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

Page 395

Horus's eyes were filled with resentment.

The Second Empire? You...you've betrayed us like this? Is your new kingdom built on the corpse of an empire? You believe certain things are gone? You believe...?

Horus sighed deeply.

[...You think I failed, right?]

Horus asked incredulously,

This is Horus, and you feel you're certain of it again. Only Horus would ask such a question.

You feel your mouth is dry, you swallow and feel grit sliding down your throat.

【No……】

You instinctively retorted, trying to soften your words as much as possible.

Horus... Horus... This is just a temporary organization. I... I can't contact you. We've been waiting for your return.

[Am I to become the one who betrays our father?]

No, that's not it.

You quickly added, "This is... this is just a last resort. We've been struggling to hold on, and I've been waiting for news from the Empire and from you."

You watched Horus sigh again, as if he were on the verge of death, and you realized that your words were still adding to his pressure—your existence, your words, your words of shirking responsibility, were also adding to his pressure.

You, your empire, your Knight Commander, your Judge, are constantly reminding Horus of his dereliction of duty.

However, the truth is that the commander-in-chief did indeed fail in his duties.

He failed to save the empire—but was that truly Horus's sole responsibility?

You paused, then changed to a slightly lighter tone.

"So, what do you wish to do next, Horus?"

Horus stared at you, trembling. His eyes held hatred and incomprehension, despair and collapse, the deathly stillness of a hopeless struggle before death. He stared intently at you, his mouth slightly open.

Your reason tells you that Horus will say he will judge you.

He will at least punish you for your behavior. The Horus you know is arrogant, and you are close friends. This will only make him more miserable.

But Horus said, he said,

The Wolf God sighed wearily.

I cannot forgive you.

But I can't forgive myself even more.

Horus's gaze shifted from you, leaving only a long weariness after a brief moment of stubbornness and anger.

All I want is...

Horus sighed.

I just want to sleep for a while.

Then try to understand this world that has gone mad and is broken.

You sensed something was wrong, and you began to feel anxious. You knew Horus's current predicament; he couldn't sleep. He had to build a high wall in his mind to resist the whispers of the devil.

You can't sleep.

You firmly said,

You can't fall asleep, Lupecal, you must keep your consciousness occupied—you can't give up.

Horus looks at you, you look at him, and you see his evasive, uneasy gaze. He is not aggressive; in this matter, Horus uses his surrendering attitude to wound Saint Gilles.

In that instant, you realized that the Horus before you was about to collapse.

His body was severely injured, and his soul could not accept the reality; he could no longer go on.

He just needed a short rest—but the world wouldn't give him even a second.

He doesn't trust you, you don't know, is it just his nature, or has he seen something in the warp?

He tells you with his eyes that he is about to fall into a coma.

Horus shook his head weakly.

"...I can't do it anymore, angel...I can't do it anymore."

Horus blinked slowly; he was sleepy, falling asleep at an alarming speed. You felt his body about to collapse into your wings, and you heard the rising whispers.

You want to persuade him, but you suddenly realize,

Is this really Horus?

Is it the Wolf Shepherd you know?

He gave up so easily?

And after all that you did, he still calls you an "angel"?

You frowned; the smell of blood returned.

You slowly placed your hand on your waist and gripped your sword.

You are not Horus.

Who are you?

Before you could finish speaking, the lights in the entire study suddenly went out. You saw a monster with blasphemous words written in blood at its feet and broken ashes in its hand. You stared at it, staring intently at it, trying to make out something.

You took a deep breath, but the sword in your hand did not tremble even slightly.

Now, you think it doesn't matter whether he is Horus or not.

It doesn't matter which side is the illusion anymore.

You shout as you thrust your sword at the monster; all you need to do is make sure you kill it.

Must, must, kill, it.

End, his, pain, suffering.

[O Divine Emperor! Grant power to your descendants!]

A blinding light engulfed everything. You knew you were about to wake up from your dream. In the final moment, you saw a dying monster, you saw a dying Horus.

Truth and falsehood, illusion and reality, you fall out of the dream.

--------

Koz lunged at him.

You hurt him! Why—

Saint Gilles slowly stood up, and with a clean and decisive motion, he broke Conrad's newly healed jawbone once again with the hand he had placed in Coz's mouth.

This is just an illusion.

