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

Page 633

+The Lord of Mankind needs Hades's assistance—therefore he cannot appear on your battlefield, Pale Lord.+

Hades, standing behind him, curiously reached out and touched Gara's golden flames. After a small, hissing cry, the flames vanished from his fingertips.

Don't touch it, Commander.

Galo turned around, said something to Hades with a serious expression, and then turned back to confront the Primarch.

“No—wait, how have you been, Garo? Vox told me he misses you, and although Karas didn’t say that, I think he does too, and so do I.”

+Only war is my priority. +

Galo, with his back to Hades, said...

I'm doing well.

Hades responded coldly, wanting to reach out and pull Gara over for a "chat," but then he remembered that if he slapped Gara, Gara might just disappear like a golden flame, so he suppressed the urge.

Mortarion then burst into unbelievable laughter, which grew louder and louder until the Primarch was breathless with laughter, almost bending over with mirth.

crazy?

This was Hades' first thought. He hurriedly tried to get up to check on Mortarion, but the Primarch anticipated Hades' actions. Mortarion raised his hand, indicating that he was alright.

The Primarch then looked at Gara with a complicated expression.

My...physiological father is here, isn't he?

Galo remained silent, only the golden flames crackling and popping.

Why didn't he come to see me in person? Why did he send you, my son?

The Primarch slowly approached, showing none of Hades's sorrow. He placed his hand directly on Garo's shoulder armor. The boundary between the golden flames and the white mist was distinct, and Hades sensed a hint of sadness in the Primarch's eyes.

He wasn't good at dealing with his offspring...

The Primarch said with a sigh,

But then he sent you... Does he think I'm the same way?

Why did you choose him back then?

Mortarion abruptly lowered his head, the Pale Lord's massive shadow looming over him, but Garo remained solemn, his golden light dispelling the shadow.

Because of loyalty.

Galo stared directly into Mortalian's inhuman pupils and said firmly,

"Oh dear, it's getting late. Let's hurry up and fight the Elven race."

This is Hades trying to change the subject.

Death's hand rested on Gara's shoulder blades, rising and falling with a crisp, rhythmic click.

What did I do wrong?

Mortarion said, "So you chose that bastard Lord of Man instead of me?"

Loyalty needs no reason.

Gara replied, and Mortarian suddenly sat up straight and sneered.

I laugh at my own pathetic state... but the reply is no; Hades should be on the battlefield under my command.

If he truly desired Hades' assistance, he should have come himself... instead of sending you. No, you did nothing wrong, Gara.

I don't think I did anything wrong.

Galo said,

But the Lords of Man need Hades's definition of the Eldar navy—otherwise, the Imperium will lose a precious opportunity for a preemptive naval offensive.

Mortarian narrowed his eyes.

What about the citizens of those fallen planets? Does the Lord of Humanity wish to watch them sink into the abyss?

Your army is sufficient to handle them.

But I must leave room for an attack on the Comoros! This army has already received basic anti-chaos training! Every soldier is invaluable!

A large Eldar navy is gathering—across the entire Comoros, and with the still intact Eldar Arks, the cost of the ships far exceeds the cost of the soldiers.

Garo said, Mortarion gritted his teeth, doubting that the one speaking directly to him now was the Lord of Mankind, not his progenitor Garo—that old bastard.

"I mean--"

Hades raised his hand, "Can't you guys consider how the person involved feels? Doesn't anyone ask me?"

It was no use. Hades watched speechlessly as Mortarion and Garo started arguing. The Primarch seemed very dissatisfied with Garo's choice of the Emperor back then.

Now, the Yellowfairy is using Garo, a weak point, to manipulate Mortalian, which makes the Primarch even more unhappy.

Hades thought to himself, "The weasel has really played a brilliant move." He then called over the servants who were bringing snacks, and Hades ate while watching the show.

……

So what was the final result?

Hades asked, watching Gara's figure, burning with golden flames, disappear like an extinguished campfire, and he suddenly felt a pang of emotion.

Installment rental.

Motarian said coldly,

Why didn't you stop the Lord of Humanity just now—or do you think the Emperor's plan is better?

"..."

Hades swallowed the pastry in his mouth.

"You're so kind."

This is the truth; it is Hades' silent indictment of the Lord of Man's violent use of his fleet.

Motalian ignored him and continued to study the map, muttering about the numbers again in a gloomy tone.

The battle lines are too long; Slaanesh did this on purpose… Although Hades seems to be handling things with ease, Mortarion cannot allow Hades to lose control before Comoros… There must be enough sacrifices to build a successful siege.

----------

carnival!

Sing aloud, sing your heart out atop the pile of corpses who died in intercourse—sing praises to His power.

The six-armed singer played a stringed instrument, producing seductive music, her long tongue licking the wet strings as she breathed heavily.

The human slave was shoved into the silver pool by the laughing spirits, where monsters with sharp snouts were hunting for food, tearing off flesh from their twitching bodies.

A mutated Eldar covered in scales, resembling a Slaanesh demon at first glance, was reveling in the pool. However, the human body was no match for the Eldar's strength, and amidst the splattering blood, a gluttonous fire of desire burned fiercely.

Indulging in merriment is their best way of repaying the great queen!

The last fortress was breached, and the mutated species, mostly from the Dark Spirit Clan, chuckled. They moved nimbly, leaping over countless intertwined bodies and grotesque corpses, grabbing their desired prey with their bare hands.

The Dark Eldar have always enjoyed sadism, and now that they have completely fallen into the path of lust, they have leaped into a new frenzy. Slaanesh did not devour them immediately—on the contrary, the greedy Slaanesh let them go to have their final revelry!

