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

Page 383

In this operation, the entire 14th Company of the Death Guard was deployed, along with the warships that held air superiority, and the Hound Vehicle Company that followed the soldiers slowly forward. The sheer number of troops brought about an overwhelming defeat.

Vox took a deep breath and stared ahead. In front of him, where the fire was gradually dying down, lay the fertilizer plant, surrounded by two irrigation canals and a sewage canal. Rivers flowed in from both ends and were then polluted by the toxic water discharged from the fertilizer plant.

This is the largest fertilizer plant on the planet, as big as a small city. Following Makado's instructions, the Death Guard surrounded it in proportion to the size of a city, with each city as a unit of measurement.

Strange...tactics.

This was definitely not a tactic that would be used in a normal battle. It was more like a symbolic arrangement. As the temporary commander of the legion, Vox certainly knew what Macado was going to do.

He felt his brain tremble; for a Death Guard who had been carefully instructed by the Primarch to stay away from the Warp, what was about to happen was probably too stimulating.

...Motalian is a sorcerer...a psionicist, Vox thought. In a way, this explains why, when he tried to teach Death Guard numerology, apart from that mad sage, the accuracy rate of the others was less than five percent?

Because—that's not science at all.

Vox's feelings were quite complicated.

When Makado said they couldn't summon Mortarion on the Death Guard fleet because the Death Guard had too many anti-psychic devices.

Vox and Garo's feelings were extremely complicated.

He had always hated his father, who was a psychic, but it turned out that his father was a psychic with extremely high psychic talent.

Then all those things he said to the psionicists earlier... weren't they... a form of retaliation?

Vox quickly dismissed this absurd idea, focusing intently on the factory before him. The fire had died down, and white smoke was rising; it was coming.

Through the hazy, choking smoke, Vox could vaguely make out the Death Guard's armor behind the remaining straw on the side of the riverbank, its bone white and pale green barely visible.

I imagine he would feel the same way about me from the other side.

"It's a pity you don't have a battle cry,"

Inside the cabin, Macado said with some regret, "As per Mortarion's requirements, the Death Guards always march in silence, never shouting."

"Otherwise, you can call him a couple of times."

The old man teased Karas, but for the Pale Lord, silence itself was part of his concept.

This is a summoning spell. The conditions are changed, but the process remains the same. As long as the opponent responds (or doesn't respond but the summoning spell's suction is strong enough), they can summon a Tzeentch Archdeacon.

Karas remained silent, feeling his heart pounding.

The next moment, Karas was engulfed by white light.

...When the blinding light faded, Karas found himself standing in a vast, empty factory, where towering high-temperature furnaces stood like a forest, their tops invisible at a glance.

Makado and the Grey Knights were gone, leaving only Karas.

Carrastiphon took a deep breath.

"—Motalian?!"

He let out a high-pitched shout, and the patterns on the mistletoe behind him seemed to come alive, extending and winding beneath his feet, guiding him to the right path.

Karas started running.

"Motalian?! Mortalian!"

Karas coughed violently.

"Mortalian, answer me! Answer the Death Guard! You need to wake up! You're in danger—you need to wake up!"

There was still no response. Callas thought for a moment, then continued to call out.

"grim Reaper!"

He shouted, “I know you’re upset! I mean—realizing you’re a psyker isn’t a depressing thing! Look! I am a psyker!”

Mortarion is a psionic, or even some kind of warp being far beyond a psionic. Calathiphon decided to put it at the top of his list of the lame jokes he'd ever heard, unless a stronger contender emerges, such as Hades, who is also a psionic.

He called out, and Karas's voice gradually faded, not because his voice had grown weary, but because he was gradually entering another silent world.

After all sound had vanished into complete silence, white mist gradually rose, and Carrastiphon saw those bone-white figures.

A smaller version of Deathguard.

They stood on the factory's iron frame, on the long-stopped assembly line, hiding in the corners of the machinery, staring intently at him.

Karas was certain that at some point, he felt a chill run down his spine.

Each Death Guard has its own unique shoulder armor pattern, which can only be read by the Lord of Death himself; others can only read a portion of it.

Karas was certain he saw the shoulder armor patterns of several dead men.

He subconsciously slowed his pace, as if realizing something. Karas looked up at the array of towering steel furnaces—

At that moment, Karas felt his vital signs stop for a brief instant.

Without a sound, the creature sat atop the highest steel furnace, white steam gushing down. It remained motionless, not looking at Karas, simply sitting there with its head down, doing nothing.

It wasn't wearing armor, just a withered cloak like the Grim Reaper, pale and dull in color, with white frost climbing on it, outlining some kind of pattern—like the human eyes that some insects in nature mimic.

But what shocked Karas most was not just that; he stared at it, at what was behind it—

It has a pair of wings that fold together.

The wings were enormous, bony, and the same color as the cloak as some kind of insect's wings, like withered leaves fallen in late autumn, with tattered edges, and the spines of the wings were supported by white bones.

If it were the Karas of the past, he would have shouted "Hide!" the moment he saw this thing. There was a psionic alien.

But now, Callas could only ask cautiously.

"Motalian?"

