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

Page 506

Two beasts in the highest heavens wrestled and roared at each other, the tyrannical and cunning monsters unleashing a powerful green tide, but their consciousnesses both glanced away from the focal point, the black dot completely immersed in the blinding green ocean.

That was a nightmare that subconsciously avoided and ignored by beings in the subspace.

However, the vast green ocean flows on, with some tributaries consciously flowing out and heading towards the distant garden.

A muffled, wild growl escaped, and Mao Ge and Gao Ge's four beady eyes all turned to look at the little shrimp's prank.

garden?

There are bad guys in the garden stealing their faith!

Yay! That's it!

Sorry for the typo in the previous section. Regarding the units of Tyrannosaurus and Greenskin, the translations of some units are quite inconsistent. A single unit may have different translations, and there are some conflicts between the translations. I got confused.

Chapter 578 I'm Going Crazy

【garden】

Dewdrops rolled down among the drooping, half-decayed grass, their glistening surfaces reflecting a touch of green.

The emerald green was a vibrant, life-giving green, like the branches where cicadas sing in summer, completely out of place on this barren earth.

Once, this decaying land was also lush and green. The stagnant cycle of the three rings never ceased to turn. New life, death, decay—life joined this happy family here, reaping joy and pain in the eternally stagnant years.

However... however, the fruit that He favored, growing from the suffering of all beings and from hidden blind spots, shattered this peace.

The pain, the throbbing pain, the sharp thorns piercing deep into this soil, brought Him painful memories.

The garden is crying.

He is weeping.

The swamp stretched endlessly to the horizon, the bent branches sighed, and the Nurgle slumped listlessly under the tree, with only the occasional buzzing of bees and butterflies fluttering their wings.

In a bloated, festering blackness, plague and maggots laid out a withered carpet for Him, and the pain of the end lingered and wept constantly. The boiler with a large hole groaned hoarsely, and His wrinkled, swollen hands gripped the cauldron ladle tightly.

He sobbed, his dim, yellowed eyes, filled with grime, anxiously caressing his garden, laboriously scooping up spoonfuls of soup from the pot and splashing them onto the sick soil.

The moths that once adored and favored Him bit off His blood and His flesh. The cocoon broke open, and the reformers raised their scythes of revolution against Him.

Beside His fat, unseen feet, the broken shackles stared silently at Him, just as she had once, silently weeping and shaking her head, yet unable to refuse His medicine.

But she also ran away.

She was hurriedly taken away by her offspring, who also took the newborn from the Third Ring Road with them.

She was prepared.

The word "new life" is missing.

Before He could stop Him, He was torn from His life by the Reformers.

Tens of thousands of Space Marines, hundreds of millions of warriors, stormed into the Garden, burning, killing, and looting, raising the banner of the Innovator, absorbing His power like a tumor.

The cells He once carefully nurtured have long since transformed into greedy and tyrannical cancer.

A long, desperate cry echoed across the vast ocean; authority was torn off, and pus gushed forth.

The vast ocean began to churn violently, and the gazes of the others turned toward it, but they merely watched.

The power of [Nurgle] ​​has not diminished.

But "Nurgle" is not necessarily the same "Nurgle" it once was.

A usurper can also be a [foul].

Those who possess authority are called "Naguru".

The loving father wept, weeping for his unacknowledged child and for his hastily departed wife. He cast forth his curse, and a garden grew, binding the two who had parted ways.

He remains the Father of this land; He is stagnation, despair, and eternity.

If the rebellious child refuses to bow his head, if the departed wife refuses to turn back, then they will decay together until the end!

He looked lovingly at his dead child and his wife lost in the forest of life, and He tirelessly brewed His medicine and poured out His curses day and night.

He felt pain, but if this was eternity, then He accepted it gladly.

however……

At the edge of the withered garden, a series of reckless footsteps sounded, and a giant beast roared as it noisily rushed into the garden.

He saw the long-dead Reformer slowly rise, a familiar smile on his lips—a smile He had seen before when the Reformer was tearing at His authority in a desperate act of self-destruction.

Two enormous, verdant beasts appeared, trampling onto the garden's lawn.

He heard that roar that made him dizzy and desperate.

+WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH, you fat green bastard! Get out here, you idiot!!!

He saw in despair that the aura of a wild beast clung to His disobedient child.

Mortarian laughed, scooped up a handful of soil from the garden, swallowed it, and the decaying soil was tainted with the scent of green.

A reformer who never follows the rules...

"It's now!"

Karas roared into the channel, "Follow those two gusts of green wind!!!! Bring your incinerators!!! Ignore the greenskins popping out of the ground—the Nurgle army is the highest priority! Next are the disobedient Eldar!!!"

"Find my Lord! Bring my Lord back! Then retreat!!!"

----------

【C￥m%%？ r&）*】

The jeweler, seemingly bored, placed a piece on the large, irregular chessboard, which stretched out in two layers, upon which stood countless pieces of all sizes.

Now, the lower chessboard is violently shaking. A huge, bloated piece that can no longer be called a piece is shattered into three pieces, its fragments barely touching it, but seemingly about to drift away.

[They really know how to have fun.]

Conrad smacked his lips and commented as such.

[Bringing green saplings into the garden? No wonder the tyrant valued them so much before.]

He glanced at the chessboard again. [It's a complete mess.]

