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

Page 274

The steel mass began to flow slowly again. Enrique laughed and patted Pasteur on the shoulder. Pasteur stared blankly at his teacher's teacher, wondering why Enrique was so happy.

【Hades’ Gift】, a missile containing the ashes of a large number of untouchables in its center, was jointly developed by the Kirkland Sage and the Foundry, while another inventor insisted that this creation should be called 【The Gift of Hades】—but no one paid him any attention.

Similarly, due to the scarcity of materials, the cost of this gift was extremely high, and it was unimaginable to waste a "Gift of Hades." At the same time, everyone in the foundry department agreed that it was a clever pun.

The Death Guards continued their advance, turning the pristine snowfield into a chaotic mess. The Death Guards outnumbered their opponents far more, and their ammunition far surpassed theirs; it was a crushing defeat. The Lord of Death felt the slowing heartbeat of the enemy on the other side.

Galo led his troops to repel the Eldar attacks on multiple occasions. He did not even change the tactics he used each time. With his overwhelming firepower advantage, each of the Eldar's painstaking attacks was just another way for them to die.

Finally, the Death Guard forces advanced to the open area surrounding the obelisk. At this point, the Eldar resistance reached its most intense level. Countless Eldar warriors charged out, wielding sharp blades, while Eldar witches chanted spells to manipulate ice and storms. They used themselves as nodes to establish paths that resonated with the obelisk.

The tall witch brandished her rune sword, and as she chanted, a giant python, the size of a small dragon, snaked out of the cave beneath the obelisk, its scarlet tongue hissing, and stared with great interest at the Death Guard before it.

Knowing the Eldar's high mobility, Garroe ordered Enrique to lead most of the armored forces to deploy further back from the front lines to provide fire support, rather than sending them directly onto the battlefield to become toys in the eyes of the agile Eldar.

A fierce barrage of artillery fire erupted, shaking the entire earth. The Death Guards and the Eldar clashed, while Garo led three Death Shroud warriors in an attempt to hold back the giant serpent.

Above the sky, the Death Guard's Stormbirds were practically insane. Ignoring their return flight, they unleashed all their ammunition into the airspace, creating an almost artificial cloud that blanketed the earth.

Death Guardian Antaeus swung his scythe, using brute force to deflect the Eldar's blade aimed at his throat with the scythe shaft. Sparks flew as he hooked the scythe back, the long, curved blade slipping into the Eldar's embrace. Antaeus then exerted force, and a bunch of organs, ripe like fallen grapes, were suddenly exposed in the snow.

Panting heavily, Antaeus stepped forward to meet the next Eldar charging towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, Antaeus caught sight of Gara at the very front of the line. Even with top-priority fire support, Gara, who was entangled with the giant python, was already showing signs of strain, not to mention the wizards who were constantly using psionic energy to interfere with Gara's battle.

But Gara didn't shout any words of retreat in the channel; instead, the Stormbird pilot's roar came from the channel—

"Airspace clearance secured!!! Fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes! Cleared for landing!!!"

Above the track, Mortarion gripped his scythe tightly. Behind him, the Ghost Knights flashed red warning lights in the darkness of the drop pod. Zero Company was ready. The hatch began to close, and the cold white light and the shouts of the Kirkland Sage grew further and further away from them.

Inside the somber cabin, the Lord of Death could still faintly hear Kirkland's praises.

"Praise be to the god of all machines! Praise be to Ohm Messiah! Praise be to Hades!!!"

"Praise be to Hades!!!"

Let them give the Eldar a surprise.

The next moment, fire and punishment descended upon Ibsen's icy plains.

4.2k words! Yay! That's all for today!

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Holy crap, I almost forgot to recommend a book again!

Book recommendation! This person is a big shot, so I won't go into too much detail!

Chapter 328 Mortarian and Vulcan Team Up

Vulcan looked solemn, the layers of green leaves obscuring his gaze as he looked into the depths of the rainforest.

The Elven race here is very difficult to deal with.

As they ventured deeper into the dense forest, the Salamanders were ambushed more than once by the Eldar, who were equipped with heavy plasma weapons. They charged out of the jungle alongside the behemoths, tearing apart the Salamanders' marching column.

Those Eldar who used witchcraft were difficult to deal with, and the two companies suffered heavy losses as a result.

Their journey was only halfway complete; the fire lizards were deeply entrenched in the rainforest and preoccupied with their own survival.

What made Vulcan even more anxious was that Fernus also sent a message saying that "more time is needed." Vulcan knew Fernus well; the iron-fisted Fernus was the Primarch who least wanted to be seen as incompetent, especially in front of a Primarch he said he was unfamiliar with and dissatisfied with.

