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

Page 655

Tarasin said,

"The last and only observation point will be when only one chair remains, which is when you will have your final battle with Tzeentch."

"and many more,"

Hades suddenly asked,

"Where do I need to go now? Over there?"

Tarasin nodded and made a shushing gesture.

"I can't tell you too much; the observations include all the information."

"All I can tell you is that you are going to kill Slaanesh next."

A moment before Mortarian swung his final scythe, time shifted.

This is also a fulfillment of prophecy; before actively seeking Hades, Slaanesh saw the future shown to him by the Warp.

The greedy god saw himself devouring everything in Comoros, and saw himself once again touching the jubilation of the Eldar Empire's destruction.

So the Dark Prince went to find Hades.

Tarasin reached out, and Hades readily accepted the strange eye mask. The intense heat emanating from it made Hades feel exceptionally warm.

The boss is in its second phase, right?

Hades was speechless.

"So, you're saying I should play blindfolded from now on?"

Tarasin nodded firmly.

Hades was speechless, utterly speechless. Hades didn't know what to say anymore. Neos was sending him to blindly fight Slaanesh? Huh? He was going to fight Slaanesh? Really?

"I don't think I have a talent for touch typing."

Hades said,

"Does the Emperor intend for me to go blindfolded?"

"The original will help you; some of them have already fallen on the battlefield."

Tarachin said that even the Necromancers of space felt that the Lord of Humanity was being a bit too inhuman.

"I think the Emperor will be there too—well, I'm guessing."

The Endless One added.

Hades opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but he didn't know what to say. He was probably still confused. He was really stupid. He only knew that the weasel was a swindler, but he didn't know that it was this good at swindling people.

Hades had already planned how to elbow Neos after this; once he returned, the Lord of Man would certainly not have a good time.

Is Mortarian there?

Hades asked, not seeing Mortarian, who must have arrived at the battlefield first. Hades hoped that if they were to play blind combat, he would prefer a teammate with high synergy with him.

"he?"

Taracin pointed in a direction,

"The Emperor's other armies have encountered him, but I think you will meet on the same battlefield, after all, he is still the Grim Reaper."

"Time is almost up,"

Tarasin suddenly spoke, and Hades also saw the thin thread around the Endless One's waist suddenly yank up.

"Do you have any other questions?"

Hades wanted to ask why the Emperor had chosen Talrazin and Orikan. What happened to the principle of human supremacy? And why did Neos choose to believe in a different race?

But after a brief consideration,

"Nothing."

Hades said he was ready to die, so he put on pure white shackles.

He hated the emperor.

It's Monday today, 4K is on break. That's all (ω｀).

Chapter 693 That Bastard Neos

In that very instant—

Death has taken a place that does not belong to Him.

This is not a pleasant experience.

As ashes danced in the air, Meng Bai's gaze pierced through the endless, churning waves. The mortal world seemed insignificant and laughable, with ants thriving beneath his feet. A long, noisy phantom snaked upwards from the chaos, and Death, in a daze, realized that it was time.

He felt an indescribable sensory overload; at that moment, His world was elevated once more—a sensory assault far more absurd than venturing into the subspace, swelling and piling up into towers in an instant.

He tried to look at himself, but saw only a ridiculous and laughable existence. Kaleidoscope-like patterns of light clamored around His scythe, weeping for the departure of the greedy lord among them.

? !

Death only then realized the abundance of the senses, the throne of power in the dark room, the gods sitting or half-sitting, 9, 8, 7, 6... 5.

Five—where the golden flames burned fiercely.

Motarian's eyes widened suddenly.

Relax, my child.

Mortarian gasped for breath, and the Primarch suddenly found himself sitting at a table, the golden table and its carvings stinging his eyes.

One moment, Mortarion was wielding his scythe against Slaanesh; the next moment—He experienced something indescribable, but before his soul could recover, Mortarion's eyes had regained their sight.

The Primarch no longer cared about the golden table; he gasped for breath, as if he were the last breath of a dying man.

What exactly did he just go through?

"I think I should praise you, my child."

The Lord of Mankind, wearing a magnificent crown and a cloak woven from golden flames, thoughtfully served Mortalian a cup of coffee—something unimaginable before.

The Emperor sat down opposite Mortarion, patiently waiting for the Primarch to process and digest the situation.

“I never thought you would go this far, but you did it, ■■■■■.”

Breathe...take a deep breath...

My name is Mortarion.

Motarian said, panting.

