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

Page 567

Hades spread his hands. "I can't right now."

Makado glanced at Hades, then sighed.

"grim Reaper."

He says,

“You may not be able to accomplish this alone… but what if we add Death to the mix? We have the ability to temporarily replace Death in the Eldar’s place with the Pale Lord.”

“Motalian has done it once before,” Macado said. “I believe he would be willing to try again.”

Hades, with a look of utter bewilderment, shifted his gaze elsewhere.

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

Hades, the spirited young man, squatted down and knocked on the coffin lid.

"Old Mo, wake up, wake up, wake up!"

The dark coffin remained unresponsive, so Hades knocked again.

This time, Hades heard a Barbarus curse, followed by the heavy thud of the coffin lid closing. Bones crawled out from the narrow crevice, and Mortarian stared at Hades impatiently.

【What to do? 】

"I brought you a blanket."

Hades shoved the white and green floral quilt he was holding into the seam, which Motalian retorted. Hades then heard Barbarus swear, and then Motalian poked his head out again.

"[The spirit]," Mortarian said calmly, "[Though I am tired, I don't mind coming out to beat you up, or destroying all the food within a seventy-mile radius.]"

“Oh, Master Mo, you are so insightful,” Hades said. “Macado has come to see me.”

Mortarian, with a deadpan expression, checked again to make sure there were no surveillance cameras around.

[Elsa's cell, isn't it?]

Hades nodded vigorously. "Old Ma's behavior this time was too strange. He was touching my hand and laughing. I could only try to get information out of him by going along with what he said."

What did he say...?

“Kill Slaanesh,” Hades said. “In short, Old Man Ma plans to break the web of the Comoros, lure Slaanesh in, and then kill him—”

"Good idea, it works," Mortarian said. "I agree."

"etc?!"

Hades yelled, "Didn't you tell me to be wary of him?!"

"Yes," Mortarian said, "Macado is a complete madman, but I think he did something surprisingly humane regarding the Eldar."

Hades extended his hand, "...But I don't think it's that simple?"

He frowned.

"Although I'm a psionic Muggle, I speculate... if something happens to Slaanesh, Old Ma could profit from it?"

"If you're hoping to take up my sleep with nonsense," Mortarian said, preparing to lie back down, "then, you win, you ghost."

"Don't!"

Hades said, "Master Mo, I'm worried that Old Ma is trying to fool me about psionics. Can you explain it to me?"

Mortarian looked at Hades with his clouded gaze.

"Besides you," he said, "the power of the gods does not truly disappear. Different, similar authorities may be possessed by a particular god, but through certain means, we can strip these authorities from them."

"What means?"

Hades asked, and Mortarian glanced at him.

"Let them weaken," Mortarion said, "and it would be best if they had their own followers. If you satisfy these two conditions, you may try to devour authority."

"But..." Mortarian whispered, "there is a simpler and more direct way."

The death of the old gods heralds the birth of new gods; the killing of Slaanesh will inevitably lead to the emergence of new gods—this is clearly pointed out in the Eldar prophecy. Slaanesh's death and the rebirth of Death are two sides of the same coin.

"And Makado..." Mortarian exhaled, "...usurping my place. I think he mentioned my relationship with the Eldar Death God?"

Hades nodded.

Mortarian sneered.

[By seizing the power of Death, creating a loophole where Death and Slaanesh coexist, and then using the waves created by Slaanesh's death to become a god? I guess he completely avoided the part about killing Slaanesh? Death is always accompanied by rebirth, what a clever plan.]

"Isn't he afraid you'll ascend to godhood directly?"

Mortarian shook his head. "I...will not ascend to godhood. I have already occupied the '7,' and most of my power is incompatible with Slaanesh's. Even if I could absorb a portion of Slaanesh's power after his death...the rest will all be taken by Makador."

“So,” Hades pondered, “it’s better to maintain the status quo, at least the power of Slaanesh will remain stable.”

Mortarian looked at Hades.

Don't you want the Eldar to be wiped out?

Hades was taken aback. "Of course I want it."

"Then go," Mortarian said calmly. "Since he has put forward his plan... then Macardo will certainly make it happen. Before he begins to subtly revise imperial policies, you might as well comply with him."

“Then—” Hades said, “if the plan really succeeds, if we really kill Slaanesh, what will happen to the power that flows from the Dark Prince’s body after his death? I can devour a part of it, but I can’t eat it all.”

Mortarian waved his hand. [To the Emperor.]

He said somewhat impatiently, "At least you don't need to worry about Makado, the undead. With sufficient preparation, you are fully capable of killing another demigod after severely injuring Slaanesh... As for the remaining corpses of Slaanesh... ask the Emperor."

Mortarian lay back down, the bedding making him feel somewhat better; at least his bony back no longer had to directly contact the black stone.

He felt reassured, just as he had said, just as Macardo had so earnestly sought, just as the Lord of Mankind was so proud of, the Empire now possessed a dirty bomb.

The explosion ten thousand years ago and the struggles over the past ten thousand years have not been in vain. The Chaos have long been weakened and are too busy to care for themselves. Mortarion, who fought in the garden, has even more contempt for the Chaos. He knows that they are not truly immortal.

Despite the dirty bomb disturbing his rest, and as he tried to shove another pillow through the gap in the coffin, Hades's voice came muffled from behind the pillow.

"Old Mo! Old Ma also told me some details about the Comoros—you really don't want to listen?!"

