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

Page 443

On the steel wasteland, the Khan stood on the ground, turned his head, and saw a small figure reflected in the Primarch's sharp eyes. Makado raised his head, gently closed his eyes, and opened his arms.

Before the boy, just a finger's width away was utter chaos. The earth sank as if cut by a knife, and violent, disordered sparks twisted and exploded in the air. Here, heaven and earth were reversed, and time was out of order.

Just a finger's breadth away, everything was screaming and howling, only the figure pierced by the spear was like a lonely island rising from the surface of life, maintaining the last rule.

There was nothing to say. Makado calmly opened his eyes, the boy blinked, and took his first step—

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On the Cadia, two cruisers collided, the explosion as dazzling as falling stars, the aftershocks spreading across the battlefield. The giant ships wailed in silence, their crews engaged in their final battle before death. Countless warships swept past their dying hulls, their cannons blazing as they turned towards the enemy.

In this void battlefield, the sunken warships are as numerous as stars and as desolate as weeds.

Every explosion would result in the loss of tens of thousands of crew members, but the cold space never heard the cries of hypothermia and suffocation.

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On every untouched corridor of the Vengeance Soul, small skirmishes erupted, filled with shouts of loyalty and rage, prayers of devotion and despair, the humming alarms of overheating plasma guns, and the deafening ticking of grenades before they exploded.

Stepping through the crack created by a Death Guard ship crashing into the stern, you see the mortal crew members of the Glory Queen, propelled out by the air pressure. Their mutilated, stiff bodies are thrown into the distant darkness by the airflow, their eyes, which had not yet closed, are already frozen, staring at you blankly or in terror.

You watch them drift into the void.

Compared to them, the explosion of the giant ship before its demise behind them was as small as the sound of a trigger being pulled, so distant and so insignificant.

Still silent.

Blood clung to your feet as you lifted them, venturing deeper into darkness and splendor. Fragments of armor torn apart by the power sword blade, chainsaw, and explosive bombs soaked into finger-thick blood. The Space Marine, even in death, held onto his sword hilt, his intestines and stomach ripped from his abdomen by a heavy bomb.

Intestinal fluid mixed with green bile, dripping from his smooth, waxed armor and mingling with the blood on the ground.

His armor was well-preserved; even the thick bile left only a tear stain on it.

You look at him; his body is piled up with the bodies of his enemies, looking like comrades sleeping in the trenches.

The battle here is long over; the Sons of Horus have abandoned this place. You can hear the Death Guard's silent, hurried march, with only the occasional command being issued.

You continue walking in silence. In a corner, you hear the soft, fearful prayers of mortals. You walk over, and in a darker place, you see the prayers of dying hounds.

Space Marines often achieve swift and decisive deaths in battle, but ordinary people are not so lucky. They are like dirt kicked up by cannonballs, and no one cares whether they live or die.

After the initial landing battles, the war progressed further. The living and able to fight continued to advance, while the dead and unable to move turned into flesh and blood under the feet of the army.

You don't know if they spontaneously found a corner that wouldn't hinder the legion's attack, or if they were dragged there by their comrades from the same auxiliary force. They leaned against each other, slumped about, waiting for their final moment of death.

You hear their whispers, Hades. You blink, and their pale faces, stained with blood loss, show a touch of numbness and a hint of pain. Those who fought to the death to guard the gates of death longed for a clean, painless death, a death free from clamor. You walk over and close your eyes for them.

Leave the corpses behind and move on.

The closer you are to the heart of the battlefield, the noisier it becomes.

The first thing you hear are those deafening battle cries, the words blurred together, leaving only the roars of beasts, even drowning out the booming of heavy bombs and the breath of molten steel. The stench of flesh roasted by power swords wafts through the already cramped corridor, making you want to vomit.

But you've grown accustomed to it all, so you continue on your way. You see beasts tearing at each other, spitting saliva from their roaring mouths, mingling with the glint of swords.

First came the bullets, the small metal fragments spurting from the muzzle without any emotion. Just as if these bullets hadn't torn open the enemy's chest and pierced his heart, swords would have shrieked. If they hadn't severed the enemy's head and cut off his arteries, people would have grappled together, punching and smashing their skulls, smashing their noses into their tough faces, their eyes bulging out uglyly, staring intently at the owner of their fists.

The victor stood up with satisfaction, exhaling a breath of stale air. He shook off the bone fragments and raw flesh from his hands, picked up the sword that had been knocked down by the enemy, and ran towards the next battlefield.

You walk on the battlefield, seeing mortals raise their guns at giant space warriors, seeing the last warrior torn to pieces amidst the enemy's encirclement, death pouring down like a torrential downpour, and you hear a morbid laugh in the distance.

