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

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Mortarian opened his eyes wide. Space stabilized again, and energy and concepts returned to solid matter.

He saw the Void Dragon pierced through the chest, a silvery-white substance gushing from its wound like blood. Hades stood before the Void Dragon, noticeably thinner, and was now—

He looked at them with an anxious and knowing expression.

? !

what happened?

Mortarian tried to take a step forward, but Tarasin stopped him with a gesture. The Endless One stared at Hades and made a biting motion.

"Eat!"

"The Endless Ones cried out, their voices echoing through the caverns," the Endless Ones proclaimed.

"Silly boy, eat up!"

Hades looked troubled.

He was indeed starving, but in the end, a strong will (and the maccado rice) suppressed his instinctive appetite.

The Void Dragon was dying in his hands... Death had become easier to obtain and perceive; it was a completely new sensation, more akin to the joy of a successful hunt than other negative perceptions.

But... Hades swallowed hard. The dying Void Dragon didn't seem like something to be eaten. Should he devour gold and silver? Or should he open his mouth and try to catch a bolt of lightning?

But he was very hungry, extremely hungry—he desperately needed to replenish his energy.

Hades suddenly turned his head, and with immense willpower, he shifted his gaze away from the void dragon.

Can it be eaten?

Hades looked at Tarachin with a questioning gaze. This was a question. He was reminded of the illusions created by the deceivers: the more one ate, the more lost one would become.

“Listen up, Hades—” Tarachin shouted, the lights of the space necromancer flashing, “You can try to seize its external energy—but don’t devour its core will, weaken it to its weakest point, do you understand what I mean?!”

Mortarian silently lifted Tarasin up, bringing him a little closer to Hades.

“If you don’t eat now—” Tarasin shouted, “you’ll faint from hunger again! At least for now you’re still in a state of energy conservation, Hades!”

After hearing Tal Rashin's words, Hades turned his head back in confusion. He heard the Void Dragon screaming and cursing (very vulgar) on the radio waves. Hades understood Tal Rashin. That is to say, he should absorb the energy part of the Void Dragon's weak consciousness outside - and then leave the Void Dragon's consciousness.

Hades raised his hand, and metal fragments fell from the Void Dragon's wound. Hades frowned, staring at the Void Dragon's empty face. He was very hungry—but as he always said, no matter how hungry he was, he couldn't cross the line.

He can't just take a bite out of it, can he?

Did he really just eat it raw back then?!

At least—at least give me a pair of chopsticks!

Hades tried to open his mouth, and seeing his action, the Void Dragon struggled even more fiercely, and arcs of electricity rose violently, striking Hades. But to Hades, it was like a special effect of light and shadow, causing little damage.

As Hades struggled with his inner conflict, the lurking darkness around him began to stir.

What do you need me to do?

Mortarion frowned and said, "The Primarch is here, and Talazin is here, firstly to subdue the Void Dragon, and secondly... to prevent Hades from making a mistake."

Tarasin stared at Hades and shook his head.

【…】

Mortarian began to silently curse the Lord of Mankind in his heart, and hoped that this farce would end soon.

He even began to berate himself—after learning that Hades could devour the Star Gods to gain power, wasn't he just like the Emperor, having guided the Void Dragon to Hades? But he did it only to prevent his comrades from going mad.

However, the dragon's roar suddenly erupted!

The crackling of electric arcs echoed throughout the space. Mortarion's eyes glazed over as he realized he was seeing a being far more terrifying than Hades—the Nightbringer-transformed Hades.

Hades ultimately refrained from taking the bite, but in response, darkness coiled around him like some predatory plant, and the Void Dragon began to struggle, a futile struggle, representing the concept of machinery and order being swallowed by chaos and disorder. In a daze, Mortarian even thought that this fragment of the Celestial God was weeping in immense pain and death; to onlookers, it was an extremely cruel scene—but it reminded Mortarian of the day he had defeated Aisha.

