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

Page 393

This generally indicates that the Lord of the Night is about to enter a new round of powerful prophecies.

The archangel's eyes gleamed with a blood-red light.

I can also make predictions.

Saint Gilles said he could see the future of some things.

He watched Conrad panting, shook his head slightly with a mocking expression. The Lord of the Night was telling him that the prophecy experienced by Saint Gilles was completely different from what he had experienced.

Conrad Coz possesses the strongest prophetic abilities among the Primarchs. He often finds himself engrossed in prophetic visions, only to be transported back to reality at some point. Prophecy and reality intertwine, and he can no longer distinguish between them.

The archangel's fangs gleamed coldly at the corners of his mouth.

【I know,】

Saint Gilles said softly,

I know that what you've been through is different from what I've experienced.

The archangel paused.

[Through your blood... I saw something.]

He saw the fallen Fugen, and the Third Primarch who was personally pushed into hell by two bastards.

Immediately afterwards, something else flashed by.

However, at that time, Saint Gilles had to suppress Coz and the Lion King, so he used the name of the God Emperor to escape the illusion in time.

Now, he confronts the prophecy directly.

Saint Gilles reached out, straightened Coz's head, and forced the Lord of the Night to face him.

Let's make a bet.

Saint Gilles de São ...

[Let's face the prophecy together. If I survive, then you will need to take the initiative to atone—even if your condition prevents you from leading troops normally, you can still cooperate with your legion commander to extract gene seeds.]

If I don't make it through...

The archangel said,

"Then you are right, you win, Conrad."

Koz could not pray to the God-Emperor; he needed another faith, the archangel thought.

But that happened after that.

The archangel's pupils dilated as he looked at Koz; the Lord of the Night began a new round of struggle.

No, no, no, no... no...

Koz thought that the archangel was still good; he couldn't let the prophecy drive him mad.

But deep inside, Conrad Coates's sinful side was roaring, "Let this arrogant angel see! Let him see! Let him know your pain! You are right!"

Before Saint Gilles, Koz suddenly stopped, uttering a few faint characters from his broken mouth.

Saint Gilles' wings trembled slightly.

Konrad Coz is saying...Ho...Rus...

Yes, the Night Lord's prophecy will reveal the most cruel and least desirable scene.

This means that the archangel will see his dearest friend.

Saint Gilles was silent for a moment.

He is measuring.

Finally, Saint Gilles grasped one of Coz's hands and bared his fangs.

At the same time, he brought his wrist to Coz's mouth.

If you want to start betting, then take a bite.

The madman bit down without the slightest hesitation.

Without further hesitation, the archangel plunged the needle in.

--------

Outside the cell, Severta stared at the two Primarchs who had both fallen into a coma.

I've fallen into a phase of questioning the meaning of life.

Was he a witness to some kind of ritual?

That's it! Great!

Chapter 463 The Angel Collapses

What did you see?

You witnessed a hero facing death, struggling on his deathbed but still unable to protect the galaxy he loved so dearly.

You see the stubborn trapped in a snare, time spinning in vain, leaving only decay.

You saw the pitiful fall into the flames of rage, the flames raging, yet the empty shell remained.

You saw the mocker struggling to prove himself, only to be ultimately destroyed by the applause.

You saw it...you saw it...you saw yourself.

You stand there, with the lion beside you, Leon Johnson, your "Knight Commander," your "War General"—you understand but cannot agree with Leon's inexplicable obsession with the title of "War General," yet you still bestow this title upon him.

The lion stands to your right, its black helmet gleaming brightly in the Baal sun, giving you a sense of confidence and hope. You comfort yourself with the thought that the lion, now holding the title of "War Master," will work hard.

The fact that Leon Johnson was willing to accept the titles of "Knight Commander" and "War General" already signifies his submission to you; your former brother has now submitted to you.

You feel a little absurd and uneasy about this fact, but it's the best solution for now, you comfort yourself.

The dark side of an empire must have a center, a place to spread faith among the people, a place to preserve the flame of faith.

To your left, Koz, with one arm missing, hides himself under a dark hood. Your "Judge," the sinner who judges evil.

Conrad Coz will atone under your rule, for ten thousand years after ten thousand.

Before you, shining with pure golden light, he felt ashamed of himself, discovering his own ugliness and insignificance. He began to atone—or, for Conrad Coates, only by placing himself in a more painful situation could he make his already nonexistent conscience feel a little better.

You stared at Koz for a moment, and he, intimidated by your gaze, hid himself in the shadows.

