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

Page 859

"what?!"

Before Kirkland could jump up in anger, King extended a metal hand and slammed it onto Kirkland's head with a loud BANG!

"This is something only you and I can do,"

Jin's voice lowered. Normally, orders of this level would send at least one Primarch, but there was no one available now, so the responsibility fell on the two founders of the Cult of Mechanics.

“Seventh Secret Order,” Jin said in a low voice, as he sent the key and the compressed file to Kirkland, “The Order to Execute the King.”

Kirkland abruptly turned to look at Kim.

"What?!" His voice trembled with excitement. "Is my Lord truly going to become a god?!?"

"Of course he wouldn't! He's a human being! So we have to stop him!!!"

King roared as he walked over, grabbed Kirkland who was trying to run away, and lifted him up by the collar.

“Even if I resign, my authority remains above yours, Kirkland,”

He said word by word,

"Moreover, this is a secret decree signed by Hades himself. Whether you like it or not, you cannot go against his will—for the last time, Kirkland, it was Hades himself who chose to become human."

Kirkland looked at King, the damned founder of the "Pluto Theory," who remained silent. Finally, Kirkland spoke slowly.

"It wasn't that Hades chose to become human; rather, he was meant to unleash his divine nature. I still disagree with your view."

Kirkland said,

“But I can’t go against his will. The order has been issued, Kim, so when do we make our move?”

"I do not know."

Jin loosened his grip on Kirkland's collar and took a deep breath.

“Play it by ear.”

The real decision-making power will likely fall into the hands of the two Great Sages at that time—Jin does not believe that if the Outer Side is truly defeated, the Empire will still have Primarchs with decision-making consciousness left.

Therefore, he had to keep a close eye on Kirkland.

Jin thought to himself, staring at Kirkland. At this very moment, on different battlefields, with the issuance of that secret order, countless Mechanicus ships that were originally withdrawing turned around and began to sail towards their designated targets.

..............................

Killieman took a deep breath and wearily rubbed his eyebrows.

The Ultramarines are now closest to the outermost forces; they are the most powerful legion on the battlefield and should be the first to take the lead.

The most absurd thing happened: the outsiders, who were lured in by the emperor to use the enemy against them, eventually fought a war against the empire.

If Hades and the Empire were to be shattered by the outsiders in the end—Robert Guilliman had never seen such a ridiculous defeat in his life.

I suddenly regret having a father named "Emperor".

"Killiman said calmly, as the white light from the porthole shone on him, making his blue helmet gleam with a faint white light," Killieman said.

Only Calgar stood awkwardly beside him—this document slave, previously banished by Guilliman to Mackrag to grade official documents. Although his armor was dented from intense combat and his face bore gruesome scars, the Ultramariner's appearance was actually much better than when Guilliman first saw him, since he no longer had to grade documents.

The weariness in his Primarch's voice seemed to want Karga to say something, but the content of his words was simply too shocking. Karga blinked, and finally chose to pretend not to hear, keeping his eyes down and his mind at ease.

Always silent, always concealing, always gambling, always giving last-minute information, unwilling to trust his offspring, unwilling to trust his people, willing to sacrifice himself, his children, anyone at all.

Kiliman paused for a moment, a look of fatigue in his eyes.

Even though his choices were later proven correct, I still loathe it. I'd rather work with Mortarion.

We must buy enough time for Pluto.

Killieman then changed the subject, saying,

Whether in battle or ultimately in defeat, the empire is shattered. As long as Hades lives, I believe he has a way to rebuild the broken empire—and only he has that ability. I don't, and the Emperor certainly doesn't.

Maybe Killieman does, but he really, really doesn't want to do it anymore.

Guilliman sighed, his thoughts fragmented, muttering to himself, the lingering sensation of Alpha's neck still on his fingertips.

[Let's consider this a final repayment. I, we, humanity, and the Empire owe him so much—and now I'm starting to waver. Was he even human?]

If it's not human, then things are even worse.

Killieman sighed again.

I really don't want to be the ruler of this empire anymore.

He lowered his eyes and muttered to himself.

Chapter 859 [301] A Chaotic Side Battle

"Fate is so wondrous!"

