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

Page 277

As for the Eldar's recent prophecy... Mortarion decided to bury it somewhere in his mind; the Lord of Death didn't want to waste his energy pondering these useless riddles.

The Primarch pondered rapidly. He currently possessed ten black bullets and thirty-two white bullets, but in this highly concentrated psionic environment, the white bullets seemed to have lost their effectiveness.

The black bullets were insufficient to completely neutralize the psionic energy here; in the psionic desert, they were a drop in the ocean and utterly ineffective.

Primarch took a deep breath, ignoring the calls and pulls from his left and right. He gripped the black bullet in one hand, braced his hand against the wall, and then activated the location broadcast on the communication channel. A hissing sound of no signal rang out.

Motari settled down, his mind firmly planted in the land of Barbaros and in the fleet of the Death Guard; he needed to ensure he would not waver.

Hades, wish me luck.

Then the Lord of Death closed his eyes and began to walk forward, his gauntlets making a sound against the ashes-covered wall.

Mortarian carefully sensed the psionic fluctuations here. Subtly, wisps of black smoke floated on his white helmet, quickly merging with the poisonous gas emanating from the Lord of Death's own respirator.

At a certain location, the Lord of Death crushed the black bullet in his hand for the first time, and the crackling sound of the channel suddenly trembled.

He's found the right place.

Without hesitation, Mortarian immediately took out another black bullet and continued walking into the darkness.

The ammunition at his waist was being rapidly depleted, and the Lord of Death's thoughts drifted into the depths of the sea as he carefully chose his path—but at the same time, the voices calling to him grew clearer.

Those sounds that exist in the mist near the archway.

"Motalian, Lord of Death, what malice have we committed against you? You may take what is yours, why take your anger out on those who weep and bleed?"

Mortarian continued walking without wavering, scattering the ashes of the soulless between his fingers.

"Those monkeys that destroyed our home!"

Mortarian began to recall which Eldar locations were best suited for using a scythe.

“Your former best friend has committed heinous crimes, enraging the gods and bringing about a tearing apart of the land. How can you deceive yourself and bury your head in the sand?”

Mortarian's breath hitched slightly.

He forced himself to focus his energy on how to kill the Eldar and on the courses he taught the Death Guards about the use of sulfides.

He walked silently through this endless tunnel.

Finally, the Lord of Death stopped between the two doors.

Only one black bullet left. He had successfully disrupted part of the psionic pathways—but that still wasn't enough to get him out. If he had more ammunition… no, if Hades were here…

Mortarian took another deep breath; he needed to think of a solution again.

But when he stopped, the sounds became even louder; they laughed.

"You may hold the reins of power, and we are willing to help you. The tide is raging, how can one remain unscathed?"

There were noises coming from both sides of Mortalian, but Mortalian did not turn around to look; he simply stood there.

He should have realized sooner that when that damned Eldar called out his name on the ice plains, he should have known these alien races would target them.

"The empire is about to collapse; how can lies endure? Close friends are gone, blood ties are twisted—why persist?"

Mortarian closed his eyes, silently sensing, sensing—

The ground beneath his feet trembled slightly.

The Lord of Death counted the frequency of the tremors, feeling them gradually become more intense until he could hear them.

Mortarian spoke, his mocking voice echoing through the corridor.

"Insistence? Does killing aliens require a reason?"

The psionic energy on either side of him instantly began to fluctuate, seemingly cursing, but Mortarian didn't care, because at the same time—

"Praise be to Hades!!!"

A muffled explosion and a high-pitched mechanical scream blasted open the tunnel in front of Mortalian. Mortalian took a few steps back as dust filled the air and the fog that had filled the entire tunnel dissipated.

Those damn farting sounds disappeared too.

The Lord of Death turned his head and saw that the room was empty.

Mortalian looked up with satisfaction. Above the tunnel, a gaping hole, violently blasted open, was now visible, and light was streaming down from it.

Beneath the mask, Mortarian gave a self-deprecating laugh.

