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

Page 588

Chapter 644 The Desirer

Dance! Dance! Dance!

A sheer curtain hangs, a graceful figure appears and disappears, a light bell rings, happiness, happiness, happiness, happiness is like wine, brewing a nectar of indulgence.

indulgence!

A slender hand peeks out from the splendid fabric, its delicate scales shimmering with a myriad of charms in sync with the rhythm of the owner's chanting. Layer upon layer of bracelets, each with a distinct style—painted pottery and fine porcelain—do not possess the luster of jewels or the opulence of gold and silver.

But they only trod on the purple and red flowers.

If anyone witnessed this scene, they would find that this hand is exactly the same as the hand that shot that arrow ten thousand years ago—but more delicate, more supple, with a languid desire lingering in its bones, and less of the fangs of lust for power.

+Ha~+

The youngest queen yawned.

The god with his incomplete authority glanced sideways, and the turbulent and unpredictable realities seemed far too pale and dim—since that fleeting glimpse ten thousand years ago, He had never been so joyful, He had never been so delighted.

Everything became boring.

But the stars and sun continue to move.

Ah... ten thousand years ago... that beautiful night, the absolute darkness.

He found it sweet.

Not enough... not enough... still not enough...

Sounds emanated from the lavishly decorated bed, and a long tongue coiled around a wrist. A moment of indulgence ten thousand years ago had led Him to sacrifice too much—so much that He had completely changed Himself.

Domination and vanity have completely departed from Him—but this was not washed away by immersing Him in the Black Waters, but rather taken away by another being—in the midst of the battles, conflicts, and collaborations among the gods, and the pressure of reality, the [Fifth] devoured the remnants of the gods and successfully stood up.

After that, the half of the subspace that had been washed away by Hades would not have recovered so quickly—the gods also fell into a half-awake, half-asleep dream, and reality remained peaceful for a thousand years.

But the "fifth party" is still active.

Logically, in the stillness of the subspace, gods—even demigods or false gods—should not revive so quickly.

But the Fifth One did indeed awaken quickly and began to erode the authority of Chaos, even turning against His original camp.

It's unbelievable...

The Dark Prince exists languidly. After his incompleteness, he has become even more indifferent. The war ten thousand years ago completely destroyed cooperation among the chaotic forces—at least for him, the other gods are no longer willing to extend a helping hand to him.

He didn't care at all.

He only desires another burst of passion.

As for the other gods... Slaanesh sneered. Humanity has already grasped some of the essentials. The fifth one, who has taken a half-step into the ranks of gods, and the false four, are enough to nurture at least two true gods. Haven't the other gods realized this?

They themselves are in dire need of protection.

The other gods watched the youngest queen's self-indulgence with indifference, but it was nothing more than that. The self-proclaimed benevolent Father of Nature was wounded by the fangs of his offspring—it was nothing more than internal strife, and the other gods were happy to witness this scene.

The Lord of Change... Slaanesh licked the blood, his "failure" of his plan ten thousand years ago had also greatly weakened him, and as for now... the blue guy was up to no good, planning, planning, all for the final, eternal change he spoke of... Tzeentch was indeed doing something... and ignoring the other gods.

Perhaps He's playing a very big game this time, the Dark Prince thought... but unfortunately, He had no interest in it.

As for the coward on the Blood Throne... his bones rattled in the youngest queen's mouth. Slaanesh was somewhat puzzled and confused, but did not know why.

The king on the pool of blood has become weak.

He has indeed become weaker.

The youngest queen did not know why.

Slaanesh's decline was due to his indulgence ten thousand years ago and the theft by the despicable Fifth Man over the past ten thousand years; Nurgle's weakness came from the rebellion of his offspring, and when the scythe entered the garden, he was indeed badly wounded; Tzeentch was severely injured by the reversal of his pawn ten thousand years ago, and now, ten thousand years later, he is once again entangled with the false emperor.

They are probably fighting fiercely right now.

Slaanesh was not interested in this.

Simple war has become boring; no matter how much you fight, it's always just a move on a chessboard. But it's different for Her—the youngest queen is different—she has personally tasted the sweetness of the stage.

That's different.

He felt a pang of jealousy towards Nurgle—at least Mortarion had the courage and ability to wield his scythe against Nurgle, and the grievous wound inflicted by his chosen heir was something to savor… If He hadn’t obtained the Blessed Root back then, and had squandered it so easily… The Dark Prince narrowed His eyes, stroking His own perfect body…

If only He had such courageous... such rebellious offspring... In literature and art, dramas about overthrowing authority, sons killing fathers, and subjects killing rulers are always popular...

...If He also wanted to summon warriors from His ranks to challenge Him...in His area of ​​expertise...the youngest queen gasped...thinking...He should reward those reckless clowns of yesteryear more.

What a pity... what a pity... what a pity...

He looked up at the glass lamp above him, a distant shore that countless artists could never reach in their entire lives, yet it was not carved from precious jewels, but rather from inexpensive and ordinary materials.

The Dark Prince licked his lips thoughtfully.

……not enough.

Not enough.

It's nowhere near as good as that play back then.

He briefly fell into that unrestrained memory again, greedy, like the Black River roaring beneath his feet like an absolute beast, yet he was as happy as a dancer playing with a tiger in his flesh.

Such unrestrained revelry could only be as wonderful as the moment He awoke, and only the joy of His awakening could rival it.

The youngest queen laughed. She remembered the resurrection, the indulgence and passion of billions of spirits, the accumulation and explosion over billions of years. Finally, while still in a drowsy dream, she smelled that sweetness and thus, she awoke.

The memory of that resurrection has become as hazy as cotton candy; He only remembers the joy—this is the proof that runs through His existence.

