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

Page 621

"It's challenging, but worth a try."

Hades laughed.

"But, Old Mo—was the first one really six?"

They both fell silent.

....................................

"How do you feel now?"

"I'm sitting in the private lounge of soldier Edward," asked Gene, captain of the 13th squad of the 5th battalion of the 3rd company of the Death Guard.

Gene said, but Edward still didn't make a move.

"fine,"

Edward said sullenly,

"But... I may still not be resilient enough."

He recalled the feeling of death, like being suddenly washed ashore on a beach covered in ashes. He stood up blankly, seeing the world shrouded in a hazy mist.

He glanced at the bizarre monsters at the edge of the clouds, far more unimaginable and unacceptable than the warp creatures they had dealt with in previous missions.

Around him, more Death Guards stood silently. Edward realized he wasn't "the same kind of people" as them; their armor was tattered, yet it felt far more robust than his.

Then came a tremendous wave of dizziness, and he slumped to the ground, finding himself back at his post, the deck trembling and humming, his blood and skin pressing against him, and then—

"Are you feeling any better?!"

A rough sound rang out, the door was flung open, and both men were startled, jumping to their feet. Their hands, which were about to draw their guns, immediately changed to a salute upon seeing the visitor.

"Lord Karas!"

Callas always managed to produce an extremely indescribable smile, but both of them were certain that the smile was not a positive emotion at all.

"0305013001 Gene! 0305013007 Edward! Sit down!"

As Karas drank, the warrior immediately sat up straight, his back taut.

Karas remained silent, slowly pacing around the lounge, his eyes fixed on the two like those of a seasoned vulture.

"Edward, how have you been lately?"

Callas asked, and Edward nodded vigorously.

"Sir! I feel perfectly fine!"

Karas sneered and waved his hand.

"This was just a casual conversation, relax—"

Callas played a long note.

"Do you dare to bear the consequences of lying?!"

"Report! I wouldn't dare!"

"Then tell the truth, you little brat!"

Edward hesitated visibly for a moment, but then they saw frost hanging down from the four corners of the room, the light dimming, and Karas's smile growing increasingly sinister.

"I feel fear! I believe I am not capable enough to follow the Primarch!"

"it is good,"

Callas raised his voice,

"You've finally realized you're just a little brat who hasn't even shed all his feathers! Tell me what you're going to do next?!"

"Train hard!"

Edward answered quickly,

"I am willing to accept the punishment—I volunteer for the suicide mission!"

Karaston, who had been strolling leisurely, stopped and gave Edward a disdainful look.

"Good awareness,"

He says,

“You people will indeed be transferred—you will become a force alongside the Primarch.”

Karas turned around abruptly, rushed to the unfortunate soldier in three steps, grabbed him by the collar of his training uniform, and lifted him up.

"Don't leave it to chance."

Karas slowly released his grip, his expression returning to its grim and ruthless state. He patted Edward on the shoulder.

"Work hard... This is both punishment and recognition for you."

"as well as--"

Karasra drew out a long note, raised his hand, and showed the two warriors the little thing in his hand.

"Let's see who's here?"

Karas said sarcastically,

"Sometimes I feel a little sentimental. The esteemed Primarch can take time out of his busy schedule to visit his offspring—but he's not willing to have a chat with this old fellow?"

Karas shifted his gaze, staring intently at the little creature between his fingers. The miniature Death Guard hung limply in the undead's hand, as if it were dead.

No matter how hard he pressed his fingers, the resilient little guy remained silent.

Across from Karas, the two battle-hardened warriors remained silent. No one in the Death Guard dared to provoke Typhon, and no one could withstand the old warrior's volatile temper.

"What? Not talking?"

Karas shook the little creature in his hand and gave a sinister laugh.

"It was my presumption—that I thwarted the great Primarch's plan."

"then."

Karas casually tossed the little Death Guard to Edward. Typhon confirmed that he had heard a scream that abruptly stopped at that moment, but he didn't know whether it came from the little Death Guard or from the two warriors.

"He approves of you, so keep up the good work."

Karas said, casually tossing Edward a crumpled piece of paper with the shoulder armor patterns the soldiers would be changing, representing the company's alterations.

"As for me—it depends on your performance. His leniency towards his offspring doesn't mean I'll give you a passing grade."