When Fernus sent the message, Vulcan realized that the battle would be arduous, and he immediately prepared to extend the planning time—but the Death Guard only replied to the Lord of Fire Dragons' message with a cold "Received".

Vulcan pondered silently. The Primarch had little contact with Mortarion, but that time was enough for Vulcan to see that Mortarion was also a first-rate eccentric. He might be stubborn, easily angered, or very concerned about his image—too many Primarchs were like that.

If the Death Guard also runs into trouble... Vulcan thought that their battle plan might need to be drastically altered.

In fact, Vulcan had already begun to consider how to change the battle plan.

But what he didn't know was that the Death Guard on the other end would be far beyond his imagination.

----------

A storm arose with the incantation, and the Eldar witch let out a high-pitched curse.

"You lot—"

The next moment, her face was covered by a black bullet from the Lord of Death, and the sound of a broken nose seemed to echo across the noisy battlefield.

Mortarion remained expressionless, cleanly and efficiently taking down yet another talkative Eldar with his pistol, Netherflame. The Lord of Death silently noted that most Eldar who rushed at him and hurled insults were already dead before they could utter their first predicate.

Around him, the snow on the ice field trembled rhythmically, the knight mechs ran heavily across the land, and the heat cannons lit up, melting all enemies in their path.

The giant python that had just entangled Gara had already been cut into several pieces and thrown behind the Death Guards. The two knights tore it apart together, and the blood dripping from their chainsaws was still steaming hot and pungent.

The giant python's corpse stared dimly at the figures of the Death Guards, seemingly still puzzled as to why the Eldar who had previously supported it were no longer casting spells to aid its attack.

The Zero Company descended from the sky, weakening the Eldar's connection with the Warp. The witches' spells began to falter, and the battle situation had clearly become more brutal for the Eldar.

Countless warriors surged out from the bunkers near the obelisk. Most of them fought independently, and each Eldar soldier possessed dazzling, almost dance-like combat skills. They clashed with the Death Guards, using their blades and plasma to stab at the weak points in the Imperial warriors' armor.

At first glance, the Death Guards appear entangled with the Eldar warriors. Under the Eldar's onslaught, their scythes and swords seem clumsy and slow, like drunkards ensnared by serpents. But—

The Eldar can attack countless times, but they can only afford to make one mistake.

The countless attacks will teach these Eldar soldiers what true "Deathguard resilience" really means.

What devastated the Eldar most was that no matter how they provoked or how they roared, these alien races clad in bone-white armor never responded verbally. For the soldiers, who were skilled in individual duels, their inner rage could not be released at all, and they could not feel that intense fighting spirit.

As time went on, the sense of suffocation brought to the Eldar by the enemy's silence gradually turned into fear.

Aside from the roaring engines of the mechs, the Death Guards silently and resolutely advanced their battle lines, blood and fragments of armor scattering across the muddy snow. They brought death; they were death itself.

Finally, the Death Guard approached the obelisk. Mortarion silently watched the dozens of witches glaring at him from behind the psionic shield. He first threw a black bullet as a prediction, and then—

[Foundry Department.]

The Lord of Death gave his command, and once again cleaved the Eldar who charged at him with his scythe. In the brief forty seconds he paused, the Eldar corpses surrounding Mortarion were piled up in two layers.

"Motalian!!!"

Inside the Eldar shield, the leading Eldar witch roared at Mortarion, her delicate face distorted and deformed by anger and tears.

Mortarian raised his hand and fired a Netherflame, sparks flying across the psionic shield. After a brief burst of fireworks, that damned face reappeared before Mortarian.

Beneath his hood, the Lord of Death frowned in displeasure, and he spoke again in a low voice,

[Foundry department, hurry up!]

"Roger that, sir! We're still loading, it'll take at least another minute!!"

After a minute, Mortarian made a quick assessment and realized that if he were to continue fighting, his ammunition reserves would not be sufficient to sustain him in continuously and persistently firing at that damned Eldar for another minute.

He fired another shot at the Elven race's location as if to vent his anger, then prepared to turn around and help Gara.

"Mortalian! Son of Death!!! Stay away from him! Your obstinacy will only bring you closer to death! It will lead humanity and the Eldar to their demise!!!"

Mortarian's gas mask emitted a cloud of thick, murky mist as he stared intently at the witch.

【Wandering Souls 04, 05,】

He says,

Come out and smash it!

Two mechs burst out from the battlefield behind him, their molten light almost igniting the air. Roars and the roar of chainsaws rang out together, and the shields lit up from the shockwaves of the sudden attack.

Mortalian vaguely heard the witch's screams, and he was glad that she had at least done one right thing before she died: to stop her damned mouth from making any more farting noises.

[Foundry Department, one minute and three seconds left. For Hades' sake, I'll give you one last chance.]

