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

Page 234

Most of the Ultramarines were also on the central front, responsible for supplementing damage, but at the same time, Guilliman ordered his soldiers to learn and emulate the actions of the Death Guards on the front lines—

At the same time, they were kept as far away as possible from the Death Guards' green flames. To Guilliman's surprise, the Ultramarines' helmet breathing systems could not completely filter out the smell of these toxic flames.

Those Death Guards at the forefront were clearly elite; they were familiar with psionicists. Faced with the half-mad wizard's psionic howls and sparks, the Death Guards drew their scythes and took the enemy's life with lightning speed.

In areas distorted by the psionicists' painful emotions, certain grenades were thrown, and Guilliman could see that they possessed the property of stabilizing physical space.

Mortarion charged ahead, his rage fueled by a certain uneasy ferocity. This Primarch, who was accustomed to dealing with wizards, possessed astonishing skill. He charged straight into the wizards who had gathered to cast spells, cleaving them all in two with his giant scythe.

Blood and bits of flesh were splattered all over the ground.

The air trembled. Mortalian shouted a few angry words into the communication channel. Some special airdrop pods flew overhead. Guilliman could tell that those pods would land in densely populated areas, some of them in slums.

Guilliman knew how to start the conversation.

My brother! If necessary, the Ultramarines can also provide support here.

No, it's not necessary.

Mortarian's irritated voice came through the channel.

[Keep up with the Death Guard; we need to clear the path to the slums as quickly as possible!]

The overhead map showed that the Abustu army, which had been disbanded in advance and stationed at insignificant locations outside the capital, was converging on the slums at full speed.

The heavy vehicles, loaded with explosives, rushed toward the ruins of the altar, which had been completely destroyed in the explosion.

Currently, only the Death Guard's air force is intercepting them; the main force is being held back by the wizards in the residential area. Although they are the most skilled butchers, it will still take time to clear out a million runaway sheep.

Explosions rang out intermittently from the slums, thick smoke obscured the Stormbirds' vision, and the low, cramped shacks provided the perfect fuel for the flames.

Hades' channel remains "out of contact" to this day.

Mortarian cursed under his breath. They had been deceived by this planet. They had been careless. Even though it was a wizarding world, it still had the most straightforward and brutal physical combat methods.

But the Death Guard's drop pod has already arrived, so of course they can.

Amidst the completely destroyed wreckage, a hand reached out from the ruins. Immediately afterward, a lying stone was pushed aside and smashed to the ground with a dull thud.

Hades stood up expressionlessly, his helmet nowhere to be seen, blood flowing from one side of his head, but already beginning to dry.

The abundant flow of psionic energy at the altar is not the psionic energy driving the magic circle, but rather a safety buckle suppressing the explosives and preventing them from detonating.

In other words, no one but Hades could detonate these explosives.

Hades wasn't sure whether Tzeentch wanted him to live or die—but he was certain that Tzeentch had indeed tricked him, with a chilling sense of humor.

In the infrared imagery of his left eye, Hades saw, amidst the thick smoke, the pitiful, ignorant, suicidal enemy soldiers trying to move toward him.

After a thorough and careful assessment of the current situation, and after confirming that there was nothing else hidden in the environment,

Hades raised his scythe.

3 words!

Yes, there is a code.

Chapter 280: A Record of a War

The scythe tore through flesh and blood, the flames licked the withered bones, and after the gunshot, only ashes remained.

Mortarian pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it at the wizards hiding behind the heavy vehicle, trying to cast spells. Before they could utter their dying screams, he grabbed the chain at the end of the giant scythe and hurled the massive, heavy weapon directly at the damned heavy vehicle.

After a sickening metallic tearing sound, the Lord of Death ripped off the front of the vehicle, and through the huge wound, he could see the drivers, whose flesh and blood had been torn off along with it.

They weren't dead yet, but fear and massive bleeding had rendered them incapable of fighting. They lay groaning in pain, curled up and twitching on the narrow ground of the vehicle, trying to piece themselves back together.

Fresh, oily blood was spilled all over the ground, mixed with engine oil.

Mortarian's bright eyes didn't blink. He decisively continued forward, leaving these tasks to the Death Guards behind. The essence would be poured on these people and things, and after the bright green tongues of fire licked them, nothing would be left.

Bright green flames flickered on Mortalian's pale and withered armor. He sniffed the peculiar stench of psykers in the air, raised his hand, and fired a shot. The Primarch's fully charged Netherflame Pistol was like a small cannon, exploding with a dazzling light. Some human flesh fragments splattered from the collapsed buildings, emitting the smell of fat.

