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

Page 399

But at this moment, everything paled in comparison to Saint Gilles, who radiated a hazy golden light.

Leon Johnson pressed his lips together. He stepped forward, glanced silently at Saint Gilles, then restrainedly looked away.

His neatly combed blond hair reflected the light, and the lion sword he held in his hand was silent and solemn.

The Knight Commander stood at the right hand of the Archangel, becoming his most powerful sword.

Conrad Coates hid himself in the hood and shadows, standing trembling slightly to the left of Saint Gilles, silent, as if completely absorbed in his own world.

But at least, he didn't go crazy anymore.

The judge stands to the left of the archangel, forming his most severe scales.

Under the halo of the archangel, this unreliable, precarious triangle seemed to have gained a somewhat stable outline.

They will continue to teeter on the brink, continuing to struggle to survive.

the other side,

Mortarian, your wings are bumping into me.

Angron, responding to the cheers, winked at Mortalian, to which the Pale Lord made no outward response.

Then Guilliman felt a jolt of horror as something enormous moved behind him, like some kind of insect, and Angron beside him staggered almost imperceptibly.

【Hey!】

Angron gasped softly.

【Quiet--】

Guilliman whispered, "Your Majesty, thank you for the shouts of celebration during the Provisional Government, which drowned out their whispers."

[Oh my god—can't you at least give me some face and get through this political situation?]

Guilliman said in a low voice, realizing with despair that, apart from himself, the two Primarchs present had absolutely no political awareness whatsoever regarding this politically significant occasion.

And now, the three of them are back to back—just to cover up Mortalian’s damned wings!

By the Emperor!

That's it! Great!

Chapter 469 Beneath the Grandeur

John's day begins with prayer.

Exhaustion gripped him, making his eyelids heavy and his rough sleeping bag unusually warm. He didn't want to get up; every muscle in his aching body was resisting the act of "getting up."

"Having delusional thoughts will inevitably lead to laziness."

John suddenly remembered the words in the Book of Word. He should fight against his laziness. Those who indulge in laziness will fall into the path of desire. So even though he felt uncomfortable all over, he dragged himself out of his sleeping bag.

Then, while reciting sacred words, he maintained his weapons—a plasma weapon and a dagger were enough for him.

Two weapons, a simple steel angel statue, and a cheap necklace given to him by his lover—John had no other personal belongings.

He gathered his belongings, yawning as he went to collect the nutrient blocks. The sleeping bag wasn't his; as auxiliary soldiers, they took turns using these supplies.

Their fleet is currently anchored on a hive city near Baal, which the First Legion classifies as "still valuable".

This is why the slightly corrupted planet was not burned into a glass bead by the brutal warlord.

Thank you, God-King, thank you, Archangel.

John murmured to himself again that he could have gotten the chance to be stationed in Barr, but he had switched places with someone else after drawing the stationing lottery.

The reason is simple... because... the planet they are about to conquer is John's home planet.

John was originally the only son of a nobleman on this hive planet. Before the Star Torch went out, his biggest worry in life was how to tell his parents that he had a girlfriend from the Middle Hive—Lilia's grandfather was even the vice-leader of a gang in the Low Hive.

John wasn't afraid of the thugs in the lower ranks. In the eyes of the elite in the upper ranks, these petty thugs were insignificant. What mattered most was bloodline, bloodline—

The nobles intermarried to maintain their status, and in the eyes of the powerful, John's actions were tantamount to suicide.

What made this prodigal son even more desperate was that his father disapproved of Lilia's behavior.

John sighed and joined the line for nutrient blocks. In front of him was a tall woman who reeked of sourness.

This would have been a mundane aristocratic love story—provided this wasn't Warhammer, and that the Star Torch hadn't been extinguished.

When the Star Torch went out, the city immediately descended into chaos, but the nobles quickly restored order by relying on their armed forces.

But six weeks after the Star Torch was extinguished, the demonic army from the Lower Nest stormed the barricades they had set up between the Lower and Middle Nests—then came blasphemous spells, priests, and even traitors among the nobles who excitedly joined the revelry from the Lower Nests.

Before the city fell completely, John was pushed onto a ship of refuge by his father.

John the Prodigal's family was a military family; his father, John the Elder, was a general, and his mother, though without a military rank, was a skilled marksman.

Unfortunately, their child was a good-for-nothing. In the last moment before his father kicked him onto the ship, John was thinking about what would happen to Lilith.

Lilith lived in Middlehound, but it had already been captured.

John sighed listlessly again. He was such a jerk. He scratched the back of his neck and picked out a flea from there.

He stared at the little creature for a while, then put it in his mouth, smacked it twice, and swallowed it.

I don't know if his father and mother are dead or alive... John is inclined to believe that his father ended up burying his mother in his arms and they exploded together. They were the kind of people who would rather die together than not slap the enemy twice at the same time.

He came back to avenge them.

When it was John's turn, a group of mechanical sages with compound eyes and red robes handed him a nutrient block.