"No—don't come any closer!"

With its hooves lightly touching the ground, the mutated Eldar with two horns on its eyes walked gracefully with a cat-like gait. In front of it, the Astronaut was trembling, clutching a bomb gun, attempting a final struggle.

Ah, it sensed that beautiful soul and that despair.

"Don't come any closer—!!!"

boom!

One shot was fired, followed by a long, drawn-out scream of agony.

The Elven race licked the red and white stains from the corner of its mouth with satisfaction. Lost in thought, it glanced up at the sky, which had darkened, turning a hazy purple, as if some uninteresting entity was hovering above it—

"Prepare for battle! We will fight to the death!"

He was reprimanded after coming out of his heavy gas mask.

Krieg's 120th and 121st siege regiments began deployment.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 678 The Real Battlefield

Bumpy.

Mead lowered his head and checked his breathing tube again for leaks; the battery for the gas mask was still functioning properly.

He then bent down to inspect the thick leggings and military boots—the planet was very hot, and the people of the Underworld had previously taught them that temperatures would become abnormal on planets where chaos had arrived.

He felt hot, and his sweat soaked into the rough cloth, then dried again, leaving behind layers of white calluses.

However, this is still within a manageable range and will not affect the march.

Then came the newly issued weapons. Mead could see a green fluorescence shimmering from deeper inside the gun at the metal-to-metal joints, as if it were whispering unspeakable secrets to him.

This new gun was heavier than the Lucius No. 98 he used before. Although it was designed to resemble the laser guns that the Kriegs were used to, it was still heavier and had fewer rounds, reduced from 25 to 20.

Although Mead had examined the rechargeable battery of the gun, he was certain that the heavy, black cube was not a mass-produced one issued by the military; it was clearly superior and had a larger capacity.

Even the seemingly high-quality battery could only supply 20 bullets to the gun in his hand.

The sages who issued them the gun told Mead that there was no vital point in front of this gun—you just need to hit it, and then the beams will do their own thing.

The equipment this time was excellent, so excellent that even the silent Krieg was puzzled. They understood the order to kill a god, because even killing a god would require them to rush to the battlefield, but what puzzled them was why the supplies were so plentiful.

It's like randomly pointing out a guy who's marching alone in a remote corner and then stuffing him with a bunch of supplies—it's as inexplicable as that.

Regardless, Krieg will fulfill his mission and live up to the name of the Emperor.

Mead put the gun away and wiped his new entrenching tool clean again. He used it carefully to avoid accidental injury.

boom!

Mead's Gorgon jolted violently, and he was certain that the left side of the vehicle had been bombed, but since Captain Watcher had given no orders, Mead silently continued to check his equipment.

Then came the standard fragmentation grenades, and this one.

Mead reached into his collar and rummaged around for a while, pulling out a simple necklace and a ring of black stone. This was a gift from Hades, and the only thing that distinguished Mead from his comrades.

He blinked, seemingly lost in thought, and simply examined the small stone.

The priests of the cult of the underworld said this would protect their souls, with the side effects being mild weakness and discomfort, but Mead and his comrades reported no adverse reactions.

This greatly shocked the minor bishop of the Underworld Church. After observing from various aspects, the Underworld Church concluded that the Kriegs had an extremely high tolerance for pain, and that the Kriegs, who were abnormally dulled in some aspects, ignored the weakness emanating from Hades.

Mead didn't know how to describe his black stone. The red-haired woman who came to their unit to sell supplies called Mead's black stone "donut-shaped." Mead didn't know what a donut was, so he asked the priest.

"Hmm... a kind of luxurious afternoon tea that noble gentlemen would eat, made with finely ground flour, and drizzled with syrup and cream, sometimes garnished with fruit or powdered sugar, very sweet."

Mead couldn't imagine what it would taste like. He didn't recognize any of the words the priest spoke, but the priest said it definitely wouldn't taste like the rodents they usually roasted. And that was the end of that little incident.

After that, the priests of Hades began calling Mead Donut Boy.

Mead had his own number, but he didn't correct the nickname, which didn't matter.

boom! boom!

Two more explosions followed. Mead felt the Gorgon linger in the air for a moment before crashing heavily to the ground. It slid for a short distance before being carried to its destination by the hum of its engine.

Blinding sunlight streamed in through the hatch, accompanied by a sudden increase in roars and the sound of heavy machine guns spraying through the air. Mead got out of the vehicle as fast as he could.

Mead's squad paused behind Gorgon for a moment until all nine men disembarked. Besides them, Gorgon was carrying five other squads. Mead's group was a little slower, and three squads had already rushed off.

The road conditions were not good, slippery and muddy. Through his gas mask, Mead could see flesh and blood mixed with mud and an unknown liquid.

"charge."

The Lord of Watch gave his order. Mead took up his gun, and they charged out from the left flank of Gorgon, with troop carriers providing cover. Special missiles loaded with black stone powder rose from the weapon racks, and the already overheated twin heavy machine guns began to spin again.

Raise the gun, aim, and fire.

Mead pulled the trigger, a bright green light emanating from the muzzle. Without pausing, he moved the gun, pulled the trigger again, bent over, and the bullet grazed his helmet as it traveled backward.

While moving at high speed, Mead caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that the strange Elven being wearing a tall helmet had been struck. Its painful howl was stuck in its throat before it turned into a cloud of blood mist.

nice one.

Mead thought that he had not hit the Eldar's vitals; the attack had missed.

He continued firing, ignoring the faint stinging pain from the black stone necklace on his chest, but the Watcher beside him suddenly tugged at him, and Mead staggered to the right—