bookbashuk Page 279
Page 279
As his closest friend, Phenus would choose to personally end his suffering, even if it would send Phenus himself to hell.
Then I will do what I did to him before—that's all, nothing more.
The two remained silent.
After a long silence, Mortarian slowly spoke.
[A very good realization.]
Phenus scoffed,
If you hadn't stumbled upon the truth, what right do you have to judge me?
Mortarian stared at him, pulling down his hood and revealing eyes that were as unblinking as a robot's.
Of course I have...my brothers, because I made the same choice as you.
Phenus suddenly froze.
What exactly did you see, Mortarian?
Mortarian looked at him calmly.
The illusion is insignificant.
Do you really believe it's an illusion?
【Who knows. 】
"Motalian said, as he reverted to his original lazy demeanor and winked at Fernus.
Whether it is or isn't, it doesn't matter, but it does expand the boundaries of our imagination, telling us that something is possible in this world.
Phenus stepped forward, hoping to continue questioning Mortarian, but the door was suddenly flung open, and Vulcan was standing there.
Vulcan looked at the two Primarchs who were staring at him. Fenus stared at him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, while Mortarion looked indifferent.
Excuse me, you two... should I knock first?
Fenus let out an angry sound, while Mortarian simply said, "Whatever."
3.7k, that's all, great!
Chapter 334 Three Primarchs, Let's Enjoy the Extinction Order Together
The beautiful glow of the Extinction Order was reflected in Mortalian's calm eyes, and behind him, flames were burning fiercely.
A verdant planet vanished, along with the Eldar who lived there generation after generation, the savages who couldn't even speak properly, and those strange structures—
Mortarian sincerely hoped that all of this would disappear under the flames of the torpedoes, leaving no trace in the world.
He listened calmly to Vulcan's disordered breathing, to Fenus's feigned composure but heavy breathing, to the Lord of the Dragons because of his damned kindness, while the Lord of Medusa's gaze occasionally drifted toward Mortarion.
Mortarian remained motionless, and it was hard to say whether Fernus's actions stirred any emotion within the Lord of Death.
In front of his competitive brother, the Lord of Medusa clearly lost his composure, but his disheveled state gave Mortarian a sense of familiarity... Had he... performed better than Fenus back then?
But regardless, he has already traversed that unbearable path, accepted an even bleaker future, and gripped the scythe in his hand with unwavering resolve.
What about Phenus? Even if he didn't see that far ahead.
Mortarian had never cared about his brothers, whose minds were somewhat distorted; all he had to do was prepare gifts for their funerals. But this time, a similar yet different scenario aroused the unusual interest of the Lord of Death.
He doesn't mind saying a little more.
Although Mortarian held different opinions on Finus's previous tactical plans.
----------
The three Primarchs stood silently before the observation window. The entire planet looked like a bubbling ball of magma, with bright orange-red bubbles bursting on it, each bubble the size of an entire forest.
Mortalian thought listlessly that perhaps the humans and Eldar on top were like ants, circling and screaming on the surface of the bubble—
But that's unrealistic. They would be shattered by the impact of the missile, and then the entire planet's atmosphere would burn violently, causing a sudden drop in air pressure. The entire corpse would swell up in a short time, with blood and fragments of organs gushing from the opening.
Those creatures closer to the missile impact point were the luckiest ones, torn to pieces by the blast wave. Those farther away would be turned into dry, black rods by the intense heat. If you looked closely, you might be able to make out the wide-open mouth at the end of the rod, a foolish expression of pain and bewilderment. Their eye sockets were empty because the water-rich lenses had been evaporated.
Then these small black sticks will sink into the bright red, hot, spicy broth like black peppercorns falling into a soup pot, completely blending into the planetary extinction soup. They are just insignificant ingredients; the main ingredient is still large chunks of planetary crust.
It was cruel, but Mortarian, who had agreed to the extermination order, could only imagine the little people and Eldar screaming and spinning in the bubbles.
Perhaps Vulcan would have imagined even more: couples embracing tightly in their final moments, mothers holding their children, helpless tears in the eyes of an old man—that's why he never used an extermination order; his imagination was too vivid.
Vulcan choked on his breath and took a step back.
These...unarmed people were killed by us. We need to remember this atrocity; the crime itself does not lessen the weight on our hearts.
Motarian muttered something.
This is no excuse for you to act on your emotions, Vulcan.
Vulcan stared intently at Mortarian; strangely, flames and tears appeared simultaneously in his eyes.
【You are wrong, Mortarian. Mercy is our greatest reason for marching. If the reason for war is not humanity—then that would be the greatest mistake.】
Motari settled in for a while.
[The time you've spent hesitating is enough for you to save another planet, for the warriors you've mercifully died could save countless more lives. Even if you were to save them, wouldn't you want to save as many as possible, Vulcan?]
Vulcan choked for a moment.
That's right, my brother, but...
His voice trailed off.
I cannot give up; every life has the right to be saved and to live.
Mortarian frowned. Fernus looked at them. Vulcan had been led back to the Empire by Fernus and the Emperor. Only Fernus knew of Vulcan's madness.
The Lord of Fire once disregarded his own safety and charged directly into the enemy's heavy firepower just to save an enemy infant—and at that moment, without a miracle, Vulcan would almost certainly have died.
Even though Vulcan knew he would die, he abandoned his warriors and the mission he had been given, and charged out.
Continuing this argument is pointless. Rather than listening to Mortalian and Vulcan's debate, Finus is more eager to talk to Mortalian again—he clearly knows more.
Then Phenus interrupted.
