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

Page 561

Within the Death Guard's technical sergeants, there is a unit that specializes in undead grave digging, but perhaps due to Hades' guidance ten thousand years ago, the Death Guards are not as reckless as the Sages, directly connecting to the undead's soul system in space—

This meant missing the opportunity to discover the management agreement.

Hades thought it was time to assemble a new tomb-raiding team, preferably small in number, stealthy, and without firing a shot, to dig up the tombs of the undead and find the key...

Although doing so might be unfair to the King of Figurines, Hades would rather he owe the King of Figurines something himself.

"Alina α3, I have a mission for you."

Hades said seriously, "Next, you need to coordinate with the Death Guard's technical sergeant."

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

"Are you happy lately?"

Makado calmly placed a piece on the chessboard, while Hades, sitting opposite him, gestured with a knowing look as he pondered something.

Then a hearty smile, harder to suppress than a dynamite gun, appeared on his lips.

Fortunately, he was wearing a mask at the moment, which concealed his image-damaging smile.

"I think of happy things."

Hades also played his black piece, and Macado stared blankly at the board—another bad move; the kid's mind wasn't on the game at all.

Hades has already made contact with Mortarion...?

Macardo thought to himself, he felt the approaching force of annihilation, but ultimately he couldn't stop it... Had the Pale Lord discovered his true nature? Perhaps not, but that didn't matter...

As the final piece of the puzzle, the Tuchucha engine is about to be found.

Damn Eldar... He can't be hasty now.

Macado thought, picking up the white piece,

"I know you're anxious,"

Makado said that Hades' smile was even brighter.

"You guessed it, Lao Ma? I thought you weren't paying attention..."

...From a motor oil guy.

Hades froze, sensing the approaching psychic energy. He instinctively looked up, staring at the tightly closed door.

Macado sighed, casually tossed aside a chess piece, and stood up. "I've been keeping an eye on the garden for you. Now that he's back, I won't disturb you any longer."

Hades looked up blankly.

"what?"

Wasn't it him who found the control protocol for the space necromancers?!

Wait a minute?! Who's back?!

Before Hades could react, the short, treacherous minister immediately left through the side door, the door slamming shut with a bang. Hades suddenly stood up.

He hurried to the gate and saw the surging mist within the dark domain. The level of psionic energy seemed a bit too high, and Hades instinctively sensed something was wrong.

Although he asked Vox every day, like a clockwork bird, when Old Mo would return to share the hardships together, the news he always got was "soon"—

Hades had little hope for this.

But—but—what is that?!

Hades' pupils dilated in shock. He hadn't expected things to be so hasty and so easy, just like Vox had been back then. Well, he should have been prepared.

Logically, Hades should have simply opened the door and given his good brother a warm welcome, perhaps even performing a lively gorilla dance.

But Hades merely stood at the door, his hand on the doorknob hesitant to exert force.

The spiritual energy also stopped on the side of the door.

Death, despair, and annihilation—Hades sensed these three forces.

White mist seeped in through the cracks in the door.

Hades took a deep breath, composed himself, and flung the door open.

"Hey! Die—"

The inhuman shadows and mist descended, and Hades' words caught in his throat.

"Long time no see," Mortarion said wearily. Death looked at the frozen Hades, whose eyes were lined with wrinkles. Mortarion let out a long sigh and patted Hades' shoulder armor.

Mortarion swept past Hades and casually sat down in the only Primarch-sized chair in the room. He sat there, staring at Hades.

【I'm so tired.】

Motalian said that he was not surprised to see Hades turn around stiffly.

"Mota—Motalian?!"

5k, great! That's all!

Chapter 619 Reunion

Hades once pondered a serious question—

That is, what exactly does Mortarion look like now?

Based on indirect accounts from others, Hades believed the answer to this question was not particularly optimistic.

But perhaps they were making a fuss over nothing, Hades thought, for he had seen people who had painted four Primarch pieces.

Perhaps a fully unleashed Mortalian will resemble his demon-ascended pieces.

In his opinion, the Primarch Mo's chess piece model was extremely cool, with a body size a size larger than the regular Primarch, a bone white or Nurgle green paint job, and dazzling large wings, with flames emanating from the incense burner...

Actually, as a DG fan, from an aesthetic point of view, Hades also really likes those flying Nuggets who bring incense burners to the chess piece Mordred. Painting them the same color as Mordred is a pleasing thing to look at.

Of course, Hades thought seriously that this was a matter of his past life; in this life, he would fight any chaotic thing.

More importantly, Hades had only seen pawns in his previous life. Perhaps in the eyes of others who had seen Mortarion, the aura emanating from the Grim Reaper was enough to instill fear in them.

These considerations are unimportant. For Hades, what matters is that he has established a mental expectation so as not to react in a way that would embarrass his old friend.

In fact, if Mortarion really did undergo a second development and become a chess piece-like shape, Hades believed that after blocking his sense of smell, he would genuinely praise him as handsome and touch his wings.

Although Hades can fly, becoming a birdman or a mothman is obviously a cool thing to do, something to celebrate and to fly as many times as possible.

But...but...but...

Weary white mist gathered at his feet. Hades slowly turned around, his trembling pupils focusing—ah, this chair might be a little too small for Mortalian.

Hades thought he might have opened his mouth wide in surprise, but he was wearing a metal half-face mask, which obscured his expression, leaving only his wide-open single eye.

