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

Page 359

--------

[Attacked on the gene seed room?]

Beneath his hood, Mortarian frowned deeply. The Lord of Death abruptly rose from his desk, which was piled high with documents, and strode toward the medical room, his scythe scraping against the floor.

Vox trotted alongside his father.

"Lena of the First Company attacked Io, the pharmacist in charge of recruit surgery, and had cut off all communications in the medical area before that."

Vox said,

"Lena killed thirteen death guards who were guarding the medical area, and was killed by Io when he was about to kill Io and obtain his gene fragments to open the gene seed bank."

The gloomy aura surrounding Mortalian was almost tangible.

I remember them.

The Lord of Death spoke softly, remembering them, the second batch of Barbarosians to become the Death Guardians.

Those new recruits have long since become seasoned veterans, among whom emerged the forging master Pasteur and the fifth company commander Antey.

And the famous pharmacist Io.

Mortarian raised his hand, signaling Vox to stop reporting. The Primarch lowered his head slightly and stepped into the emergency room, the strong smell of blood filling his nostrils.

He saw Io lying on the operating table, barely alive, the splattered blood on the table looking as if it had been exploded from the inside by a bomb.

With just one glance, Mortarian knew that this offspring was no longer a possibility; he would rest in peace, sleeping with the night of Barbaros.

Io was breathing heavily, and under the influence of the high dose of psychotropic drugs, a hazy halo appeared in his pupils.

Mortarian shook his head, and the apothecary, who was about to explain something to him, stopped.

Mortalian knew better than anyone that these nerve-stimulating, life-slowing drugs could cause delirium and even hallucinations.

Motarian knelt down and took Io's hand.

Say what you want to say.

Motalian spoke softly, while Io struggled with his panting breaths.

"grown ups……"

Iran and Russia struggled.

"Forgive... forgive them, they..."

"...I trusted him...that's why..."

The images of the Death Guards lying in pools of blood flashed before Io's eyes. He struggled because of his relationship with Lena, who often came to see him, and he quickly became familiar with the guards in the medical ward thanks to his personality.

Motalian tightened his grip on Io's hand; the warmth was rapidly fading.

They are all my children, and I want to believe they are not neglecting their duties.

He looked at Io silently and gave a wry smile.

"...He...is...Hydra."

Io struggled to say that he wondered when his comrade-in-arms, who had fought alongside him, had been replaced.

"The enemy... is inside..."

Mortarian lowered his eyes, feeling the coldness in his hands, as life finally slipped away.

Seven seconds later, he released his grip, and Mortarian stood up, preparing to leave.

Mortarian reminisced, he reminisced about his memories of Hydra—

Finally, he remembered that Hades had mentioned it.

"Sir, should we immediately halt the current warp jump?"

Vox asked, and a hiss came from beneath Mortalian's breathing mask.

We need seven days. Let me try... to find those termites.

Mortarian said he needed a bit of Hydra blood, a bit of guidance from numerology, and a bit of... the bond between the Primarch and his offspring.

Especially in times like these, it's crucial to avoid anger and anxiety.

Beneath the hood, Mortarian's gloomy eyes were practically burning.

An hour later, the first group of Death Guards were summoned to meet the Primarch.

In the dimly lit room, Mortarian held a scythe, standing as still as a statue.

The purge inside the Deathguard began quietly.

Great!

Chapter 423 Welcome to Macurag

[Makulag?]

Mortarian simply tossed the documents Vox handed him onto the table, the paper making a clattering sound.

A loud hiss came from beneath Mortarian's gas mask. He subconsciously touched his gauntlets, the faint traces of blood on them a testament to their owner's recent actions.

[...It seems my brother Guilliman needs to explain to me why only Macragge has directional markers in the warp.]

Motarian spoke, almost uttering each word slowly and deliberately, through gritted teeth.

I hope he truly needs help, and that it's not some trivial matter that leads to Macragge having a glittering tombstone erected for him, one that can be seen from the warp at a glance.

He hastily purged the outcasts within the legion and roughly gathered supplies, not to save time to get to a place like Macurag.

They should be stepping onto a battlefield, not fertile soil.

However, due to the chaos of the starlight and the turbulent flow of the warp, the Deathguard, under the navigator's command, had no choice but to follow the bright spot in the warp.

Mortarian pressed his gas mask against his face and took a deep breath.

He should probably just order the Death Guard fleet to charge toward the scar that runs through the galaxy; maybe that would at least allow him to find the initial point of the story's outbreak.

--------

At least for now, Robert Killman has not gleaned from this brief communication the bloodshed and purges behind the hasty departure.

He only knew that the emperor had indeed responded to his thoughts—

But the person sent was wrong.

Anti-Psionic, Deathguard, Mortarion, Lord of Death, has answered your prayer.

At this moment, the sun in Macurag was shining brightly, its dazzling rays gleaming on the sapphire-like armor.