Saint Gilles calmly stated his conclusion.

I have made my judgment. Now, Conrad, it is time for you to keep your promise.

Conrad covered his mouth, sobbing, tears streaming down his face. He could hardly believe that such a cold-hearted person existed in the world.

The Lord of the Night might believe it to be true.

This time it's really gone, don't wait anymore, it was already past midnight yesterday.

That's it! Great!

There are fan fiction events in the book review section; you can check them out if you're interested.

Chapter 465 Comparing people with each other makes people angry

Sevita took a step back. From the shadows of the cell, the archangel walked towards him expressionlessly, blood stained the corner of his mouth—

Saint Gilles turned around and left without hesitation. The archangel looked... not in good condition, but he still seemed capable of fighting.

Sevita froze on the spot, standing there in a daze for a second, before decisively lunging into the darkness inside the cell.

Saint Gilles' footsteps paused for a moment.

[Keep an eye on your... soldiers, Legion Commander.]

As the archangel spoke, he left Sevita, who was crouching beside Conrad Coz, behind him.

The candlelight in the corridor flickered on the archangel's crimson shoulder armor. The Primarch strode out of the dimly lit prison corridor, and Baal's white light shone down at the doorway, making the Primarch squint slightly.

Saint Gilles did not turn his head; beside the door, a lion with its arms crossed, wearing a hood, and leaning against the wall was waiting for him.

Saint Gilles did not smile; he maintained a cold expression, and the smell of blood gave him an imposing presence.

Have you thought it through?

"The archangel asked."

Leon, hidden beneath a dark green hood, nodded, but the lion seemed to sense something; he hesitated for a moment, his hand casually resting on the sword at his waist.

"...You're not right, angel."

Saint Gilles' face was expressionless, like a sculpture, as the magnificent sunset of Baal slowly descended upon it.

The sun is setting, and night is approaching.

The angel's lips moved slightly, but ultimately said nothing.

Finally, the archangel departed, drawing his spear from his back and spreading his wings. Messages from his offspring in the channel told him that he needed to continue the fight.

Leon, you're too sentimental.

These words floated to the ground along with the falling white feather. The lion stood up in surprise from beside the wall, the words he hadn't yet uttered stuck in his throat, unable to come out.

The lion clicked its tongue in confusion, its brows furrowed as it stared at the rapidly receding figure.

Much later... he will finally understand that the archangel has already stepped into that dark age of endless war.

My dearest friend, myself... At this moment, only the archangel Saint Gilles, praised by the people of the world, remains in this world.

The sound of staggering footsteps rang out, and Leon quickly gripped his sword. As night fell, Conrad Coz emerged, limping, supported by Sevita.

The Lord of Night's eyes reflected the eternal night sky.

The Lion King let out a contemptuous sneer, and without any attempt to conceal it, he brazenly drew his sword and pointed the tip at Conrad.

To his surprise, Conrad didn't seem to care about his provocation; after the madness of the night, his eyes were unusually clear.

【…】

Conrad stared at Leon Johnson, a soft, hoarse voice rising, tinged with the smell of blood.

[...He killed Horus.]

Leon was taken aback. "Conrad, do you know what you're saying?!"

This time, Conrad finally stopped his madness; he let out a soft, incredulous breath.

He...he chose the safer future—even if the price was bloodshed.

The archangel knew it was true, the archangel thought it was false, Conrad muttered to himself. It didn't matter, because the angel had made his choice without hesitation, minimizing the possibilities of the future.

But he chose a path that was... the most painful for him.

Only the most powerful souls can tread this path.

He pushed his best friend into the abyss, while he himself was elevated to a divine altar by the world and sealed by layers of faith.

"Koz murmured, 'Motalian has shown him a future free from fate, while Saint Gilles has shown him a future in which he chooses his destiny.'"

Conrad gasped for breath, unconsciously shaking his head, and drifted back into a hazy, incoherent state.

[Atonement...]

[...This is insane...Even sinners in hell need to work...]

As he spoke, he limped away, ignoring the lion, and was carefully helped away by Sepita.

Leon Johnson paused, realizing that as a non-prophetic being, he might never understand the pain of the two prophetic Primarchs.

He watched the two Primarchs disappear into the distance, one vanishing into the sunset and the other into the night. They seemed to have reached some kind of truce—a temporary respite.