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

Page 310

Forgive me, Father... Forgive me...

"Do not."

The emperor rose and left directly.

"Magnus, I will never trust you again."

The sound of military boots pounding the ground rang out, as if passing by a clump of indifferent garbage. Magnus collapsed, utterly exhausted, into a pool of blood, his empty eye sockets staring at the reality he could no longer see.

Overwhelmed despair stared at him, and Magnus fainted.

"crunch-"

After nine days and nine nights, the door finally opened. Hades was startled. He opened his eyes and saw out of the corner of his eye that the Emperor walked out calmly, his clothes almost without a wrinkle.

A faint smell of blood wafted from the crack in the door, carrying the dull stench of broken tissue.

Hades opened his mouth, as if to say something, but he decided to glance at Macado. He saw that Macado remained calm, simply following quietly behind the Emperor.

Hades turned back, glanced at the room one last time, and finally decided to follow.

Current progress: 4.4k words

My consistent answer is: don't wait.

Chapter 374 Your Friend, Angron

【Please come in. 】

Angron opened the door before the archangel knocked. The Lord of Red Sand raised an eyebrow and silently watched as Saint Gilles awkwardly raised his hand, which was trying to force a smile.

Angron was originally indoors watching the battle report, which was the only thing he could do related to combat after being forbidden from killing.

Then he felt a fluffy ball of feathers, composed of unease, worry, restlessness, determination, and resolve, swaying near the door of the World Eater's lounge.

Since he had been loitering for longer than Angron could tolerate, Angron decisively opened the door and invited the indecisive fellow in—or chased him away.

Angron scratched his head in frustration. He could feel the oppressive atmosphere in the Nicaea Theater. Everyone was anxious and uneasy, with a hint of pessimism and anger, which affected Angron, who was now able to perceive emotions.

Perhaps he should just bare his teeth and make a racket, then kick out this guy who's wandering around the Devourer's lounge, staring at the boring landscape paintings on the wall and trying to make conversation.

This brother acts like a damn nobleman, and Angron hates any high-and-mighty guy.

If Angron hadn't failed to detect even a trace of arrogance in Saint Gilles' heart, he would never have tolerated him staying for so long.

Angron was puzzled. Saint Gilles' outward appearance was completely different from what Angron perceived about his inner world. Even though he seemed to be trying his best to comfort himself, the guy was still very agitated and anxious—you could even call him bloodthirsty.

Anglon frowned and dragged over two chairs, which shrieked sharply on the floor, finally causing Saint-Gilles, who had been admiring the uninteresting landscape painting, to turn his head.

【sit.】

Angron spoke in a muffled voice. Saint Gilles sat down in silence. The archangel seemed to want to speak, but Angron's actions had clearly interrupted his train of thought, making the archangel subconsciously cautious.

Angron snapped his fingers, and Saint Gilles was surprised to see a servant carrying a plate of desserts and tea. The Lord of Red Sand gruffly said "eat" again, and without regard for the archangel, took a piece for himself.

The angel picked up the tea, and he smiled.

[Saint Gilles, commander of the Legion of the Holy Blood Angels.]

[Angron, the World Devourer.]

Angron extended his oil-stained hand, and the archangel's smile remained perfect. He extended his hand as well, and the two shook hands.

Angron's hands were rough and scarred, and the Lord of the Red Sands gripped them tightly in a provocative manner.

The angel's smile remains unchanged.

Angron released his grip, and the Son of the Mountain spoke, but this time his tone was noticeably less aggressive.

Brother, are you really a saint?

Before Saint Gilles could react, Angron burst into laughter, waving his hand.

"Good grip. Tell me, my brother, what brings you here? I know no more about the Empire than any of you."

The angel smiled and spoke calmly.

[That's a fallacy. Each brother has his own unique perspective on the Empire, and even Horus, the first to return, couldn't claim to know every detail of this behemoth.]

Anglong looked away and casually picked up some pastries to eat.

[Stop talking nonsense, Saint Gilles. Ask what you want to say. I hate formalities. My upbringing is completely different from yours. Mortalian's understanding of etiquette is far deeper than mine.]

Saint Gilles's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, whether from Angron or Mortarion, it was unclear.

So the archangel went straight to the point.

I'd like to know how you came into contact with the Master of the Order of Silence.

Angron stopped, rested his elbows on his knees, and frowned as he looked at the archangel seriously, as if trying to figure something out.

Finally, he asked softly,

Are you experiencing psychic distress, and are you worried that the Lord of the Order of Silent Retreat will punish you? Or is it some other psychic issue?

The archangel's smile shattered slightly, and Angron clearly heard the cup in Saint Gilles's hand seem to groan.

The Lord of Red Sands muttered something to himself.

Good grip strength, good grip strength.

【I do not understand,】

Saint Gilles said gently,

How did you find out about this? I don't think you've had much interaction with other legions.

Angron nodded indifferently. The angels were terrified just to see those blasphemous mechanical limbs.

[It's what you showed.]

The archangel instantly realized what was happening; he blinked.

[This is your ability, Angron?]

So...unique?

Angron grinned, pointing to Saint Gilles's wings, which he had awkwardly folded up to sit down.

Brother, you have wings.

The archangel said incredulously,

This is the ability he gave us.

Angron frowned again in confusion; the archangel's words did not match the emotions he felt inside.

But he tactfully skipped the topic, laughing it off. This was a skill Angron had learned from Hades, who often used this technique to subtly shift the work onto Kahn and Rock.

However, he also learned a lot.