Perhaps on that day, in the newly blossoming flower field, he was just as terrifying in the eyes of others.

But—there's no way.

For survival.

They are clearly not righteous people like Guilliman or Angron.

Mortarian turned his head and saw the boundless labyrinth. The eerie silver labyrinth isolated the interior from all communication with the outside world and successfully imprisoned the dragon.

But now, Mortalian's white hair was blown about, and a dazzling light flashed across his profile. As the sound of the Void Dragon gradually faded away, the labyrinth stood collapsing.

Mortarion recalled the days when he went dragon hunting with Angron. There was nothing to say; he was always preparing for a worse ending—but thankfully, Hades always managed to somehow reach a good ending—or rather, survive.

Luckily, the Primarch thought for no reason.

Back then, he had only said one sentence before Anglong patted him on the shoulder with a smile and said, "Let's go."

After defeating the dragon, Angron immediately fell into a deep sleep due to his severe injuries.

Mortarian blinked, and the long, winding labyrinth finally disappeared from his sight. He turned back and saw an unbelievable presence in the darkness.

If it were ten thousand years ago, he might have needed some time to confirm whether this was Hades.

The psionic runes engraved on the scythe lit up, and Mortarion remained silent, awaiting Hades' reaction.

Hades—he is indeed becoming more and more like the Hades people talk about, after all, he has devoured a portion of the Nightbringers.

...Perhaps the Lord of Mankind was waiting for Hades in the same way, to see if his bold move would succeed.

There, in the very center of the underground cavern, the colors had almost completely vanished, leaving only large swathes of black and white. Hades, suspended in mid-air in a contemplative pose, held a ball of emerald green lightning, above which floated silvery-white metal fragments.

Hades remained silent.

Then, he slowly turned his head, and a bright green liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"The taste, really, is not good."

Hades said this with a frown.

Mortarian breathed a sigh of relief, and Tarasin beside him smiled. Having spent a hypercube maze, it had gained another precious video.

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[Sixty-six minutes ago]

"God of Pleasure! God of Pleasure!!!"

Bayer shouted that their ships had accelerated to unimaginable speeds in the subspace, the portholes cracking under the pressure, the cracks once again overflowing with clear fluid amidst some kind of pleasurable panting, before healing once more.

"I have glimpsed your desire for ultimate pleasure!!!"

Bayer shouted, and the human altar beneath his feet groaned, while the men and women who were being sewn up whimpered.

“If you truly crave Him!” Bayer raised his hand. Perhaps he should have sent the other Slaanesh followers instead of himself—but there was no other way; under the goddess of pleasure, he was the most capable fighter, even though all he wanted to do was focus on biological research.

"Then we will lend a helping hand to your followers! We will certainly not disappoint your joy!"

An overwhelming emotion washed over him, and Bayer abruptly bent over, gasping for breath. Before him, dazzling light and shadow slowly unfolded, revealing a cold darkness.

The vast ocean parted, revealing a passageway to the real world. In this narrow opening, Fabius saw their destination, lying quietly in the sea of ​​stars.

Endurance.

This is suicide, Fabius thought painfully again.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 648 Farce

【Comoros】

Things are getting a little bad.

Conrad Coates thought this as he continued the arrest—the veins in his forehead were throbbing, a sign that something bad was about to happen, but his bloodshot eyes couldn't see what would happen next.

The kitten, cornered against the wall, was very noisy.

Conrad lay sprawled on the ground in a beast-like posture, golden tassels swaying beneath him. The ground was littered with the corpses of the Bloodlust, interspersed with one or two unfortunate governors from small conspiracies. Their sorceresses lay disheveled and mutilated beside them.

Blood vapor rises from the narrow, hot, and dark tower.

This is the last time, Conrad thought, his soul tormented and agitated by the Emperor; it's time to bring this millennia-long hunt to an end.

The Primarch's vision was blurred by the lion's blow. Leon, standing opposite him, raised his sword. The old knight, banished into the concrete jungle, looked utterly wretched.