Do not listen.

Mortarion closed his eyes, but in the end, Hades still heard a soft voice from the Pale Lord.

[The matter of the cursed Eldar's rebirth... I'll handle it.]

Mortarian said, "But let me rest for a while. Are you so eager to kill a god the very next day?"

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

I know what you're hesitating about.

Makado paced back to Hades.

"Trying to kill a god on foreign lands? That sounds like a pipe dream."

His words trailed off with a slight upward inflection, his tone light.

“But you can do it, because of Comoros…”

Makado stretched out his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, an exquisite Eldar necklace appeared in his palm. Hades immediately recognized it as being made of black stone.

"Comoros welcomes you to do so."

Macado said with a forced smile, holding up the necklace to Hades and showing him the details of the black stone chain. Hades saw the bilingual inscriptions on it—

"May Hades forever devour my spirit."

Hades read the sentence aloud, word by word.

Makado's smile broadened.

“Have you heard about the Comoros’ millennia-long transformation?” Macado said. “I bribed some of the Dark Eldar… You should know about this, Hades.”

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

Koz lifted his toes and walked along the black line that ran through this sinful city. Except for the wilderness, the cemetery... those places that weren't very cost-effective, these lovely and hateful black lines could be found everywhere.

These black stone lines, mixed with the ashes of the soulless, extend and grow alongside the expansion of the Comoros.

Inside the palace where the Dark Elf nobles gathered, these black lines were distributed according to the Dark Elf's preferences, arranged in a pattern with varying density, radiating a powerless pain that the Dark Elf could not resist.

The Dark Eldar created a new term specifically for this feeling: "insomnia paralysis"... which, simply translated, corresponds to the low Gothic term "sleep paralysis."

The Dark Eldar absolutely loved this feeling—another sensation of souls being slowly devoured, but one that spared them the torment of the afterlife and completely separated the fate of the individual from that of the race. Combined with the soulless and prayer, this unique kind of pain was even more flavorful.

For those powerful and wealthy individuals who are indulging in a feast for the soul, this is more like a form of spiritual vomiting, a form of self-destruction.

Koz looked up. These black lines were arranged and merged into the towering Nether Tower in the distance. Every so often, a black tower would appear, and the low concentration of black energy dispelled the malice from the subspace.

The Web is magical; it is a gap between the Warp and the real world. It is not built in the real world, but it is isolated from the Warp. Here, the solid laws of physics still exist—this is the basis for the existence of these Nether Towers and Black Lines.

These black lines were also named; the Eldar called them the "Twilight Lines."

They will become another destination for the souls of the Dark Eldar after they have completely died.

Ten thousand years ago, in order to escape the devouring of Slaanesh, the Dark Eldar established their unclean cult on the Comoros.

The core doctrine is only one: to steal authority from the darkness of ignorance and escape from the table of the youngest queen.

Yay, it's gone!

written request for leave

Happy Labor day!

Let me rest for a bit... and sort out the plot while I'm at it.

I didn't take any leave for half a month last month... Let me rest for a while.

The rest of the plot will roughly consist of farming and defeating all forces except humans. I'm not very good at writing farming and technology-related stories, so I'm currently struggling with that.

The outline is almost complete, and I'm thinking about the details of the plot and how to present them better.

And thank you all for your monthly votes last month (bows), goal achieved!

Feel free to suggest what you'd like to see or any ideas you have.

Chapter 625 Conrad's Half-Day

【Comoros】

[Respect the wise and virtuous, even if they are foolish.]

Conrad Coates said so.

The Primarch toyed with the glass, the bloody liquid inside shimmering alongside the jeweled chain wrapped around it.

Beside the armchair where the Primarch lay, the other Dark Eldar raised their glasses, uttering words of respect or contempt for the Underworld Lord before drinking their wine.

Koz glanced casually at the arena below. As usual, the soulless beings who had been impaled with berserk devices by their slave owners were panting, while on the other side, the little lion he had just captured was being whipped into the arena.

In order to achieve a stalemate, the fallen angels were partially stripped of their armor by the dark Eldar, who bound and bandaged their wounds with thorns and leather soaked in potion.

"Respect the foolish and the benevolent."

The sound of boots hitting the ground rang out. Koz casually twirled his cup. The Eldar pursued ultimate agility, so the footsteps of their males were exceptionally light—rather than the heavy thud of Space Marines' boot heels hitting the ground.

Frasco, the consul of the Flesh and Blood Conspiracy, approached, his flamboyant demeanor belying his violent appearance, as he obsequiously raised his wine glass.

"How have you been lately?"

"Not bad," Koz said, shifting his gaze and listlessly fiddling with the pearl bracelet on his wrist. "What? You've already finished the dessert from last time?"

"Thank you for the gift from the new tycoon."

As if recalling something, Frasco licked his chapped lips, and a vision far more delicious than blood enveloped his senses like a veil.

“But…” his eyes shone brightly, “you know, it’s not about that.”

[Are you unhappy that we used your people on the last trip to Terra?]

Koz chuckled. The Bloodstained Skull Conspiracy was skilled in aerial combat, so the Emperor had "borrowed" some of their personnel.

"No, no, no, how could that be? This is something we've been longing for."

Frasco laughed. "But I've heard a little rumor... the dullard has awakened?"

Koz raised his glass, the wine reflecting on his face. Why were rumors of that guy waking up circulating even in Comoros? It seemed that Mortalian's wariness was not without reason.