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

Page 762

[Aside from necessary defenses, all the troops within the Storm Starfield are converging on the Eye of Silence... If needed, Barbarus and its allied worlds can forgo their necessary defenses.]

Hades shook his head. He was also thinking rapidly. They were about to face the undead from space, which was destined to be an extremely dangerous battle. To be honest—

The chances of winning are too small.

Even if the human empire tries to achieve a mutually destructive outcome, the space necromancers might pull out some ingenious tools to deliver a crushing blow.

Here's a corny joke about facing the Necromancers. Aside from sheer size and the number of newborns, the Human Empire is almost completely outmatched by the Necromancers in every other statistic.

The only consolation for Hades was that the Emperor had allied with the Astrologer Orikan beforehand, which at least ensured that they would not have to face multiple, large-scale time rewinds that could alter the entire course of the war during the Silent Eye operation.

Perhaps the emperor really got down to business, or perhaps he had considered similar scenarios before. In any case, although the weasel was no longer working, the foreshadowing he had laid earlier continued to unfold.

Or perhaps the emperor didn't think that much about it at all.

Hades gritted his teeth. He only allocated one thread to handle the conversation with Mortarion and walking, while the remaining billions and trillions of threads were calculating the impending fierce battle.

“I’m just worried that the odds of winning are too slim this time. This isn’t like fighting Titania, Mortarian.”

【I know. 】

Motalian said, feigning nonchalance,

But... so what... the empire has experienced countless similar wars, and the worst outcome is nothing more than annihilation.

Hades didn't really think before he spoke, or perhaps that was indeed what he was thinking; he was still absorbed in the calculations of fuel allocation.

"I'm wondering, if we were to lose at the last second, could I surrender first and ask the Necromancers to spare the Empire?"

Maximizing profits might be the path some rationalists would also choose, and Hades was no exception. Driven purely by self-interest, such a choice was understandable given the entire empire he was responsible for.

Such a vast empire, painstakingly built up, was invaluable to Hades.

If this path is truly feasible, perhaps after a desperate struggle, Hades will still leave the empire with a backup plan after he leaves.

However... Hades did not seriously consider such an option. Such moments are rare on the ever-changing battlefield, and he was prepared to fight to the death.

Hades' remaining computing power is still being used for calculations.

At least a hundred more fuel transport routes must be added to the Extreme Starfield; otherwise, if the war lasts for more than three months, supply will become a problem...

Hades suddenly realized something was wrong. They were almost on the open-air balcony, and the bright sunlight was shining on a spot not far in front of Hades.

Hades felt the emptiness beside him, so he stopped abruptly and turned around to see Mortarian standing there.

Such an empire... has no reason to exist if it doesn't respect nations of heroes.

"Motalian said hoarsely,"

【You should realize, Hades, that if you leave, this empire will collapse abruptly and never be rebuilt—do you want to watch us, the remaining survivors, struggle for survival amidst the ruins?】

【if,】

Mortarian began to walk, reaching Hades' side, then past him, gesturing for Hades to proceed forward, just beyond the balcony, beneath the vast palace.

Countless mechanical sages were crowding around, waiting for Hades to appear. Every now and then, mud-like objects were thrown at the Ultramarines who were trying to maintain order by the noisy sages.

If, at that time, the human empire truly faces a defeat that ends in annihilation,

Mortarian narrowed his eyes.

[Then we shall drag this galaxy down with us. Humanity does not possess the same high moral character as the fearful of death; all races must die with us—I think I am not the only one who believes this.]

The sunlight gilded the black helmet, and Hades looked up and saw a sea of ​​red robes stretching across the mountains and plains.

That's what they all think.

"Motalian said, looking up. The sunlight shone down, stinging his eyes. Even though he could open his eyes, Motalian still squinted uncomfortably.

"Long live Hades!!!"

The sea of ​​Gear Boys boiled, and the Mechanical Sage roared.