And those tiny, screaming Eldar... the powerless Eldar gods torn to shreds by His hand... and some other... more ancient beings... were also torn apart and thrown into the shadows of the Warp in His loud laughter and song.

So joyful, so joyful, so joyful...

Slaanesh instinctively stroked his anthropomorphic belly, as if he could still hear the screams and wails of the Eldar he had devoured. The Eldar souls were still suffering in his belly, and he gained power from it.

...He should not forget that joyful experience.

The Dark Prince scolded, for he still remembered every detail of his contest with Hades, every ripple, every scream, every time he tried to touch the river... The river also gazed at him with the purest and clearest greed.

He recalled the laughter when he played with the river, and the black water's increased greed and rage after realizing it had been used by him for his amusement, knowing that every touch would result in loss, and that it would cease to exist at the slightest carelessness—how wonderful, how wonderful!

Only loss, only something that can never be repeated, brings a more precious and more intense pleasure.

He couldn't help but move.

But... Slaanesh paused for a moment.

He should not have blurred the memory of His resurrection.

No... it was probably just too pleasurable.

The Dark Prince thought so, but he also bared his fangs; he knew something… In the rumors of the lovely pointy-eared Slaanesh, he was not a lone dancer.

grim Reaper.

Oh no, no, no, it's not the one in Nurgle's Garden.

The youngest queen pondered, remembering that there was still a sword inside her belly. The pointed-eared creatures had left a rumor that if they gathered the old woman's sword, or if the Eldar were all wiped out, they could awaken Death and kill Slaanesh.

Kill Him?

Slaanesh thought it best to let Him completely plunge into Hades' river, standing on a precipice, for He always had the desire to leap into the abyss.

Unfortunately... unfortunately, He still cannot do that.

He is both the master and servant of concepts.

As for the Dark Prince, the god of death in the legends of the Eldar, he reluctantly pulled his thoughts back, still immersed in the vast black sea.

He chuckled softly.

The Eldar are completely beyond saving. He hasn't seen Higgs for a long time, probably because he was captured and imprisoned by Tzeentch—which is not surprising, since Higgs had dealings with Tzeentch before.

After realizing that the Eldar had little investment potential, Tzeentch largely withdrew his leniency towards Higgins.

This is why the Death Army is completely ineffective.

The fifth group, however, rose to prominence and established itself among the Elven race.

What does the fifth party want to do?

The youngest queen thought of it and grinned.

They probably want to eat Him alive.

If He has that ability and ambition—no, that's not impossible either.

But only one person can shatter fate: Hades. Hades—[the Fifth]—is merely a byproduct of Hades' manipulation of fate.

If He were to be completely "dead," then there would be only two paths.

Firstly, it was devoured by Hades, who was tyrannical and completely disregarded the laws of the subspace.

Secondly, there's the possibility of Death awakening—killing Slaanesh, replacing him, or perhaps...

Slaanesh's other side is death itself.

They were originally one.

Slaanesh died, and Death was resurrected. Slaanesh's resurrection was a product of the decline of the vast Eldar empire, and He is still growing... Death... is Slaanesh's "final form," a product of Slaanesh's devouring of all Eldar and Eldar gods, either through fusion or evolution.

But by then, Slaanesh will have completely disappeared and will no longer exist.

Boring...

The Dark Prince thought that this might be why He still couldn't remember the moment He awoke; the birth of a god spans time—but He alone is the one whose existence has been observed and recorded.

His end is uncertain, so his beginning is also uncertain.

Tens of thousands of years ago, He may have awakened, or it may not have been Him who awakened... He may still be asleep... It was all just a dream... Death was revived, Death was awakened... And the Eldar completely ceased to exist... Chaos... Time is inherently unpredictable.

Slaanesh yawned.

He sensed that His power reaching into the distance was being interfered with, by the interference of time. He was somewhat annoyed to realize that Tzeentch was trying to manipulate time, and that the Sons of Man seemed to have joined in as well.

They made the already uncertain timeline even more chaotic!

One...two...

Slaanesh thought angrily, and tried to look back at the ocean of time, but found that at a certain point, a large fog shimmered with green light, obscuring the past.

what the hell?!

He became even more enraged—and at the same time realized something: that intervention in the past or the future would occur within the observable area.

...past...future...

He paused for a moment.

Whatever He thought of, some more fun and desirable ways to play, even a god cannot easily change the timeline, but He could... could... if He hadn't been the one to make the first move, if He could have reaped the benefits without lifting a finger.

The moment His thoughts touched upon this idea, the Sea of ​​Chaos gave guidance to the youngest queen, and it was right—for He had an echo.

Subspace permeates time, and when an idea is proposed, it creates waves. At a certain point, the ripples of thought spread forward and backward, touching both the past and the future.

But with the vast Black Sea in front and the fog and light behind, Slaanesh became somewhat annoyed once again.

This hindered Slaanesh's observation, preventing Him from seeing the road ahead, but this was not a problem—because in the future that He could see and observe, a vast expanse of radiant purple and darkness appeared together.

...It is Him.

Hades... Hades...

He thought about it.

He has returned.

And he seemed very willing to play with Him.

He realized that he had been somewhat negligent—failing to notice His little ones in time. The shadow of His dancer from ten thousand years ago—the Great Devourer—was unpleasant enough that He had overlooked them.

He chuckled, and after ten thousand years, the lazy chess player who had stopped looking at the board once again cast his curious gaze upon Him.

However... He still had to go on stage and sing.

Driven by madness, driven by desire!

Uh... it won't pass the review, so I'll have to cut it by a few hundred words. How sad.

Chapter 645 Slaanesh Decides to Make a Big Move

"Sigh—when do you think we can retire and enjoy our old age?"