"Tarasin shouted as its new body wobbled up from the deck—this was the 108th body it had changed in just three hours!"

“Orikan—I never imagined that the Fear of the Dead would ally with the Imperial Empire of Man—or even use psionic amplification!”

Taracin waved his hand, but Orikan did not respond. At this moment, the Star Lord's entire energy was focused on barely maintaining the basic laws of the current timeline.

"Ugh!"

Tarachin sighed dramatically, though the Deathbringer's condition was not optimistic, but at least Tarachin himself was optimistic.

It strode to the control panel and called out to the space undead who had completely lost their minds, memories, and thoughts.

"Activate psionic amplification! Prioritize amplification of individuals marked by the system!"

Tarasin shouted.

Within the Eye of Silence, on a space necromancer ship positioned in a concealed location on the battlefield, an eerie warp light streaked across the sky.

....................................

【…】

Angron's eyes were vacant. A strange, bright white aura even pierced through layers of pinkish-purple smoke, allowing everyone to clearly see the bright white being descending upon the battlefield.

The battlefield of the two Angrons is also very close to the outermost warp destination, and it seems that it is too late to retreat now.

Angron, on the other hand, didn't really want to retreat.

His once pristine and glorious armor was now splattered with all sorts of strange liquids, some of which were already half-dried—Angron hoped these liquids were blood, but clearly they weren't.

Angron took a deep breath—he immediately stopped himself from taking a deep breath. He wasn't wearing a helmet, and the entire battlefield around him was shrouded in pinkish-purple smoke—among which the fighting, collapsing, and convulsing Slaanesh soldiers were breathing heavily, clearly high on the smoke.

Although the Primarch has resistance to poison, who knows if those Slaanesh agents might add something to the smoke that would make Angron nauseous.

Angron shook his head. He felt that the anger and glory in his mind had never faded. Even when faced with all kinds of insulting attacks from the enemy, Angron held firm to his inner position.

He cannot break down; this is also a psychological battle. The two Angrons are connected to their warriors by their psionic spirits. If the Primarch collapses, their army will immediately crumble.

Fortunately, his warriors did not yield. The World Eater preferred to die fighting, detonating grenades in the enemy ranks rather than be captured alive by the World Eaters—any sane person knows the fate of being captured—the enemy was the Slaanesh.

[Huff...huff...~]

Opposite the Lord of Red Sand, the hedonist [Angron] was panting, clutching his arm. Bright pink blood gushed from between his fingers, and the arm looked as if it were broken.

His abdomen, which was heavily wrapped in light gauze, was also cleaved open by the battle axe, his intestines exposed, healed, and then cleaved open again. Then the Frenzied Man simply wrapped his long intestines around his neck, allowing himself to feel the suffocating pleasure while fighting.

This temporarily boosted the Frenzied's fighting power, but he subsequently weakened again. Angron believed that if the war continued, he would be the only winner.

Wow, that's really powerful!

The Frenzied Maniac gasped for breath and opened his arms to Angron once more, his ribs, sharp as fangs, bursting through his flesh, like a living, moving Iron Maiden. In the previous battle, the Frenzied Maniac had killed six World Eaters with his embrace—and continued to open his arms to Angron.

【…】

Angron was completely speechless; he had only one thought: he had to win, and the cost of losing was unacceptable. Then, he felt a strange frequency, and the surrounding subspace began to amplify.

Angron's heart tightened, and he quickly looked at the Frenzied One. The good news was that the Frenzied One did not seem to have received any psionic amplification; it seemed to be targeted.

Subsequently, the message from Tarachin and Kiliman reached Anglon.

【I see……】

As Angron thought about it, he grinned and felt the brilliance on his battle axe begin to shine, and the previously slightly weakened mental domain protection became strong again.

The Necromancers of the Outer Space cooperate with the Empire to provide psionic boosts to all Imperial Primarchs within a jump zone of the Outer Space.

Now he can just chop that damned thing down—the existence of the Frenzied is almost a blatant insult to Angron's character.

