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

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Chapter 524 The Fall of Makado

This is really bad.

Macado walked on the Kadia, heading towards the small, dark figure.

In the struggle between chaos and the underworld, this space has long been shattered. Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste—Macardo's senses are leaving him, drifting out of his body and dispersing into the enormous, multicolored vortex.

He was, literally experiencing the warp, experiencing madness itself.

Only then did Makado realize the full extent of the Warp. He stared into the Warp, and the Warp stared back at him. Humanity was still too narrow-minded; they could not comprehend these things—all of this—everything—eternity—

Makado screamed.

He fell into the center of a caterpillar that writhed and twisted like a train, gravity shifting like a Rubik's Cube in a beginner's hand. Cream dripped onto his nose, and trillions of blinded people were shouting and clapping at him. They were yelling—

Al! Al! Al!

That was part of his former name, but before Makado could pull himself up from the cliff, he fell into the sky again. At the end of the sky was an endless, dazzling ocean, and his gradually enlarging figure was reflected in the dark eyes of the birds.

He was helpless and tried to grab something. In his upside-down vision, he saw the crazy lower realm, where life grew up layer by layer like gorgeous mushrooms, and greedy giant beasts were chewing them.

The birds reached out to pull Macado, who was flying, away from this madness—

Makado's eyes reflected the shadows in the mushroom patch, that true darkness, so well hidden, like the last trash can in the endless city. He remembered what he had come here for.

He came to rescue people.

He was already prepared, and he was brimming with power.

Macado awoke with a start. The first thing he remembered was his own voice. He shouted an incantation, and the power and pain from the Four Gods rescued him from the chaotic sea of ​​warp. Even the most insane power is more ordered than true chaos. He fell again, plummeting toward the earth.

boom!

Macado crashed to the ground, nearly falling apart. He weakly stared at the sky above him, expecting to see the frenzied birds and the ocean, and then be pulled into a new wave of madness. But in reality—

Mona Lisa is smiling at him.

He recalled the day he had taken the emperor to visit his residence.

The seal-bearer's house always has some good stuff hidden away. It's Makado's personal hobby, a bad habit, but there's nothing wrong with it. Compared to the extermination order he signed in three seconds, hanging a Mona Lisa on his own wall is always harmless.

However, he obtained this Mona Lisa after killing an immortal being.

The mysterious smiling lady hangs directly opposite the dining table, and she watches him with a smile whenever he "cooks" the next immortal being at the table.

There was nothing wrong with that. At that time, he was obsessed with power and wanted to stir up trouble on Terra. Therefore, it was perfectly normal for him to invite some of his enemies over for dinner and kill them along the way.

But one day, things were different. The immortal sat at the other end of the table, sipping red wine and gazing thoughtfully at Mona Lisa.

That was the emperor. No, he wasn't the emperor then, and Macado wasn't the regent of the empire.

"I'll give you one of my other self-portraits."

Nios swirled his wine glass, while Macardo raised an eyebrow, staring at the Mona Lisa on the wall before turning his gaze back to Nios.

"Is this you?" "Yes, it's me."

Macardo coughed violently, but that made sense; few people in human history could do something so memorable—but the Emperor was certainly one of them.

And so does Mona Lisa.

Therefore, the probability that they are the same person is not zero.

Macardo pursed his lips, maintaining his expressionless face. "It is said that Mona Lisa stopped smiling after her son's death. It took Leonardo da Vinci a long time to bring her to smile again and to capture that moment in a painting—that is why Mona Lisa is so magical."

“This is—” Macado shifted his gaze back to the Emperor’s smile, “fake?”

“Fake,” Neos said. “I smile because I see topless women throwing ketchup at this painting five hundred years from now.”

Macardo paused. "Absurd," he said in a low voice.

“What’s even more absurd is you,” Nios said, turning his gaze to Macardo, behind whom hung another treasure from the Imperial Regency’s collection—Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

“Reunify all of human civilization,” Neos said, “and establish a human empire.”

This is what Macardo said to Neos when he met him.

Makado looked at Neos with a somber expression, and lowered his voice, “You can do this…the moment I saw you…I knew this was your business—this crown can only be yours.”

