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

Page 365

"Then let's go to Triumph Avenue," Mortarian pulled out a map of Macragge and pointed to something with his pen, "There's an amusement park there."

Guilliman believes that the probability of him smashing the cup in his hand at Motarian's head is now definitely not zero.

"...Do you want to go to the amusement park?"

Guilliman raised his hand, preparing to order the Ultramarines to remove the two humanoid decorations.

【No,】

Motalian said slowly,

[You should shut it down, as well as all other entertainment venues. You can leave some bars open for emergency water supply, but the rest should be closed. Schools should be under complete lockdown, followed by a curfew, and restrictions and closures in each area.]

Guilliman fell silent.

Ultimately, he chose to recalibrate his image of Mortarian.

[Now? ]

Killian asked, "Now that Ottarama isn't under attack, this could create unnecessary chaos and destabilize the public."

Mortarian opened one hand.

Is public sentiment unstable?

The Lord of Death scoffed.

They have ample food—grains, vegetables, meat, and even a wide variety of spices; water is plentiful and clean; and the air is breathable. Do you think Makula would experience unrest under such circumstances?

In the past, this would have greatly boosted morale in Barbarossa.

Guilliman remained silent, while Mortalian stared at Guilliman as if it were his due.

Guilliman recalled his earlier conversation with Yodon. Mortalian came from Barbalus, a world of the dead, and there was an innate barrier between him and them. He couldn't understand Guilliman, just as Guilliman couldn't understand him.

Killieman paused for a moment, trying to make his words more tactful and subtle.

Makula is not a military world; its people have never undergone full-scale military mobilization.

Motalian took a look.

You do not need military mobilization.

Mortarian stopped, his eyes gleaming with disbelief. He stared at Guilliman as if he were looking at a fish that had grown two legs and was running on the ground.

Motalian chuckled.

You've spoiled the people here, Guilliman.

This is their right.

Guilliman calmly replied, "They deserve it."

Mortarian stared at Guilliman, and for a moment, Guilliman saw Death holding his scythe, looking puzzled. But Mortarian lowered his head.

【All right,】

Motalian said,

[I've already warned you, Robert Guilliman, and if you're willing to trust me—then you should.]

Guilliman put down his teacup, sat up straight, and placed his hands on the table, crossed.

【Motalian,】

Killieman said seriously,

I respect and trust you. You are the most outstanding anti-phantom among the three of us. In many matters, you can discover hidden dangers that we cannot see.

【But Ottara has its own rules of operation. I understand your good intentions, but if a curfew and the measures you proposed are suddenly implemented now, Macurag will immediately fall into chaos—I do not want my people to march in Macurag for their right to freely enter and leave at night.】

【procession?】

Motalian spoke, as if in disbelief, and repeated himself.

[A march, at this time?]

Guilliman was somewhat annoyed; he felt that every word he used was clear enough.

Yes, protests happen when policies are unreasonable and disrupt normal public sentiment, but under my administration, Makula has not had one for fifty-three years.

You should shoot them.

Mortarian said calmly that he had now glimpsed the false truth beneath this paradise: it was paradise not because Guilliman was so powerful—but because it was lucky enough.

It has not yet experienced the pain of being ravaged by war.

Mortarian rose and left the room. He had said what he needed to say; now, it was up to him to see if this paradise could continue to be so lucky.

Guilliman stood up, seemingly enraged by Mortalian's last words. He leaned on his desk, shouting in the direction Mortalian had left.

[Ottara has a well-developed defense system and a sufficient number of guard troops; there is absolutely no need for us to take action against the civilian population.]

"Killiman shouted. He had simulated the defense countless times. The war would start at Mandeville Point. The Ultramarines' reconnaissance array in the space station would be the first to spot the enemy. Then came the fleet battle, supported by missile silos on nearby planets. Then came boarding operations, or perhaps the war would be brought to the surface..."

A war is composed of countless interconnected links. In this war, the only opportunity for civilians to appear is to provide supplies and boost morale for their legions, and to replenish auxiliary troops in a timely manner.

Killieman took a deep breath; he believed Mortalian was testing his patience.

【Motalian, look at yourself! The reason you demand things from the people of Makula—ugh!】

Angron abruptly covered Guilliman's mouth. Guilliman glanced to the side in alarm and discovered that the Lord of the Red Sands, who had been sleeping, had somehow appeared beside him.

Angron made a shushing gesture, and after receiving a nod of approval from Guilliman, Angron slowly lowered his hand.

He's not in a good mood; we should be understanding, Guilliman.

"Angron said softly,"

You can complain to Ms. Eudon later, but Mortarian can't.

Of course he can't go to Euton!

Killieman roared, while Angron gave a helpless smile.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep

No more today

Chapter 430 Koz was happy, while Severta was sad.

The night could not conceal the screams.

Acid rain poured down relentlessly, casting eerie shadows that danced wildly among the shacks of the slums, waltzing to the rhythm of the raindrops' masterpiece.

Conrad Coates pressed the bloody dagger against his face, the acid rain and demonic fluids making it wet. The Lord of the Night couldn't help but lick it, the stench making him feel even better.

The Lord of Night sang a lighthearted song. The 3,567th Lord of Night cut through the bone like a diligent assembly line worker, separating the flesh from the skin with a dagger.

