enlarged, although still shorter than Mortalian.

Hades thought to himself, "The essence of Mortalian's liberation is like enlarging it and stretching it out. The width is reduced, but the length is stretched to the maximum, making it look like a stick insect standing up."

After grasping the power of dominance and vanity, Robert Guilliman's platinum blonde hair turned back to a dazzling gold, far more radiant than any gold in the world, and from a distance, it even looked like a burning flame.

The emerald green olive leaves in his hair grew even more lush, stretching out their branches.

Hades saw tiny, almost invisible characters carved into the veins of leaves, and he recognized some of Guilliman's military and political books from them.

Guilliman's face looked younger, but also more ruthless and cold. The biggest change was probably in Guilliman's eyes—they were a pure pale gold with no whites.

If you look closely, you can see the flames burning quietly and never ceasing.

This moment instantly tainted Guilliman's otherwise harmonious image with something terrifying. Primarchs are all humanoid beings, and Guilliman was no exception, making him look like a pseudo-human.

Like a faded ancient Roman sculpture, or a god—not an angel, but a god; Hades's meager artistic skills could not describe anything else.

The rest of Guilliman's body was covered by armor and a cloak, so Hades couldn't see much more, but he guessed there weren't many changes.

Consider the true mutants: the liberated nature of Mortalian and Corax even extends to their armor, their psionic energy imbuing it with a power that shaped them into beings more closely aligned with their true nature.

Guilliman's armor had also changed, becoming more magnificent and glorious, but most of it was hidden under a crimson cloak, which Hades could not see.

Hearing Hades' words, Guilliman smiled wearily.

Thank you for your concern. I am now mostly fine.

【and……】

Killieman hesitated for a moment.

[Hadi...ghost, I hope you can stay on the Makragora's Glory for a while and keep an eye on me. I'm very worried about the rampage of my powers.]

As far as Guilliman knows, both Mortalian and Corax have had moments when they couldn't control their psionic powers.

As a "weak psionicist," Guilliman did not believe he would be an exception.

Mortarian, sitting in a dimly lit corner of the room, let out a cold laugh.

[Good idea—I'll stay on the Macragge's Glory too, Guilliman. Before you completely lose control, I think I can be of more help to you.]

Thank you all.

Guilliman nodded, feeling both weak and excited. It was a strange feeling, like the fever that Mrs. Euton had once described to him. The Primarch had never had a fever—he had only cared for Euton when she had a fever as a child.

With that thought in mind, Killieman took another deep breath.

[Motalian, I haven't sensed much of a mind distortion yet.]

That's because you're currently maintaining a tense mental barrier.

Mortarian replied casually that he had become quite knowledgeable about this through years of experience.

[But you can't stay on edge forever... They'll take advantage when you relax. My advice is to have a few trusted offspring keep an eye on you and set boundaries—if you unintentionally cross those lines, have them tell you immediately, and then tell me as well.]

Karas, Vox, and several sentries within the Death Guard were Mortalian watchmen; Garo should have been among them as well.

[Great idea, I was planning to do that too.]

"Heroes see the same thing."

Hades interrupted, laughing.

"Troubles are always the same."

Killieman paused, then gave a wry smile. Hades immediately stopped smiling and stared at Killieman in astonishment.

My troubles are perhaps more complicated.

"Wait? You're going to say that now?!"

Hades quickly interrupted, "Is Guilliman planning to recall the Fall of the Angels now?"

"You're not feeling well right now, it's best not to—"

Let him speak.

"Motalian said coldly, his fingertips wisps of icy mist hanging down."

Hades, with you and me both here, this is a perfect opportunity for our great, uncrowned king to practice; he should learn emotional psionic management.

Killieman just smiled wryly.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 701 [Before the Assassination]

【past】

Terra

They were all very content at that time, although they sometimes felt busy and tired.

But the world's malice was far greater than they imagined—the vast ocean gazed upon them from the other side, far removed from their five senses.

It's another beautiful day.

Angron’s voice came from behind him. Killieman smelled the aroma of pastries, but he didn’t turn around to look. He just buried his head in thought among the documents on the table.

The first light of dawn shone on the paper in front of Regent Guilliman. The sky was just beginning to lighten, and a few stars still dotted the pale gray sky, gradually fading into the sunlight.

The smoked parchment emitted a faint fragrance.

【Clang clang!】

Anglong put down the plate of pastries he was holding; the porcelain plate clinked softly against the desk.

[Shell-shaped mille-feuille, Sicilian butter rolls, Maritozzo, and some other varieties—I grabbed some snacks while I was in the kitchen.]

Killieman still wanted to continue reviewing the documents, but Anglon's arm had already reached out and blocked him from the documents, so Killieman took a deep breath and looked up.

The Butcher's Nail on Angron's head had long been removed. The Primarch did not choose to be bald or have a neat short haircut. Influenced by his hometown, Angron grew his hair out and combed it into dreadlocks.

However, just as Guilliman looked up, he noticed that Angron was staring intently at him, and a sense of foreboding suddenly rose in Guilliman's heart.

Angron is extremely sensitive to emotions, and the moment the Lord of Red Sands' rough, clear eyes, as clear as the red sand of an arena, fix their gaze on you—you know that he has seen right through you.