Typhon left without looking back, leaving behind two bewildered young people.

Mortarian believed he was unwilling to face Hades?

........................

?

Hades, who was reading the documents, turned his head.

"Old Mo, what's wrong?"

【…】

I'm going back to Terra.

Hades still had a question mark above his head, but the Primarch's figure vanished like white mist first.

boom!

Hades stared at Karas, who had flung the door open.

The next moment, Karas didn't look around Hades' office. Instead, he turned around, bent over, and started gagging.

Karas began to curse himself inwardly for having planned to come to Hades' office just minutes earlier.

Yay! That's it!

Chapter 668 He Walks in a Pool of Blood

(Warning: This chapter contains graphic content and explicit descriptions of sin. Please read with caution and exit if you are not comfortable with it.)

blood.

Abuse.

massacre.

The dark green, menacing boots gently stepped onto the pool of blood, the pale crimson rippled, and beside them lay a pale, emaciated spirit, writhing in agony, its body contorted, its eyes filled with despair.

Lie.

The roars of ancient beasts echoed through the jungle of steel ruins, amidst the clashes and shrieks of flesh against flesh.

A magnificent, almost eerie, vibrant purple bloomed overhead, as the once-captured and energy-powered star struggled in its death throes against the crumbling sky.

Madness is rampant here.

But... you need to be quiet.

Lie.

The ripples disappeared silently on the pool of blood.

With the light, feline-like steps of a beast, he traversed the corpses scattered on the ground. A cold glint flashed across the blade of his sword. Order and madness coexisted within him; he was a beast cloaked in the skin of order.

he is……

An old face was visible in the shadows beneath the tattered hood.

Leon Johnson.

This place is no longer suitable for human habitation, nor for the existence of any living thing. Madness and lust have seeped into your very bones, until you are trapped in a dreamlike state of love and madness.

He doesn't need to leave.

But someone has to leave.

Leon Johnson lowered his eyes, darted into the alley, and changed his route again. A few minutes later, a group of huge, ferocious Eldar appeared on the street, their scalps ripped open, their brains exposed, and wrist-sized needles inserted into them.

The spirit race, belonging to the Lord of Greed, walked unsteadily. They went forward to investigate but could not detect a trace of the alien race. After lingering for more than ten minutes, they had no choice but to slowly leave.

The Lion King did not stop; his sword tip was unstained with blood, but blood was now dangerous.

The Eldar controlled by Slaanesh no longer had blood flowing through their veins, but rather a mixture of banned drugs, carrying an aura that Leon instinctively sensed was dangerous. He realized that just one drop would allow Slaanesh to discover him.

He cannot leave yet.

Leon thought back to his reprimands of Luther. Did he understand those things then? But now he did.

He hoped Luther was alright, which wasn't what the Lion King initially thought; his first instinct was always that he didn't want to face the grave of his firstborn son—

His wild instincts were then rationally interpreted as his viewpoint.

Here, in this place filled with madness and depravity, wildness will allow him to survive, while humanity will tell him what he is truly holding onto.

The Lion King raised his hand, and a wisp of forest haze appeared in his palm. He couldn't yet control it, but it was enough for him.

In a daze, he heard the cry of a raven—followed by fragments of that thing—the evil entity lurking in Caliban, shrouding it in gloom.

His misjudgment at the time resulted in most of the Ouroboros falling into enemy hands, but Luther was right; they successfully kept a portion.

The psionic energy forcibly restrained the small fragment. The Lion King could hardly describe what it was. Any act of looking at it would sting his eyes and awaken the darkest instincts within him.

Leon felt as if he had stepped into that dark forest once again, alone, facing eyes lurking in the darkness, but now the situation was even more dangerous, because a false god was bleeding there.

"Father."

Leon Johnson blinked, swallowing the hallucination he had just experienced; his instincts had already led him to the 24th hideout.

【it's me. 】

Leon spoke in a hoarse voice, calmly watching his offspring emerge from behind the wall.

Some of them have obvious Kaliban characteristics and have fully completed the modification experiments, while the origins of others appear to be more diverse, and the degree of modification varies.

【gone. 】

Leon Johnson said the shadows of the forest swayed above him again, and it grew darker, colder, and more dangerous.

"Father,"