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

Page 271

Chapter 324 A Day Trip to the Gallery of the Word-Willing Lady Cyrene

Angertai was found on a scorched earth.

At first, he thought it was a dead person. Angelte didn't understand why there would be people who hadn't retreated yet, but then he saw the "corpse's" hand trembling slightly.

She is still alive.

Without a second thought (which was almost unheard of for Angertai), Angertai brought her into the Word Bearer's medical bay, and the woman in his arms naturally attracted the attention of other Word Bearers along the way.

This woman clearly possessed some kind of... indescribable attraction for those who cherish words; her thin, ashen face had a magical quality that brought... tranquility.

Giants clad in gray armor gathered outside the medical bay, and the crowd grew larger—the Word Bearers were now abandoned, abandoned by the God-Emperor, abandoned by their Primarchs. No one explained to them, no one gave them orders, except for the tiresome Ultramarines who kept calling on them to help with the refugees. Most of the Word Bearers were now idle…

...and they were filled with anxiety and unease.

Generally speaking, the wavering faith within the Word Bearers would be resolved by the Legion Priests, but faced with the absurd reality, even the Priests themselves were at a loss... Moreover, Chief Priest Eribas had already been executed, and the other Priests had naturally lost their due credibility with the Fighting Brothers.

People want to pray, but worry about whether their previous prayers were correct. If their previous faith has been flawed, then what should they do?

They need someone to tell them what to do, instead of just staying there, whether it's being punished or atoning for their sins. But no one is there to guide them; their Primarchs are already struggling to survive.

In the midst of chaos and widespread panic, someone needed to step forward. Although Angeltai did not want to be a leader, as the first warrior to rise up, his brothers were watching him from the shadows.

Beneath his helmet, Angelte chuckled self-deprecatingly, feeling as if the gazes of the people outside the medical room were piercing through him.

He crouched down and took off his helmet in front of the medical pod—the pharmacist had told him the woman was about to wake up.

Cyrani's eyelashes fluttered, and the next moment, the woman opened her eyes.

She slowly stood up and looked around blankly. Angelte suddenly realized that her eyes were not focused, and a layer of distorted white mist shrouded her eyes.

She has gone blind.

But given everything she's been through, perhaps losing her sight is already a blessing in disguise.

Is anyone there? Where am I?

Cyrene asked in confusion, realizing that she was not lying on scorched sand, but on cloth.

Then a hoarse voice echoed from the darkness surrounding her.

"Madam, you're alright now. You're receiving treatment in the Word Bearer's medical bay—although you appear to be blind, what's your name?"

The one who harbors words?

Cyrene paused, then asked a question, and Angeltai sensed she was trying hard to focus her gaze on him.

"My name is Cyrene, angel. What color is your armor?"

"grey."

The grey angel, Cyrani, pursed her chapped lips and smiled.

"I've waited for you, angels."

Angeltai was silent for a moment, then cautiously asked,

“My name is Angeltai, Cyrene. You said you were waiting for us not far from the City of Perfection. Why?”

Cyrene felt her heart pounding wildly; she spoke in a trembling voice, hoping the angel would believe her words.

"me……"

Cyrena trembled with unease.

“I saw Him, He…He wanted a hero to witness all of this, the burning of the Perfect City needed someone to witness it—and I was chosen.”

She listened to the silence on the other end, the sound of breathing, and nothing else.

"You witnessed it—and then what, what will you say if He really wants you to say something?"

Angelté asked calmly, "In fact, this Word-Bearer is loyal to his Father, but rather to religion. Or rather, to the God-Emperor, he possesses a unique kind of insensitivity, which is why he is often reprimanded by his priest brothers."

Cyrena opened her mouth, feeling the words swirling on her tongue, the truth piercing her, bringing her unknown suffering in the future.

Angeltai's eyes widened. He remained kneeling on the ground, but Cyrani stumbled to her feet and tears streamed from her pale eyes before the Word Bearer.

“I have seen the truth…He still…He still allows you to have faith.”

She said she remembered the sadness in His eyes.

Despite the nonsensical words, Angelte inexplicably felt a sense of relief deep within him.

----------

The Emperor paused, holding his son's hand. Macado, sitting opposite him, looked at him with concern, while Hades, on the other side, also peered over.

"What's wrong, Neos?"

Hades said nonchalantly, completely ignoring Macado's gaze.

The emperor calmly made his next move on the chessboard.

"It's just a charade."

----------

Are you very sad?

The blind girl walked cautiously along the corridor of the ship of the Word Bearer. She felt that there were many people around her, many eyes watching her. They seemed to want to help her, but she insisted on walking on her own.

She touched the shoulder armor of an angel, cold and rounded. They seemed to be waiting for her to speak, so she spoke to them.

She was met with a long silence; people were unwilling to speak.

Cyrene hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, addressing the darkness. She suddenly recalled the darkness she had once faced, the shimmering, emerald-green teardrops.

"Actually, I... wasn't very interested in the notices in the square before."

She said, her voice trembling.

"I am not among the most fanatical believers,"

Cyrene chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"Perhaps you don't accept this answer, after all, the truth is always the opposite of what people are unwilling to accept."

