bookbashuk Page 418
Page 418
Kolac couldn't help but start worrying about the Khan again.
The Khan assured him that their brother Mortarian was enough to free them from their vengeful spirits.
Mortarian?
Corax recalled that his only interaction with this commander of the Fourteenth Legion was a fleeting glimpse at the Nicaea Conference, when Mortarion received the order from the Lord of Man to burn Prospero.
Corax frowned as he recalled, not finding anything remarkable about Mortarion in his memory—something remarkable enough to allow him to defeat Horus.
Strong people are always easy to spot at a glance, like Saint Gilles or the Lion. They exude an aura that inspires fear and makes people subconsciously want to submit.
Corax didn't think he sensed that aura from Mortalian.
He began to worry about the Khan, but since the Khan had made a guarantee, Kolaks had no choice but to trust Chagatai.
At least… Corax’s eye twitched. He heard the mechanical sounds of Tarasin climbing behind him. At least he was with the Great Sage now.
...Saint-Gilles...Saint-Gilles...Corax thought as the Primarch infiltrated his final destination.
The instruments that operated the giant ship beeped in the room, the mortal crew worked nervously at their posts, the two navigators muttered something in a corner of the room, and the sons of Horus stood guard behind the workers with bomb guns in hand.
Corax glanced at Tarasin, and for some reason, he began to feel a sense of goodwill towards this strange sage. Tarasin was unlike the other sages on Corax's home planet; he possessed a vibrant sense of rebellion that Corax admired.
In short, he was not apathetic and had strong opinions.
The glowing green indicator light on Tarasin's face beeped, and the mechanical sage stretched out his hand, making an ancient "OK" gesture towards the Primarch.
Corax understood Tarasin's implication: the sage meant that the Primarch could act.
Tarachin had cut off the room's connection to the outside world and blocked the door to prevent them from screaming; this was Corax's task.
Corax twitched his Raven Claw slightly, and his Lightning Claw responded happily.
Be quick and clean—grant them a swift death.
There was not a single ray of light in the Primitive's pure black pupils.
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[…Saint-Gilles?]
Korax's surprised voice rang out. The Primarch stood in front of the command table, his claws covered in blood, but he still used his bloodless claws to precisely search through the documents on the table.
The Primarch's eyes widened slightly as he saw terms that baffled him—Second Divine Kingdom, Archangel, Second War Commander, Inquisitor…
Did Saint Gilles establish a new empire?
Or... is it primarily religious?
For a moment, Corax didn't know whether Horus or Saint Gilles was more insane.
Or maybe they've all gone mad.
Since returning to the Empire, Corax has rarely seen a normal person, apart from Guilliman.
They... are all abnormal.
Whether it was Horus, who was targeting him, or the Khan who swore that Mortarion was capable, or Saint Gilles, who declared himself a god.
Kolac remained silent, but the Primarch's hands did not slow down in the slightest. He memorized the location of the tunnel—the passage leading to the Dark Side.
He noted down the star path and coordinates leading to Saint Gilles, and Corax collected his evidence. Then he turned and glanced at Tarasin, who seemed quite interested in the weapon in the hands of the Son of Horus, signaling to the sages that it was time for them to leave.
"Is that enough?"
【enough. 】
They carefully disappeared back into the shadows, this time having to be even more cautious due to the smell of blood.
Unsure of Khan's current situation, Corax decided to immediately dive back onto the deck and leave.
However, he underestimated the cunning of the Vengeful Spirit.
The ship was alive; the path it came by was completely different from the path it took to leave, altered by eerie warp waves. Corax moved forward suspiciously, his brows gradually furrowing.
The aura of psychic energy grew stronger, the air was almost frozen solid, and an unsettling stench wafted through the air. It seemed that no matter where he went, he would only get closer and closer to that unsettling place.
Tarasin behind him made a noise.
"We have entered the part where the subspace and the physical world overlap."
A mechanical sound rang out, accompanied by the whirring of gears grinding together.
Do you have any ideas?
Kolax gritted his teeth and looked at Tarasin, whose eyes flashed with a green light.
“I’m not very sensitive to warp space—but with the detection tools we’ve made in our forged worlds, I can give it a try.”
"I'll lead the way."
Tarasim paused for a moment, then the sage circled around, choosing a direction.
"This route can avoid them as much as possible, but I can't say for sure."
"In any case, we will pass through those two places where the psychic energy is strongest," Tarachin said.
Lead the way!
Korak said quietly, touching the power whip at his waist.
I believe in the wisdom you have forged for the people of the world.
"Ok."
Tarasin said cheerfully that they resumed their journey.
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Corax had a hard time describing what he saw.
Rot filled everything, and he saw a gigantic cocoon, taller than the original, with an altar on the Vengeful Spirit.
The dead leaves rotted at his feet, and he saw a blurry number of Death Guard corpses slumped beneath the breathing cocoon. Corax took a step back imperceptibly, the slime stretching out in thin strands on the sole of his boot.
Corax was certain they were no longer in the physical world; a vast force was carefully maintaining the incubation here—leaving it seemingly unable to attend to anything else.
Something is hatching inside.
Staring at the cocoon large enough to hold an entire Primarch, Corax suddenly had an extremely ominous thought.
"We have to get through here."
Tarasin said that Corax looked at Tarasin as if he were assessing whether Tarasin's words were still credible.
Tarasin looked back at him, the great sage defiantly confronting a Primarch with his gaze—anyone else would probably be trembling and kneeling before Kolacs by now.
Are you sure?
Kolac asked softly, and Tarasin nodded firmly. After a moment's consideration, the Primarch chose to believe Tarasin's words.
He carefully, holding his breath, brushed past the slowly breathing cocoon. In their silent journey, they gradually left the rotting leaves behind. The strong smell of blood began to linger at his nose. The brass chain lay on its side at the foot of the wall, silently watching them.
