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

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The guards remained silent, merely staring at the visitor. William lifted his foot and stepped onto the first step.

Golden flames ignited around him.

One step, then another, and yet another…

The flowing robe cascaded down from his shoulders, transforming the ordinary gray robe of a civil official into a deep and neat one, with gold threads emerging from his flesh, outlining his ambition.

Climb, climb up!

Pure white down emerged, and He raised His hand, the scepter flowing down like mercury, shimmering brightly.

Getting close to the sun means you're destined to burn.

He was enveloped in flames, his once red hair ignited and turned into flowing, dazzling white, his face changed, and his former friends appeared.

The final stage.

Macardo calmly raised his head and looked at the Emperor, the Lord of Mankind... Neos.

He looked up at the darling of the people.

Nios sat calmly and upright on his throne, his eyes closed, dressed in a white robe, looking as if he were asleep.

That's all.

But that's not all.

He shines brighter than the sun, purer than the moon; He is a miracle of humankind. The cold winds of the Himalayas tidy His hair, the waters of the Nile wash away His tears, and all spirits worship Him, revere Him, fear Him, and love Him.

But it was ultimately a mistake.

They were wrong, and He was wrong too.

How wrong.

The emperor calmly took the final step, revealing his crown, dazzling and radiant.

The Emperor stands opposite the Emperor.

Makado stood opposite Neos.

+Still don't want to wake up?

Makado asked flippantly, then smiled and casually sat down in the chair that had suddenly appeared in front of Neos.

Macado turned his head and casually glanced around.

"The usual, I'd like tea."

He reached out his hand, and the teacup appeared steadily in his right hand. The white-haired king blew on the tea, and the rising steam blurred his face.

He looked at Neos.

"Don't want to talk?"

Makado asked, his smile widening, “I have a complete backup of the Ministry of the Interior’s data—you know what I want.”

Neos's eyelids twitched.

That's more like it... Macado took a sip; it was still the familiar taste, but one he hadn't thought of in a long time...

When Neos opened his eyes, he simply stared at Macado, his eyes devoid of any emotion or light, which reminded Macado of the first time he met Neos.

Neos opened his mouth.

But said nothing.

Macardo calmly watched Neos, awaiting his second attempt—

"why?"

Nios said, his tone finally carrying a hint of disbelief.

"For humanity."

"I no longer agree with you, Neos," Makado said.

Neos looked at him calmly, yet with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Did he have this expression when he was betrayed by each of the previous Warmasters? Macado thought sarcastically. Every immortal who had ever followed the Emperor had abandoned him. Would Macado be the last?

But did he really betray him?

“We are not strangers, Makado.”

Neos said, “I forgive your actions because I know you meant no harm, though your actions have been distorted by the vast ocean—but I know your true intentions.”

"Tell me about it,"

Makado said that he calmly held the teacup in his right hand, and a sign of the Lord of Change was visible under his sleeve.

"It will take some time before it arrives."

The sorrow in Neos's eyes deepened.

"The Primarchs need to be taught their true nature, and humanity needs to be saved from all of this... You never turned to evil... Come back, Macado."

“I’ve always been here,” Macado said. “I’ve never turned my back on humanity, but I’m certainly not happy with you anymore.”

"..."

"Your plan is not for the benefit of humanity."

"You call them humans?"

Makado stated, "You've already lived through the Golden Age, Neos, and you still stubbornly insist on calling them humans? This degenerated race can no longer survive in the galaxy."

Ten thousand years of attempts... ten thousand years of changes... yet this race cannot even establish a system to support their internal affairs. Without Neos, they could not even maintain an empire that could survive for a long time.

They are too inefficient, too dull; they are dregs, embers.

The only race that can continue to move forward and survive in this galaxy is not one of them.

Neos looked at Macado.

Vincent Willem van Gogh, the first person to look directly into the subspace, and the one who went mad as a result.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 607 Makado

【past】

Makado is still alive.

The fact that Makado is still alive is not normal.

This is the conclusion that Mortarion reached after a thousand years.