The next moment, a huge missile streaked across the sky above Mortalian. The Primarch, with his superior dynamic vision, saw that the missile seemed to be inscribed with "Hades' Gift".

"A good idea," Mortarian chuckled. He didn't impose many restrictions on the Foundry, and given what Hades might have done on Mars, the Death Guard's technical sergeants seemed to be more familiar with the departed master foundry.

This improved his mood somewhat. Mortarion followed Hades' gift at a leisurely pace, then he raised his scythe and beheaded the witch. The head spun, her expression frozen, as if she were angry and horrified at why Mortarion was unwilling to listen to her prophecy.

Why should Mortarian listen? He's not the type to engage in shouting and cursing on the battlefield; there are always fools who like to argue with the enemy.

Five minutes later, the Death Guardian Stormbirds unleashed a devastating bombardment on the land, and Ibsen's first node was destroyed.

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Near the node, the Salamanders encountered unimaginable resistance. The Eldar were launching a desperate attack on them, their heavy tanks were unable to penetrate the rainforest, and the air force bombardment could only cause the tall branches to burn and fall from above their heads.

Countless behemoths and spirits surged forth from the dense forest, waving staffs, and tree roots and branches came to life, clinging to their armor and boots.

Bizarre lights flickered and swayed, and cries rang out as something enormous flew overhead.

Vulcan gritted his teeth, his anger burning fiercely within him. He fought, his warhammer wielding relentlessly; to stop meant death.

[The Trial Begins!!!]

Vulcan roared, and his sons responded to him.

"For Vulcan!"

The fire salamander will pass this trial!

But just as he was engrossed in the battle, the Lord of Death's lazy voice rang out in the general channel.

[117.2°E, 27.6°W, Vulcan, are you here?]

Vulcan responded without thinking. He didn't quite understand what Mortarian was talking about, but Vulcan wouldn't harbor any ill intentions towards his brother, so he answered Mortarian honestly.

Mortarian's voice rang out again.

【Greetings, salamanders. Please put on your helmets, or at least protect your respiratory systems.】

?

Still deeply involved in the battlefield, Vulcan did not understand what his brother was doing, but he still subconsciously glanced at the damage to his respiratory system inside his helmet.

Three minutes later, the code for the Death Guard air force rang out in the channel, and it began to rain in the rainforest—no, thick, grayish-blue poisonous smoke flowed down from the dense foliage of the giant trees like liquid, or venom dripping from the fangs of a viper.

The leaves began to wither instantly, and the giant beasts fighting them instinctively jumped away from the areas where the poisonous gas had accumulated—but they would soon realize that there was no true haven here.

The space began to darken, and the whole world looked like an inverted hourglass.

? !

Vulcan slammed down his hammer, and he yelled in panic over the channel.

【Motalian! We cannot use it—】

The next moment, a huge scythe flew past Vulcan and smashed the head of the witch who was trying to speak in front of the Primarch with precision. The chains attached to the end of the scythe were rattling.

[Armored units can't get in. Are you really going to fight them head-on as a lone soldier, Vulcan?]

The firewood-wielding followers around Vulcan instinctively scattered, and the Lord of Death slowly walked to Vulcan's side, as the Death Guards in bone-white armor began to enter.

Mortarian looked at Vulcan with a mocking expression, but his attack did not slow down in the slightest.

Vulcan paused, still in a state of furious battle, and spoke, his tone filled with rage.

This land still has value; you cannot destroy it!

The Lord of Death looked at him calmly, and Vulcan saw mockery and provocation in Mortarian's eyes—but Mortarian did not speak.

The Lord of Death rolled his eyes at Vulcan almost imperceptibly, which made Vulcan want to punch Mortarion, but then the Lord of Death casually reached into the gray-blue gas that had risen to his waist beside him.

Mortarian snapped his fingers, and tiny sparks ignited between the pale gauntlets.

Instantly, scorching flames erupted!

The flames reflected in Vulcan's pupils, which shrank to an unbelievable size as he stared in astonishment at Mortarian—

That toxic fumes are highly flammable!

This is... this is really...

If they weren't still on the battlefield, Vulcan would have loved to give Mortarian a warm hug.

Vulcan opened his mouth, deciding to temporarily forget Fernus's words, which made him feel a little guilty, but the warm and enchanting flames soothed away his remaining unease.

Vulcan's voice echoed on the salamander's channel.

My offspring...

I beg you, let the flames blaze high!!!

The sound of equipment being changed began, followed by the hissing sound of flames shooting out.

Mortarian beside him let out another obvious sneer, but Vulcan didn't care. The fire dragon lord, who loved fire, knew the value of these poisonous fumes. Mortarian had already shown his sincerity.

Although he will never know that behind the scenes of the battlefield, some Death Guard apothecaries are secretly collecting the flesh and blood of fire lizards.