Mortarian marked these locations on the map, leaving them for the troops behind, while he continued to stride forward.

He moved forward, toward his target. The further he went, the narrower his vision became. The once crowded shantytowns were razed to the ground by the Death Guard and the enemy's own artillery fire. Thick smoke billowed, flames were everywhere, and charred corpses lay across the road like sticks of firewood.

The area was too large and shrouded in thick smoke. Through the smoke, Mortarion received signals from the other Death Guardians in the drop pods. They had not found Hades—so the Lord of Death headed in a direction they had not searched.

The closer they got to the central area, the thicker the smoke became, but the shantytowns there had been almost completely burned down. The smoke was coming from the heavy vehicles that had rushed over, and the people inside the vehicles who were covered in soot like smoked meat.

An ominous aura emanated from the place, but Mortarian knew he had come to the right place.

At first, every two alleys, Mortarian would see a heavily burning vehicle with the accompanying soldiers lying unconscious on the side of the tracks, their bodies either burned or suffocated—but these were not fatal wounds; they were already dead before that.

Further in, the heavy vehicles appeared one after another in the morning mist, like towering trees in a forest, seemingly endless.

Mortarian walked slowly and silently through the artificial forest, the flames guiding him like the morning sun.

With no enemies to shoot, those that need to be fired upon have long since become like wooden sticks on the roadside, which can be easily kicked away by the Primarch.

Most of the corpses were dead, either from the flames and smoke or from being run over by their companions, but some were still alive, empty shells with only weak physiological responses, occasionally coughing in the smoke.

Mortarian knew that without a soul, these remaining bodies would soon perish, and he saw no need to waste his bullets here.

He had more important things to do than these.

Mortarian fought against his instincts and continued moving in the direction he least wanted to go.

Finally, he saw the person he was looking for.

A figure sat silently beneath a vehicle, flames surrounding him. Behind him lay the silent wreckage of thousands of exploded vehicles. In front of him lay a mortal, groaning.

Mortarian recognized them as the Soulless Ones Hades had brought with him on this mission.

Hades sensed Mortarian's arrival, but he didn't look up. He seemed to be trying to push the exposed lungs of the soulless creature back in, which caused the soulless creature to emit a terrible hissing sound.

The soulless man groaned and called out "Nina," his dying eyes pleadingly fixed on Hades, his face glistening with sweat.

Finally, he uttered a barely audible "please".

"boom!"

Hades fired a shot without hesitation. Now that the vehicle was no longer struggling, Hades stood up and wiped the blood and slime off the wrecked vehicle.

Only then did he turn to look at Mortarian, unusually without a helmet.

The flames burned silently.

Mortarian kicked a corpse aside, strode over, and gestured for Hades to follow him to rejoin the main force.

After confirming the terrain data, the Lord of Death chose to break through first.

"I didn't expect you to arrive so quickly."

As Hades spoke, he maneuvered the dilapidated mechs around the sea of ​​abandoned vehicles he himself had created.

“I thought you would waste more time negotiating with Killieman.”

Although he couldn't sense psychic energy, he could at least sense that I was in a bad mood.

"Motalian said dryly."

Hades smiled.

"Then I'll have to go back and explain all this to the commander of the Ultramarines. I was thinking you should at least give him a basic introduction first."

Mortarion gave a mumbled reply, and then the Death Guards who had been searching for Hades in the thick fog gradually appeared through the intact communication devices on Mortarion's armor. They slowly walked back, with occasional gunshots or the sound of scythes ringing out as the Death Guards cleared away the living corpses.

Motalian suddenly spoke, before he could even react.

What does "Nina" mean?

"His sister."

Hades answered casually, while using a brand-new communicator to check on the Zero Company that had been airdropped to the key nodes. Fortunately, as long as they avoided the suicide bombings of the psionicists, the Zero Company had more than enough power to eliminate these wizards.

Where is she now?

The Lord of Death's curiosity clearly exceeded his usual behavior. Hades, who was walking in front, suddenly turned around and looked at him expressionlessly. Mortarion felt the oppressive aura of the Dark Realm.

Then that feeling faded away, Hades stared at him and spoke slowly.

“I don’t know. He was sent by Makado. How would I know about his family?”

As Hades spoke, he casually shot a coughing corpse on the roadside in the head with his white gun.

“But I wrote it down.”

Hades suddenly spoke, staring straight at the sky.

Mortarian didn't have time to ask Hades what he had noted down, because the blue Ultramarines shouting "Courage and Glory" arrived. Hades preferred the blue kids' tactical questions to Mortarian's.