[Vulcan - Your legion must first complete the tasks assigned to you by the Empire. Beyond that, you may request your legion to act according to your own preferences, but you must fulfill the Empire's mandate.]
This is just a reminder, Vulcan.
Because of Fernus's interruption, Mortarian fell silent; he simply stood there, silently watching Vulcan.
Vulcan gently shook his head.
Thank you for your kindness, but I'm still not used to this. My brothers, once there is no more war in the galaxy, I will return to Nocturne and resume my blacksmithing career.
Unexpectedly, Mortarian let out a cold laugh, the Lord of Death drawing out his words.
[A good idea. If there were no more wars in the galaxy, I would go back to Barbaross and become a farmer—but I don't think I'll ever have anything to do with the compost pits of Barbaross again in my life.]
Motarian chuckled, seemingly mocking Vulcan's naiveté, or perhaps genuinely believing he had told a very funny joke.
However, Vulcan took Mortarian's words seriously, and the Lord of Fire Dragons spoke cautiously.
"...Perhaps you could seek help from the Cult of Mechanics? Although I also dislike their soulless and insincere industrial training, they do possess exceptional technology, and planetary agriculture wouldn't be difficult for them."
Fernus was slightly speechless as he heard Mortarian's laughter grow louder.
I will, brother.
Motalian's voice rose slightly.
Perhaps I could talk to Fernus about this now, about how we should spend our peaceful, war-free future—I don't really like the Mechanicus.
Hearing Mortarian's words, Vulcan, who had just been grieving over the extermination order and his brother's rebuke, forced a smile.
May there be peace in the future.
He said.
I promise to update one chapter every day...
That's all!
Book recommendation!
I basked in the sun and suddenly became a god!
I basked in the sun and suddenly became a god.
-
[Energy Absorption] A special ability. Can absorb solar energy and other radiant energy to strengthen oneself.
[Immortal Body] Super S-rank. Can regenerate rapidly and recover from all injuries.
[Doppelganger] [Telepathy] [Precognition] [Past recollection] [Biofield] [Magnetic field manipulation]...
This is the story of a "person" who gains extraordinary abilities by basking in the sun, and eventually becomes a god.
Chapter 335 Drink!
Neither of them could persuade the other with words. Vulcan was far more stubborn than they had imagined, which was perhaps a good thing, as it meant he would not be easily swayed, even if the price would be the bloodshed of more offspring.
But during the conversation, Finus gradually realized that Mortarian was not really trying to advise Vulcan, but rather judging him based on his words and actions.
Why is he so wary of the Brotherhood? Unless...
The deepest fear welled up from Fernus's logic; he didn't want it to be true, he preferred that the truth was that Mortarian himself was a madman.
But is this possible?
Shortly after they left the Fireforged, the Lord of Medusa received an invitation from the Lord of Death, and their conversation was far from over.
Unlike the Mortarion, who would never board other legion ships unless absolutely necessary, Fenus hadn't experienced much, so he gladly went.
--------------
Endurance
The Lord of Death sat comfortably in his personal chair, clearly more relaxed than he had been on the Fireforged. Meanwhile, the Lord of Medusa did not appear as at ease.
Just as Vulcan liked to adorn the Firecastle with high temperatures and furnace fires, Mortarian liked to envelop his room in a light and warm atmosphere of poison gas. He even took off his breathing mask—only then did Finus realize that it was not a gas mask, but a gas mask.
Perhaps Mortarion is a madman.
Welcome, my brother.
Mortarion spoke casually, raising his hand to signal the servants to pour wine for the two Primarchs. The slightly murky wine in the rather simple red copper cups reflected the barrenness and dimness of the room.
Fernus slowly shifted his gaze to Mortarian.
Please understand, compared to those legions who care more about life, the Death Guard doesn't care excessively about things outside of war.
Mortalian nonchalantly took another small jug of wine from the tray carried by the servant, then added a little more to his cup. Fernus could clearly see that what was poured from the jug was a pure black, foul-smelling liquid, mixed with some unidentified black dregs.
Now Fernus has ranked Mortarion as the strangest Primarch, and he has decided to downgrade Mortarion's credibility by one level.
Realizing that Fernus had been staring at him, Mortarian spoke up, though his gaze remained fixed on the wine.
[These are some of my...personal hobbies, a little bit toxic.]
The poisoned wine would make him speak more easily; the spicy and corrosive liquid would sting his esophagus and cause stomach cramps, reminding Mortarian of his time in Barbarossa and making him realize that he was constantly enduring hardship and surviving it, becoming even more resilient.
His mood will improve as a result.
For someone who lives on suffering, feeling better is not a good thing, so Mortarion rarely drinks alcohol. He usually drinks when he makes an oath with his warriors, so that he can better remember that moment.
This was the second time he had drunk with his "brothers." The first time was with Horus, but that was nothing more than bland, tasteless water to Mortarion.
He wanted to try again, to see if there was any new, certain possibility for him.
Fernus looked at him with suspicion, but Mortarian ignored him. He took a small sip, feeling the cells in his oral mucosa explode in the venom, as if he were swallowing a fine needle.
They're all freaks.
Mortarian slowly swirled the wine in his glass and said...
I thought I had adapted to this "family," this corner filled with tyrants, murderers, and megalomaniacs, but I found I was wrong. Vulcan's existence shocked me.
Phenus cautiously raised his glass, glanced carefully at the murky wine, and then took a sip.
Surprisingly, rather than the rough texture, Finus's senses were overwhelmed by a strange, spicy pain—this drink was definitely poisonous.