"Send troops! Send troops!! Send troops!!! Sweep away the heretics!!! By Hades!!! Lead us to send troops!!!"

Hades was both moved and impressed. Faced with such an exciting scene, he suddenly felt like shouting "waaagh!"

Like, so similar.

Okay, that's all.

Chapter 783 [225] Bad luck, bad luck, bad luck all the time

Which is more difficult to deal with: Chaos or Space Necromancers?

The answer to this question may be somewhat controversial, but at least for Hades right now, restraint is of paramount importance.

Unfortunately, the space necromancer is the one that counters him.

An ancient race, long gone, rises from its graves, its empty eyes gleaming with the faint light of absolute physical laws. Thousands of years ago, it was this very race, devoid of children, that shattered dozens of star gods in the galaxy, imprisoning them as eternal lamps before their graves.

Hades alone seems to have a hard time dealing with this ancient race.

The good news is that Hades is never alone.

The entire human empire, along with the returning Primarchs, will stand together on the battlefield.

This was something he had built with his own hands and managed with all his heart—compared to the golden old man who drew his sword against one of his offspring, Hades's treatment was clearly more than twice as good.

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

"I do not recommend that you do anything other than work."

Macado said with a sigh of relief that he had finally shaken off Neos. When the Emperor charged at him again to try to pull him away from Guilliman, Macado slid forward and created distance between himself and Neos in an extremely undignified manner.

"I just want you to testify for me that I was indeed injured by the assassination attempt by the Space Necromancers."

The Emperor calmly stated that this was a lie, and that the space necromancers who came to assassinate him were a whole level weaker than Hades's.

Macardo scrambled away, terrified that the Emperor would bother him again. Macardo was just being cheeky; after noticing something was wrong with Neos, he teleported over immediately.

He was then entangled by Neos amidst the corpses of space undead scattered everywhere.

The Emperor walked calmly toward Macado. Contrary to common sense, although Neos's pace seemed unhurried, the distance between him and Macado was gradually decreasing.

"Go find Killieman yourself!"

Makado roared,

"Don't drag me into this anymore—and besides! They'll be here for you soon! If you're bored, Neos, go to work! Don't bother me!"

Marcado finally understood: although the Emperor, who had delegated all official duties to Guilliman, still needed to work, his workload was still far below the Emperor's normal working efficiency, so Neos had begun to have some free time.

"..."

This is true.

The Emperor silently thought that, in reality, the space undead that the entire human empire was currently facing would be the most threatening race. In the past, Neos would not have been able to help but worry.

but now?

The current ruler of the empire is not his emperor.

Neos had reason and confidence to believe that Guilliman would govern the country well. Power and responsibility had already been entrusted to him. Rather than interfering in Guilliman's management, it was better to let his son take the plunge.

For the new king, the best environment for governance is one where the old king no longer interferes in politics.

The best way to hone a new king and truly usher in an era for a Primarch is to let them experience trials and tribulations.

Anyway... if they really can't defeat the Necromancers in space, the Emperor will just forcefully summon "people." If the Empire falls, the chaos in the warp won't have an easy time either.

He, the emperor, could only help his busy son in some minor ways, and supplement him in other areas...

The Emperor blinked, and he was about to use his psionic energy to drag Macado back when another flame of soul suddenly burst in, interrupting Neos's wicked act.

In that instant, the Emperor let Macardo escape. In the corridor of the lunar base, Neos blinked slowly. He turned around and saw that golden hue that pleased him.

It was Waldo, a member of the Imperial Guard.

"My lord,"

Waldo’s voice came in a muffled tone from within his armor, and Neos guessed that he had just left Nurgle’s garden.

"I have some ideas—but I still need more time."

The Emperor waved his hand, signaling Waldo to leave. As if he knew what Waldo was saying, Waldo respectfully bowed to the Emperor and then went away again.