Corax saw a pool of blood, with countless corpses of World Eaters hanging upside down from the ceiling. Their heads had been cleanly and neatly severed, and blood dripped from the severed necks into the pool of blood below.
Are we going to have to get through here?
Kolac asked softly, and Tarasin nodded. The Primarch's recent success gave him confidence, so he lifted his foot, which was soaked in blood—
"Get down!!!"
Tarasin roared, and Corax bent down without hesitation. Immediately afterward, a huge flower of blood mist exploded in the air above where the Primarch had just been standing.
The pool of blood began to shake violently, and the entire Soul of Vengeance began to rock as well, almost throwing Corax against the wall.
Corax struggled to steady himself as he watched a hand emerge from the pool of blood.
At the same time, he heard behind him the rustling sound of cocoons peeling away.
[...Could you get in touch with the Khan?]
Kolac said slowly that he couldn't reach the Khan on his channel, but perhaps—perhaps Tarasin could.
"I have already sent out a distress signal."
Tarasin spoke dryly, and the sage ridiculously raised his mechanical axe in vain. Two similar but completely different monsters appeared before them one after the other.
Corax was also desperate today; the wound in his abdomen was throbbing with pain.
He shouldn't have trusted the Khan.
I'll count down from three.
Corax whispered to Tarachin,
Then we ran, we retreated—did you understand?
I've been quite busy lately, it's review week and I've been sick, I'm so sorry. I'll update more during the holiday, that's all for today.
Chapter 493 Ta Mouxin: Yes, I really want to!
It would be a lie to say I wasn't tempted.
Tarasim, ruler of the Solemnas crypt world, curator of the Solemnas Museum, figurine king, casual figurine collector, history enthusiast, and ordinary passerby.
For a moment, he considered the possibility of collecting a Primarch.
Tarachin's purpose in this journey was not the Primarch—he had a grander goal: the slumbering Lord of the Underworld awaited him like a tempting piece of unclaimed gold, a huge and dazzling rare diamond.
Moreover, Hades' value goes beyond that... Tarasim has his own schemes regarding Hades and the others he is involved with.
This cunning space overlord stands on a grander chessboard. To the undead who have slumbered for millennia, human history is but a fleeting moment. The great rebellion will tear the galaxy apart, but that is a matter for humanity—he only needs to ensure that the warp and the physical world do not become unbalanced.
He is righteous, and this galaxy needs order. The warp should not interfere too much with the order of the physical world, and this world can no longer accommodate another warp deity.
The Lord of Mankind must not ascend to godhood. Given the size of the human race in the warp, the Dark Lord will once again unleash an unimaginable warp storm.
On the other hand, out of his own will, Tarachin was willing to help Hades—even if he wasn't that special, the interesting and profound soul within him was enough to move Tarachin.
An interesting and honest friend from another race needs this collection.
Of course... that's not all.
But this plan will be much longer, spanning thousands of years, with the grand ambition of racial revival.
Tarahim, who considers himself still alive, hopes to give it a try.
He won't lose anything; at worst, the program will shut down, and he'll fall back into a deep sleep.
Tarasin pondered, the indicator light on his face flashing in the same frequency as the human mechanical sage. He "looked" at the vigilant Corax behind him, feeling his love for history burning brightly.
Every Primarch is unique, but there are always Primarchs who fascinate Talathin more.
He had not paid special attention to Corax before, but as he came into contact with the Primarch, this Primarch, who subconsciously treated everyone equally, attracted Tarasin's attention.
The Fearless, the precursors to the Necromancers of the cosmos, were a highly centralized race. The overlords enjoyed everything, and the leader on the highest throne had the power to decide the fate of the entire race.
It was the Silent King's arbitrary decision that led the Fear of Death into the tragic river of transformation into space undead.
The King of Silence, deceived by the Star God, transformed the Fearful Ones into bloodless, fleshless space undead. They had no souls, could not die, and could not be reborn—as a race, they had utterly failed, simply because no new blood would be added to them.
Tarachin could no longer recall the day he was transformed into a space necromancer.
Did he rebel that day? He must have rebelled, but it must have been futile—a highly centralized society cannot tolerate any dissenting voices.
Tarachin had pondered: if... if the Fear of the Dead, the Silent King, had been someone who listened to the advice of other Fear of the Dead, or if the Fear of the Dead's society had not been highly centralized, would their fate have been different?
He didn't know that Tarachin could only subconsciously touch his hard fingertips; the spiritual touch had long since vanished.
Talassin's sensors were faithfully transmitting Kolac's movements to him, and the Primarch was even subconsciously willing to help him. The Primarch was trying his best to shield Talassin from the enemy's view, and Kolac perhaps thought this was his battlefield, the Primarch's battlefield.
Tarasin was acutely aware that even if it weren't him standing there, but any of the Raven Guards or Corax's men, Corax would have done the same.
Tarachin sensed the stirrings within him; he admired such beings—and even now, Tarachin thought, perhaps this was why he respected and admired Hades; he and Corax were kindred spirits.
No...no...Hades is more interesting, but the historical value shown by Corax is enough to tempt Tarasin.
This is an artifact that would be perfect to place in the very center of the human exhibition hall, illuminated by spotlights, standing on high ground, and posed as if following his charge.
Even though Corax itself looks rather gloomy—Tarasin might need to adjust the lighting, or perhaps put the Raven Lord in a dark corner? Tarasin pondered.
He would also like to gather some Raven Guards, mortal auxiliary troops who follow Corax, and place them beside Corax.
A snicker abruptly pulled Tarasin back to his thoughts on how to display the new exhibits—no, not now, not now.
He cannot simply pick up and take away a piece he likes from an ongoing chessboard.