The demon he pinned beneath groaned weakly, its yellowish sheep eyes staring at the original body, reflecting the true demon of the human world.

The rain continued to fall, washing away blood and bits of flesh everywhere, but it was soon stopped by even more corpses, some demonic and some human.

Koz happily savored the melody he was humming.

[Having traveled through the entire hell~]

You can no longer go to Heaven!

The skin was peeled off completely, and he threw it idly on his head. With a snap, the acid rain flowing into his eyes suddenly decreased and turned into some kind of burning, blood-red liquid.

Conrad Coz rose, his Primarch's thin, hunched body making him resemble an ominous wildcat, a hunter unique to the city.

His armor was already shattered, and his communication channels had been deliberately sabotaged by Koz during the battle with the demon army. Now he was alone, walking through the rainy night of Nostramore.

This reminded Koz of the beginning of the story, when he was just as carefree.

But now he is freer, because that last, illusory hope has vanished, and this is hell.

In Hell, Kurtz doesn't feel the torment of guilt and responsibility; for this earthly demon, Hell is his paradise of amusement.

The Primarch moved swiftly along the alleyways of Nostramore, and saw the torn-down notice, the words still faintly legible.

This was a literacy class that Severta implemented during the reforms on Nors. Severta enthusiastically proposed this idea to the Primarch, while what was Conrad Coz doing at the time? He looked like he was severing a tendon.

It doesn't matter, because it's already a failure. Nostramore is destined to become a wasteland; everything before was just building sandcastles on the beach by the sea.

Some people can't see the ocean not far away, some believe the tsunami will never return, while others believe that as long as the sandcastles are strong enough, they will not collapse in the tsunami.

And Koz, Koz—

Coz hummed a song,

I can no longer go to heaven.

He continued his journey, passing the now-collapsed colossal sculpture erected for him by Sevita; passing the once-clean, bustling metallurgical factories that had provided employment; passing the public hospital where the garrison had already retreated…

In the abandoned hospital, filled with fresh corpses and flesh, Koz found some needles and thread, which allowed him to continue his demon skin artwork.

Koz squatted on the edge of the hospital bed, bloodstains splattered on the white sheets. The patient who had been lying on the bed was now dead, his mouth wide open, a sharp blade protruding from his chest.

Coz remembered the deceased; he was a worker whom Sevita had commended for his high productivity and for his active participation in literacy campaigns, for which he was rewarded with a kilogram of fresh meat.

Koz was a little hungry, so he ate while sewing the leather goods in his hands. The demons came in different colors, which added some fun to his pursuit of art.

He sewed quietly and meticulously, putting his whole heart and soul into it. The broken broadcast system in the hospital emitted a hissing sound, but there were no more screams here; they had all been killed by Koz.

Koz was injured, of course, but the physical pain could not mask the madness in his mind.

Koz raised the needle, his lips pursed in displeasure, and the Primarch abruptly lowered it, preparing to leave—

"Father!"

Before he could catch up with Koz, Koz jumped out of a sixth-floor hospital window, shards of glass falling with him. The Primarch landed on the ground, preparing to disappear further away—

Koz stiffly turned his head, and Sevita stood behind him, as if he had expected the original to jump off the building.

"Father,"

"Sevita said calmly, though wearily,"

“I implore you to return to the Nightfall. The Bat Council has already voted that the Midnight Lord will issue an extermination order against Northcramer.”

The Council of Bats was a small decision-making group for the Night Lords established by Sevita after Coz relinquished power to him.

Conrad Coz stared at Sevita. His crow prince was no longer the sharp-tongued man he once was. He had become more composed, more taciturn, and more... aged.

Sevita's face was covered with loose lines, and his hair was completely white.

Do crows turn white when they are old and dying?

Don't worry about me, Sai.

Coates said he stood there, surrounded by his unfamiliar offspring.

I will burn to ashes along with hell.

Sevita sighed deeply, his features aged, aged enough to obscure the complex light that shone in his eyes.

"Father, please stop being so stubborn."

Sevita said, "You know this is impossible; the Midnight Lord cannot lose you."

Koz looked at Sevita, bent down, and placed his hand on Sevita's shoulder armor. His disheveled hair was tied up above Sevita's forehead.

You've seen it all, Sai.

Koz said in a low voice,

We've already fallen into hell. No matter how hard we struggle, this is hell, and you can't climb out of here.

We can only die in hell, or become demons and live there forever, Sai.

Severa trembled as the Raven Prince reached out a hand to grasp the Primarch's, while his other hand hung limply at his waist.

"Father, you saw all of this back then?"

"Sevita asked, trembling," Koz asked, looking into Sevita's eyes and sensing that his most loyal son was on the verge of collapse.

Koz lowered his head, feeling a sharp blade emerge from his mouth, piercing Sevier and slicing through his throat.

"I..." Koz's voice trembled. "If I had said back then that half the empire would become hell, and the Midnight Lord would personally issue an extermination order against Nostramore, would you have believed me, or thought I was insane?"

Only...only he can understand, but I'm already...?!

Koz opened his eyes wide and slowly turned his head to stare at Severta's other hand as it plunged the syringe into him, the sharp needle piercing through the gaps in the broken armor and injecting venom.