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

Page 440

But that's not enough—that's not enough—

The phoenix cried out in anguish, for the lust in its mouth was not sweet enough, not tempting enough!

You need to be on par with Slaanesh!

The giant bird of flesh and blood struggled, and with a sudden increase in the volume of its roar, layers of flesh and blood peeled away, revealing white bones wrapped with jeweled silver chains.

In a daze, He uttered the true name of that being—

Something turned its head.

Vast, slow, dull, it gradually ceased its gluttonous feast, and a surge of "looking" toward the source of the sound.

It saw a phoenix.

What a beautiful being she was! Her colorful feathers shimmered with a thousand kinds of light under the waves of the highest heaven, and her exposed white bones were as smooth as works of art. She was adorned with precious jewels and wrapped in layers of light gauze. She was the only goddess of beauty in the mad and turbid highest heaven.

The greedy underworld waters began to recede, revealing the ravaged foundations of Slaanesh's palace.

As the tide receded, the highest heavens dimmed for a moment, as if they had breathed a sigh of relief.

"cough!"

Macardo gripped his scepter tightly, leaning against the altar. His hand, which held the scepter, was already showing white bone. Macardo's eyes were bloodshot, and at his feet, blood was slowly flowing down the golden inscriptions.

The entire Soul of Vengeance was trembling. Before anyone knew it, a thick fog had filled the entire space. Under the shroud of white light and fog, the hideous, fleshy behemoth in the distance was howling.

The old man stared at the giant beast in the mist, his hands trembling as if he were waiting for something.

Until the first cold drop of liquid fell on his shoulder.

He didn't look up. Was it because he was afraid? The ceiling of the entire hall had long since transformed into something else, a twilight before the arrival of certain beings, a darkness pressing down on the hearts of every spellcaster.

Thick, penetrating droplets fell, piercing straight through his flesh, bringing with them a chilling, piercing pain, as they cheered as they drained his soul.

Makado stood silently on the altar, rooted to the spot like a nail.

But at the same time, the scepter in his hand began to rise slightly—

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"Your scheme is too crude," Horus said calmly, his warhorse, the Soul of Vengeance, neighing violently, but Horus showed no regret as he swirled his wine cup.

I feel sorry for my younger brother—he could have had better options.

He can distinguish right from wrong... I will offer him my sincerest admiration. Luo Jia said, "And the schemes you speak of..."

This is something we all know; it's cooperation.

Luo Jia said, staring thoughtfully at the wine in his glass, "Whoever is more willing to sacrifice and throw in more effort will be one step closer to success."

"One Makado?" Horus said sarcastically. "Not enough."

"The entity behind you isn't of the same mind either," Luo Jia mused, slowly rising from the armchair as he sensed the calamity descending from the warp. The Primarch gripped his scepter. "Besides, you've always underestimated Makado, haven't you?"

Luo Jia said softly, "You can't understand his determination."

Horus glanced at him. [I thought we could reach an agreement, Luojia.]

Never.

Horus shifted his gaze; an attack warning came from the data cable.

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Macado abruptly raised his scepter, and the golden chains extending from the altar beneath his feet snapped.

Almost simultaneously, the phoenix on the altar let out a painful cry, and countless sharp claws emerged from the enormous creature, instinctively trying to tear at the remaining chains.

Roars echoed from the other altars, but they quickly faded into the fog.

A giant shadow appeared in the fog.

Without the slightest hesitation, Makado immediately rushed towards the center of the altar, spitting blood as he ran, his scepter emitting a sharp shriek, and fierce golden flames dancing wildly in his hand.

In the center of the altar, the chains broke, flesh and blood began to collapse, and the forces that had been clinging to it fell like an avalanche after losing their external forceful gathering.

"Fugen!!!"

Macardo let out an urgent call. As he ran, Macardo's face began to change; his wrinkles faded, his posture straightened, and his voice became clearer and crisper.

He began to chant, the true name of the emperor's third son, stumbling and running past the enormous chunks of flesh and bones, parkour-like weaving through the volcanic eruption of blood.

