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

Page 541

He still couldn't get used to talking to a "god" on equal terms.

Hades understood; he would have done the same at first. When he was talking to Mortalian, he almost broke his neck just to barely see the Primarch's chin.

"You wish to go to Terra, to..."

Calga carefully chose his words: "Oversee Terra's government operations?"

Hades smiled, a hint of weariness in his smile.

"It's to seize power."

He said calmly, “Perhaps most people haven’t seen the crisis yet, but I have. It’s there—and rapidly approaching the Empire.”

Calga maintained the same expression, his jaw clenched, so Hades continued.

He thought of Vox lying in the emergency room; he needed to quickly put the behemoth that was the Empire into operation.

“I think you understand the significance behind this operation. I don’t want to hide anything from you. If you decide to come with me to Terra—then be prepared for war.”

Hades stated,

“I need to purge a portion of the population. War is unavoidable, but I will try my best to control its scale and duration. All I want is control of the empire—in order to deal with the upcoming battles.”

“Follow me, and if we succeed, I assure you, the banner of Calgar and Macuragra will fly over Terra once more…”

This is also to give the managers of the Extreme Warriors some talking points.

Calga smiled.

"Sir, we only want to manage the Five Hundred Worlds well..."

He paused for a moment, then laid out the letter from Terra.

"But the Ultramarines will follow you; this is our unanimous decision."

Even before they had given Pluto a grand welcome, the Ultramarines had already decided to follow him into Terra.

“As you know, the Five Hundred Worlds have always been at odds with Terra,” Calgar said. “Thank you for your reminder. On the other hand, we also hope to… find our father.”

Calga clenched his fist.

They've guarded an empty coffin for a thousand years... Robert Guilliman himself may still be alive, which has caused a huge uproar among the Ultramarines... But... another question arises: should the Ultramarines now refund or compensate those who came to worship because of "false advertising"?

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

The communication with the Ultramarines was pleasant. Hades liked this kind of straightforward approach, where both sides would state their needs and interests, explain their own difficulties, and then exchange ideas.

The Ultramarines even stated that they could bring the World Eaters directly—this World Eater group in the Ultramarines had already established a good relationship with the Ultramarines, and given their friendship, Hades wouldn't need to personally intervene.

A great Ultra Warrior, love from Hades.

Although the Ultramarines' meeting and vote took a long time.

Today is Hades' last day in Macurag. After Vox confirmed that he was alright, Hades decided to go out and take one last look at Macurag, the place he had always been so attached to. He hummed a little tune as Buz pushed his wheelchair, in which sat the limping Black.

As for why not Vox, it's because Vox needs rest... and the Ultramarines don't want biological weapons to spread.

As for why it was Blake, it was because Hades wanted it to be Blake.

Time was tight, and Hades wasn't used to being surrounded by a crowd, so they quickly strolled around the place Mortarion's group had visited years ago. Because of the three Primarchs' visit, the street had been expanded more than twice its original size.

Hades tried the fruit-flavored pancake that was supposedly eaten by Mortalian back then. It tasted good; the light cream was sweet but not cloying, and the tartness of the fresh fruit added a nice touch to the flavor.

Why is Hades so skeptical that Mortarion ate this stuff back then?

Hades imagined that if it were Mortarion, he would probably just glance at it and then shake his head in disdain.

Perhaps Hades should ask Vox to verify the answer to this question.

However, just as Hades was walking down the street, marveling at the beauty of Macragge... he happened to bump into the sons of Hades performing acrobatics.

?

Hades, subway, cell phone.

What did he see?

Hades turned his head, and amidst the bustling crowd, he saw a street sign—"Son of Hades Traditional Culture Road."

???

Where the crowd gathered, the demons wearing helmets fired their ribbon guns into the air. On the marble platform, groups of demons walked out and began to perform a play that combined with high-difficulty acrobatics.

Behind the stage, the underworld figures are playing musical instruments and singing; in the middle of the stage, they are wielding swords and spears; and in front of the stage... they're selling snacks and souvenirs?!

? ! ! !

ah???!

"Booz... what is this?"

Hades pointed shakily into the distance, and he began to feel fortunate that his eyesight was good; at least the distance was sufficient, and the people in the distance had not yet noticed them.

"?"

Boots, who was secretly sparring with Black, looked up, squinting in the direction Hades was pointing.

“Warband tradition, my father.”

What are the traditions of the chapter?

Hades felt his voice trembling slightly, and his scalp tingled. What kind of warband would do such a thing?

Oh, one of his men.

Surrounded by the Ultramarines, Hades subtly took a step back. Galen, the 2nd Company Commander of the accompanying Ultramarines, tried to approach and ask what had happened, but Hades simply shook his head.

"Don't disturb the performance ahead... let's go back and approve the official documents."

Hades quickly retreated behind the crowd; he wasn't yet socially anxious—he was referring to social phobia.

At this moment, Booz opened his eyes slightly, and the former regent realized that Hades seemed shocked by this.

Isn't this a common warband tradition for every member of the Underworld?

As is well known, the Sons of Hades have inherited the fine traditions of the Deathguard, and the Chapter encourages its members to cultivate their hobbies.

Just as White Scar enjoys calligraphy and poetry, Salamander enjoys being with the masses, and Ultramariner enjoys meetings and discussions...