"Mota...Motalian?!"

Hades blinked, then walked over in disbelief, only to see a Death completely opposite to what he had expected—

Unlike the swollen shape of a chess piece, Mortarion was extremely thin, tall and wiry, so thin that Hades believed the Primarch's original flesh and blood had been completely stripped away, and the current Mortarion was merely a skeleton encased in armor.

Hades walked up to Mortarion and naturally spun around.

The armor has also been completely changed...

Hades realized that as a master craftsman, he was familiar with all kinds of Space Marine armor, and the armor currently worn by the Primarch might not even be considered "manufactured" at all.

These bone-white armors grew on Death's body. They looked like bones, but their shape resembled insect shells. Hades even saw protruding stingers and insect limbs hidden under the "cloak," no, under the wings.

Mortarian sat casually, while Death tossed his scythe aside and sized up Hades.

Mortarion tried his best to conceal his perspective in the Warp. In the High Heaven, Death saw a rift, a black hole—an existence that denied his very nature.

Mortarian felt his hands trembling involuntarily, his breathing quickened, and the tiny joints on his gas mask clicked and clattered.

This was an instinctive fear, but Mortarian concealed it well. There was nothing more to say; Death had already anticipated it.

Perhaps to some extent, Mortarian admired his so-called "biological father," and could still maintain that calm and collected demeanor when facing Hades.

In the hazy physical vision of Mortalian,

He saw a Hades who looked even more tired. His once neat white hair was now unkempt, he was thinner, and his eyes were more deep-set. The light in Hades' eyes seemed to have dimmed considerably—Death had seen this transformation in Guilliman before.

He became much colder and more indifferent, more irritable, more sharp, and more tired.

This may also be related to the lower half of the mask Hades wore.

Hades returned after circling around.

Mortarian calmly saw his distorted figure reflected in the smooth silver mask, his mouth sewn shut by metal chains—Hades's aesthetic sense had perhaps improved.

The monsters of the warp are now watching him.

Suppressing the trembling feeling, Mortarian casually spread his hands.

Have you seen enough?

These words seemed to flip a switch. Hades blinked sharply, then laughed, wiping his mask with one hand. The mask disappeared, revealing his familiar silly grin.

"Motalian...?"

Hades said, then suddenly laughed, and he opened his arms.

"I'm totally stunned! Death God, it's been so long, how come you've changed so much?"

“That’s so cool, Mortarion. Why don’t you stand up so I can take another look—are those wings or a cloak?”

White mist billowed from Mortarian's gas mask, as if he were letting out a long sigh or a long exhale, but in any case, Death reluctantly stood up.

The wings, which were previously hidden by the sofa, now revealed their inner sides, showing a bright, ghastly green color. Patterns of anthropomorphic eyes and screaming faces appeared, and the patterns twisted and screamed as they looked at Hades.

Hades chuckled twice, rubbed his hands together, and eagerly reached for Mortarion's wings.

At first glance, Death's wings resembled a cloak, with a dark and hazy outer side and a dazzling array of patterns on the inner side, reminding Hades of the dead leaf butterfly.

"Mota—oh, should I not call you by your name now? How about Death instead?"

Mortarian shook his head.

"No," he said wearily, "Death is also my title; you can use another name."

“Well…” Hades’ voice came from the Primarch’s side. Removing his helmet, Hades curiously touched Mortarion’s wings. The texture was strange, similar to flax and insect scales, but very sturdy. Mortarion might launch these scales like projectiles.

Sensing Hades's restless actions, Mortarion remained calmly in place, his wings fluttering slightly, and then—

call!

Mortarian spread his wings, and the entire hall was plunged into a sea of ​​ghastly green.

"Fuck!"

Hades, who had abruptly stepped back, exclaimed, "Cool! That's so cool, Old Mo!!!"

Old Mo...?

Old Mo is fine...

Hades walked from behind the Primarch to the front with curiosity and excitement. The patterns on his beautiful wings were striking, and he had an excited smile on his face, as if he was thrilled that his good friend whom he hadn't seen for many years had suddenly put on an extremely awesome outfit.

Mortarian let out another long sigh of relief.

Can you fly?

Hades stepped forward and stared intently at the screaming skeleton on the inside of Mortalian's wing.

"You're talking nonsense," Mortarian said calmly, "the dead."

Hades was clearly unconcerned by Mortarian's lukewarm taunts. Hades felt the screaming skeleton looking at him, so he curiously reached out and poked one of the skeleton's eye sockets with his finger.

The skeleton looked at him, screamed, and ran away.

There will be a reaction, huh? Hades had just thought this when the large wing in front of him suddenly slapped him in the face.

"You won't let me touch you?"

Hades drawled irritably, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he stared at Mortarian. Mortarian looked back at Hades, hoping his face hadn't frightened his old friend.

Well, judging from Hades's expression, this person, who is sometimes lacking in aesthetic sense, obviously doesn't care about these things.

Mortarian hoped it was what he thought... and not that Hades was merely trying to avoid embarrassing him. Was Hades pretending? Or was he overthinking it?

He should probably give up on finding the answers to these questions; there are plenty of questions in the world that are far worse than these, so he doesn't need another one.

In fact, after realizing his true nature, no one except the former Lord of the Red Sands has ever commented on Mortarion's appearance—none.