He watched as his death shrouds were the first to jump anxiously out of the tear, gathering around him in a panic, asking if he was injured.

Then came the Sage Kirkland, who leaped down with unimaginable agility. He brazenly shouted "For Hades!" without any attempt to conceal his actions, while extending his appendages hidden beneath his robes, coordinating the deployment of the Soulless Ones of the Zero Company as if he were a commander.

Mortalian could sense that the psionic energy concentration here was rapidly decreasing, although it remained high due to the presence of that strange teleportation device.

After Kirkland, Pasteur poked his head out of the hole in the ceiling, and then Enrique kicked him down. Mortarian thought that perhaps the warrior had received His signal.

Next came the Foundry Department sergeants carrying casting equipment. They gave a brief, tense salute to the Primarch and then began reinforcing the tunnel that had just been forcibly blasted open.

Mortarian stood in the center of the tunnel, looking at the shrouds of death surrounding him, the technical soldiers busy reinforcing the tunnel, and the Kirkland sage whose movements were clearly toward some teleportation device.

A low chuckle escaped from beneath the mask as Mortarian reopened the communication channel.

【Galo, report the situation.】

"Received, Commander. The node has not been attacked. Lord Vulcan and Lord Finus are still out of contact. After Enrique and Pasteur reported your disappearance, since the situation meets the emergency conditions of the Zero Company, Vox and I jointly ordered the activation of all personnel of the Zero Company."

"Please rest assured, the Death Guard has negotiated with the Salamanders and they have been isolated in a safe area. Meanwhile, the explosions in the Foundry have drowned out the Zero Company's special message."

Mortarian glanced back and saw Kirkland chanting prayers. The sage was behaving strangely mad, but his appendages, which were directing the deployment of the soulless, showed no hesitation.

Mortarian sighed inwardly, feeling a slight sense of relief.

Hades, you've taught me well.

I'll guarantee one update first~

Don't wait or ask anything else, I'll try to save up and work on it?

Holy crap, I forgot, I forgot, I recommended a book!

Gender-swapped Angron! The author beat life up, but has now resumed stable updates for a month!

Chapter 332 Mortarian is calm

The long, narrow tunnel was dark and silent, as if nothing existed at all.

"boom!"

In an instant, flames erupted in the passage, dust billowed up, and a pair of bone-white helmeted boots stepped out from the hazy dust, flames scorching the armor and an eerie glint flashing across the scythe.

The Lord of Death strode into his battlefield, with the Death Shroud and the Soulless closely following their sovereign.

A cacophony erupted in the channel. Mortarian shifted slightly to the side as a missile grazed him as it hurtled forward, its brilliant flashes dispelling ignorance and illuminating their path.

The tension from exploring the tunnel had long since dissipated, and with Death Guard Zero's reserves fully activated, the previous illusions were nothing more than child's play.

Mortarian walked expressionlessly to the second door. He paused briefly, and the Soulless Ones, receiving his signal, stepped forward to place the explosives.

"boom!"

Mortarion stepped directly into the room. Fenusmanus was leaning on his Brokenforge warhammer. The corpse of the serpent lay on its side in front of the Primarch. The blasphemous body lay head down on the steps, and on the high platform was a chair that looked like that of a king or monarch, with ornate and intricate patterns.

The moment the Lord of Death forcibly stepped into the doorway, everything in the illusion, except for the two original beings, froze at that moment, and the pool of blood overflowing from beneath the corpses stopped growing.

Phenusmanus seemed oblivious to Mortarian's presence; he had his back to Mortarian and continued to stare intently at the corpse.

The room was deep and dark, and in the darkness above, twenty-one sculptures silently watched them.

After confirming that there were no other threats in the room, Mortarian casually placed his left hand on the Nether Lamp at his waist and his right hand on the scythe of Annihilation.

My brother, War General candidate, are you ready to return to your desert battlefield?

Phenusmanus then slowly turned around, and Mortarian secretly gripped his scythe, ready at any moment—

Finus turned around. At least there was nothing strange growing on his head, but his expression... he looked like he had been shocked. His usually expressionless face showed some abnormal twitches.

