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

Page 397

"My lord, here."

The darkness crashed into the sofa, and he chewed with dissatisfaction, dropping a fragment of some kind of flesh and blood tissue from his hand.

[...This time it's purple...]

Conrad spoke in a low voice, then he groaned painfully, remaining in a low, chanting manner, but no one could hear what he was saying.

Severta gave the crowd a wink, and the trembling people crowded around. Severta placed one hand on Conrad's arm, as if to tell them that the Lord of the Night was now safe for them.

They began trying to comb Conrad's hair, which was not easy; the flesh inside had been stuck together for a long time.

While you're at it, treat Conrad; the Lord of the Night has just come down from the battlefield.

Conrad continued to mutter to himself, his pupils twitching slightly as the prophecy unfolded. Severta remained calmly silent, and for a moment, Coswayne even felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Still can't stop?

The archangel suddenly spoke, and now people began to blow away the wet feathers.

The Lord of the Night did not answer. Severus stared at the Archangel and nodded.

The archangel sighed. He had developed a certain trust in Sevita, a loyal, reliable, and useful lord of the night, who could help him approve documents.

Sevita can process documents even faster than Azcalon; he has extensive experience dealing with extreme events and sudden document requests.

Before this, the archangel did not want to lose his brother Coz; now, he does not want to lose Severta.

[Sevita, he might just erupt during the ceremony.]

Saint Gilles spoke softly, still smiling.

You should probably try the suggestion I gave you.

Severus stared at the archangel, and reluctantly nodded.

Saint Gilles was watching him personally; there was no way he could continue to fool him.

Prince Raven looked at Conrad—

"Pluto..."

The Lord of Night let out a suffocating sound; he gasped for breath and immediately became exhausted and listless.

Sevita took a deep breath; he too felt tired. The sudden blackout he had just experienced was an unpleasant sensation.

Prince Raven had a bad feeling that this method couldn't be used often.

Conrad, regaining his senses, glanced at Sevita from under his disheveled hair, and then the Lord of the Night followed Sevita's gaze—he saw the smiling archangel, and so the Lord of the Night decisively remained silent.

Archangels are terrifying.

Saint Gilles, who hasn't become a god yet, or the archangel who is becoming a god, are both terrifying.

Koz took a deep breath, curled up, and remained silent.

The archangel remained silent, and a subtle silence remained between the two Primarchs.

Coswayne's ears twitched; he heard the steady footsteps—

He walked solemnly to the door, bowed, and then skillfully took the sword from the Lion King.

The Seventh Starfield is beyond saving.

Leon said he sat down on the sofa on the other side of the archangel, and people gathered around to polish his armor.

[As usual, an extermination order.]

The archangel nodded slightly, and the mortals began to adorn his wings with delicate gold chains.

Centered on Baal, the Lion began to try to take over the nearby star systems. The Angels entrusted this task to Leon—who also saw that the ambitious Leon was keen on this. The Lion rarely even asked the Angels for supplies.

The archangel vaguely knew the secret of the First Legion, so he left his knight commander alone and no longer interfered.

The archangel suddenly spoke up and asked,

Does the First Army still have a sufficient supply of torpedoes?

The lion paused.

The more the better.

Leon said, tapping his hand on the armrest of the sofa.

There is too much that needs to be destroyed.

Leon, we need resources.

I left behind some mining planets, high-production hive cities, and agricultural planets, but further eradication of their inhabitants is still necessary.

The archangel paused, his mouth opening and closing.

[...People are also a resource; you need to leave some people behind...and respond to distress signals that can be used for rescue.]

The more people there are, and the more faith they have, the more people they can save.

The Lion King smiled.

Why don't you try to dissuade Conrad from his rampage of innocent soldiers in your own territory?

Koz let out a strange cry, but did not refute anything.

The archangel had no choice but to explain on behalf of the Lord of Night.

[Lion, you know perfectly well that those he's purging are all traitors and cult members.]

The angels granted his inquisitors the power of internal purges, and the good news is that Conrad's sensitivity to crime allows him to uncover fallen souls in advance.

The bad news is that Conrad's definition of crime is extremely strict, but in an environment where a cult could emerge anywhere, the Lord of the Night has no time to judge sinners with "minor offenses."

At least Conrad's existence prevented this precarious empire from triggering a crisis due to internal corruption.

The Lion King snorted coldly and closed his eyes, remaining silent.

The archangel sighed and flapped his wings again, so that people would spray him with fragrance.

Even the Primarch, fresh off the battlefield, wouldn't be perfectly clean, spotless, or even fragrant.

But that's what people want him to be like.

If you want to establish faith, the first step is to build an idol—a perfect one.

This is the role of Saint Gilles; he is the archangel.

That's it. Great!