You sighed softly.

In hell, only the most brutal punishments can truly shake people's spirits. You know you need to clean your hands of filth, and Conrad, who is already filthy, is your best choice.

You looked away from Konrad Koz; he would do his job, at least... his legion commander, Sevita, could share some of your burden.

And you, you.

You are the Pope or Archangel of the First Divine Kingdom or the Second Empire; you are a symbol, a focal point for people's attention.

You witnessed the entire argument between Mortalian and Loka at the celebration in Ulanor, and you questioned Angron at the Nicaea Conference; you know the truth of it all.

You are the one who was chosen.

You are the one destined to save people.

The strongest evidence is that you possess wings you don't want, wings that make people willingly worship you as a god.

You have an entire planet where you are the religion, and devout, ignorant people firmly believe that you are God.

You've been subtly avoiding this question, you've been running away, hiding yourself among the legions of the Great Crusade, but now, you can't escape anymore.

You need to acknowledge that you are a god.

There are gods in this world who respond to the call of believers and give them strength.

You see, the emperor is a god.

Luojia is right.

They need divine protection, they need faith, otherwise they will be swallowed up by impurity. You need to give them hope and a spark of light; this long night cannot be allowed to continue.

You were born with wings, son of the gods, you are their living hope.

You need to acknowledge all of this.

You don't know why the emperor is unwilling to be called a god; he may have his reasons. But you know that you are not someone who wants to be sanctified either. You look at your army, and your army is not perfect.

Thirst.

You suddenly realize that they represent your impurity, that you are incomplete, but you have hidden this incompleteness.

In the long night, you were uneasy about your offspring's rage. Their madness was terrifying. You felt their thirst for flesh and blood. You saw monsters your offspring had become—monsters on the battlefield, frantically devouring flesh and blood. They looked up at you, and you saw the flaws in their souls—you could not avoid this, for you too had once drooled in the dim light.

……

The bat by your bedside chuckled softly, as if waiting for your fall, or perhaps screaming, begging you not to plummet so easily.

……

No, you realize that this is no longer a significant issue. In this hellish world, the brutality of the Blood Angels only enhances your experience.

You once worried about this imperfection, but now, in this hell, a little imperfection obviously doesn't matter anymore.

You just need to control your own desires.

If you take them as an example, your offspring will be able to control themselves.

You gave a dismissive laugh, thinking, "Nothing special." "Prophecy is nothing special."

You gaze into the distance at your subjects. You are about to adapt to a new title and a new life. You need to give them hope and tell them that the emperor is a god.

Faith gives them strength, and it gives you strength.

Will you be twisted by their beliefs? You don't know, perhaps you've grasped the key to what the Emperor fears, but at this moment, one person's twistedness is clearly insignificant in the face of the suffering of half the galaxy.

You did it willingly.

[The First Divine Kingdom], you, War General, Judge, you will struggle in hell to bring new light to people—even if it is a poison despised by the old night, it is now the only medicine for you dying patients.

On this map, you are spreading light once more, bringing hope to those who have been forgotten...

The forgotten people...

Wait, what did you forget?

Oh, right, Horus Lupecal.

Horus, your dearest friend, your brother, the one you were closest to among your dozen or so brothers, it was he who patiently led you back to the Empire, it was he who taught you how to lead legions.

You miss the memories of studying on the Blade of Vengeance. Those memories are so beautiful, so unreal, yet they did exist in your current miserable life.

You watch Horus's little brats cause trouble, then desperately hope you'll keep their secrets, and after Horus finds out, they beg you to plead with him on their behalf.

It was a wonderful period of time, you think.

You thought to yourself, and subconsciously glanced at the [War Master] and [Inquisitor] beside you—if only it were Horus, you sighed once again.

You feel the weight of the laurel wreath on your head, look into the distance, the rising sun is a little dazzling, and you miss Horus.

Horus...

...? !

You suddenly realize a problem.

A terrifying, absurd question that could break you on the spot—

That is, if you were to become emperor, what would Horus think now?

He was the war commander of the old night.

And your ascension to the throne personally overthrew the old order.

Your claim to the throne, or even the mockery and criticism of his misrule that led to the shattering of the galaxy.

The Emperor had just bestowed upon Horus the title of Warmaster and ordered him to take over the Empire, but under his rule, the Empire was torn apart.

Even his closest friend, you, abandoned him and established a new kingdom.

And now, beside you, there is even a war commander whom you have appointed and crowned.

What would Horus think?