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

Page 380

He couldn't accept all of this, yet he forced himself to accept it. If he continued to break down in the face of these harsh realities, then he would remain the scum that no one could save.

Fortunately, Calastiffon is not a weak man, nor is he afraid to face reality. Even if he may have been in the past, he is not now.

He figured it out.

After a long while, Karas's tone returned to that of the scoundrel on Barbarossa.

"Fine—debts must be repaid, lives must be repaid. This guy Mortarian wants me to work for him, so I'll accept it."

"Anyway, as long as he's not dead, that's all that matters."

No one saw Callas break down in the illusion, and Callas Typhon would not let anyone else see that side of him.

Callas's tone became indifferent.

"You just said I could spit on Hades' grave before leaving, Vox?"

The smoke dissipated from the fearless shell, and Vox holstered his gun.

"Watch your words, Karas."

Vox said,

“Even if you are now the Death Guard’s hope in finding the Legion Commander, I want you to realize that if you continue like this—you will not have a good end.”

Karas smiled.

"Little brat,"

He said he skillfully began teasing Vox.

"Do you remember what Hades said to me back then?"

“He said that if I die, he will definitely come to my grave for a spring outing and eat my offerings as snacks.”

Hades had said the same thing to Mortarion, to which Mortarion responded casually.

Walkston lived there. The Barbarus trio was famous back then: Mortarian, the true leader of the Death Guard; Karas, the southern commander; and Hades, the undead of the wilderness.

Their story, like a heroic tale, circulated in the village of Barbaros.

A wizard with strange bloodlines and a hideous ghost found the true Grim Reaper in the castle of the alien lord.

Therefore, in terms of seniority and experience, Carrastyphon could indeed use his past relationships with legion commanders and generals to put pressure on Vox.

And in fact, that's exactly what he did.

"Even if you have been associated with two great people, it will only make you look smaller."

Vox said calmly that he was no longer the immature young man that Karas remembered.

Sure enough, Karaston stopped.

After a long pause, he continued nonchalantly,

"Whatever, I can't cough up anything in this state anyway. I just want to see him, nothing else, just to remember him."

"Are you satisfied with this answer, Vox?"

Vox stared intently at Karas.

"Of course you can, but we'll be watching you, and you can't be in anyone else's sight."

The Karas's engine made two clicks.

"Thank you to the understanding Death Guard Company Commander,"

He said provocatively,

"Furthermore, as the one who was able to find Mortalian, may I make a small request of my own?"

Vox silently gripped his scythe, gesturing for Karas to continue.

"I'd like some roasted horse meat,"

Karas said.

"It's not too late to pay back the debts we owed back then."

----------

Angron felt... a feeling he couldn't quite describe.

Since emerging from the vortex, he has rarely felt this emotion; even when facing chaos head-on, he has never been so conflicted.

This is... very strange.

He was going to Hades' memorial service. In front of Angron, Killieman, dressed in a formal suit, looked somber and grief-stricken, while Mrs. Euton beside Killieman also looked sorrowful.

Behind Angron, even the expressionless Kahn exuded a genuine sense of sorrow.

They walked along the corridors of the Resilience, where a silent sorrow permeated the air.

All of this is sad.

The premise is that Angron didn't know Hades was still alive.

Upon receiving the invitation from the Death Guard, Angron immediately contacted Macardo.

The old man, engrossed in his search for Mortalian through psionic powers, spoke with an air of nonchalance.

"I received it too, but I'm not going."

Angron paused, “...But Hades isn’t dead. You have to tell them that. This is ridiculous, we can’t—”

"I don't have time."

Makado cleanly interrupted Angron, the old man speaking slowly.

"It will take time to explain this, and I think the Death Guard, who thought Hades was dead, would be better suited to survive in this galaxy."

"You can't do this, it's wrong—"

"What if I said Hades probably liked it that way too?"

This is a lie; Macardo simply doesn't want to get involved.

If doing something now has no impact, then it's better not to do it and do something else meaningful, like figuring out how to get Mortalian out of the warp.

