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

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Hades shouted it out loud.

"Carrastiphon?!"

He shouted,

"Who was so blind as to let you out?! I'm warning you—you're not allowed to steal my offerings!"

Fearlessly tear him apart! Tear him to pieces!

Fortunately, Hades spotted Vox, who was trailing far behind Dauntless, staring at Karas.

Karas had a long scythe tucked behind him, which Hades recognized as Mistletoe of Mortalian.

Undeterred by the difficulty, he stopped not far from Hades' tomb—the offerings already laid out on the steps prevented him from going any further.

Karas gave a sarcastic laugh.

As expected, Hades thought, and he started eating sunflower seeds again.

"An unpopular brat..."

Karas said in a low voice that Hades' assessment of this was blatant lying, and Karas was still stuck on the old version of Barbaros.

Besides, his soulless physique involuntarily made others think he was a subspace thesis defender. Was that something he could have resolved at the time?

Karas remained silent.

Hades stared at him, and he looked as if he were dead—Hades hoped he was truly dead, motionless, until the night in Macurag was about to end.

Callastyphon kept vigil for Hades, who was still alive, for the rest of the night. In a daze, Hades seemed to see a large, white, misty figure in the dark corner behind Callastyphon.

Finally, Typhon left, the only one among them who didn't offer sacrifices to Hades.

Who do you look down on?

Hades is a vengeful man. If Karas stops at his grave and the number of offerings is +0, then the next time he goes to his grave, the number of offerings will inevitably be negative.

That's it! Great!

Chapter 450 He Deserves It

"Approval of the action".

In the outer sector of Altera, pale green planets shimmered with a faint glow, and above the hazy, misty atmosphere, a fleet of jet-blue and bone-white ships waited quietly.

Like a swarm of insects, the warships flew out of the Resilience, their tail flames drawing shimmering blue light in the void.

"Entering the atmosphere."

Frost rose from the warship's windows, and even with an anti-frost coating, the frost still climbed up densely.

Even in the well-sealed cabin, the stench seeped in like ubiquitous tentacles, irritating the pilot's nerves.

High above, the pale green of Yax shone brightly on Macado's bloodless face.

The old man muttered to himself, seemingly waiting for an opportunity.

"We have successfully entered the marked zone. We request permission to bomb."

The buzzing of flies came through the channel, as if the fleet of warships had stumbled into a vibrant, thriving area.

“Approved,” Macado said, swaying slightly as he turned to look at Karas, who had remained silent behind him.

The old man's gaze subtly swept over the long scythe behind Wuwei.

"Get ready, it's your turn—will we be able to see Mortarian?"

According to Makado's deduction, the warp region where Mortarion is currently drifting is not far from Nurgle's territory.

The warp is a space that mixes concepts. The authority wielded by the Lord of Death is similar to that of Nurgle. As long as Mortalian doesn't actively distance himself, the two naturally cannot stray too far apart.

And Mortarian...

Makado figured that the brat had probably slashed Nurgle once and run away, but he was already nearing his limit, so he had to find a place not far from Nurgle's territory to stop.

Although Mortarion is very close to Nurgle, the good news is... Mortarion himself may not be able to escape, but that doesn't mean he won't call for "people".

Thinking of this, Makado couldn't help but sneer. Mortarian was probably afraid that Hades wouldn't die fast enough.

Hades, whose self-awareness has fallen into a coma, can only mechanically respond to calls to him at this moment.

He couldn't distinguish them—though he hadn't been able to before, he could have learned to do so gradually.

Upon receiving Mortalian's distress call, the Dark Realm automatically rushed to his aid, successfully severing Nurgle's pursuit of Mortalian's fate. Mortalian was even able to "retreat halfway" with a portion of Nurgle's authority.

Why only half a body? Because a portion of it was cut off and given to Hades.

...Macado took a deep breath.

While the Black Domain is unlikely to cause any immediate problems and may even continue to grow, Hades is a different story.

If the Empire wants a “controllable” Dark Realm, then Hades absolutely cannot be sacrificed.

Therefore, they need to wake Mortarion from his current "slumber" state, make him wake up on his own, and voluntarily leave Nurgle's territory.

Then summon the Dark Realm to another safe place—though Macardo believes Nurgle is already trying to do so.

And to find the Pale Lord in the Warp and awaken him...

Macado narrowed his eyes and muttered to himself as he scribbled on the deck beneath him and Karas with his scepter.

The golden lettering lit up.

On how to summon a warp entity, the Pale Lord.

The first step is to find a soul that has a destiny connection with the Lord of Paleness; the stronger the connection, the better.

Macardo found Kalastigon, and as if afraid they wouldn't be able to find him, Mortarion even gave Kalastigon a portion of his own power (which had previously belonged to Nurgle).

The second step is that you should have another token, but of course, you can ignore it if you don't.

Mistletoe, Macado said that Mortarion was pretending to be ignorant, he even knew to put a token!

The third step is to find an area where the veil is thin, preferably one that is conceptually connected to the thing you are summoning.

The Death Guard's warships were actually quite suitable, but unfortunately, Mortarion and Hades had previously deployed too many anti-psy devices on them, which was not a good thing for Macador.

On Endurance, the veil between the physical world and subspace is too thick.

Makado suddenly found it amusing that Mortarion himself had previously harbored extreme hatred for psionicists and deployed anti-psionic weapons—the end result of which was that he himself was unable to board his own ship.