Chapter 467 Before That Day

【incredible.】

Angron said the clear sky of Macragge made his shoulder armor gleam. He stepped into the preparation room, where his World Eaters came forward to give the Lord of the Red Sands a final touch.

In the end, we still came to this point.

Outside, the banners of the three legions—sapphire blue, bright white, and dark green silk banners—fluttered in the air.

He raised his arm in surprise, and the hunched old man slowly stepped out from under his arm.

Makado coughed.

"In the Lord of Mankind's plan, this was always a possibility—mortals' vision is too narrow, they cannot understand his tolerance."

Rather, it's more accurate to say that when it comes to matters of imperial authority, the bottom line of the human sovereign is... a little lower than they imagined.

“A loose confederation,”

Macado concealed himself under his hood and chuckled.

"If one day, humans stop killing each other and truly understand cooperation—then I think he himself is the one who most wants to see a more relaxed environment."

...Nineteen Primarchs, they were not only generals, but also natural leaders. The Lord of Mankind had left himself multiple escape routes from the very beginning of the plan.

Now, with the star torch extinguished and the war general missing, apart from the legions still operating independently in various regions, the vast empire's rule over the star systems is practically nonexistent.

For some planets, this might actually be good news, because it means they won't have to pay taxes.

For those planets, the Empire meant nothing more than mechanical sages who could terraform the planets, and exorbitant taxes.

This is not what the Lord of Mankind would like to see, but it is what he must do.

This was the inevitable crime they, the Emperor, and Macado had committed, Macado thought.

He didn't feel much heaviness because he had already accepted it.

Macardo coughed with a laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, the Imperial Regent saw Robert Guilliman walking towards them in the distance. The young Regent seemed a little nervous, and months of hard work had turned his temples a little white.

Macado chuckled, "Old man, this really sounds like retirement," he muttered to himself, but the old man on Terra's side, as always, didn't respond to him at all.

If it weren't for the current situation, Macardo thought, how wonderful it would be if this were a reality where the imperial cause was already accomplished and humanity was no longer threatened by the Warp—

He will stand in the shadows with the emperor, watching with a smile as the new generation takes over their responsibilities.

Robert Killian, Anglon, and Motalian, though still somewhat green in some ways, after months of getting to know each other, Macardo believed they were capable of shouldering the weight of a nation.

If only this were truly the empire's succession ceremony, if only this were truly the moment for these old folks to let go.

The smile on Makado's lips gradually faded, and he let out a soft sigh.

But reality remains harsh.

He thought silently that their primary mission was still the "Dead," but the warp currents were doing their utmost to prevent them from going there.

It's unclear how long this chaotic situation will last.

One year? Ten years? A thousand years? Or another ten thousand years?

Marcado is unsure.

All he knew was that in Kadia, surrounded by layers of chaotic power, those forces would not give up easily.

Macardo didn't know the specifics of Kadia's situation, but since the chaos in this universe persisted, it meant one thing—that the "deceased" had not truly perished.

According to the last message Macado received, White Scar and the Raven Guard arrived in Cardia at the last minute.

They are currently fighting against Chaos, striving to preserve the two legions of the Dead.

However... White Scars excel at surprise attacks and early reconnaissance, while Dark Raven Guards are skilled in stealth and assault. Neither of these legions is adept at head-on melee combat.

Kadia remains dangerous.

Macardo frowned as he thought that this was why they needed to get to Cardia immediately—but the Four Gods knew this too, and they were doing their best to erase the route to Cardia.

Makado sighed.

He is still training Mortalian intensively—in order to help the Primarch, who is unwilling to face reality, recover his full strength as soon as possible.

Mortarian's psionic talent might be their only hope of reaching Kadia.

The establishment of the "Second Provisional Government" was a desperate measure taken by those trapped in the situation in order to maintain stability and prepare for a possible major war.

They cannot prioritize getting to Kadia over regional stability.

Just as the old man was pondering this matter, the two Primarchs, who were conversing and making final preparations for the ceremony, stirred.

The mist slowly rose from beneath their feet, and the seven people in the death shrouds who had been waiting in the preparation room spontaneously gathered together. They stood there, leaving a large empty space in the middle.

【coming? 】

Angron's relaxed voice rang out, only to be met with a hissing sound that seemed rather grumpy.

White mist gushed forth from beneath their feet like a gushing fountain, quickly reaching a height greater than that of a Primarch.

Gradually, shifting shadows appeared in the white mist.

【oh,】

Anglong commented with his arms crossed.

This doesn't look like a living person at all.

Upon hearing this, Guilliman glanced incredulously at the Lord of the Red Sand, but Angron seemed quite confident.

A hand suddenly emerged from the mist, its pale armor covered with patches of dead, withered moss. Mist billowed from the hand, which clenched tightly, and a long, sharp, curved scythe materialized from it.

A slender, tall human figure emerged from the mist.

[It seems you're really looking for someone to talk to, Angron.]