“When I first heard the news, I was just angry, angry that He would do that, even though I knew I wasn’t very devout—but I had placed my trust and loyalty in Him, and there were so many devout believers in this city, why would He do this?”

Cyrani shook his head slightly.

“I have very bad, blasphemous thoughts, and I desperately want to know why—perhaps my thoughts are too strong, He…”

Cyrene swallowed.

“He gave me instructions in a dream, and when I woke up again, it was the seventh day.”

Angertai followed silently behind Cyrena, his comrades-in-arms standing or kneeling at the edge of the corridor, all looking at Cyrena—

Did Cyrene realize that a faint golden light had appeared around her?

If this blind woman didn't know her current situation, these awe-inspiring golden lights, and yet she still had the courage to speak those words...

Only faith can answer why this is.

“I saw the truth in my dream,”

Cyrene said,

“He is not… not as described in the proclamation, it’s hard to describe, He is just Him… When I saw Him, He was tired and sad.”

“The moment I saw Him, I understood everything. He is God, without a doubt, that is an objective truth, but… something is wrong and needs to be changed.”

Cyrene fell silent, still groping alone in the darkness.

"That fiery rain,"

She said abruptly,

"Let the errors be burned away in the fire, and the true believers will be rebuilt from the broken ashes."

Angertai paused, then Cyrene... walked to the vicinity of the Primarch's meditation room.

He did not believe it was a coincidence.

The Word Bearers guarding the area exchanged glances and then made way for them.

The golden light emanating from Cyrene dimmed and disappeared, and the door to the meditation room, which had been ajar, slowly opened.

A strong smell of blood wafted from inside.

Yes, there is a code.

Chapter 325 Doubt? Enlightenment!

Meditation Room

The corpses stared at them in utter horror, emitting a pungent, burnt stench. They were nailed to the ground with countless long nails, maintaining a pitiful kneeling posture. Two long, straight black spears pierced through their flesh, yet only dripped slightly tar-like substances onto the ground.

Angelte subtly slowed his breathing, while pulling Cyrene in front of him closer to the clean path. The woman even glanced back at him with a puzzled look.

Angeltai coughed.

"My father?"

He looked at the hunched figure sitting at a desk deep in the room, surrounded by flames and corpses. The Primarch was facing away from them, his upper body bare, with marks left by burning iron on his back. The golden inscription that was originally engraved on Luo Jia's back was now covered by bleeding wounds.

Something seemed amiss. Angortai stepped forward and grasped Cyrene's hand, cautiously awaiting the Primarch's reaction.

If Luo Jia were to fly into a rage, then he would at least need to help Xilani intercept the Primarch's anger, since he had tacitly approved of the lady's rude behavior.

Unexpectedly, Luo Jia's voice was unusually calm.

If you've come here to tell me to cheer up, then you can leave.

“Father, I have discovered a mortal who witnessed the burning of the City of Perfection and survived—you may be able to meet her.”

Luo Jia stopped writing with her hand, and the Primarch straightened up, her tone seemingly tinged with amusement.

[I'm still wondering why you brought a mortal lady with you, Angeltai.]

Luojia… it sounded strange, but not incomprehensible, so Angeltai took a deep breath and continued speaking.

“Father, the Word Bearers await your return to lead the Legion. We have waited for you for too long. The Ultramarines are still urging us on. We need your leadership.”

He clearly saw Luo Jia's spine straighten instantly, the wound was torn open, and blood flowed again.

Then Luo Jia's gentle voice rang out, but what he said made Angeltai feel suffocated.

I'm sorry, my valiant son, I cannot do it.

Angelte suddenly realized that they might be too late—they hadn't arrived before something broke, and now all they could see was a pile of shattered glass.

Luo Jia continued speaking, his hand gripping the quill pen indifferently, its white feathers stained with blood.

I considered myself a believer in truth, yet I spread false beliefs; I considered myself a demigod, yet I made good use of traitors… I betrayed His trust; I was the only one among them who was right, but also the only one who hurt Him.

Luo Jia's grip on the pen tightened and loosened.

[He admitted it. Perhaps I should have been overjoyed that God himself removed the veil to guide the lost shepherd, but I was so utterly wrong. I was raised by sinners beyond redemption, and I associated with traitors who spoke lies—I betrayed Him.]

Luo Jia's back had hunched over again.

Perhaps I'm not suited for this.

"grown ups,"

Cyrene's slightly trembling voice echoed in the meditation room, as clear and crisp as the first birdsong in a forest at dawn.

"He allows us to live because He knows that our faith can grow again, rather than wither away."

Luo Jia was silent for a moment.

What did He tell you? What did you see, madam?

No, forgive my rudeness, what's your name, ma'am?

Angorte felt it in his own hands; Cyrene's hand trembled uncomfortably. Conversing with the Primarch required courage.

“You may call me Cyrene, my lord. I was originally a native of the City of Perfection. During the days when the blue giant descended, He showed me the way, and I followed His instructions and witnessed the destruction of the City of Perfection.”

[Ms. Cyrene,]

Luo Jia said calmly, though his voice was extremely hoarse.

How will you prove that what you experienced was His will, and not just your own delusions born of excessive stress—there will always be mortals spouting nonsense after the war.