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

Page 439

[—Once a move is made, there's no going back!]

[Blood sacrifice to the Blood God! Skull offering to the skull seat!!!]

Before thirteen seconds had even passed, the blood-red Alpha, its body engulfed in golden flames, charged out violently.

Yes, code

Chapter 516 Before the Altar

A loud thud came from the closing door. Fugen turned around sharply, but behind the flowing silver hair, he only saw the tightly shut door.

[Personal matter.]

A slow, weak, and feeble sound, like bubbles rising from a swamp, rang out.

Fugen frowned, his expression instinctively showing displeasure. He glanced at Omega, which was not far from him, where flies were flying out of the guy's exhaust pipe.

They maintained a proper distance, and Omega seemed to completely ignore Fugen's displeasure, smiling, just smiling.

Fugen shook his head, swallowed, and remained silent.

The purple flames on his body gradually subsided, and those subtle flashes reappeared on the phoenix. Gems fell to the ground, and a fragrant aroma filled the air.

Even so, Fugen still resembled a beggar who had stolen the king's clothes; beneath the heavy headdress, the mediocrity in his eyes was undeniable.

Fugen swallowed hard. Macado and Alpha… what exactly was this newly emerged Alpha? He didn’t understand—did he need to understand?

He doesn't need to understand.

Everything intricate, everything minute, everything complex, is worthless before a true behemoth.

In a daze, Fugen shared a view with Mortalian, who was preparing in the warp—let's just destroy everything.

Purple flames shone in the phoenix's eyes as it sensed that familiar feeling, but this time it was different. The power of the Six Desire Rings was lost; their master had already squandered them for a night of passion.

This is the most extravagant pleasure in the galaxy.

Fugen remained silent, the power obediently clinging to him, silently venerating him as its new king. Had Slaanesh's power ever been so gentle? Or was it due to Makado...?

There was another loud thud behind them. Either Macado or Alpha was in serious trouble. Fugen hoped it was Alpha.

He followed Omega up the steps. The altar, carved with blood, filled the entire hall, forming a strange large circle, with four smaller circles evenly surrounding it.

Omega gave him a meaningful look and led him to the very center of the altar. Fugen paused, his eyes dimming, but ultimately said nothing.

His position was not one of the four smaller altars, but rather at the very center of the large altar—the place where the offerings were usually placed.

At this very moment, the place is piled high with gold and silver.

Omega seemed to regret that Fugen hadn't asked a question. He muttered something, but still turned and left, heading to his small altar, where screaming and playful Nurgles were decorating the small space.

Standing on the cold altar, Fugen felt an itch on his wrist. He raised his hand and saw delicate half-scales emerging.

Fugen took a breath almost imperceptibly, forcibly shifting his gaze to the remaining four small altars.

Omega was playing with those noisy little guys, then there was an empty altar dripping with blood and burning with flames. Fugen thought that was Alpha's location, and then there was an empty, extremely simple altar with nothing in it—that was Makado's location.

Then, countless shattered mirrors shimmered, each reflecting a different destiny. The sound of a quill pen touching paper rustled, and parchment floated in the air, dancing with its master's crimson giant hand.

Fugen's pupils trembled—well, Phoenix thought, even if he saw Vulcan in a pink dress now, he wouldn't be surprised.

The only thing that would surprise him somewhat... Fugen's brain, already numb from the impact of magical reality, pondered for a moment, perhaps it was the pseudo-holy Gilles.

Hello, Magnus.

Fugen said calmly, taking a deep breath and standing at the very center of the altar. The premonition of death made him feel surprisingly good.

Magnus raised his head, his eyes flashing with a chaotic light.

Hello, my brother.

Magnus said that the blue quill pen did not stop, and Fugen noticed that Magnus's originally smooth, reddish skin was covered with black spots, like tinea.

Of course, what surprised him even more was that Magnus now had only one eye—but not the one he used to have; the position of the eye had changed.

Fugen took a deep breath, listening to the sounds of smashing coming from the next room.

Did you betray us?

Fugen said, "Open your arms."

Magnuston stopped writing; his pen ceased its work.

"That's an interesting question," Magnus said. "Did I betray them? I did betray them, both sides; I was a traitor."

[Regardless of which side?]

Fugen felt a kind of mocked annoyance; he shouldn't have expected normal people to exist in this world—madmen! They're all madmen!

Magnus blinked his single eye, as if stating a self-evident fact.

Loyalty? Betrayal? My laughable brother, it's all worthless.

Loyalty and betrayal mean nothing to me anymore; my mission is to pursue eternal truth.

Fugen's lips trembled as he sensed the turbulence of the warp, the distinctive psionic energy. ["Eternity"? This doesn't sound like something your master would say.]

"I am who I am," Magnus waved his hand, and the parchment in front of him vanished. "I am the Crimson Sinner, the Red King, I am Magnus."

Fugen smiled, no need to waste any more words.

Just as he looked away, bang! The door was reopened, and Macado and Blood Alpha walked out with unfriendly expressions, their murderous auras were exactly the same.

Makado looked as if he had been through a bloodbath; his white robe was soaked in blood. The old man wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and limped toward the empty altar.

Blood Red Alpha wasn't in much better shape; Fugen discovered that a small section of his giant horn had broken off, and hot blood was flowing down.

Blood Red Alpha walked to his altar, and Omega smiled and glanced at him.

Macado walked toward the altar, passing Magnus's altar. Magnus stared at the old man with calm eyes, as if looking at someone completely unrelated to him.

Good day, Makado.

Magnus suddenly spoke, and Macado, who was walking hurriedly, glanced at him, his gaze becoming even more ruthless.

Macado did not answer Magnus, who shrugged, his reflection in the mirror behind him appearing fragmented and incomplete.