Personal interests and hobbies are permitted within the Sons of Hades organization.

But for individuals, hobbies can be expensive.

Having money in a warband does not mean that an individual is rich.

On this point, the chapter leaders of each Son of Hades have reached a good understanding: the funds are used to buy guns and cannons, not to let these guys squander them.

The soldiers protested, but the commander waved his hand and said, "You have no money, but you can take my life."

It is said that the turmoil in the chapter even attracted the attention of the Death Guard, who asked the Dark Child's management if they needed help—but were decisively refused.

In the second month, the rules allowing individuals to "take on part-time jobs" within the legion were issued.

After a three-month trial period, the rules were changed because the underworld soldiers were taking on private jobs while carrying out their missions, prohibiting them from engaging in violence as a side job.

So the soldiers began to perform for money.

A month later, a large, organized, disciplined, and large-scale joint department emerged, specifically responsible for enabling joint soldiers to earn extra money.

However, subsequent fund tracking revealed that most of the funds were not spent on their own interests, but rather invested in the construction of local cults and donated to local charitable organizations, generally for post-war reconstruction or the introduction of technology production lines.

After realizing that his warriors were quite clear about their bottom line, the leader of the Mingzi's battle group established an inspection team and then fully joined them.

On the contrary, the Death Guard's management approached Hades' son multiple times under the pretext of moral depravity.

However, after Booz took over Terra, the Death Guard tacitly approved of Booz's "fine" tradition after he and Death Guard cursed Booz together, and even produced three different versions of satirical stage plays about Booz.

Although other legions also expressed their incomprehension, as the son of Hades with Hades' blood flowing through his veins, this behavior was seen as part of Hades' human brilliance and was even given the color of praying for Hades' return.

Because in some rumors, Hades is indeed described as "eloquent and active" and "exceptionally clever," and the actions of Hades' son corroborate this view, becoming the basis for many Hades cult followers' academic papers.

This is also seen as evidence that the son of Hades and the Death Guard are opposites.

The reputation of the son of Hades is already peculiar enough; one more wouldn't hurt.

After a performance, the local cult would flourish rapidly.

Hades was deeply shocked as he watched the black-armored warriors in the distance begin to somersault in the air.

This is indeed a continuation of his thinking, but to be fair, Hades wouldn't have done such a thing when he was still a Space Marine.

He would only go to wealthy mechanical sages and complain about being poor.

Perhaps it's because he's too conservative.

"Shall we go and see, Father?"

Booz swallowed the fruit in his mouth. "It looks like they're putting on a third act of satire against me... but I can accept it."

"No—no!"

Hades immediately refused, because if he went over, given his conspicuousness, he would definitely become the center of attention.

You can guess what's going to happen next! Either he'll be forced to give a speech with their eyes on him, or he'll be surrounded by excited ghosts and forced to perform tricks on them.

He didn't want the society to die.

"Don't bother them, I appreciate this tradition."

Hades said quietly,

"But don't contact me for now."

...His intentions were good, and the outcome was good, but he just couldn't bear the shame.

That's all... Midterms are tomorrow, so I'll be posting a little less today.

Chapter 604 Political Fight

Terra

William, carrying parchment that nearly reached above his head, hurried through the document room, down a narrow corridor, and past a noisy commotion that came from behind the private office of the Director-General of the Interior.

The red-haired middle-aged man stopped in his tracks, his blue-green eyes, like the starry sky, looking pleadingly at the guards standing at the door.

The guard's mechanical eyes swept over him.

"William, the hereditary secretary to the steward, has sent an appointment request."

The shouting from inside the door stopped. "Application approved. Welcome, William, the hereditary secretary to the steward." The guard bowed, and the door opened automatically.

"Come in!"

The Imperial Chief Minister, panting heavily, sat in his magnificent chair, documents scattered across the floor of his desk. William glanced at them discreetly, while the young servants who usually attended to the nobles had already hidden themselves in fear.

"May you be well, sir."

Holding the stack of documents, William knelt respectfully, head bowed, and did not rise without the steward's order.

A cold laugh rang out from above his head; a capricious voice spoke.

"You've come to see the joke too? Oh, darling, I see your sleeves are a bit dirty, is it engine oil—or is it from those oil slickers or those stitchers?"

William shook his right hand; it had indeed been grabbed earlier, but he was certain there was no stain left.

“It’s the Star Guard, sir,” William said respectfully. “They want to know if this is true in order to confirm the size of the army they’ve assembled.”

The Assassin's Court and the Tribunal were the first to learn of the [Deceased]'s return. Since the Ministry of the Interior had close ties with these two departments, the Chief Steward also learned of this news.

"Assembling troops?!"

The man's shrill voice sneered, "Are they planning to hold a military parade to welcome him, or are they trying to fight a losing battle?"

William remained silent.

“Sir,” William said sullenly, “open the door and welcome the deceased back.”

"I'd like to!"

The steward's tone shifted, becoming gentle again, "I know what I've done, William, and you know what you've done..."

“The deceased may not have cared about these things,” William continued, “but this position requires us to do so.”

The voice above him fell silent, broken only by the rustling of paper. William heard the rapid breathing of a page somewhere in the vast room.

After a long time,