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

Page 597

Perhaps they were pleased to see this.

The newcomer is still young, and his manipulation of power drives him mad, oblivious to the future—merely a respite from the sight of the gods, who have awakened and are as carefree as drinking water and as mad as a fleeing rabbit.

The Lord of All Changes will shift his gaze, and the veil will become a plaything between reality and illusion. The youngest of them, the ouroboros, understands this best, and he is laughing merrily.

The chess player knows what the pieces want.

He looked at the emperor.

------------

The Milky Way is trembling.

Something enormous and absurd is invading it, causing pain to make the sun fall, and stars to boil and burn in unbearable heat.

No.

He is both entering into it and being entered into, but there is only one active party, the master of madness and depravity, the slave of desire. He dominates it, like the foreplay when He awakens.

The ants trembled in the chaotic torrents of their mating, their immense joy making them oblivious to the minutiae. Their tiny screams became laughable, and even the grandest symphony could not support the groans of the universe.

He tore it apart, and it tore him apart as well.

Great things are always accompanied by long periods of suffering. It requires patience. This is no longer the time when reality and dreams reward you—that day He was a newborn, and newborns are always treated kindly by the world, but He is no longer one.

Therefore, it resists you.

This displeased Him, and He was angry—but the torrential rain of stars comforted Him again, and He remembered the joy of that day—things always get more difficult, even though the world is not a virgin, it is a whore.

Now this bitch is forcefully squeezing Him, using the rules to force Him out—

He merely desired a one-night stand, pursuing the true path of desire.

What did He do wrong?

But He succeeded in the end. He held its hand tightly and probed it into His body. He enveloped the world, and the world enveloped it in turn—it was tiring, but it was all worth it.

Slaanesh laughed gleefully.

The ants cheered beneath Him.

The vacuum became a medium between reality and illusion; it was His authority. The world was no longer cold, no longer empty; it was filled with a kind of feverish, fanatical delusion.

Ants are thrown out of their shells by the world's last stubborn rule. They should have died directly and turned into nothingness, but the warm home you built saved them. So they screamed or groaned and fell into a drunken frenzy.

He felt both pleasure and exhaustion, but time continued to flow—

He hates time, He loves time. Among chess players, time is always disordered and chaotic, but now, it is still flowing smoothly and moving further and further.

This means that His time is running out.

Although the youngest queen was anxious, she knew what she wanted.

He eagerly reached out to it, the tiny creation of ants, and saw that it was already deeply entangled in the soft silk of desire, its dragon spine broken, no longer possessing its former uninteresting appearance in the garden.

The stranded Perseverance.

He reached out and pulled the shell open, as if breaking open a chocolate ball with a melted core. Essence, along with flames, screaming particles, and blood, flowed down.

He felt thirsty.

The Dark Prince stretched out his long tongue and quickly licked his insides. Time was running out, time was running out—he could already hear Elsa's pitiful weeping. Oh God, she was still so attractive to him.

He felt a burning sensation in his abdomen, and the countless souls of the Spirit Race screamed within him; he, too, screamed—

Where are you, Elsa?

He hurriedly reached out his hand, feeling a weak and numb sensation between his fingers, which made him shudder as if in pain. But the seal loosened as a result, and Slaanesh caught a whiff of that wonderful scent.

He hurriedly reached out again—but suddenly the indifferent galaxy told him that the boring guy had arrived—He didn't like that guy, ugly, boring, stubborn—He knew why the fat man liked him.

He doesn't like him.

But he has already arrived.

【Dark clouds】 were practically synonymous with disappointment. Slaanesh turned his attention away unhappily, thinking of how he used to be. Were these concepts so annoying to him before he was captured and put into that body?

Why did that enormous golden creature choose him?

The frenzy, the madness, the dreamlike atmosphere—everything was rapidly cooling down. The revelry around the Dark Prince began to fade, the dream He had created was shattered, and Mortarian entered.

He can at least be considered loyal to himself.

It wasn't the image he had been artificially created. Wisps of mist drifted in, and the Lord of Desire watched with amusement as the mist first enveloped the ants—

【Yinyun】Bound and molded by human teachings, he could easily create an identical ant if he wanted to, but he still chooses to waste his power rather than play with Slaanesh.

The Dark Prince did not stop his actions; He watched the [clouds] with interest, perhaps another kind of boring foreplay, as His massive member continued to advance in the direction where Elsa was crying.

Perhaps the foreplay with a fat man will be similar.

He thought somewhat listlessly that the old excitement had faded, and even though the world was still screaming, he was already feeling dissatisfied.

Slaanesh touched that soft, warm spot.

Ah, Elsa.

The extremities began to wither, and wisps of white ashes drifted down—the power of the garden… Slaanesh thought… no… it was the [Dark Clouds], the power of Mortarion.

Rebellious offspring.

He licked his lips. The seal had been broken, and he was poisoned as a result, but that was not the point. Slaanesh withdrew his hand, leaving Aisha alone in the cage where the seal had been broken.

The river that flowed from the dark corridor was Elsa's tears.

Slaanesh swayed his waist and slowly straightened up. An unimaginable exquisite beauty was revealed in his straightened upper body, the male's robustness and the female's softness, with shimmering light shimmering between the scales, far warmer than the newborn's homeland.

Nothing can deny Him, deny a perfect form, for He is perfect, utterly transcendent, a perfection beyond time, reason, desire, culture, and race.

It is a utopia that no individual can ever imagine.

Slaanesh sighed softly, spreading his arms wide to reveal himself to the uninteresting little fellow. The veil and the naked skin alternated in a hazy veil, and the scent of musk emanated from every inch of his skin. This was a haven of gentleness, a valley of masculinity.

come on.

Although he was boring, dull, and meaningless.