This brought some comfort to Makado, who had been working hard for many days.

"Serves him right," the great psychic commented.

Furthermore, because the Pale Lord was born too recently, he has not yet had time to exert his influence in the physical world. In other words, this [weak] and [unlucky] subspace being currently does not have a suitable physical territory.

It doesn't matter.

Makado thought of the news coming through the channel that the first round of bombing had gone smoothly; phosphorescent bombs had been dropped, burning eerie flames in the ravaged forest.

"Airdropping cargo into the warehouse."

The old man said that based on the precise location coordinates transmitted by the warship pilot, Makado began to deduce the spatial coordinates of the subspace at this moment.

The golden falcon sculpture on the scepter, poised to take flight, glared angrily at Karas in the firelight.

"Seven minutes left."

Macado said to Karas, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, "The veil here is very unstable, as is the warp, which makes the calculations even more difficult."

It has to be precise... otherwise they'll be taking a day trip to the garden.

Even though the Pale Lord has no physical territory—but that doesn't matter, his warp coordinates are very close to Nurgle's—in this matter, Macardo made a similar decision to Mortarion.

Those who freeload and indulge in evil.

And there is no psychological burden involved.

Everything was ready. Macado took a deep breath and looked into the dark corner of the room, where several giants in silver-gray helmets slowly emerged.

Their armor was adorned with the new version of the Word Bearer's Prayer, written since the Burning of the Perfect City. Inside the armor, a special psionic matrix was operating, casting a warm projection onto Macado in the warp.

The halberds in their hands emitted a blinding white light.

Grey Knight.

From the now-disbanded Fifteenth Legion, Senko.

Makado kept an eye on them, making sure once again that they were in good condition for battle.

During the previous World Eater warship landing battle, Macado did not let them appear. These were a few carefully selected Thousand Sons used for his experiments—their links to Magnus had been almost completely erased by Macado.

They are not the strongest, but they are the most consistent.

As for the other powerful Thousand Sons, Makado continued to keep an eye on them. Most of them remained asleep in the stasis field beneath Terra Palace, while a portion followed him.

Even the Thousand Sons, whose condition was confirmed to be the most stable by Makado himself, still experienced varying degrees of unconsciousness and psionic instability during their previous voyages.

This is why, when Macado's fleet first arrived in Altramor, Macado did not send them out.

...Magnus is in trouble, absolutely in trouble.

According to the chaotic time calculation method of the subspace, the time point is roughly... the period between Hades being sealed away and the star torch being extinguished.

Makado sighed.

His offspring, who had a mystical connection with him, were influenced by him during the voyage, even though Macardo repeatedly tried to weaken their connection.

The old man pondered for a moment, then asked, "How are you feeling?"

The massive silver-helmeted knights before the hunched old man knelt on one knee.

"Fight for the Empire at all times."

Makado nodded, gesturing for them to stand up.

"Then let's begin the teleportation."

Great!

Chapter 451 Little Guardian Searches for Old Mo

Vast swathes of farmland were scorched, with flames flickering towards the sky.

The straw crackled and popped amidst the raging fire, the stench of burning and decay assaulting the soldiers' souls, yet they continued their steady advance.

Salamanders would love this fire.

Vox thought to himself as he carried the Scalefire Flamethrower, modified by the Death Guard, through the farmland. Ax was a typical agricultural planet, with over 95 percent of its land planted with crops.

The remaining five percent consists of crowded residential areas, as well as fertilizer plants and crop processing plants.

Vox doesn't like it here; it's not like Barbarossa.

To supply food for the entire star sector, the skies of Ax have long been obscured by the pollutants emitted from fertilizer plants. The sky and rivers are toxic, and only genetically modified plants can survive on the highly fertile land, which is even slightly corrosive to mortals.

But based on Vox's knowledge of the subspace, he knew who would favor this land.

He marched silently through the flames, the fire scorching his armor, and every now and then, charred corpses with large, cracked skin were spat out from behind the flames as he advanced.

Foul-smelling pus oozed from the wound.

Vox remained expressionless, his phosphorescent firearm spraying flames to ensure that every potential source of disease was eliminated.

As planned, the Death Guard used the fire to force out the enemies hiding in the farmland one by one.

The buzzing swarm of flies fell to the ground as the poisonous fire scorched them, the plague zombies that staggered forward were bombarded by warships before they could even emerge, and the Nurgles that dragged their long tails were roasted to death before they could even crawl out of the farmland.

Every now and then, huge explosions would erupt from the burning farmland, splattering pus; Vox was certain they had burned some kind of creature.

The highly toxic phosphorescent flames advanced, greedily devouring any life they encountered.

To prevent the enemy from developing resistance to the poison, after discussions among Garo, Vox, and Macado, Deathguard selected three phosphorus-fired grenades with different toxicological properties.

Different fuels were used in different zones, with gray-white, light green, and blood-red phosphorescent flames reflecting each other.

The only thing they had in common was that, thanks to Makado's insistence, these phosphorescent firebombs produced a large amount of smoke afterward.

Smoke rose in wisps, now the fire raged fiercely, making the smoke appear like a thin veil, but Vox knew that once the flames died down, the mist over this land would linger for days.

When reports came in from other companies, Vox opened the communication channel.

"The Death Guards have all arrived at their designated locations."