Guilliman stood on the platform of the "Titan Gate" at the north entrance of the plaza, dressed in ceremonial armor, with the banners of the Ultramarines and the Titan Legion fluttering in the wind.

At a glance, his legion stood majestically in formation on the square paved with bluestone and marble quarried from Mount Karut, the sunlight gilding their blue helmets with a blazing gold edge.

Like a vast blue ocean, the Lord of Macurag spares no effort in displaying his army, which is both a sign of respect and a way to reassure the people.

With the Star Torch extinguished and the psionicists driven mad, rumors spread like wildfire throughout the Ottara Empire. These unsettling messages traveled so fast that even when Guilliman stepped in to quell the unrest, he did not achieve significant results.

Therefore, Killieman also had his own considerations for this welcoming parade; he needed to make the people of Makulag realize that their country was safe.

Killieman raised his head, the sunlight making his brilliant golden short hair appear pearly white. Ms. Euton stood behind him, wearing a deep blue formal dress with sparkling rhinestones adorning the hem.

Guilliman swallowed almost imperceptibly.

I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not.

He muttered to himself, making sure only Euton and he could hear.

Yodon smiled.

"Two Primarchs are always more reassuring than one Primarch."

Euton said,

"Or are you worried about your other brother?"

Kiliman paused,

Mortarian's personality was eccentric.

He said it outright because even Motalian would most likely agree with Guilliman's words, and might even look down on them as "abnormal."

I'm worried he'll perceive my behavior as provocative.

Killieman said,

He wasn't one for elaborate rituals... I often couldn't understand what he was thinking. He always held his scythe, as if a monster might jump out at any moment to attack him. Aside from defense, he showed little interest in anything else.

"A somewhat extreme and cautious person,"

Euton commented,

"This is not a bad thing; when a crisis strikes, he will react before anyone else."

I can do that too.

Killieman spoke quickly, then paused.

[And I'm not going to be too extreme, I'm worried...]

The Lord of Macragge's voice trailed off; he was worried that Mortarion's extremes would have some consequences for Macragge that he did not want to see.

Guilliman has learned through his mortal servants that gas masks are selling like hotcakes in the Macragge market lately, and it seems his people have some strange rumors about the Death Guard.

Yodon's reassuring voice rang out.

"Will not,"

she says,

"When he sees Macurag, when he sees this shining pearl under your rule, he will understand your intentions. Perhaps his upbringing has instilled in him a cautious nature, but our planet is a peaceful sanctuary where any weary soul can find rest and rejuvenation."

Guilliman smiled.

Hades told me that Barbaros's past was indeed very difficult, and I am saddened by that.

Then, Guilliman stopped, and his mortal servant handed him a command board.

【he came. 】

"Killiman said softly, staring at the message on the command panel, where the Death Guard's request to land was flashing.

He approved the request, and immediately the roar of stormbirds echoed across the sky above Macragge, casting shadows on the pale and moss-green warships, which were shrouded in smoke and a somber atmosphere.

Now, Killieman believes his people have foresight.

A quiet murmur arose from the crowd thronging outside the square as the extreme security personnel tried to quiet them down.

But as that foot stepped out of the deep, dark transport plane, the restless crowd fell into a moment of stunned silence. They obediently shut their mouths, each of them hunching back, but their eyes were wide open, staring intently ahead.

Their instinctive attempt to back away, coupled with their continued staring straight ahead, elicited a wry smile from Killieman.

He scared them.

Killieman said softly,

The greyish-white cloak moved without wind, and the hem still bore the marks of war and bullets.

The bone-white armor was covered with tiny scratches, and at some joints there were even black and yellow dents. The moss-green shoulder armor was old and dull, and the six-ringed skull stared directly at every fearless soul.

A massive scythe brushed lightly across the red carpet. The scythe looked as if it had been taken from a long-sealed barn, greasy and bearing inscrutable dark red, dried marks.

Most strikingly, beneath the hood, gleaming amber eyes were now burning with intense emotion, like a raging flame, making the Lord of Death's eyes appear as pale gold.

At one point, an idea suddenly popped into Guilliman's mind.

He believed that the chances of Mortarian wielding a scythe against him now were definitely not zero.

However, Guilliman also believes that since the Death Guard has commanders as excellent as Hades,

Hades must have advised Mortarion not to kill people during the welcoming ceremony.

Guilliman still hopes that Deathguard will have a set of standard responses to normal social etiquette.

At the other end of the red carpet that stretched across the entire platform, Mortalian strode toward him, and Robert Guilliman, with a perfect smile, also stepped forward.

All eyes were on the two Primarchs. Behind Mortarion, the Death Guards silently began to line up, but it was just an ordinary battle formation. The aura surrounding them made people deliberately ignore them.

The bright sunlight made the red carpet shimmer with sparkle, giving Guilliman's armor a warm white edge. But for Mortalian, the excessive sunlight felt like baking a damp mushroom.