The Primarch's expression clearly hardened, and the battle axe in his hand seemed to breathe, sensing its master's pulse and fighting spirit—Angron was confident that he could sever that damned guy's head in their next encounter.

? !

No, the Lord of Red Sand gritted his teeth and thought, cutting off that guy's head would only send him back to his lair. The right thing to do is to completely destroy him—to kill him completely. Only Hades or other powerful star gods can do that.

Hades above.

Angron tentatively thought of this, and unsurprisingly, he did not receive a response from Hades.

Then… Angron’s gaze shifted slightly upwards, looking at the white light on the horizon.

That guy must be contained; we can't let him escape or commit suicide before the outsiders arrive.

Angron didn't just want to kill him; he had to reduce the Frenzied to ashes and make him nothingness to vent his hatred and put an end to his behavior of spraying liquid on himself.

but……

Angron felt a chill run down his spine. He realized something again: how was he supposed to trap the Frenzied One? Drag him out until the Outer Ones arrived?

Before the Primarch could even formulate a contingency plan, the Madman, who was once again suffocating him, looked with interest at the Lord of Red Sand. As a Primarch with strong psionic powers, he naturally saw the warp waves amplifying the psionic energy of Angron.

[That's really cheating.]

The Madman laughed, licking his lips in boredom. Unlike Angron, who thought he could still fight but was in a sorry state, the Slaanesh prince clearly didn't want to continue fighting. He couldn't kill him, and he couldn't get any pleasure from it.

Now, seeing Angron regain his light, the Frenzied Desire reluctantly raised his hand.

[Okay, I surrender.]

He winked playfully at Angron, then dramatically collapsed to the ground.

[Come and capture me~ Darling~ If you don't come... I'm going back—don't you want to spend the night with me, in a fleeting dream~]

Angron suddenly felt an urge to smash his own head with an axe; he couldn't take it anymore.

....................................

【…】

The heavy breathing came from beneath the viscous swamp, and then countless hot bubbles spewed out from the thick mucus, like water boiling. A giant slowly stood up, his body charred black and glowing with a fiery red light, like a piece of charcoal.

[......]

Opposite him, the bloated, enormous giant lizard—or rather, dragon-like creature—surrounded and enveloped by the decaying creatures of the swamp slowly turned around and looked at the blacksmith who had stood up again.

It exhaled a foul-smelling breath from its enormous nostrils, causing the buzzing flies to fall to the ground.

Both Vulcans were immortal, which made their battle exceptionally long, until in the end it seemed that only the two of them remained in the world.

They were both equally stubborn and obstinate. Compared to the chaotic scene on the other side of Angron, filled with panting and cursing, the battle between the two Vulcans was silent. They merely looked at each other with disapproval, tears streaming from their eyes.

But with each death, the intervals between Vulcan's resurrections as the Lord of Fire Dragons grew longer and longer. If this continued, Vulcan's final fate would only be defeat, or worse, assimilation.

But as a faint white light appeared on the horizon, Vulcan, the Lord of Fire Dragons, felt a surge of power—a surge of hope—that gave him courage.

The two Vulcans' battle lines were in a war zone farther from the outermost player, but also within the outermost player's next jump range.

The command from Guilliman reached his ears, and the Lord of the Dragons gripped his warhammer once more. Vulcan was immortal, and the flames in his eyes burned fiercely.

...............................

Why are we the only ones who haven't received the psionic amplification?!

Koz shouted, once again nimbly dodging Prince Khorne's attack. The blood claws barely grazed his side, and the red afterimage drew layers of storms in the air.

We are the furthest from those on the outside.

Corax swallowed hard, clearly in a sorry state. His breastplate was shattered, and through the broken armor, a penetrating wound could be seen.

It's clearly inappropriate to have two Primarchs skilled in flanking assassinations deal with a Prince Khorne, even though it's a righteous two-on-one situation.

[Don't...run away...]

The shrike screeched, spewing blood from its mouth, its eyes wide open and bloodshot. Khorne's followers were bloodthirsty, wanting only to tear everything in front of them to shreds.

This is discrimination! This is a cover-up! I'm going to report Guilliman!!! I'm going to report the Lord of the Empire for making things difficult for us!!!