Angronton stayed.

"Wait, Hades? You're actually quite familiar with him, Makado?"

"...Familiar?"

Macado asked slowly,

"You bent one-fifth of the head of my scepter. What do you think of that relationship?"

“Angron, let them mourn. I think Hades is lonely now too.”

Macado pondered,

"And... who knows, he might die soon? In any case, he'll need a funeral and a memorial service."

Makado hung up the call. Oh no… the old man thought. He should go.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 449 Interlude: When the Deceased's Emotions Stabilize

[High-Dimensional Cinema Room]

"All right,"

Hades, like Ge You, lay on the sofa, watching Emperor Entertainment Group prepare to change the disc.

"Old Emperor, what are we looking at today?"

The Emperor happily raised his hand and twirled the disc in his hand. It was a pure black disc with the words "Top Secret" scrawled on it in gold ink.

"Your funeral."

In that instant, Hades was certain he heard gloating in his voice, and he abruptly sat up straight from the sofa.

"Wait—my funeral?! I've never heard of that before?!"

"Which living person do you think can know about their own funeral?"

Makado calmly stated that, after the previous "Old Makado," he decided to ignore Hades's "Old Emperor"—in principle, he should uphold the dignity of the Lord of Mankind.

Now, that's their business, it has nothing to do with Makado.

Hades paused for a moment.

"That's true, Old Ma, you're right,"

He casually scooped a handful of popcorn from Macado's popcorn bucket, while Macado, as if he had already resigned himself to his fate, held up the bucket for Hades to take.

"Who participated? Mortarian, Garo, Vox—"

"Motalian did not participate."

The Emperor said that he patted the television, and after the image appeared, he decisively snapped his fingers, teleporting back to the sofa with his psionic energy.

Hades blinked.

"...He died before me?"

"He had an epiphany and went off to have an epiphany."

Macardo said this without mincing words, while he was trying to figure out a way to deal with this damned "Warp Primarch".

Haha, those damn psykers.

The image appeared, and Hades immediately shut his mouth. He recognized the image as the hall beneath the spine of the Resilient.

Beneath the spine of the Resilient lies a vast, long hall, its length seemingly endless, yet wide enough for Titans to pass side by side.

As the camera pans, Hades sees a sea of ​​bone white and pale green—the orderly ranks of the Death Guards, and a stubborn, out-of-place little red corner, the Sage of the Army.

It was clear that the entire hall was at an extremely low temperature, with a thin layer of white mist rising from beneath people's feet, and a light frost covering the portholes.

Hades thought that the use of psychic energy would cause a drop in temperature, so there was probably a person with strong psychic abilities present.

Did he actually befriend several psychic individuals?

Hades started cracking sunflower seeds as he thought about it, completely ignoring Macado and the Emperor.

He could imagine the average viewer.

The camera continues to move, and at the end of the hall, black steps arch upwards, at the highest point of which is a simple, almost abbreviated Barbaros-style tombstone, and beside it, Gara stands silently with her head bowed.

"fine,"

Hades commented, then took another handful of melon seeds.

"Barbarus classic, they didn't give me any fancy tricks."

Makado coughed and said with a hint of sarcasm,

What did you think it would be?

Hades paused for a moment.

"Come on, Old Ma, we're both worldly people. Haven't you seen how the Empire treats its heroes? Or the Mechanicus's exaggerated approach?"

"Thank you Mortalian, thank you Death Guard, for preserving a heart that yearns for simplicity in this empire that pursues complexity and luxury."

Macado remained silent, while the Emperor smiled.

"Too rudimentary,"

He commented, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

"Even if your main color is black, they should at least use some gold to accent it."

A faint golden light shone from the emperor's fingertips, as if he wanted to apply a golden filter to the image.

Hades immediately shouted,

"No gold! This is my funeral!"

The golden light at the emperor's fingertips vanished instantly; he readily complied.

“You’re right, this is your funeral, I’ll listen to you—Macado, my funeral has to be gold, absolutely not…”