"Praise be to the God-King, praise be to the Archangels."

John said this as he slowly found an open space nearby and sat down, squeezing in with all sorts of people. He hugged his plasma and gnawed on a nutrient block with his teeth.

In the end, he was the only one who survived.

John thought that their nest had escaped on a ship, and on the way to Baal, five-sixths of the people on that ship had died.

John was certain that he was the only survivor on his home planet; the rest of his fellow countrymen who had escaped with him had all perished—

They were all wiped out by the [Shadow].

Yes, he was the only one who survived, and John felt a chill run down his spine whenever he recalled that scene with Baal.

The long escape left them exhausted, and some began using psychiatric medications to help them get through the ordeal.

As usual, in the refugee camp in Barr, John pushed away the syringe his friend offered him.

“No…” John mumbled indistinctly as he fiddled with his necklace, “You know my dad won’t let me touch this kind of thing, he’ll break my legs.”

But the next moment, he felt something warm on his cheek.

John slowly, very slowly, raised his hand and touched the warm liquid on his face; he saw blood.

His heart was beating slowly. John turned his head and saw something that terrified him even more than the horde of demons.

【Shh——】

The shadowy monster crouched atop the corpse of his fellow countryman, blood soaking the hem of his tattered black robe.

The monster's pure black eyes stared at John, and it tilted its head with interest.

Cherish your last vestiges of purity.

He walked toward John, who fell to the ground, feeling a wet, hot patch on his thigh. He trembled uncontrollably as shadows enveloped him, and then he crouched down.

He stretched out his long, thin fingers, his nails filled with grime and blood, and the monster reached for John's hand—

"No,"

John didn't even realize when his voice had started.

“No—please, please, this is my last connection to my homeland, this is the necklace Lilia gave me, please—please, no.”

The hand that was hooking the necklace stopped.

The monster's foul breath sprayed onto John's face without uttering a word. The next moment, the immense oppressive feeling vanished.

John collapsed to the ground, surrounded by the bodies of his fellow countrymen; now, he was the only survivor.

The call to assemble sounded, and John threw the last piece of unpalatable food into his mouth and followed the crowd to the tarmac.

He remembered his leader as a big, fat man with a thick beard, and John always doubted whether the guy could even fit him into a sleeping bag.

John found the transport plane he was supposed to board without any trouble. He squeezed into the smelly cabin, where the engines roared, and he felt them taking off.

John found a spot to lean against something and closed his eyes to rest. He was so tired; he had only slept for less than five hours last time.

He felt the swaying of the wall behind him, and the idea of ​​returning to his hometown gave him a strange sense of peace.

……I'm back.

John thought of the tattered necklace he wore around his neck.

I will die on my homeland.

I've come to find you.

Under old John's tutelage, John learned what it meant to be a line-filler and realized that he had become one.

But he has nothing to fear anymore.

John sighed. His brief rest was over. Every muscle in his body was resisting his movements, but he still walked toward the hatch.

He heard those terrible roars, screams, and the howls of the psionicists and demons—in a daze, John even recognized Lilia's voice among them.

John took a deep breath. He knew, he knew, of course he knew... Lilia had long been corrupted.

Lilia, who attracted the playboy John, was a famous beauty in the nest. She loved to sing and enjoyed excitement. John had advised her to stop taking the drugs.

John lowered his head and gave his plasma a final, casual check.

That judge meant well… he thought.

In this damned world... there is no right or wrong.

John touched his necklace one last time, then the hatch opened, and a foul-smelling gust of wind rushed in.

"For the God Emperor!!!"

John shouted and was the first to raise his gun and rush out.

Gods... if you truly exist, please forgive my homeland.

Great!

Chapter 470, The Second Act: The End [The Second Empire]

The Son of Horus's drop pod landed on the wasteland of Baal on the ninth day after the founding of the First Kingdom.

There was only one person inside, Seghanus.

The archangel stood in the wind of the wasteland, watching the weathered old soldier walk silently toward him.

boom.

The sound of armor slamming into the ground rang out, and Seghanus knelt down.

The archangel remained silent.

A hoarse voice rang out.

"Horus has betrayed us."

Seghanus said with a sense of vicissitude,

"We were trapped in a star system by the turbulence of the warp. Horus was stabbed by some powerful being. He started to have a fever and experienced some hallucinations... After that, he became a little abnormal."

"He can say some strange words, such as 'Second Empire,' 'War General,' and 'Regent'..."

"...but this is just the beginning,"

Seghanus said calmly, as if he had already accepted everything.

“I was with him the whole time. It’s hard for me to describe what I went through. It was a very chaotic time. Before that, I saw you. After that, there were Luojia, Peturabo, Motalian, Fugen, Lemanrus, Magnus—but I couldn’t tell the real from the fake.”

"them,"

Seghanus was silent for a moment.

"Sometimes Horus would get better, he would wake up from his stupor, and then they would talk to him."