He left those angry roars far behind—the attacks that tried to get forward were also stopped by Mortarian, but those attacks were far from serious.

Among the hollow ribcage of the dragon-like skeleton, he saw the white-haired figure being dragged into the dark swamp.

Without uttering a word, Macardo remained expressionless as he raised his scepter, the spikes at its base scorching hot, and thrust them toward the collapsed Fuggen.

Spikes pierced the riddled body, flames ignited, and the flames fought with the underworld water for flesh and blood.

The word "thank you" seemed to float into his ears, or perhaps "why," but Makado didn't care. He immediately put away his scepter and rushed towards the direction where the fog was thickest.

Mortarian was waiting there.

Mortarion's hand emerged from the mist, gripping Macado's hand tightly. Using warp teleportation, he hurled him into the distance. Macado heard the High Heavens' delusions, but to him, they were no longer of any importance.

He fell heavily onto the deck of the White Scar ship, face down, and Makado spat out blood mixed with broken teeth. "No respect for elders or children at all," he said, taking the hand of White Scar Yesugei to help him up from White Scar's altar.

The different sensations he felt told Macado that White Scar's fleet was now accelerating at full speed.

Yesugei stared at this completely different, younger, and more arrogant Makado; the old man now looked like a sixteen or seventeen-year-old youth.

Macardo ignored the white-scarred warrior. He opened the hand that Mortarian had just grasped, and a roughly crumpled piece of parchment appeared. Macardo sighed again, paused for a moment, and then eagerly unfolded the parchment.

Elegant, scholarly handwriting appeared before him.

The ink from Terra at longitude 2.2 and latitude 48.52... Makado thought, it really was his favorite ink.

He read quickly, and with each word he read, that word immediately burst into flames. When he finally finished reading, the entire parchment and his left eye burst into flames, a blazing blue fire.

Makado covered his burning eye, bent over, and laughed maniacally.

The youth's laughter carried far, but those busy with the naval battle hurried away, as if they couldn't see Makado.

Yesugei also received the Khan's order and hesitantly withdrew. White Scar now needed to focus on the naval battle with the War General in order to get Makado onto Cadia.

The teleportation array could only connect to the White Scar fleet; Cartier was completely consumed by the divine psychic energy.

Makado laughed, a painful laugh, a laugh that almost made him convulse.

The hem of his robe was gently tugged at his feet.

Macado managed to straighten up and saw the little creatures at his feet, the small Death Guards leading the Nurgles behind them, looking up at him.

Makado shook his head painfully, then nodded.

"Does he think everyone is like him?"

But his hand still reached out, and Macardo grabbed the Nurgle. Herpes quickly appeared on his hand as Macardo stared at the struggling Nurgle watching him—

Opened his mouth.

Drops of fishy liquid splattered on the ground. The little death guards at Macado's feet silently watched all of this. When Macado finally began to gag, one of the little death guards opened its hand and waved it upwards.

"...You can always try a different approach."

Macado said weakly as he reached for the little Death Guard. Before he finished speaking, the little creature in his hand turned into billowing white mist, which drifted out from the gaps in his armor and enveloped Macado.

The remaining armor quickly turned to ashes and scattered between Macado's fingers.

Makado took a deep breath and finally recognized the smell inside the Mortarian gas mask. He couldn't help but gag again, coughing and gagging, occasionally letting out a few laughs.

A barely audible soliloquy began to emanate.

“…Fuck you…” Macado vomited, trembling as he propped himself up with his scepter, “…Hades…this time I’ve gone all out.”

Yay! That's all!

Chapter 518 Mortarian First Fall

The fireball exploded, and the debris of the ship was scattered by the shockwave, flying into the void and instantly transforming into a burning, sunken giant island.

The blazing firelight reflected off the mechanical surfaces, and Tarachin watched the human naval battle with great interest.

"They deliberately let you escape?"

Behind Taracin, Macado rested with his eyes closed, looking dejected, leaning back in his chair.

The ship shook violently, and rubble fell from the ceiling.

