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

Page 582

Personally, he said, "I don't want any interaction with you—but publicly, speak up, Endless One."

With a wave of its hand, Tarachin opened its right arm, revealing six unharmed little Death Guards posing in different ways.

Mortarion once again ignored Hades's gasp; without turning around, the Primarch knew that someone was about to make a move.

He reassured his children once again and listened to Tarasim.

“I only have one question to ask,” Tarasin said, his green eyes fixed intently on Mortarian, “that is… our conversation ten thousand years ago, you know what it was, Mortarian.”

"certainly,"

Before Mortarian could speak, Tarasin immediately added, “You can also choose to remain silent; I have never used this to blackmail you. You can also use lies, but the wisdom of Nishirak will decide—but if you sincerely answer my questions, then these collections are yours.”

Motarian said calmly,

They were originally mine.

Taracin undeniably raised an eyebrow in a human-like manner, but did not speak.

A brief silence fell over the room, with Hades' gaze fixed on the six Mortarlings. On one hand, he was pondering what exactly had happened between Mortarian and Tarasin back then; on the other hand, Hades' thoughts inevitably drifted toward the Mortarlings—he had to acknowledge Tarasin's talent and aesthetic sense in arranging models, but perhaps a different paint job could have been done.

He now has living metal, which allows him to directly mold different third-party accessories.

Hades felt his hand, which was used to holding the paintbrush, trembling, but the atmosphere was too heavy for him to resist.

For Hades, it was like there was a perfectly straight stick on the ground that he couldn't pick up.

Compared to Mortalin, Mortalian paled in comparison—and even became the culprit who hindered Hades from capturing Mortalin.

Hades raised his trembling hand, took two small sips of the poisoned wine, and suppressed the urge to reach out.

Mortarian remained silent.

Death stared at Tarasin, the alien race he had thought of countless times, the alien race he had hoped to tear apart with his scythe. Countless times, in the midst of his busy and desperate reality, he would catch his breath, recall this alien race for a moment, and then angrily head back to work.

It was this creature that took Hades away back in Cadia.

Mortarian berated himself for his ignorance, wondering why he hadn't truly noticed the race until Makado introduced him to Tarasin.

The former fearers of death... now, space necromancers.

Poisonous gas spewed from the mask of Death. He spent a thousand years tempering his anger, and another thousand years searching for the truth. The closer he got to the truth, the more he had to accept and let go.

Death gradually realized that it was perfectly reasonable and appropriate for Hades to stay with Tarasim.

The empire at that time did not have an environment suitable for Hades. Mortals would be afraid, nobles would question him, and the Mechanicus madmen would destroy the so-called god in the name of faith.

Mortarian walked through the desert of truth, initially driven by anger and resentment. But time eventually wore down his sharp edges, and he had to begin to understand the alien race. Mortarian wavered for a long time between unacceptance and complete acceptance, or rather, giving up torturing himself.

Until he fell completely silent.

Mortarion accepted the fact that the alien races might not return Hades, and he began to study the Necromancers of the cosmos, attempting to lure the Endless Ones back with the promise of "finding the souls of the Necromancers of the cosmos."

The more he walked and the more he delved into the truth, the more shocked he became.

He is still too insignificant.

Humans are still too small.

Space Necromancers… Mortarion dug for answers atop the tomb, a force far larger than the present empire slumbering, whose owners wielded unimaginable technology, these departed beings more ancient and more mysterious.

Following the thin spiderweb of the Necromancer, Mortarion began to climb upwards. Why had such a glorious race become a mere puppet? They possessed so much, yet they were utterly dead.

He touched the Star God.

Because of Hades, Mortarion had a deep understanding of the Star Gods—but he did not expect that such "creatures" would appear in the history of the Necromancers and be the culprits that caused them to become what they are now.

That night, Death sat silently at his desk, recalling Macado, who had been appointed by the Emperor, to negotiate with the space necromancer Tarasin—it was all no accident, though he hadn't understood it at the time.

He wanted to ask how much the Lord of Humanity had been hiding.

The Star God bestowed technology upon the Fearful Dead, and the Fearful Dead offered sacrifices to the Star God, but the Star God ultimately deceived them, and the gods devoured the souls of the former Fearful Dead.

Mortarion could have stopped there; he now knew why the souls of the Fearful Ones vanished—and he did indeed remain at this stage for some time. But the Primarch ultimately continued onward, partly because some questions remained unanswered, and partly because of the fear he felt after glimpsing the truth.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of...

The War of Heaven.

Ancient sage.

The Primarch remained silent about it, and he spoke of it to no one. In the present day, with the Empire ruling the galaxy, the ancient wars of Heaven were clearly beyond human comprehension and endurance.

And... the ancient saints...

They have completely disappeared.

The Primarch was briefly overwhelmed and shocked by the truth, but reality continued to push him forward. Mortarion eventually pulled himself out of it and began to deal with the Empire's mess.

But he still remembers his original aspiration.

Death seemed to dazed for a moment as he looked at Tarasin, who was waiting for his answer, and felt Hades's restless gaze behind him. His offspring, hidden under the cloak, felt uneasy under Hades's gaze, and his hand on the armrest was not holding a weapon.

Hades returned in the end, as naturally as an enemy's head falling, and the Necromancer did not use it to threaten him, even though the Primarch had already prepared for it.

Mortarian remained silent. He could sense his offspring's condition; there was a slight fright, which was due to the negative emotions from Hades. Apart from that, everything was fine.

