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

Page 472

Amidst countless buzzing black stone structures, layers of iron locks inscribed with spells tautly bound the colossal beast within the room.

Amit looked up, staring unabashedly at the Primarch hanging in the middle of the room. He was certainly not some greenhorn who would tremble at the mention of a Primarch. Back in the day, his gun had been pointed at that madman, Conrad Coates.

The Blackrock Iron Chains bound Mortalian like a spiderweb, his Primarch bound in a cross shape, his wings tattered and drooping along with his rag doll-like cloak.

The Pale Lord's deathly pale face hung down, obscuring his expression.

That is the Primarch of the Death Guard.

"everything is normal."

Amit reports.

[02:32 AM]

Above Terra, countless points of light—red, green, and gold—twinkled against the dark night sky. Countless pilgrims' boats were anchored above Terra, even obscuring the starry heavens.

In fact, they came from those stars.

Today is destined to be a bright day that will be recorded in history.

[03:05 AM]

"I have a feeling something's going to happen."

Inside, Severta glanced out the window; the black eyes of the Crow Prince reflected the night.

“The God Emperor will awaken,” the old man behind him coughed, the fire crackling in the stove. “That’s it. I’m already content to see the God Emperor revive before I die.”

Sevita frowned, turned to look at Vincent,

"You're dying."

Vincent shook his head. "My child will take my place—there won't be many ups and downs. It's always been this way under the radiance of a demigod and the leadership of the Imperial Regent."

Sevita gave a cold laugh, his pale face reflected in the glass. He had never shown the Primarchs any respect... except for Mortarion.

Behind him, Vincent was huddled in the old chair, his cloudy eyes fixed on Sevita.

“…I’ve heard that Conrad Coates himself is quite skilled at prophecy,” Vincent said softly. “Did you also see the prophecy, Sevita?”

Blood seeped from his neck. Vincent slightly raised his head, a dagger pressed against his flesh. The old man's breathing remained steady.

"Don't exploit the goodwill your ancestors have built up with me."

Sevita said calmly,

Vincent looked directly into Sevita's eyes.

Do you believe Mortarian is guilty?

“Conviction is a matter for the court,” Sevita said. “I am only responsible for carrying out the execution.”

“I’m too tired today,” Vincent said. “Could Lord Sevita take over the court’s duties for a day?”

“What do you want to do?” Sevita frowned. “Sometimes I can see you clearly, your desires are utterly base—but sometimes I can’t see you, Vincent.”

Vincent shrugged wearily, his age-spotted hands clutching the blanket.

Sevita's dark eyes seemed to devour the old man before him.

"You come from some higher being, don't you?"

"I was manipulated by you before," Sevita said softly.

Vincent shook his head. "I wasn't even born before that; that was my father's business."

The old man, trembling, removed a necklace from his neck; the skull, a symbol of the court, stared blankly at Sevita.

Vincent handed the necklace to Sevita.

“Time is running out,” the old man said. “If you wish to make amends for your previous inaction… Sevita, you need to act quickly.”

The next moment, Sevita vanished, and the old man calmly looked at his severed hand, and smiled.

Have fun, kid.

His words vanished amidst the crackling firelight.

[04:17 AM]

【Storm Starfield】

An endless fleet gathered near a mining planet belonging to the Greiel Forging World, awaiting the final moment.

Alongside an Eldar with the mark of a hound on his face, Two-Face Vox stood beside a mine, the light from the net faintly illuminating his battered armor.

"What message did he receive?" Vox shook his head impatiently and spoke into the channel.

“Tell Faos to send them back.”

“They should focus on real hope now—not here, where others are in charge.”

“If they really want to repay Hades…then build the ship—build the ship quickly, before the war ends, before it’s too late.”

[05:49 AM]

The cawing of crows heralded death in the dungeon.

But unexpectedly, Sevita arrived late.

When he reached the deepest part of the dungeon, he saw Mortarian standing there, slowly stretching his limbs.

In the dark dungeon, a tall, thin, dark figure slowly rose, and for a moment, Sevita felt a chill run down his spine.

Two people stood beside Mortarian.

One of them is the long-dead Gara, and the other is the flesh-tearer Amit.

Sevita opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but he was speechless.

The Pale Lord's gaze fell upon Sevita, seemingly unsurprised by her arrival.

[He still has some conscience.]

Mortarion said that the Primarch wasn't expecting any reaction from Sevita. Mortarion turned to look at Garo, who was radiating golden light.

【Let's go back. 】

Galo nodded and vanished instantly like a phantom.

Sevita felt a tightness in his throat. He had so many questions to ask, and even as a member of the Assassin's Court, there were so many things he didn't know—especially about Mortarion.

"That...that's the power of the God Emperor?"

"Yes and no," Mortarion said calmly, as the Primarch tore off the chains binding him one by one. As the chains came into contact with the Blackstone chains, a putrid stench emanated from Mortarion's hands.

"The old man isn't as strong now; he'll gradually recover after today," Mortarian said. "Only Garo, because he was meant to be mine."

He is my offspring, mine.