The story should have been simple: the broken and hazy Pale Lord stood before the Lord of Macragge, and they remained silent for a long time.

A story of a Primarch saving a collapsing edifice, a demigod worn down by time and faith, a colossal giant gradually decaying... until they find the true cure.

This is how it should be.

That's how it should be.

But other forces intervened in this story, a patient and chaotic entity that was well-versed in the empire's bloated and complex systems and had the patience to orchestrate everything.

What exactly does he want?

Killman said calmly and with a weathered look, his white hair hanging down from his temples, looking disheveled.

Mortarian shook his head. He didn't know the answer. Perhaps it was just pure malice, pure chaos, or perhaps only the Lord of Humanity knew the answer to this question.

He emerged from the altar aboard the Glory of Macragge, white mist rising around him, and Mortarion walked toward Guilliman, who had summoned him.

I cannot stay for long—but we will not be noticed by anyone, I have calculated.

Mortarian said sullenly that the battle with Saint Gilles had worn him down too much.

Killieman, sitting in his chair, sighed; blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Thank you, my brother... I should... I should have listened to you then.

It's not too late now.

Motalian's calm remark silenced Guilliman, who paused, then wearily changed the subject.

[I've checked the records. Believe it or not, Mortalian, I'm certain this is the work of the former Sealholder. I can confirm that there are at least five million records with his style.]

He has already eliminated five groups of people suspected of being infiltrated by Makado, but... if he continues to eliminate them, the Empire will not be able to function properly.

He had been infiltrating the empire's bureaucracy... but I—

boom!

Killieman slammed his fist on the armrest, seemingly both angry and sad.

But I didn't see it.

This is your fault.

Mortalian said calmly, "The white mist gathers up, preparing for Guilliman's 'death.'"

[Makado's schemes are no less than any Primarch's, perhaps even surpassing some of ours—but I'm certain that if you maintain the status quo, Guilliman, you will never defeat him.]

【…】

Guilliman slowly raised his head, looking wearily at Mortalian, but his azure eyes burned with a raging fire.

Why do I say that?

Killieman said calmly, but Mortalian felt that Killieman was like a volcano about to erupt.

It's alright, Guilliman can't beat him.

[Because he used psionic powers.]

Mortarian said, ashes dripped from his bone-white fingertips, and he dotted the ashes around Guilliman, forty-nine points.

"[Makado used witchcraft in his political administration,]" Mortarian said sullenly. "Perhaps he had already begun doing so when he was with the Emperor."

These words completely demoralized Robert Guilliman, making the Primarch even more exhausted, with a faint hint of death in his eyes—this was likely a side effect of Mortalian's abilities.

Am I supposed to have my think tank members stand in front of my office, examining every single piece of paper to determine if it's contaminated?

Mortarian lowered his eyes, checking whether the altar he had drawn was complete.

You need to do it yourself.

The Pale Lord said softly, "You need to do it yourself, Robert Guilliman."

I don't understand.

"Accept your true nature," Mortalian said, "Accept this world, at least a part of it, that operates illogically, madly, sensoryly, and chaotically."

Guilliman slowly straightened up and looked at Mortalian.

"Excuse my bluntness," Guilliman said, "Motalian...?"

【? 】

【…】

Guilliman fell silent. For a moment, he was certain that he had heard Magnus say something similar, a feeling that sent chills down his spine.

【……fine. 】

"But what about me?" Guilliman said, raising his hand and looking at himself uncertainly. The Imperial Regent chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I may not have your talents."

Mortarian shook his head, then nodded.

[Robert Guilliman,] Motalian said, ["I vowed to kill every wizard."]

……

Guilliman spoke slowly, very slowly, "My brother, this is no funny joke."

"This is reality," Mortalian said calmly, ignoring the deep sadness in Guilliman's eyes as he looked at him. "It's your turn to tell a joke."

The Lord of Death took a step back, and a white mist suddenly rose up.

Guilliman's vision blurred instantly; his weary soul finally succumbed to sleep. He heard whispers and warnings coming from afar.

I look forward to your return...