Fernus also assumed a stance ready to attack, but upon seeing Mortarian, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, his shoulders unconsciously relaxing, though he remained as tense as steel.

【Motalian...you're here too?】

Phenus tentatively opened his mouth.

Why can't I be here? But you, Phenus, you should be in the desert with your children, so why have you run off to the tunnel beneath the rainforest?

"Motalian asked provocatively," but this did not provoke Fernus's anger as usual. Fernus merely paused, his expression becoming hesitant.

I can't explain this to you. There are beings on this planet beyond our comprehension... I encountered two Eldar, and they... lured me here. I made a mistake.

Mortarian spoke naturally.

[One ear is very pointed, and the other has protruding teeth?]

Have you encountered this too?

Mortarian let out two snickering laughs.

[Cunning alien race... They dare not stand directly before me, for they know I will tear them to shreds; what I have encountered are merely the shadows left by cowards.]

Fernus paused, then blinked stiffly—a stupid look that Mortalian swore Fernus would never make in front of him—unless he was genuinely confused and something had happened.

Mortarian had encountered this situation before; he was quite familiar with it.

Mortarian's gaze passed through Fenus and landed on the serpent's corpse, but then Fenus moved, obscuring Mortarian's scrutinizing gaze.

A dangerous move. Mortarian narrowed his eyes, staring at Fenus as he exhaled poison gas from his mask.

Realizing Mortalian's doubts, Fernus spoke up.

Did they say anything to you? I mean, the Eldar prophecies.

Motarian chuckled twice.

My brother, the most useless and harmful thing in this world is prophecy—especially the prophecy of a foreign race. If you insist on that foolish future, I can recommend our mad "brother" to you.

【Phenus Manus, a contender for Warmastery, I imagine you, known for your rationality and efficiency, wouldn't be swayed by a few simple words from an alien race, would you?】

Mortarian found his words very effective; now Fernus looked like a living person, and the familiar fire of anger rekindled in his eyes.

Mortarian, shut your useless sarcasm.

Finus said,

[It wasn't just language; they showed me... several possibilities.]

Fenus's voice gradually faded as he recalled the bewildering yet familiar face of the serpent demon. One Eldar told him to change, while another cautioned him that even steel would eventually crumble. He had embarked on the path of destiny.

Then he saw... fate... Blessing... no...

No, it was just a poorly made fake, a malicious prank.

But when Phenus thought of his best friend, the serpent demon he had just fought began to overlap with that perfect figure.

No, Fugen possesses a sacred beauty; he is the first blemish on the marble statue at dawn, the first glint of cold light on the sword of the night watchman at dusk; he is a holy ascetic, he is a faithful paladin…

...The shimmering snake scales floated in the light, and a familiar smile appeared on his beautiful, almost bewitching face. He looked at him, and with a playful laugh, he gently traced his neck with his sharp fingernails.

What's behind you, Phenus?

Mortarian's cold words pulled Fernus back to reality, and Fernus realized that he had once again fallen into the river of thoughts.

His lips moved slightly, but he didn't say anything.

He clearly saw the warning raised by Mortalian, and Finus should have been furious, but he was too confused at the moment.

He stood there, his expression perhaps foolish.

[...a terrible monster.]

Finus said.

Then he saw Mortarion remain silent for a moment, and the Lord of Death drew a grenade from his waist, a rather strange action.

[Excuse my boldness, but let me guess... Fernus, did you see a familiar figure on that monster—?!]

The next moment, Fernus found himself rushing in front of Mortarian and trying to punch him in the face.

Having anticipated this, Mortarion crushed the grenade and gripped Fenus's fist, which was aimed at his face, tightly. Dust drifted between the two Primarchs.

I'm right, aren't I, Fernus?

Beneath the hood, Mortarian's bright yellow eyes were fixed on Fenus with a half-smile, but the coldness in his eyes was unmistakable.

Finus loosened his grip on his arm, his lips stiffening.