You traverse countless deaths, continuing deeper into the depths, push open a door, and you see Gara.

You stood there, and stopped.

"Coward!"

Gara berated him, one of his shoulder armors completely shattered, a spiderweb-like crack smashed open on his abdomen from which blood was faintly visible, his helmet had been knocked off, and a piece of his face skin had been torn off, revealing writhing muscles.

You can hardly recognize Gara anymore, but his sword is still sharp.

"You and I simply made the same choice!"

Abaddon roared. He looked much more disheveled than Garo, but he was still full of energy. His sword clashed with Garo's sword, sparks flying. It seemed that the two chose to fire at the same time, but Garo was a step faster, and Abaddon's face was covered with new wounds.

Abaddon hissed in pain, the cold air entering his mouth from his scraped cheek. He stared at Garo, his anger surging.

"As son of Horus, I am loyal to Lupecal! This is my duty! It is the glory that I would gladly sacrifice myself for!"

“Coward,” Garo drew his sword and stared at Abaddon. Abaddon’s ability to withstand damage was quite outstanding… In fact, among the Death Guard, known for their resilience, Garo couldn’t find many warriors who could rival Abaddon.

Abaddon's technical skills weren't particularly outstanding, but he possessed exceptional combat endurance. Furthermore, during battle, he could quickly identify and exploit weaknesses in his opponent.

Galo raised his head and stared at Abaddon with disdain. "Abaddon, listen up."

The veteran gritted his teeth, his voice low but clear.

“I am loyal to the Emperor. If Mortarian betrays me, I will kill him immediately and then commit suicide to atone for my sins.”

"You!" Abaddon's pupils trembled as he looked at Garo in disbelief. He was certain his heart had just skipped a beat.

He recalled the division at the Council of the Four Kings. Even Seghanus, who was most opposed to his father, and Loken after him, had never been as ruthless as Garo!

Abaddon instinctively glanced at the other Death Guards. Garo's words were too rebellious, but what chilled Abaddon even more was that these Death Guards, engrossed in fighting the Black Armor, seemed to completely agree with what Garo said!

Galo raised his sword again and slashed down, shouting, "For the Emperor!"

Abaddon's pupils dilated, and deep down, he flinched for a moment.

For Galo, this moment is enough!

With a feint, his sword passed through Abaddon's defensive zone, then slashed upwards. After a crisp sword ring, Garo, gripping the sword with both hands and feeling numb in his hands, saw Abaddon's sword spin and land. His sword did not stop, but continued to thrust towards Abaddon.

Abaddon reacted, pulling his hand away to block and gripping the blade. Abaddon possessed immense strength, but relying on momentum, Gara continued to thrust downwards, simultaneously kicking Abaddon.

Abaddon fell backward to the ground, and Gara followed suit, using her own weight to plunge her sword down with all her might.

squeak--!

In Abaddon's tightly clenched hands, Garo's sword groaned, its sharp tip pressed against Abaddon's nose, and Abaddon could clearly see the blood seeping from his nose.

He looked up and saw a face that looked like a god of death.

Galo's eyes were unblinking, his gray pupils filled with ruthlessness and coldness, and shadows loomed over his face.

Abaddon tried to kick Garo away, but his leg was also blocked by the experienced Garo, preventing him from exerting any force.

Abaddon heard the roar of his comrades, but his companions' attempt to rescue him was thwarted by the Death Guards' even more frenzied sacrifice.

They stood there for half a second, then Abaddon's arms began to tremble, and he saw Gara's face, veins bulging and eyes wide with rage.

His panting mouth gaped open, exhaling breaths as if mocking a demon.

Abaddon felt the muscles in his arms bursting open, he could even feel the blood seeping from his skin, and he just kept going... but death was slowly and irresistibly sliding toward him.

During the struggle, Abaddon felt his hearing organs explode. Amidst a dizzying buzzing, only Gara's unwavering gray eyes were judging him.

The sharp sword tip gradually pierced into the flesh.

For a moment, Abaddon thought he was envious of Gara.

He envied Gara, who could easily articulate the Primordial of Sin and Punishment.

He... No, Abaddon thought of the argument at the Council of the Four Kings. If Seghanus had been a little more forceful, would things have been different?

But that was Horus Lupecal, that was their father.

He was once loyal to, followed for life, and gave everything for.

He couldn't do it, Abaddon couldn't do it.

He could do anything except betray his father; this blood oath was deeply etched into his bones and engraved in the depths of his soul.

He, Izekel Abaddon, will never betray Horus Lupecal.

Abaddon's arm veins burst open, and he felt a piercing pain in his arm. Let go, let him go, end your life, Abaddon.

Abaddon thought with a tremor as he struggled through the chaos, making a difficult choice about Horus, but he was exhausted—the moment he saw Garo, Abaddon knew he was too weary.

