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

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He raised his hand and casually made a few gestures.

With his gesture, carnage unfolded.

Countless spirits lurking within the demonic tide suddenly erupted, leaping and dancing wildly in the crowded hall. Their slender arms rose, and the monofilament metal wires that filled the entire hall abruptly contracted.

In the blink of an eye, a flash of cold light appeared in the air!

The last end of the thread, stained with blood, was drawn into the clown's kiss; the battle was over.

Without the slightest hesitation, the clowns immediately left the hall and rushed into the corridor, trying to deal with the Emperor's Son's guards as quickly as possible. Those fools who were still unaware of what was happening were completely forgotten by the Eldar.

Throughout the hall, people, and even demons, stood trembling slightly, seemingly unaware of what had happened.

"Honey?"

The woman's voice trembled slightly as she looked at the nobleman opposite her. His smile seemed slightly off. But then, her eyes bulged out, and liquefied flesh gushed out of her body. Intense pain exploded from her bone marrow. Before Ecstasy could catch up with her, the beautifully dressed ball of flesh turned into chunks of flesh of varying sizes, all of which collapsed to the ground with screams.

The sporadic gunshots of the explosive guns came from a more distant place, but in the deathly silent hall, only liquefied organs and bones remained, and thick, foul-smelling blood flowed silently across the entire floor.

A hazy purple light shone from the chandelier covered by human skin, and blood began to flow slowly and rhythmically.

One foot stepped into blood.

One minute and thirty-five seconds after the advance team left, the Jester's team escorting the decoys (including the Primarchs) arrived at the scene. The human decoys watched the scene before them in terror, their muscles and stomachs involuntarily spasming.

If they look carefully, they might find their relatives, lovers, or even children in this pool of blood.

People walked on the liquefied body parts, their nerves taut, trembling. The intense fear and tension made them call out even more devoutly—calling for the descent of the gods.

"Praise be to Hades!" "I give you all that I have—please grant me peace." "Hades, extinguish all this." "Hades! Save little Lydia's soul, she did not come here on purpose."

Corax listened silently to the cries of the people, which, in addition to pleading prayers, contained heartbreaking cries.

The Primarch turned around and saw an old man with white hair calling upon Hades, hoping He would grant his fallen family peace.

Tears welled in the mortal's eyes, as if he wanted to rush to the ground to gather the scattered pieces of flesh, but he was stopped by the spirits guarding him with their guns. The old man could only be pushed away by the crowd with tears in his eyes.

Do those utterly depraved souls still have a chance to find true peace?

Corax couldn't bear to look any longer. His gaze fell on the flesh that had just been writhing. As a faint darkness descended, the unsettling presence on them vanished, and the entire hall was quickly enveloped in a gray gloom.

This made Corax even more uncomfortable.

To this day, the Primarch remains cautious in choosing not to use that title, his inner voice constantly warning him that the "Fool" poses a significant threat to him.

Like an approaching storm, the Primarch felt the restless pressure. In Korax's ears, the prayers filled with tears rose and fell, buzzing in a daze. The hazy, alluring purple quickly faded, replaced by a cold, numbing gray-white devoid of any emotion.

This is a sign that a storm is coming.

This was a fleeting glance from His gaze.

Corax glanced at the Eldar urging the bait forward, and without hesitation, his Primarch vanished instantly, like a shadow flickering beside a candle, disappearing without a trace.

The clown, having caught the Primarch's aura, turned his head and saw a glimpse of Corax's shadow, but the shadow quickly disappeared.

The clown remained silent, then contacted the lone wolf, the one who played the role of [Hades].

"He ran away; his location is the main hall on the first deck of the lower cabin."

"Don't worry about him."

At the other end, the one-horned figure, wielding a scythe and having severed the head of the emperor's son, calmly spoke.

They no longer had the manpower to control a Primarch, and to have the Primarch himself perform Warp prayers was absurd. The buffoons only needed to summon Corax with the title of the Emperor, and leave the rest to the Primarch's alluring soul.

The unicorn with its black mask lowered its scythe. Hades, Hades... Hades... He called out that name deep in his heart. Warm tears of blood flowed down the long, crowded corridor. The remains of countless emperors' sons piled up in the corner, emitting a wail that was both crying and laughing along with the bleeding wall.