Was Tarahim doing it on purpose? Or not?

Does a benevolent alien race truly exist in this galaxy?

"Child's play..." Mortarian thought, ignoring Hades and Tarasin's winks and gesturing. He remained silent, and the two began to question each other with their eyes.

[...Do you want to hear the truth?]

Mortarian finally spoke in a hoarse voice, "Can you accept reality, Endless One?"

He sensed the space necromancer tense up; perhaps Tarachin knew the answer to this question better than anyone else present.

“Of course,” Tarasin said nonchalantly, even taking the time to poke the little guard.

“After all, the deceased was in a stable emotional state,” Tarasin joked.

Mortalian ignored him. [Hades, use Dark Domain to block.]

"It's already open!" Hades' relaxed voice rang out. "It was closed for a moment when you came in just now."

"Alright," Mortarian thought, stretching out his hand. A single, crystalline droplet floated in his palm, as if countless rays of dawn had gathered there, casting a small, hazy glow in the room.

Let's see if this works...

He gestured for Tarasim to extend his hand, and the Endless One, watching with interest the liquid in Mortarion's hand, extended his own.

"Elsa's tears?"

Tarasin asked, and Mortarian nodded.

Yes and no, this is the most precious drop... mixed with Elsa's blood.

Death had a thought, and a tear fell, landing on Tarasin's hand. The tiny droplet splashed and visibly began to shimmer where it landed.

Tarasin's eyes widened. "Hmm? There's a strange feeling, not bad?"

Mortarian completely ignored Tarasin. He closed his eyes, began chanting a spell, and frost began to spread. Mortarian immersed himself in the warp, straining to sense and try to capture any ripples of new life...

……

Mortarian slowly opened his eyes.

【invalid.】

He said, "I didn't sense any energy fluctuations... Now I can tell you definitively, Tarachin, your souls have completely vanished; at least in the current warp, your souls no longer exist."

Tarasin paused, then withdrew his hand.

"Unsurprisingly, I should have just kept it as a collectible and not wasted this precious Elsa tear."

"Tarasin said indifferently, releasing the stasis field, and the six little guys stumbled and ran toward Mortarian."

Mortarian glanced at Tarasin, then bent down and scooped up the little Deathguard who couldn't climb up.

[There's another possibility: perhaps your souls still exist within the Star God? But I'm not an expert in this area.]

Tarasim, propping his head up, watched the little death guards' actions, but shook his head with a smile.

"If that were true, we would have done so long ago when we shattered the imprisoned Star God."

Silence fell over the room again.

Mortarion waited leisurely for the little Deathguards to find a comfortable spot, while the Primarch looked at Talathin, his eyes gleaming with a hint of gold.

"I appreciate your care for Hades," Mortarian said calmly, "and it looks like we can continue to work together."

“It was nothing,” Tarasin waved his hand. “As for cooperation… I suppose you’re unwilling to work with me?”

"I truly do not wish to engage with you," Mortarian said, lowering his eyes, "but there are wandering souls."

【…】

White mist billowed from Mortalian's respirator, and he fell silent again. Even though the Necromancer was unwilling to show it, Death still sensed a trace of loss.

"Because of Hades," Mortarian said, "I have searched alone for thousands of years for how to retrieve the souls of those who fear the dead."

“Don’t make false accusations,” Tarasin raised his hand. “I didn’t force you to do that.”

Motalian ignored him and continued talking to himself.

I mean... for those who fear death, there's another possibility.

He turned his head to touch the little guardian seeking the Primarch's comfort, his hood drooping down to cover half of the Primarch's face.

"what?"

Tarasin asked, then laughed, "What else could it be? Even the newcomers in Nurgle can't save us, what else could it be?"

【…】

[Ancient Sage.]

"Motalian said slowly,"

[Tarachin, have you ever considered... that the Old Ones, as your former enemies, whether out of war or mercy, collected some of the souls of the Fearful Ones?]

Hades watched as Tarasin froze completely.

I guess you're unwilling to consider this possibility, aren't you?

Mortarian said calmly, "After all, thinking about former enemies... might be a disgrace to you."

"Why—why did you say that?"

Taracin almost sat up abruptly. "Besides, the Ancient Ones have completely vanished! They haven't been seen in the galaxy since!!!"

"I'm just offering one solution," Mortalian said. "There are still traces of the Old Ones from hundreds of thousands of years ago remaining in the warp. I've sensed some of them, and I think some of them come from the Old Ones... some... might be from other races, like Eldar, Orks, and others..."

You know this is very likely, right?

"Motalian asked, noting that Tarasin across from him looked like he was overheating."

4.9, great, that's it!

Routine book recommendation:

This actor doesn't seem to be acting.

Lu Zilai is a veteran entertainment author who writes about top-tier actors in the Chinese entertainment industry. His plot and writing style are both guaranteed to be good. Those interested can check him out.

Chapter 640 Mortarian: This won't do.

Fear of death...

The astrologer Eurycan silently removed his hood, which was being watched by the chaotic river of time.

Time is being played with.

Although reluctant to admit it, Euricane knew that it could not solve all of this on its own, and it needed to find an ally.

As he traversed the chaotic and vast underground palace of the alien race, Orikan accepted the invitation of the alien king.

It was also promised a reward.

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

"I—cannot accept it."

Tarasin said, enunciating each word clearly, "Ancient Saint? Ancient Saint? Ancient Saint?!"