“Then…” Sevita’s gaze shifted to the Holy Blood Angel Amit. He was still shocked, but that didn’t stop him from giving a sarcastic smile. “You’ve switched sides?”

The veteran remained silent. "The thirst for blood has vanished."

Sevita's smile vanished.

“Back when we were trapped in the dark side,” Amit said, “you were in charge of cleaning up the scum, so you couldn’t have been unaware of the thirst for blood.”

Thirst for blood is a genetic defect unique to the offspring of Saint Gilles. In battle, as the intensity of the fighting increases, the Holy Blood Angels will gradually succumb to their inner anger and pain—until their wildness completely devours their humanity, turning them into madmen.

"I thought the archangel had hidden these things."

Sevita spoke dryly, but Amit, who had often been rude and provocative towards him, just looked at him sadly.

“No,” Amit said, “it disappeared one day on the dark side.”

"Otherwise, my father would not have allowed the Holy Blood Angels to expand their army on such a large scale."

"So?" Sevita said.

"So... my father's condition might be... not quite right."

"Then why didn't you say so sooner?! Why the hell didn't you say so back then?!"

Sevita slammed into Amit, glaring angrily at him, while Amit bared his fangs without hesitation.

"You dare talk to me like that?! Sevita?! Have you forgotten how long you spent being Conrad's mad dog?!"

Quiet down, little ones.

Mortarian's weary voice rang out. Mortarian grabbed the back of Sevita's armor, lifted Sevita up, and then slowly put him down.

Severa fell silent instantly, as did Amit. Mortarian bent down, his insect-like eyes scanning between the two Space Marines. No one dared to look directly at Mortarian. Over the long years, Mortarian had become increasingly inhuman. His eyes had long been shrouded in a white mist, becoming larger and more like insects.

His joints also became increasingly thin and long.

"Actually," Mortalian said slowly, "Amit only just chose the right side... It seems the Archangel isn't as hopeless as I thought."

Amit swallowed hard; he was starting to get agitated again, craving blood.

The man tearing the flesh gave a cold laugh.

“I am the last warrior to know the past of the Blood Angels—I have personally experienced those hells, so I know… something… is wrong.”

"Tell me, fill in the last gap in my confusion—why was Saint Gilles unharmed? Why was he an exception?" Mortalian said casually. "We still have time; I need to rest here for a while."

Mortarian looked at Sevita, "I think you can guarantee that the dungeon will not be disturbed for the next few hours."

The necklace Vincent had given him lay quietly around his neck, and Sevita nodded.

After receiving an affirmative answer, Mortarian sat down on the small hill made of countless black stone chains and closed his eyes in silence.

Amit's voice continued to echo in the dungeon.

"In fact, during the Great Crusade, the Holy Blood Angels did not advocate the kind of perfection that is now."

Amit paced back and forth uneasily. “We believe in the Golden Angel and the Black Angel. Every Blood Angel has two angels in their heart, one bathed in light and the other soaked in blood. To become a qualified Blood Angel, we need to be both of them at the same time.”

“That’s what the Legion did back then. The entire Legion presented the light to the Empire, but within the Legion, we didn’t shy away from our imperfections either—I once symbolized the bloodlust and darkness of the archangel, while Azcalon represented the light,”

“My father made us fight each other so that we could learn from each other’s battles.”

“You mean to say that the balance has been broken,” Sevita said directly.

“Yes,” Amit said. “At first, I thought we had…lost the Black Angel, lost the bloodthirsty side.”

【but?】

Motalian spoke abruptly.

“But I am not dead, sir,” Amit said. “It was Azcaron who died.”

Amit recalled that before Saint Gilles returned to the Legion, the Blood Angels were the most notorious ghouls in the Legion.

The impulses from their genes turned them into monsters, into creatures who lived by cannibalism... and even found pleasure in it.

This is a taste they inherited from their genes—from Saint-Gilles himself.

As time passed and those who knew the truth passed away, these past events gradually faded into nothingness.

But Amit remembered, he remembered clearly, that he was one of the ghouls back then, who loved to eat corpses and was about to be destroyed by the Empire because of it—until the Legion found Saint Gilles and Saint Gilles rescued them.

Even so, in scattered corners of history, Saint Gilles himself also experienced a desire for flesh and blood.

"Hypocrisy," Mortarian said, "I already know."

Saint Gilles is two-sided.

Mortarian opened his eyes, his gaze vacant, and calmly said, "I should have known."

He didn't break down, he didn't become terrifying, inhuman, or distorted...

No... his other side has long since become unrecognizable.

Mortarian said, "Just one more chance..."

Like two cups connected at the bottom, as water is poured into the pure white cup, the other bloodstained cup is also filled.

That's why Sanguiles was able to last longer than Mortalian... He needed twice the warp power.

This is why his other side became increasingly perfect; Saint Gilles consciously transformed himself into the Golden Angel.

Mortarian fell silent.

He had... he had a sliver of hope for this, though he didn't think it was possible, but what if, what if Saint Gilles was right?

What if Saint Gilles really did show the Pale Lord that possible, better path?