But then, in a flash, the corpses with tentacles and claws simply lay there quietly, their flowing blood exuding a decadent fragrance.

This place has been severely eroded by the subspace.

Unicorn realized that if the Primarch's coronation ceremony were to be completed, then a portion of the Imperial Pride would truly sink into Slaanesh's palace.

This news did not discourage the unicorn; on the contrary, a feverish joy pounded wildly along with the heart that did not belong to him.

The connection here with the youngest lady is so close that schemes, power... everything pales in comparison to the Lord of the Underworld. His power is so simple and brutal, and so generous... The Prince of Darkness cannot escape.

The unicorn wanted to let out a high-pitched, shrill laugh, but the role he played didn't allow him to express himself so freely.

The Eldar stood there calmly, looking at the tightly closed door in front of them, where the Emperor's Son, the host, was giving a resounding speech of praise.

The unicorn knew that on the other side of the door might be a scene completely replicated from Slaanesh's sixth ring—or perhaps, a part of that side had already fallen into the abyss of desire…

Flesh and blood, human skin, intoxicating potions, layers upon layers of human bodies—he could imagine it, he could certainly imagine the scene on the other side. The unicorn wasn't surprised by this; it was merely a remnant of the old Eldar race.

Amidst the decaying corpses, the unicorn straightened his clothes, his heart pounding, reminding him how a true god would act. He stepped forward solemnly, his companions following him. Behind them, a ravenous, insatiable dark behemoth approached.

They have already won.

Hades had already noted Slaanesh. The unicorn thought that, to Hades, this unfamiliar psychic energy was like a bright gem shining in the dark galaxy, dazzling and radiant.

He will chase after this beautiful illusion because of such greed.

As he smiled, the unicorn pushed open the door, feeling the power before him that made his soul scream, and the gaze behind him that plunged his soul into an icy abyss.

All he had left to do before sacrificing himself was to laugh heartily at Seraphim.

Praise to Sigurd, praise to Hades!

The unicorn pushed open the door, and for a moment, his words seemed to overlap with those of the deity he was trying so hard to imitate.

"traitor!"

He shouted those words, but then, the magnificent music and bright light from the doorway momentarily dazed him.

He saw Fugen standing on the high platform, receiving praise from the crowd, casually glancing at him.

That's it, I'm spitting out my soul...

Chapter 502 Slaanesh Decides to Have Some Fun

【Cardia】

Fugen could sense it.

It's there.

That being that can give the original body control over destiny... it is right there.

Fugen stumbled toward the place where his best friend was buried. The long warp voyage had completely destroyed his body, and with each breath, Fugen felt the blood foam gushing from his lungs.

With his disheveled hair obscuring his vision, the Primarch haphazardly brushed it aside and continued his arduous journey forward.

Fugen ran across the desolate earth, where everything had perished. In the distance, on the horizon where the sun should have been rising, a dark tide was surging and struggling.

He knew it was watching him, its gaze pure, greedy, and devoid of emotion fixed on the Primarch, on his wretched state, on his broken soul.

But Fugen was not afraid.

He only wanted to confirm one thing—the Milky Way collapsed, the stars fell, but after billions of years, they would rise again, but his old friend would no longer exist.

For Fugen, it's too late to salvage anything... no, it's impossible... It's too late, it's already too late.

Because Fugen has already made the deal.

After the farce of fratricide, he was swept up in the turmoil and thrown into the realm of false gods.

Under the watchful gaze of the Most High, He commanded him to kneel and submit.

The Primarch did not do that.

Phoenix vowed he would not bend his knees.

His resistance aroused His interest...He was very interested. It seemed that the gods within the sixth ring of Slaanesh had long anticipated all of this, and the Primarch's resistance even brought...pleasure.

He struggled, resisted, and vowed never to compromise.

The Primarch was trapped there, in the cage the gods had prepared for him, and he watched helplessly as his offspring were swept away by the demonic tide, unable to live or die.

The feeling of being corrupted came through the warp link between the Primarch and his offspring, and he felt himself teetering on the brink of collapse... but where was the way out?

In a corner of the chaotic warp, amidst the churning waves of desire and madness, on the other side where time and space were completely in disarray, the Primarch, trapped by the power of Slaanesh, glanced up and, in a daze of his soul, saw that being.