"Okay," Magnus said in a low voice, as if talking to himself. In reality, Fuggen knew that the damn guy was doing it on purpose, deliberately making sure that all of them could hear.

I also chose your favorite ink, Macardeau.

Macado, who was engrossed in drawing a golden magic circle on the altar, chuckled.

"I will thank you in person later."

The old man spoke in a hoarse, somber voice.

That's it! Great! Back to hard work tomorrow!

Chapter 517 Feng Ming

(Warning: Slightly G-rated, please skip if you are sensitive to this)

The lurking ships gradually drew closer, their dazzling white light flashing in the void like lightning. Da Han remained silent, waiting for the anomaly to occur on the distant Vengeance Soul.

This reminds me of the rituals performed at Chogolis.

The Khan said softly, "The vultures circling in the Eternal Sky are about to land."

You need to be faster, much faster, faster than the storm.

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A deathly mist descended upon the withered wasteland at the edge of the garden.

------------

"I don't understand," Luo Jia said. "I think I've made the facts clear to you."

Horus, who had been standing in front of the observation window, turned around. The brilliant starlight outside shone on him, dividing him into two sides, black and white.

"My brother, Luojia," Horus said with a smile, "I think my language is clear enough—the origin of everything, the starting point of the forks in the fate of all things—I am merely correcting these."

The suspended head of Luojia turned; it was helping us.

"It is wrong in itself," Horus said solemnly. "Without it, none of this would have happened... Look at yourself, Luojia, don't you feel pain?"

He was referring to the internal strife within the Luojia community.

A tear fell from Luo Jia's eye, + "It is my choice."

Horus moved; he walked towards Luojia, just as he had done before, his eyes filled with concern.

"The galaxy wouldn't have torn apart," the War General said. "Our fathers were blinded by the promised profits, but they still can't accept the fact—they're still betting everything on a doomed table. They've lost too much already, so much so that they can't turn back now."

+To gain more, you must sacrifice more.

Horus stared at Luo Jia. The War Commander's eyes were bloodshot with rage, and he looked unwell. But compared to the others, he was the most intact one. He was the one who still maintained his true self.

Did he really get what he wanted?

Horus said softly, "He said he would eradicate all religions, he said he would unify the entire galaxy—but now, the Lord of Mankind has crushed his grand ambitions piece by piece, leaving us... those who still fight desperately for his old dreams!"

Horus glanced disdainfully at the scriptures on Luo Jia's face, turned around, and stood back at the viewing window.

At this moment, Luo Jia knew that whatever he said had already...

"Words are useless," he said calmly and wearily, "Let it all burn."

boom! ! !

The first thunderclap in the highest heaven cleaved the darkness, illuminating the surrounding fields and casting Horus by the window a deathly pale light, as if he had lost all color.

The ceremony began.

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Fugen is screaming.

He couldn't tell if he was screaming or if he had already lost his voice.

Fugen's mouth was wide open, and his throat was burning.

He was enveloped in a blinding white light, and he felt himself burning and disintegrating. He fell to the ground in agony, tearing at his flesh and blood, which splattered out and melted in the blinding light.

Time became chaotic. Sometimes, the overwhelming light resembled an inverted downpour, falling towards the sky. Each drop carried away a piece of Fugen's flesh, skin, fat, and muscles, eventually revealing his bare bones.

Sometimes, they would all rush toward Fugen, violently squeezing into his body, a buzzing in his ears, the desires and tears of millions turning into a sharp, piercing dirge, screaming and cursing him.

Filled with white light, the phoenix swelled up, countless proliferating flesh and blood tissues bursting through its skin, tumors surging out along with its organs. In an instant, it became enormous and bloated, filling the entire hall. Its heavy organs continued to grow, and under the pressure of gravity, its thin skin burst open, splashing out bright green, dim yellow, and shimmering blue fluids. From a distance, it looked like the beautiful arc of light reflected from a bird's feathers.

The viscous liquid clung to the gold and silver jewels on the altar, wriggling and arching these gems high above, adorning the wings.

At this moment, He is beautiful and blasphemous.

The enormous fleshy monster roared, and Fugen groaned in pain. He felt he was about to die, but the power from the altar tightly bound his soul, and four chains of different colors were tightly bound around him.

Then Fugen began to weep, his sobs gradually turning into roars.

Let's end this—let's end this!

The phoenix roared madly. It stood up, its six turbid, enormous eyes twitching and turning as it looked toward the Slaanesh's sixth ring in the distance. It saw that greedy black domain, like a viscous liquid, enveloping the Slaanesh's exquisite and magnificent palace, gleefully and slowly devouring it.

He saw the loser on the bronze throne, the self-deceiving one in the labyrinth, the coward in the garden, and the tyrant on the throne…

He sees lies, he sees the truth, he sees the past, he sees the future.

Tears streamed from his cloudy eyes, like sparkling colored gems, falling to the ground.

This world is a huge joke and a tragedy.

And He will continue this tragedy.

The phoenix looked at the slowly descending underworld. Sharp spikes grew from its throat, which was filled with fleshy growths, piercing through the swollen flesh and clearing space for it to scream.

Overwhelmed by suffering and desire, He began to scream.

The phoenix's first cry pierced the mist, and from its center, the highest heavens surged with waves, crashing outwards in layers, creating a colossal surge.

He calls, calls for eternal silence, calls for death, calls for existence beyond the rules.

He cried out, his voice hoarse and blood-stained, his tone rising higher and higher, with embellished sounds clinging to him and decadent music lingering within. His turbid eyes reflected the image of the Palace of Evil, and he imitated the shrill cries of hell.

Centered on the phoenix, agonizing roars echoed from the other four altars. Under their manipulation, the light of the highest heavens, like a veil, fell upon the phoenix.