Before this, Macardo would have unrealistic fantasies, perhaps that he would be the one to stand up, but after seeing the Empress, he knew everything that followed—it could only be him.

Macardo turned his head to look at the painting "Sunflowers," though he actually preferred the "Mona Lisa."

“You’ve already done that, haven’t you?” Macado said softly, “...including foreseeing me. I suppose you foresaw this?”

Neos nodded without saying a word.

"Did you foresee my death?" Macado said, looking at the Emperor with interest. He too had predicted his own death—it seemed he would be burned to death by some kind of metal-infused flame that turned him into a golden fire.

Neos said something vaguely,

"Uncertainty still exists in this world,"

Makado laughed. "The subspace is pervasive throughout time. We exist simultaneously in the past, present, and future. Once born, death is also predetermined."

“No,” Neos shook his head, “you haven’t encountered those beings yet…you will understand…or you may be lucky or unlucky and never encounter them.”

Macardo hadn't understood what Neos meant at first—but until he saw the figure—the bastard who rushed up yelling "Old Ma! Old Ma!"—the Imperial Regent realized, this was it.

Makado realized that changing one's fate might not be a good thing.

At least he was satisfied with his fate of being burned at the stake—for a psionicist and a wizard, being burned at the stake was a return to his true nature.

Makado silently shook his head. He didn't know what Neos was talking about, but Neos was always like this; he was used to it.

"You should get ready, Neos."

"The warp won't be peaceful for long," Makado said. "You need to reclaim Terra, ally with Mars, and then launch an expedition."

Neos looked away from "Sunflower" and turned to Macado.

How will humans view us?

Neos asked, and Makado replied impatiently,

"The true savior of mankind, the master of mankind, the monarch of the empire—" Macardo laughed, "a tyrant, a foolish ruler, the instigator of war—"

Neos said slowly, "Madman."

The Lord of Mankind continued to stare unhurriedly at "Sunflowers," saying, "Do you have 'The Potato Eaters'? It's time to get a new one."

“No,” Macado said. “A painting of plants is far more likely to be preserved than a painting of pity for the poor.”

“Well,” Neos said regretfully, “in the eyes of people at the time—Vincent Willem van Gogh was a madman…and he was indeed mad enough.”

The information in Neos's words made Macardo frown. "You've had contact with Van Gogh?"

Did you know that Van Gogh once sponsored a poor, destitute prostitute? Actually, that was me—

"I'm not interested in the artist's personal story."

Macardo coldly interrupted Neos, who then regretfully resumed tasting the wine.

“I know what you’re trying to say—that geniuses of the past were confined by their times and were therefore seen as madmen, but you and I both know that we no longer care about the opinions of others.”

Makado said, urging again, "We need to act quickly, time is running out."

“No,” Neos said, staring at the painting “Sunflowers,” a mixture of different shades of yellow twisted together into a few sunflowers in a vase, their petals contorted and exquisite, unlike any ordinary sunflower. “Macado, have you seen ‘The Starry Night’?”

“I’ve seen fakes,” Macardo replied impatiently. “I don’t want to talk about that with you, Neos. I mean—we have more important things to do right now.”

“You should be more patient, Macardo,” Neos said, staring at Macardo.

"Vincent Willem van Gogh was the first person in human history to observe subspace and record it in the form of paintings."

Makado froze. "What?"

So Neos repeated his words, “Vincent Willem van Gogh was the first person in human history to observe the nature of subspace and record it in the form of paintings.”

“He’s painting the subspace,” Neos said. “Those twisted brushstrokes, the tentacle-like bushes, the morbid humans—he’s painting the subspace, Macado.”

Neos stood up and walked to the painting "Sunflowers".

"So he went mad."

"He was on the verge of collapse just from looking directly into the warp," Nios said.

“You need to understand what we’re about to face,” Neos said. “Vincent Willem van Gogh was the most conscientious and persevering human being I’ve ever met, but he went mad simply because he was looking into the warp.”

Neos reached out, his hand stopping in front of the sunflowers, as if caressing the petals of the flowers.