The Styx River, flowing slowly like a viscous liquid amidst the waves of the subspace.

The Primarch was unsure why he had seen it in Slaanesh's realm—perhaps because it was too vast in the galaxy? Or perhaps because it was too awe-inspiring in the galaxy?

Whether in the future or the past, it did indeed invade this area, to the point that the Primarch trapped here saw it.

What is that existence?

Fugen didn't care, but the Primarch clearly sensed the pain the monster itself had inflicted on the Warp. At the edge of that dark cave, everything was screaming as it was swallowed up. They tried to escape, but were slowly and firmly drawn into the dark embrace.

Fugen knew that his opportunity had come.

He tried to call upon it, but the Primarch, unaware of the true form of the Darkwater, could not obtain its gaze—the Primarch's attempt only brought him more intense torment from Slaanesh.

He tormented him, more and more intensely, more and more urgently—why did He tremble? Why did He wait?

Fugen sensed the false god's lustful desire for him; He would never let him leave, and in the High Heaven where there was no distinction of time, this torment would only be endless.

He must leave.

While the black behemoth was still lingering there.

The Primarch could not pinpoint the beast's whereabouts. Amidst the myriad waves, its form was uncertain. It was enormous and awe-inspiring, yet also blurry and indistinct, seemingly poised to vanish at any moment amidst the fierce impact of the High Heavens.

And its distance from here... is changing with the ebb and flow of the Primarch's thoughts.

Ultimately, the Primarch realized that when his thoughts turned to that particular corner, that greedy gaze would sweep over it—the palace of desire was shrouded in an ominous hue.

Amidst the intense fluctuations, the flow of blood and lust, the Primarch's thoughts grasped the key he needed: his decision would change the future, and the future would influence the Warp at this moment.

It's getting close.

In his frenzied lust, Fugen realized he needed to leave, he needed to leave this place—no! He couldn't stay any longer! This was his last chance, otherwise, he would completely sink into this abyss of drunkenness.

He was also waiting—waiting for the Primarch to give Him a chance. He patiently watched Him, waiting for Him to make His request.

He seemed to be expecting something as well.

【……I want……】

The Primarch's pupils had begun to dilate, and he squeezed out the words from his toothless mouth, each syllable causing his exposed lungs to rise and fall like a deflated pink inflatable toy.

"...I'll make a deal with you."

The nails piercing his flesh groaned with satisfaction. The mirror, which had been placed before the original body to break his will, began to fog up. His consciousness took one last look at himself. He saw a mangled, bloody body, with viscous liquids of various colors flowing down its uneven surface—scars of lust.

Fugen slowly, enunciating each word clearly, stated his request.

My will will remain pure forever.

The Primarch said that with his words, he sensed the dimming of Slaanesh’s palace and that in the coming future, he would lose a portion of his power.

What exactly... what is He hoping for?

Place my soul in the place closest to it... In exchange, you take a perfect part of my body, leaving me with the incomplete.

If you agree,

【Now……】

Fugen felt his mouth overflow with sweet, metallic blood, mixed with unidentified chunks of flesh. The Slaanesh army around him, wielding various instruments of torture, vanished without a sound. In a dim, grayish-pink hue, only the Primarch hanging upside down on the cross and the mirror opposite him remained.

The place he was in seemed to be collapsing.

[...This transaction can be completed now.]

Passion and madness faded, the future was set, and beneath the heavily decorated palace, a silvery laugh, both coquettish and angry, rang out.

Sold!

He seemed to have been anticipating this deal. The Primarch's brain, already unable to think much, trembled as he thought, "He doesn't understand... of course he doesn't understand!"

As he spoke, he could clearly feel the power of the false god weakening. The power that had disappeared would be swallowed up by the Netherwater and never return!

But why did He agree so easily?

The Primarch was in a daze. He heard laughter between the heavy silk curtains of the bed. He saw a graceful figure suddenly rise after a hazy spinning motion. She laughed loudly, her laughter rippling like spring water, and threw a seductive wink back at the gazes that were looking at her.

Those warning or probing glances disappeared.

He went to His dressing table, where the maids drew back the curtains for Him, and His face was reflected in the mirror. He joyfully commanded the servants to bring out His treasures.

Okay, okay~