A small, dazzling crown adorned the Lord of the Night's long hair, while countless pearl and diamond necklaces cascaded around his neck. On the jet-black velvet, sparkling diamonds illuminated the night, and shimmering silk, hidden beneath the opulent fabric, resembled swimming fish.

The gaunt man opposite him rolled his eyes, said nothing, and put down his chess piece.

Do you think the "monster" will come to save us?

Fu Gen, with his head full of dry hair, shook his head. The once phoenix was now withered and emaciated, his lips cracked, his skin pale, and he wore a plain-colored blouse covered with patches, looking like an ascetic monk who had practiced for thousands of years.

Conrad's completely black eyes stared at Fugen, and after a while, he pursed his lips.

"Boring," said the Lord of Night, calmly picking up another piece. "It's back. Even if we don't like it, at least it freed us from that tyrant."

[...He can hear.]

A hoarse voice rang out, and Fugen spoke softly.

"I know He can hear me," Conrad said with a smile, "but He doesn't care. Maybe He'll use us as bait? Using past friendships and the value of a Primarch to lure that monster."

Fugen glanced at Conrad, then shook his head firmly.

We are not worthy of each other.

He said hoarsely,

"That's true," Conrad said thoughtfully, "Perhaps Mortalian can—no—not so sure..."

The Lord of Night picked up the chess piece in his hand, narrowing his eyes with interest. It was a fragment, a small, levitating object with several curved, sharp horns on its head.

...fraudster.

Where did He get all this...? Was He just watching the show, or was He involved?

Conrad muttered to himself as he threw his piece onto the upper chessboard, onto the edge of a dark patch where the greenskins were gathering.

The laws of the subspace and the physical world are not the same. Ten thousand years ago, the High Heaven had already lost the chance to turn the tide, but this does not mean that there is no chance in the physical world.

They certainly wouldn't allow such a precious individual to disappear; destruction would certainly mean the end of everything, but replacement is not entirely impossible.

At least a physical alternative to thought exists.

He has been waiting for it; at the very least, He will observe.

Fugen cautiously said, "But I don't know why, or what He really wants?"

Coates, however, scoffed at this.

If He knew what He wanted, He wouldn't be a tyrant. Madmen don't know what they want; they act only on a whim.

"And I know it all too well," Conrad said with a sly smile.

Fugen ignored Conrad's usual bout of madness.

Has He really gone mad? Or is He just playing chess?

"No being can retain its identity after ascending to heaven," Conrad said casually. "You and I have witnessed the tragedy of Saint Gillespie; have you forgotten how He reprimanded us?"

Then He...

"He delights in madness," Conrad said. "It seems our Father pushed Him too far; He's gone completely insane, indulging in power, deceiving each other with a bunch of charlatans, hasn't He? Otherwise, why would He give Him such an absurd name—"

This subspace being is called the Emperor.

----------

[Sector near Semisis]

"Defense! Defense!!!"

Kriptman shouted at the top of his lungs, but like the last domino, everything collapsed, and they were powerless to stop it.

This foreign greenskin force far exceeded their expectations, with dozens of giant spaceships, thousands of large and small spaceships, and countless greenskins...

Overwhelming power and cunning, the Greenskins skillfully employed various tactics to divide the war zone and devour the surrounded Imperial armies one by one.

The Bonecrusher army expanded rapidly, centered on the Semisis sector, and within just a few weeks devoured four surrounding sectors.

The greenskins were not in a hurry to enter the interior of the Orctalius star system. Instead, they patiently eroded the impenetrable defenses, as if they wanted to replace the human empire's defenses.

Kriptman didn't understand why the Greenskins were doing this, but he knew all too well the cost of breaching the defenses and allowing them to be eroded.

The judge struggled to climb into the trench, his face pale as he looked up at the front lines. His guards were urging him to board the ship and leave this land.

Amidst the raging gunfire, he saw the last Titan collapse with a deafening roar, turning into a dazzling display of fireworks as it was besieged by a dozen or so green-skinned trolls.

It's over, it's over.

Kriptman's lips trembled. This was the fifth sector already. He had watched helplessly as all five sectors fell. The "Unbreakable Defense" plan had completely failed. The fall of the five sectors had torn a huge wound that would never heal.

Even though Tyrion's tentacles seem to be retreating, it may just be a temporary illusion!

"Sir! Please board the ship immediately!!!"

Krippleman was roughly ripped off and dragged towards the shuttle. "No—no no no!" the judge roared, "Let me die here—there's no chance anymore! Let me die here! Die here in battle!!! Let me go!!!"

He collapsed to the ground, gazing helplessly at the sky. It was all in vain; death was only a matter of time. He had failed.

His cloudy eyes reflected the blood-red sky, where fighter jets soared through the air and crashed amidst gunfire, and a faint black shadow peeked through the bright sky.

"Notification, notification, notification," a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out from the communication channel, "All war zones, evacuate immediately. Bombing will begin in thirty-five seconds."

"Thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three..."

This is not a voice he recognizes!

Krippleman jolted awake, grabbed the communicator, and roared at the mechanical voice, "Who are you?! Your numbers! In the name of Inquisitor Krippleman, what are your numbers?!"

However, the mechanical voice ignored him and continued its relentless countdown.

The Imperial warriors, still fighting desperately, were clearly momentarily confused; the orders had not come from their superiors.

Twenty-three, twenty-two...

A crackling, crackling sound suddenly filled the channel, followed by a gasp. Someone then took over the communication.

"Warriors of the Empire,"

A majestic voice rang out, the voice fast and clear.