Even after working with Angron for a long time, Guilliman still couldn't get used to this feeling. Primarchs are people who value their privacy, but Angron can directly remove their masks.

As expected, Angron uttered a question that was not offensive.

Still worried? Why not have some dessert to tide you over?

I must prepare thorough contingency plans.

Killieman reached out to take the pastries that Angron was offering, but the Lord of Red Sands pushed the plate away. Killieman decisively ignored the butter rolls and Maritzo that would get his hands dirty and chose the mille-feuille instead.

A slightly sweet taste bloomed on the tip of his tongue. This was Gilliman's last act of defiance in front of Angron. He found that the Lord of Red Sand's taste was a bit too sweet for a Macragian—but still within a tolerable range.

But this subtle emotion went unnoticed by the Lord of Red Sand, otherwise Angron would have brought a cup of coffee next time.

Killieman didn't intend to let Anglon know about this, as a small retaliation for his emotional shift being seen through.

Seeing him eat, Angron didn't press him any further. The Lord of Red Sand took a couple of steps to tend to the plants that Guilliman had placed on the windowsill.

I understand, Guilliman, but this trip is destined to go wrong.

Angron laughed. The Lord of Mankind was about to awaken. They planned to travel around the Empire to gather faith and lay the groundwork for Guilliman's retirement plan, to see if the government on Terra could function properly without Guilliman and Sanguiles.

There will always be various errors, so let people try to break free from the original system's control themselves.

Killieman nodded; he was indeed a little hungry, and picked up another mille-feuille.

Working through the night to approve documents, Killman was reviewing the tax department's bills, a section so tedious that he had to work through the night. Killman estimated he would need another week to review the quarter's accounts.

Therefore, registration is required.

Killieman said,

They can make mistakes, but I need to make sure their mistakes don't lead to anything catastrophic.

Anglon paused for a moment, then wandered aimlessly around Guilliman's study again, his gaze sweeping over Guilliman's bookshelves: The Republic, Leviathan, Shakespeare's Fragments... Guilliman loved collecting political and literary works from ancient Terra.

To Killian's surprise, he had once bumped into his brother, who enjoyed sparring in the arena, quietly reading.

Anglon's preference for absurd tragedies depicting the struggles and failures of the underprivileged, as well as some uniquely styled children's picture books, greatly shocked Killieman. He realized that Anglon might be far more cautious and subtle than he had imagined.

Although the image of a scarred, muscular man with dreadlocks seriously reading a children's picture book is quite strange.

Sometimes I think about it.

Angron seemed thoughtful, deliberately avoiding looking at Guilliman's hand reaching for the butter roll. He guessed that Guilliman originally just wanted to eat something casually, but in reality, the Primarch was already hungry.

After Killieman got his hands dirty, he chose to have breakfast with Anglon instead of continuing to approve documents.

This requires gradual guidance.

Have we spoiled our officials too much, Guilliman? We should let humanity grow on its own.

Angron laughed again.

No, I didn't actually do anything.

Therefore, we need a complete training system.

Guilliman said he wasn't going to approve the documents anymore; the plate of snacks Angron brought was a drop in the ocean compared to the Primarch's size.

[With a complete system of official training schools and religious schools, the ability to be transferred back to Terra after 30 years based on performance, and at least thirteen error correction mechanisms, I believe the current system does not need to be changed.]

What I mean is,

Angron spread his hands.

[You ask me if people might think the Primarch is immortal—I mean, they're not psychologically ready to be fully mature.]

Angron stared at the white hair at Guilliman's temples. In the years he had worked with Guilliman, Angron had come to a profound understanding of the destructive power of politics. It was utterly devastating and capable of bringing down even a demigod.

Angron considered himself the one who was slain.

Angron felt a pang of regret; he shouldn't have brought up these things while Guilliman was eating, as it would cause the Primarch to have negative emotions during his next meal.

But he was at a loss. Guilliman would ignore a batch of documents and then turn a deaf ear to them. The closer the departure date got, the busier Guilliman became, spinning like a busy top.

Born to be a hard worker.

Anglon felt a little sorry for him and sympathized with him. He thought that Killieman should sometimes let go and allow some mistakes, but Killieman could not forgive himself for his dereliction of duty.

Killieman paused, then suddenly asked,

What's Saint Gillespie like?

He doesn't plan to have breakfast with us; he's still cultivating, trying to communicate with the Lord of Humanity.

Saint Gilles tried to visit the Lord of Mankind several times, pondering under the Golden Throne for days on end.

After each period of meditation, Saint Gilles's radiance became even more dazzling.

You mean...?

Killieman hesitated, but Angron spoke up immediately.

[No political interpretations allowed, Guilliman. I mean literally.]

Well, Angron was actually hinting at their attitude toward the Emperor, but Guilliman mistakenly connected it to the matter of Saint Gilles and Mortarion.

Killieman is so pragmatic that his attention is immediately drawn to the recent conflicts.

I thought you were referring to what our brother said.

They were both silent for a second. Mortalian had seriously warned them against expanding the state church and had told Anglon and Gilliman to be wary of Saint Gilles.

So, how is Mortarion doing now?

Everything is the same.

Killieman said casually,

The accounts reported by Stormstar Region are all false.