“The Warp is far more dangerous than you and I can imagine, and we will inevitably become its enemy. We will not only look at it directly, but we will raise our swords against it.”

"They will haunt you forever—they will curse your father, your ancestors, every branch of your bloodline, your descendants will be under their gaze, and your closest friends will be tempted to leave—"

"In the end, you will fall into real madness and become one of them, or you will fall into the mire and become a slave under their feet."

Neos held his wine glass. "Those with a conscience will choose to commit suicide before they truly fall, but someone will always fall."

Neos stared at Macado, his golden pupils burning fiercely, and golden tears of pity dripped from the corners of his eyes...

Macado's cheeks turned cold, and he instinctively reached out to touch the golden teardrops on his face.

"We will both fall eventually."

Those words echoed in his ears for the last time. Mona Lisa was gone. Macardo coughed as he stood up. He instinctively reached for a cane to lean on, but then realized that such a cane did not exist.

“I already said I did it voluntarily,” Macado murmured as he continued toward the imprisoned Hades, having already passed through the most chaotic area.

But he had already been captured.

It wasn't the Four Gods, but the Warp itself, just as the Lord of Man truly feared—he feared the power of the Warp would make him the Lord of Darkness—this wasn't done by the Four Gods, it was the law of the Warp.

The Dark Lord is not Neos, a fact known to both Makado and Neos.

The area he had just passed through further amplified Makado's subspace projection. He was like a helpless jellyfish filled with fresh water, being squeezed and burst by the concentration difference in a high-salt environment, roughly stuffing in more psionic energy.

Macardo and the Emperor are essentially human, unlike the Primarchs created specifically for this purpose.

Makado's subspace resistance is still too low.

When you have accumulated enough warp power—this is bound to happen, it's just a matter of time.

Makado felt a call from some power; the warp had opened its doors to him, beckoning him to become something else, something higher, something no longer himself.

He moved slowly toward Hades, but the Dark Realm still hadn't returned.

Macardo was also unable to spare the strength to resist this process; he needed strength—he needed to save Hades.

He needed to fulfill the promise he made to Neos—that they would save humanity—and for that he accepted whatever the consequences might be.

Macardo felt himself breaking, being torn apart, his future being reassembled, his existence being reshaped, his soul turning into particles to rebuild another existence.

He felt himself screaming uncontrollably, and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. But in reality, Macardo's last great will was still supporting him as he walked, though Macardo himself probably didn't even realize it.

In his mind, he was screaming, turning into dust amidst the raging flames.

Every fragment of his remains floated in the warp, reassembled by the psychic tides, molded into a shape more suitable for its location—

He finally arrived there. This time, Hades saved him. Even though that fool abandoned his physical body for food, he at least knew to leave himself a dark domain protective circle.

Makado practically collapsed in the dark domain. The concentration here was just right, but he had to keep going. He couldn't let this power dissipate; he needed it.

Meanwhile, Macado's entry into the final Dark Realm also disturbed the Dark Realm aboard the Soul of Vengeance, where the Dark Realm began to slowly recede...

Before Makado, the enormous black-armored giant knelt, his head bowed, his shattered face expressionless, like a god waiting to be awakened.

A massive, spear-like chaotic spike pierced his back and chest, pinning him firmly to this land.

Makado took a deep breath, walked over, and yanked the Emperor's Finger Bone out of Hades' neck; the finger bone was now dull and lifeless.

Without the slightest hesitation, Makado poured all the imperial power he possessed into that finger bone.

Then Macado casually tossed the necklace back into Hades' armor, giving Hades' face one last, complicated look.

Yes, she was still sleeping peacefully.

The white-haired youth circled around to Hades' back, examining the long arrow: blue feathers, blood bones, decaying teeth... Chaos had gone to great lengths to seal this monstrous demon king.

Irregular black blood cracks spread from where the long arrow pierced, like shackles of a sealing spell, spreading across Hades' armor.

Even in the dark realm, the long arrow still exuded an extremely strong chaotic aura, a power that suppressed Hades, making it difficult for him to awaken.

This was his destination. Makado carefully climbed onto Hades' back and reached out to grasp the blood-spine-covered weapon.

"Hades... Hades..."