There was no sound, and the being ignored him.

It reminded Karas of moths, those that stay on the wall, seemingly never leaving, still, motionless, unpredictable to humans.

So what should he do?

Remembering Macado's instructions, Karas struggled to pick up the mistletoe, which was far too difficult for the fearless man.

He raised the long scythe.

"Hey! Death, look here!"

The next moment, that being turned its head.

Not only did it turn its head, but it also rushed towards him like a real moth seeing a light source.

"Hey! Wait—don't come any closer—! Aa ...

No more

Chapter 452 Successful Capture of Mortarian

There are times when people need to confront their fears and the unknown.

Such as now.

Karas hoped he hadn't unconsciously stepped back; he stood there, staring intently at the "Motalian" before him.

Mortarian stopped seven steps away from Karas.

It stopped, not completely still, like a withered branch that had just sprouted from the ground.

It wasn't until Mortarian got close to Karastyphon that Karastyphon saw what Mortarian really looked like.

...Under its tattered, seemingly empty cloak, there appeared to be no torso at all, or perhaps only something as thick as bones supporting it. Countless wisps of mist drifted beneath its cloak, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

The strange patterns formed by fine frost spread from the hem of the cloak and gradually dissolved into it.

The rising fog completely obscured its face, making it impossible to see anything behind the white mist.

But what truly terrified Callas was not any of these things.

He felt fear, extreme fear, like the fear a creature feels when it encounters a natural enemy—a fear that comes from the depths of his soul.

He faced Mortarion, and eerie, flowing emerald green light patterns were reflected on his fearless face.

That comes from its wings.

In fact, Kara didn't see the inside of the folded wings until Mortalian had just taken off.

It was something completely different from its overall appearance.

A dazzling warning green shone on the inner wings of the dull, withered wings, the green full and abundant. Some kind of black cracks, representing destruction, burst and climbed out on it, outlining the contours of skulls, some human and some alien.

Those skulls drawn with black cracks screamed silently all the time, struggling, shouting, and writhing in agony within their wings.

Countless white mists descended from within, flowing out from between those tiny, shimmering scales.

Each scale reflects a different shade of green with the slightest movement, creating a dazzling effect.

It was precisely these inner wings, so different from the initial impression, that startled Karas when Mortalian took flight.

In nature, some insects camouflage themselves to avoid predators. However, if they are discovered by predators, they will suddenly reveal another side of themselves—a frightening side composed of bright colors and strange patterns.

Of course... As for Mortalian, Karas swallowed hard. This was probably not a disguise for him to conceal himself, quietly approach his prey, and finally reap the rewards.

Karas stared at Mortarian. Even in his unarmed form, Karas believed that Death could kill him instantly.

"Mo...Motalian?"

There was still no sound; it was a silent performance. But Callas was used to it. He hesitated before speaking.

"The Death Guard needs you; you must come back and lead the Death Guard."

Mortarian didn't move, and Karas felt as if he were talking to a leaf.

But at least he didn't intend to attack him suddenly.

Karas smiled and thought on the bright side: Mortarian wasn't dead, and he had found Mortarian—that was enough.

"I'm glad you're still alive, Death. You can't possibly die, can you?"

Mortarian stared at him, something touched upon in Karas's words—

Death is the final step; the final step can only be death.

He said that some kind of liquid was flowing down from where his eyes were, in the face shrouded in white mist. Why was Karas able to see it? Because the emerald green liquid penetrated the mist.

There was still silence here, but Karas heard Mortarian's words directly on a soul level.

Things took a turn for the better, and Karas continued his attempts to communicate with Mortarian.

"...The only final step can be death?"

Karas swallowed hard.

"What does this mean, Death?"

+Death,+

That being said, "Pure death, extinction, no longer falling into the cycle."

The Pale Lord fell silent. He tried to make out the being before him, but his vision remained blurry. Everything around him was clear, but that being... seemed to come from another world. Its figure was like a reflection in the depths of water.

But he didn't see it as an intruder or a sabotager; on the contrary, he believed that the being was part of the place.

So what exactly is he?

The Pale Lord tried to touch his thoughts, a difficult step. Ever since he began to have some self-awareness, he had remained here, thinking nothing, doing nothing, simply staying put.

All he could do was wait and wait for that enormous portion to be completely digested, and then he could try to do something according to his own will.

But he knew he would do nothing.

This aligns with his own direction of water flow in subspace.

Death is an inevitable process; it will come as scheduled, whether life is active or not.

This is an inevitable process, and this is a natural ending.

As a newly "born" subspace being, he was still very vulnerable. The Pale Lord's instincts warned him, and in the distance, he vaguely remembered that he had been fleeing from some kind of being—and now, the aura of that being had not yet faded away.

So he went into hiding.

The Pale Lord remained silent. After a long silence, he determined that the new presence was not an "intruder" but a returning being. The Pale Lord decided to leave again, return to his previous position, and continue to do nothing.

Karas watched helplessly as Mortarian tried to turn around and leave again.

"Hey! No—Motalian?!"

Fearless rushed over, but within the boundaries of the warp, he would never catch up with a warp creature.