Great!

No more today.

Chapter 281 The Ultra Warrior is puzzled

Theory and practice are key to their strength. Theory: fully implementing theory and practice to unleash their full power. Practice: infusing theory and practice into every level through directives and conventions.

[—Guilliman, Towards the Integration of Theory and Practice, 111.54.xl]

Theory: They still need to observe; Practice: Ask their fellow Death Guards around them.

Additional Practice 1: Death Guards generally don't like to speak.

Practice Supplement 2: The Death Guard Commander is quite enthusiastic and knowledgeable, and happy to answer questions.

Theoretical Update: They need more efficient observation. Practical Update: Gather information on most of the Ultramarines' concerns, summarize common issues, and proactively send high-ranking warriors to consult with the Death Guard Commander.

The practice has achieved a phased victory, proving its feasibility. Under the condition that the objective and subjective conditions remain unchanged, they can repeat this action.

Practice Supplement 3: Death Guards prefer silent combat. In response to their practice, a few Death Guards tell them to shut up in the channel, arguing that they need to receive commands from the Commander, not listen to questions from Ultramarines.

Mortarion was grateful to his volatile offspring, which finally calmed the Ultramarines down a bit.

Just like their endless blue offspring, the problems of the Ultramarines are endless, yet they always possess a tiny bit of value that makes them irresistible.

The Ultramarines' channel was noisy for a while, and Mortarian thought with satisfaction that they had finally realized how inappropriate their actions were.

However, the next moment, Guilliman's rapid and solemn voice rang out in the shared channel between the Death Guard and the Ultramarines.

Commander Hades, would you be willing to answer some of our questions in detail after this war? The Ultramarines will appreciate your knowledge.

Before Hades could utter a single syllable, a loud sigh came from Mortarian's breathing mask. Mortarian then removed his breathing mask, spat at the ground, put the mask back on, and took a few deep breaths.

"Killiman, my brother," he said somberly, "what do you want to ask? I can answer your questions now."

Hades was clearly focused on the battlefield. The recent explosion had put him on high alert, so he took Mortarian and Guilliman's conversation literally and didn't say anything.

Meanwhile, after discussing with Mortarion, the Lord of Macragge chose to garrison the plaza, the city's largest temporary airfield, to allow ground troops to maintain contact with the air fleet.

Guilliman stared at the edge of the plaza. Type 3 obstacles were combined with Type 2 obstacles to create artificial cover. Vehicles from three blocks were towed over and became part of the cover. Although Guilliman did not think that the people here could launch a large-scale attack according to his calculations, they were all psionicists he was not familiar with. Guilliman thought he needed to be fully prepared.

We must face all situations; to not do so would be tantamount to betrayal.

The only surviving mortals are the historians and recorders appointed by Guilliman, though few of them remain.

Guilliman wanted them to leave on Stormbirds, but the current air force was the Death Guard, who refused Guilliman's request and warned him not to let them return to the air fleet so easily.

So Guilliman had to let these mortals tremble and weep within the Ultramarines' defensive perimeter, but one young man tried to touch the corpses of the dead Abustuans, for which he was, of course, given a stern warning.

Meanwhile, Guilliman pondered Mortalian's words. He wondered what Mortalian was thinking. Mortalian's tone was unfriendly; he was rejecting the Ultramarines, which was indeed a problem for the Ultramarines.

Guilliman realized that the Death Guard was a rather stubborn and principled legion, and that the Ultramarines' actions just now were clearly reckless. They should be more cautious and careful in observing and probing.

But given that it was wartime, Guilliman didn't want to see a defeat due to a lack of information, so he acquiesced to the Ultramarines' questioning of the Death Guard, even though this might indeed alienate some of the Death Guard.

Guilliman paused for a moment, then adopted a more relaxed tone.

[I have many questions for you, my brother, Mortarion. Perhaps you could visit Makragora after this? We also owe a debt of gratitude to the Death Guard for their early warning; we certainly made mistakes.]

As it turns out, this rhetoric is effective even when used on Primarchs, whom mortals call demigods.

Even though Guilliman was unhappy with some of Deathguard’s actions, it was still within the boundaries he defined.

A faint radio wave came from Mortalian's channel, and Guilliman imagined his brother struggling to breathe through a gas mask.

Yes, but please don't ask now.

A dry, short sentence, and then Mortarian abruptly cut off contact with the channel.

Having achieved their objective and with sufficient information to handle the current situation, Guilliman ordered the Ultramarines to stop questioning the Death Guards, whom they were tired of hearing.