【Yes. 】

Anglong said,

"Then why are you seeking Hades? If you are concerned about the Order of Silence, I can assure you with my honor that the Order of Silence will not choose destruction as long as there is even the slightest possibility of salvation."

Anglong picked up his teacup and gulped it down.

He and the World Eaters were in such a terrible state back then that even if they were rescued, they would still be severely weakened and of little use to the Empire. Hades still managed to bring them back.

However… he thought of Magnus, and it seemed that the big red guy was even more unlucky than him. Angron recalled the regret and terror he felt, but he would not sympathize with someone who had crossed the line.

He slammed the cup down.

Don't touch those things on your own initiative.

He recalled the vision of skulls and blood he had experienced, and stared at the archangel's hesitation before him.

[Lies, excuses—you can't expect to get whatever you want from someone like that! Why don't you go find the Emperor? I reckon he likes you quite a bit. That's much less likely.]

Angron grinned,

But even he's not as reliable as that Hades kid.

He pounded his chest with his fist to show his and the Devourer of Worlds' loyalty to Hades. At the same time, he looked at the archangel. Saint Gilles' mental state was obviously much better now. Although he still looked confused and shocked, at least the wavering look had faded a lot.

"Truly a perfect archangel," Angron thought to himself. He had heard of the angels' reputation—including Horus's—when he first returned to the Empire.

Saint Gilles looked at Angron as if waking from a dream. He looked at his brother, who looked like a gladiator, but a gladiator who only knew how to kill would not say such things.

The archangel said softly,

Thank you for your advice, Angron. I thought this conversation was going to be difficult.

Angron blinked, then let out a hearty laugh, waved his hand, and signaled that the angel could leave.

When you have nothing, you'll realize that none of this matters now!

No other meaning, just taking advantage of Lao K's guaranteed minimum.

One more

Chapter 375 The Emperor's Judgment

Saint Gilles walked out of the World Eater's lounge in silence, lost in thought. Just as the archangel returned to the Blood Angels, he received an urgent summons from the Emperor for a meeting.

The corridor was flickering with candlelight as Primarchs hurried past the heavily armed Imperial Guard. Fugen tried to speak quietly to the Archangel, but was met with a wry smile and a shake of his head.

Dorn looked serious, his brow furrowed, while a hidden shadow stalker accompanied him.

People entered the main hall in a scattered manner. The main hall, which was originally packed with people, was now empty. Apart from the Mars Forging General and others who were previously in a higher position, no other mortals were allowed to enter.

Saint Gilles looked at the platform, where the kneeling army of a thousand had vanished as if they had never existed.

The seats originally allocated to the Senko were empty, and the Senko's legion insignia had disappeared.

The facts are set in stone, and no amount of further commentary can change reality.

The Space Wolf and Death Guard, positioned directly to the left and right of the podium, were seated in a packed house, while the Lord of Death and the Lord of Winter stood, each holding their weapon.

The angel glanced sideways; the seat of the Lord of the Order of Silence was empty, while two sages and several soulless beings stood around it.

People sparsely found their seats, but did not sit down, instead standing there aimlessly. Apart from the Death Guard and the Space Wolf, none of the Primarchs had brought their own guards, making the spacious main hall feel desolate.

The Lord of Death's eyes, hidden beneath his hood, swept across the room imperceptibly. The angels wore expressions of sorrow and pity, Fugen looked incredulous, Dorn was so serious it seemed he was about to berate Magnus, Kolakos's face was hidden in shadow, and Angron remained calm as a spectator.

Regardless, he had won, Mortarian thought casually, raising an eyebrow.

What puzzled the Lord of Death was that, during his conversation with the Wolf King, although Lemanrus concealed his rudeness and brutality well, Mortarian still sensed a faint sadness emanating from him.

Mortarian didn't understand what was so sad about it, but he tried to put the object of his grief in Horus's name—he thought he might feel sad for Horus too.

The heavy knocking echoed as Macardo struck his cane, signaling for silence.

The human lord, seated on his throne, slowly rose, seemingly emerging from a cloud of shadows. Each step he took seemed to tread upon the souls of the people, leaving them breathless.

The flames shone on his golden armor, as if they would never die.

"Now, listen to my verdict."

His voice was clear and majestic. Even a king would not speak lightly, but when he did, his voice resounded throughout the land, overturned the Milky Way, made the stars tremble, and dimmed the sun.

Saint Gilles held his breath, knowing that his other brothers did the same.

A deathly silence enveloped the theater, with only the emperor's calm and barely perceptible breathing remaining.

"Let the light of justice shine on the earth."

As he spoke, the sword of Hammurabi hung over their heads.

“You can speak freely, for sin and evil to disappear. Even the smallest voice must be heard, and even the most obscure words must be carefully considered. I will never disregard any reasonable and just demands. This is your right as citizens of the Empire, which you are born with. Your mouths can speak what you want to say, and your hands can write down what you say.”

The king stood there, his voice majestic and solemn, carrying the weight of a thousand pounds that struck the soul.

"However, words are not child's play. One must not tell lies or fabricate falsehoods. Those who deliberately deceive will be convicted when the first listener hears their words and will be executed when the words are finished."

The emperor paused for a moment, his golden, inhuman gaze searing through everyone's soul.

“Some of you have lied and crossed the boundary marker.”

The archangel felt his heart skip a beat. No, he thought... the Emperor was just giving them a warning... thinking of what Ruth and Anglom had said, Saint Gilles... the Emperor was far more forgiving than he had imagined.

With Magnus's tragic fate before him, Saint Gilles vowed that he would never cross the line.