But He never refuses.

His sighs and soft moans become heavenly music, his every smile and frown becomes a beautiful woman in the garden. You should not reject him, for he is never rejected.

Slaanesh gasped as he touched his cheek.

He knew that there was an unbridgeable chasm between gods and mortals.

He accepted playing with the real characters before they arrived.

The Dark Prince watched with amusement as the white mist rapidly dissipated, but he had clearly been well-instructed by humans; he returned, solidifying the mist, and Mortarion absurdly still gripped his scythe tightly.

But he was clearly in a very sorry state.

……

Breathing...breathing...breathing...damn...

Mortarian felt himself heating up; the insect-like respirator covering his face was clicking, the toxicity reaching its maximum, barely enough to resist the pleasure emanating from the Lustful Heaven.

He'd rather... go back to the filthy garden and drink excrement...

Mortarian realized he had returned in too much of a hurry, but he didn't regret it; at least his early arrival had saved many lives.

Mortarian gasped for breath, realizing that Slaanesh was watching him with amusement, just as the corrupt creature had spewed poison gas at him in the garden years ago.

………………

I am so sad, my child.

The obese false god beside the cauldron squeezed out seven tears, while he stood awkwardly opposite Him. Mortarian was in a sorry state—in fact, he was in a sorry state every time.

Whether it was the battle atop Mount Barbaros, the battle in the garden, or now...

But being disheveled doesn't affect the fight.

He still had the strength to swing the sickle, and that was enough.

.........

Come on, come on~

Mortarian took a deep breath, injecting the maximum dose of black stone powder along with the medicine. Due to the crisis, the patterns on his wings began to change color, turning into a warning bright red and bright orange.

But to outsiders, it appears as if death itself is beginning to take on that pinkish-purple hue.

He joyfully blew him a kiss, "Come, come!"

"No—don't go there!"

Death, who seemed to be bewildered, was taken aback.

Oh~ an unexpected little guy... Desire Heaven turned around and gave Elsa, who had crawled out of the cage, a flirtatious wink.

Aisha opened her mouth, even though her eyes were nailed shut, the power of the gods had already penetrated everything and reached her soul—the Eldar Mother Goddess trembled and fell down. Slaanesh had given her a dream, perhaps with her husband, or perhaps with Kane… Asuyan was not out of the question either.

The Desire Heaven turned back again, closer and closer—

He decided to first caress Mortalian's respirator, pull out his mouthparts, and then insert them into the soft, rotten tube, leading directly to his conceptual stomach. Then came those wings... Ah... how utterly devoid of beauty. If it were Him, He would have bestowed upon His porcelain doll a pair of beautiful bat wings.

He will grant him six hundred million times the senses; in fact, with each step Mortarion approached, the Primarch was given ten million times the pleasure and amplified his senses.

To approach Nerd, one must endure corruption; to approach Slaanesh, one must endure pleasure.

Desire Heaven listened with delight as Mortalian's breathing grew heavier. Even if they were mismatched, He would cherish him, after all...

Slaanesh licked his lips. Years ago, he had accidentally broken his own doll.

He would extend his tongue between those wings, granting him endless perception, and each flight would become a challenge—Slaanesh opened his hand, and Mortarion heard a crisp tinkling sound. The bracelet on the false god's arm opened countless tiny eyes, watching him shrouded in Slaanesh's shadow.

Mortarian sighed softly.

He felt the airflow through his trachea, each strand like a knife cutting through his tongue, as if it were being torn into countless pieces by the airflow, yet it remained intact in his mouth.

He heard the joy of countless people, and the breeze blowing on him felt like the caress of millions. Lust looked at him encouragingly, not with the disappointed and desperate gaze of Nagu.

In a daze, he felt as if he were not on the battlefield, there was no death, no groans, and Mortarian was in Barbarus' cornfield, with a gentle breeze and perfect sunshine.

This is Anle Township.

Beneath the hood, in the shadows, those hazy green eyes were now gleaming.

Dang~~~

The Primarch's fingers loosened slightly, and the scythe in his hand fell and vanished.

Mortarian remained motionless, seemingly trembling slightly.

Good boy~ Good boy~+

Slaanesh was the first to succumb; true to his reputation for resilience, Lustful Heaven felt himself becoming somewhat interested.

He never hesitated to bestow His reward, so He solidified His form, embraced him, and blew a flawless melody upon his hair. His six arms caressed the tattered wings, preparing to change—

laugh!

Slaanesh suddenly opened his eyes wide.

His gaze slowly descended, and he saw the spiritual energy slowly flowing from his abdomen. The Desire Heaven saw a familiar yet strange entity, which was now firmly inserted into his own abdomen, and the decaying power was eroding it along the wound.

You should be very familiar with it.

A faint whisper rang out from between the arms of the Desire Heaven. Mortarian sounded weak, and in fact, he was very weak. Few beings could face a god unscathed.

But he can still fight, and that's enough.

Do you recognize it, Dark Prince?

Motalian said that as he slowly released his grip, he felt every muscle in his body tremble, stimulated by an immense pleasure.

As he released his grip, the strange entity revealed its full form: nine bird feathers, the bone of the Blood Lord, and the teeth of the Corrupted One—

Was it the arrow they shot at Hades?!

A piercing, deafening scream erupted! The Slaanesh shrieked!

As the stars began to fall, He did not loosen His grip on the Primitive Body. His powerful muscles bulged layer by layer, and His snake tail coiled around and around, gripping the Primitive Body tightly!

It was a sickeningly loud sound, like a sharp knife slicing through the cerebral cortex, that echoed from between the heavy snake tails. Crack, crack, crack, the carapace of this damned bug was being torn apart layer by layer!

Motarian chuckled.