His hand slowly relaxed—

boom! ! !

The gate guarded by the Sons of Horus was suddenly slammed open from the other side, which distracted Garo for a moment. Abaddon finally succumbed to his overwhelming will to survive. While Garo was staring in astonishment at the intruder, he pushed Garo aside and rolled down into the ranks of the Sons of Horus.

Abaddon rejoined the ranks, panting as he looked at the intruders through blurry eyes. Only then did he realize that both armies had ceased fire.

He saw... a headless Primarch lying on the ground, its body nearly torn apart by brutal claw marks.

But the body still struggled to climb forward, in a way that was hard for ordinary people to imagine.

Abaddon's pupils trembled as he looked in horror along the trail of blood and saw the head that had rolled away, golden liquid gushing out.

+Death Guard...+ Blood spilled from Luo Jia's mouth, +Quickly...Intercept the Horus fleet...Kadia bombardment. +

Luo Jia's head, lying on its side on the ground, struggled and rolled to Jia Luo's side. Its eyes remained open, unclosed in death, and with all its remaining strength, it uttered its last words.

Horus wants to... take us all down with him... Quick... run... don't... worry about me!

Galo stared in disbelief at Luo Jia's severed head, but then he realized something. Almost simultaneously, Galo tried to report on the channel, but the crackling sound of electricity told him that the radio waves had been cut off.

Without hesitation, Gara immediately led the Death Guards in retreat. Gara retreated, trying to leave, but then a bomb hit his retreat path.

Laughter echoed from the dark corridor beyond the door that Luo Jia had pushed open.

【Luojia... Luojia Orion, we're no longer brothers... so why do you still understand me so well?】

Horus, driven mad, emerges from the darkness.

Gara tried to retreat again, but several more explosive shells were fired, splattering blood as the fearless Corinna, who had shielded Gara from the Primarch's bullets, fell.

This allowed Gara to successfully evacuate the hall. He began to run, while simultaneously calling out to the surrounding fleet as much as possible.

Horus walked out slowly and smugly, holding the scepter of Luo Jia in his hand. At this moment, the shimmering scepter had long since turned into an ordinary stick.

"Go after them," Horus said, casually unleashing a few more blows. The retreating Death Guards fell to the ground. Abaddon immediately responded and led the Black Armored Guards in pursuit.

Horus shook his head, gleefully raised his scepter, and thrust it into Luo Jia's fallen body. The filthy body pierced through the long pole, and then, as if raising a flag, he propped up Luo Jia's body.

Horus hummed a little tune, bent down, picked up Luo Jia's head, held the severed head in one hand, and walked back to the corridor they had come from.

Blood dripped from the severed neck.

You stood there, observing the whole process. You turned your head and looked at the spot where Gara had left. Finally, you chose to walk towards the corridor where Horus had left.

You followed them and heard the chanting of Horus.

Yes, yes, they are all traitors.

Horus spoke softly, his fingers stroking and toying with Luo Jia's bald head as if playing with a skull, yet Luo Jia still possessed flesh and blood. "I have good news for you," he said. "Luo Jia, Guilliman, and Angron's armies are almost here. They're at the outermost edge of the Eye of Fear."

"Traitor," Horus said, pointing a finger at Loka, "traitor, traitor, traitor—"

He lowered his hand, pointed to himself, and said, "Traitor."

You...you can't do this...

Luo Jia was panting.

No, I can.

Horus looked up, gazing thoughtfully at the darkness rising at the end of the corridor. He patted Luo Jia on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Mortarian won't come this way."

[And thanks to your prayers, the evil things on this road came up even faster.]

Horus scoffed, throwing Loka's body to the ground, drawing his scepter, and severing the Primarch's limbs. Then he lifted Loka's head and stared at him.

"Crying...all you do is cry," Horus said. "Isn't this better—if our father can't be cruel, then let me be."

The Horus fleet, orbiting above the equator in the Cardia, awaits silently with its whirlwind torpedoes.

At least I can help him eliminate the traitorous Second Reich, and those beings in the warp will have some peace for a while... As for Sanguis...

Horus was silent for a moment.

[Perhaps he was just confused for a moment? But at least I took most of the supplies from the shadows; they won't pose a real threat to the Empire.]

Horus laughed. "And I...and my fleet..."

His gaze shifted ambiguously to Luo Jia. [Those fleets from the shadows who chose to support me... are also a threat.]

The dark aura was almost at their feet when Horus threw Luo Jia's head onto his corpse, then pierced his skull and body with his scepter, pinning Luo Jia to the ground.

"Very well," Horus said casually, "since you believe in him, I will let him grant you absolute death."

Then the war commander turned and left.

The surging dark waters rose.