This is my name—I don't accept any others.

The Emperor spread his hands, looking slightly helpless. He had named each Primarch, but unfortunately, the planets they landed on later renamed them.

And why are you here, here?

Motarian emphasized the last high-gothic word.

The fifth seat belongs to you—the Lord of Humanity, not Makado.

The Emperor adopted an even more innocent expression, as if he had been hurt by Mortarian's words.

"It was me all along."

The Lord of Humanity gave a bitter smile, golden flames burning in his eyes.

“Sanguillez, Macado… are all those who attempt to take my place by draining my spiritual energy, just like you, Mortarian—the Grim Reaper who occupies the [four].

"So... how does it feel to infiltrate the wasteland?"

【…】

The feeling was terrible, terribly terrible, far more painful than any suffering and emotion Mortarion had ever endured before. At the moment of ascension, he felt only destruction—his scythe screamed to kill all living beings.

“I’ve delayed your senses so you can remain rational—to step down from that chair, but if you insist on staying…”

The emperor spread his hands, shrugged, and looked relaxed.

"This is another way."

【No,】

Motalian said firmly,

【no way.】

Once he sits on it, he will no longer be Mortarion. He has already tasted the bitter fruit of being devoured by the warp. Mortarion does not consider himself a madman who pursues power and authority.

Even though that position presented him with an incomprehensible allure, as if he were born to sit there—Motalian still refused.

This wasn't difficult for Mortarian, after all, his life was made up of countless rejections and rebellions.

He never wanted to become like that. He was Mortalian, and becoming a psionic wizard was painful enough. It meant a kind of betrayal of his past and the feeling of nausea when facing his comrades.

Accepting the present is difficult enough; Mortalian's life options don't go any further—becoming a true warp chaos.

"I anticipated that you would make this choice."

The Lord of Mankind said, the smile has never faded.

"Therefore, I have already chosen another path for you."

I will not be grateful to you for this. What exactly are you trying to say, and why are you here, Lord of Mankind?

“You just asked me a similar question—and my answer remains the same: I am here because this place belongs to humans, even though Sanguis and Macardo stayed here briefly.”

The emperor tilted his head, one hand supporting his crown, which shimmered with light so brightly that even the Primarch's vision could not discern the treasures behind the shimmering radiance.

“My child, perhaps you need to climb the ladder to godhood step by step, but for me, I am here—and I have no other choice.”

"But that won't be the case soon,"

Nios said,

"Like you, I will also walk down on my own."

The smile in his eyes deepened, and he burst into laughter, raising his voice, as if he weren't speaking to Mortalian at all.

"Please, I am weak enough. Shouldn't the vast ocean be ashamed that such a weak thing occupies power? Even if I am more suited to this position—it should let me go."

I don't understand.

The Lord of Mankind was showing remarkable patience at this moment, and he was even willing to continue explaining for Mortarion—was it because Orl's scathing rebuke had awakened a sliver of his conscience, or because he admired Mortarion?

"Human beings are too big."

The emperor lowered his eyes.

"Therefore, one of the eight seats in the warp must belong to a human... just as the Slaanesh and Eldar are bound together, they have chosen me."

“But I am not a god, nor do I want to become one—I don’t want to be a king or an emperor. I know I am not a qualified leader; I just happened to live long enough.”

“I think you can understand me, Mortarian.”

The Lord of Humanity raised his eyes, the golden flames in them vanished, revealing ordinary brown eyes.

Of his sons, Mortarian and Vulcan were the only two who were unwilling, or even opposed, to the monarch—but Vulcan was too merciful, while Mortarian shone with a cruel glint.

Only Mortarion reached this point; he had the opportunity to ascend to godhood, but resolutely refused.

A warm feeling of relief welled up in Neos's heart, and he appreciated his son, who had absolutely no sense of aesthetics, even more.

I don't understand you, and I don't want to understand you.

Motalian said coldly,

I refuse to ascend to godhood because I don't want to. That's all, and nothing more.

Neos clearly showed a hurt expression, but it quickly turned into a relieved one.

"That's it,"

Neos said casually,

"I just don't want to ascend to godhood."

Mortarion didn't want to talk much with the Lord of Mankind. He was like a father who had let his child grow up for thousands of years, and then, after seeing the child succeed, traveled thousands of miles to cultivate their relationship again.

Mortarian no longer needed such superfluous emotions. He had no need for kinship. The only emotional turmoil he experienced towards his "father" was when he cut off his adoptive father's head.