But now, he can't escape.

Conrad has cornered Leon Johnson inside the Black Tower, the highest tower in the Comoros—uniting various conspiracies with the pseudo-Cult of the Underworld. He has proven to be doing something, albeit with slightly lower efficiency.

He could feel the muscles all over his body vibrating with the hum of the Tower of the Underworld. The feeling of being suppressed was unpleasant. The power of the Tower of the Underworld when it was running normally was just the critical value for the Emperor's psionic connection with Conrad. It would not interrupt His connection with the Primarch, but it was enough to suppress the Lion's mediocre skills.

Sure enough, the lion opposite him gritted its teeth, and through his blurred vision, Conrad heard curses—this time he couldn't escape.

But why—why did he feel so uneasy?

This time, the prophecy did not tell him.

----------

Things are bad.

Fabius Bayer thought so.

What followed would be the worst experience of his life; he felt his fingers trembling slightly—

But it could also be a sign of an overdose of stimulant cocktails; he felt some great being watching him directly, with naked desire.

Oh, mistress of desire.

Blessings, unimaginable, immeasurable blessings enveloped them; he felt the data filling his vision being replaced by some distorted purple-pink, which made Bayer uncomfortable, as he was not a true "believer."

But he was the most influential one among them.

Therefore, it must be him.

Oh, and there's also Edoron and Lucius.

But the most influential one was still him—Edoron went off to have fun with Abaddon, while Lucius vanished into the vast galaxy.

The long-standing glory has faded, and the Emperor's sons have fallen apart, embarking on different paths of desire. They are told that their Primarch is enjoying pleasure in Slaanesh's palace, and that they are not allowed to enter.

But Bayer believed that their original body was dead, the complete body had disappeared, and only a few remnants remained.

after all……

He tried to recall that day—that dark day—but his reason and soul trembled simultaneously, preventing him from going any further. Before a true god or Satan, mortals have no right to remember.

He knew perfectly well that he was going to his death, even though he had never felt so powerful or so joyful in the past ten thousand years.

In his distorted, super-sensory vision, Fabius saw banshees sliding out of human corpses, the air thick with the scent of musk, and the number of soldiers in his eyes surging.

Meanwhile, Fabius Bayer was secretly pleased to see the warships of Edoron through the porthole; their warships, decorated with human skin, were so dazzling.

The subspace became crowded, and Fabius realized that the Queen of Pleasure seemed to have gathered all of her army, cramming them together noisily, personally pouring them the nectar of bliss, and pointing her delicate hand toward her goal.

Fabius blinked, his bright purple eyes reflecting the lower deck of the Resilient—where a woman was weeping.

He wants her.

Lady Joy raised her hand and personally forcibly tore open a warm passage for her warriors.

----------

Morag, the current commander of the Deathguard Legion, blinked and put down his pen.

The Death Guard is now teeming with talent, and they have over 70,000 veterans who have returned from Nurgle Gardens—so the new generation isn't given much importance, and his position as Legion Commander is rather awkward.

Morag had nothing to say about it; he did reminisce about his past as the Seventh Company Commander, when he could freely board ships.

He rubbed his wrist, still feeling something was off. As if to confirm his unease, the alarm blared loudly the next moment!

Boom-! ! !

A huge, muffled thud came from the bulkhead, and the room tilted at a sixty-six-degree angle. An enemy attack! And a completely unexpected enemy attack!

On the Death Guard's territory?!

The next moment, the holographic projection in front of Morag lit up, and the legion commander saw the hundreds of warships that had crashed into the lower deck of the Resilient, like carnivorous small fish piercing a whale.

Near the wound on the Resilient, even more warships leaped out of the warp and launched indiscriminate attacks on the Deathguard's warships.

Morag recognized it as Slaanesh's army. At the same moment, the Fortitude's anti-psychic system activated automatically—but because there were still a large number of Primarch's blessed troops on board, the anti-psychic system could not operate at its maximum power.

hum-