"Otherwise what?"

The white-haired youth said impatiently, "Do they really intend to make the Soul of Vengeance its vessel, to be buried with this foolish plan of luring dogs?"

Taracin turned his head 180 degrees, his electronic eyes gleaming green.

"But Hades is indeed on the Vengeful Spirit right now, and I don't think he has any plans to leave anytime soon?"

“It won’t be for long,” Macado said wearily, rubbing his temples. “If I pull out that arrow, the Dark Realm will be anchored to a physical body again.”

“I’m a little confused,” Tarachin blinked his fluorescent green eyes in a human-like manner, “Do they want you to pull out the arrow?”

“No,” Macado opened his eyes slightly, his gaze unreadable, “They want me in Cadia to lure it away—to lead it back to the sealed place and reseal it.”

Taracin stared at Makado. "But who will make the move?"

Makado looked back at Tarasin, but did not answer him directly. "Alfa told me that he is no different from me."

Tarasin suddenly raised the Machine God Axe in his hand; the blade, a replica of the Martian cult's axe, glowed with a greenish hue.

Makado stared calmly at him and continued,

"The Lord of Mankind once prophesied that a powerful psionicist would taint the Eye of Fear with the color of chaos—we all thought it would be Magnus."

“Makado…” Tarasin said softly, the axe blade reflecting half of Makado’s face, “Are you loyal?”

“Loyalty,” Macado waved his hand impatiently, “but you should give me some time. I’m fighting them for control of my soul.”

Makado's gaze passed over Tarasin, his brow furrowed as he stared out the observation window, as if he knew something. The old man shook his head.

"...Let him be."

Before Taracin could say anything, Makado closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.

Tarasin paused for a moment, muttered a few words, then turned back to stare at the explosions and fireworks from the human ships, connecting the explosions with his fingers on the glass.

The pearl-white steed galloped forward, heading straight for the star of no return.

Half an hour later, Macado was dragged and pulled onto the shuttle to the next star.

Deep inside the cabin of the hastily launched shuttle, the white wolf's eyes shone brightly, and the jade bracelet on his sheepskin coat swayed with the turbulence.

The Khan will personally escort him to the finish line.

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The moss-green ships, like daggers, pierced through the overwhelming fleet of warships. The exploding meteor showers enveloped the Death Guard fleet, and with the thrust of their engines, they continued to surge into the Warlord's fleet.

One explosion after another lit up the sky, forming a continuous river, illuminating the path of the Death Guard's suicidal charge. The Fourth Knight, leading the charge, held its head high, and the Death Knight on the skeletal horse raised his spear, forcefully tearing a path through the air.

During this time, many Death Guard ships hidden behind the meteorites were attacked and severely damaged. Knowing that they could not keep up with the formation, the ships automatically broke away, slammed their side engines to full power, and charged toward the overwhelming fleet of the War Commander.

The six-spined skull felt neither sorrow nor joy.

The Grim Reaper's scythe tears flesh and blood, the scythe dances in a full moon, and the splattered blood draws an arc.

His mouth moved slightly beneath the gas mask, though silently. But the contemptuous look in his eyes spoke volumes.

Mortarian wanted to say, "Again."

Blood-red Alpha spewed blood from his mouth, and the crimson blood beneath his feet had long since turned into gray-white ashes, which, like moss, continued to spread toward him.

Even though Alpha had ascended to demonic status, Mortalian was still much taller than him. The tall, thin ghostly figure looked down at him, his scythe already poised to strike again.

Mortarian paused in his movements, turned his head, and a shrill plasma whizzed past his ear before disappearing into the distance of the corridor.

Mortarian turned his head and saw Omega walking unsteadily.

Wrinkles gathered at the corners of the Pale Lord's eyes. Mortarian smiled, extending a hand to casually remove his gas mask, revealing a grin spreading across his lips, which were cracked and eroded by the gas.

Mortarian opened his mouth and said softly,

[They're out so quickly?]

In the dimly lit corridor, Mortalian's amber eyes gleamed, like burning golden pupils.