A small portion of the Royal Guard is now stationed at the Terra Palace, responsible for its security, while the rest stubbornly remain with Neos, guarding the moon alongside him.

As for the Imperial Guard, Waldo, he rarely appeared in people's sight after Baal's journey.

Not many people paid attention to Waldo. Although Waldo was known as the "Primarch of the Imperial Guard," most Primarchs did not pay much attention to him because of his overall strength, which was below that of the Primarchs. He also held a critical attitude towards most Primarchs, including Hades.

He was therefore the best candidate.

Because Waldo is loyal enough.

However… Neos lowered his eyes. His power gradually faded with Guilliman’s rule. Although Waldor was loyal, he did not completely abide by the rules. Compared with some Primarchs, Waldor was even more extreme.

Neos had also heard some rumors... about the Yellow King...

Forget it.

The emperor blinked, his golden eyes, which held a smile that seemed to be both real and unreal, filled with a light that no one else could decipher.

He listened intently, and as soon as Waldo's footsteps faded, the footsteps of the other Primarchs hurriedly sounded.

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

You didn't see Mortarian's reaction—he was so easily startled.

Angron spoke casually to Saint Gilles, who stood beside him with a grim expression, but his words did little to ease the tension. The archangel merely pursed his lips and smiled uneasily.

[...Don't worry about what's going to happen next, our angel.]

"Angron joked, but Saint Gilles merely glanced back at him, sunlight filtering through the glass of the corridor and casting dappled shadows on the archangel."

Saint Gilles coughed a few times in a hoarse voice, then he spoke with a heavy, sorrowful tone.

The Fearful Ones... are not enemies to be underestimated.

Saint Gilles recalled his meeting with the Silent King years ago, when he already knew that there existed a race in this galaxy that was far more powerful and ancient than humans. The powerful alien king spoke to him politely and told Saint Gilles the truth about the more ancient history of this galaxy.

He then knew that a single human empire was far from being able to fight against the space undead race.

Amidst feigned affection, or perhaps genuine feelings, the archangel befriended the space necromancer known as the Silent King, giving one of his masks to Szalak as a symbol of their friendship.

It also serves as a token that, if necessary, both sides can spare each other's lives.

Of course, this was more to give the Silent King a break. Saint Gilles's expression grew increasingly grim. He knew that Szalak would not let humanity off this time. The Star Gods and the Ancient Saints were the Achilles' heel of the Space Necromancers.

What should he think?

At that time, the archangels were relieved and saddened by the passing of the Ones of Death, and they saw themselves more as the guardians and managers of the galaxy. But now, they are enraged and have decided to take matters into their own hands.

Saint Gilles was distraught. He did not want to witness the fall of the human empire, nor did anyone want to witness it, but now the fact was approaching them like a huge gray rhinoceros in the room.

If Saint Gilles were to tell the truth, he would say that they were all too optimistic—the Empire’s recent prosperity had led them to misjudge the situation and choose the worst possible path.

But if they don't embark on this path, where else can they go?

Saint Gilles couldn't help but smile bitterly; it seemed that every path led to a dead end, and there was no hope in this galaxy.

Suddenly, a hand patted Saint Gilles' shoulder, and he felt a sudden warmth. Saint Gilles was startled.

You're overthinking it again, my brother.

Angron said calmly, giving the archangel a squeeze on the shoulder.

The worst outcome is annihilation, a return to the abyss the empire might have fallen into ten thousand years ago—

Perhaps we should be focusing on how to negotiate with Neos, at least to prevent him from messing up his Horus resurrection plan.

Angron deliberately said this, and seeing Saint Gilles's face momentarily dazed again, he deliberately used Horus to provoke Saint Gilles, so that the archangel would put aside his worries about the future.

In fact, all Primarchs were worried, but most of them did not show it. Instead, all Primarchs began working like madmen, and their legions were assembling at an unimaginable speed.

No joke, Robert Guilliman initiated the "all adults must serve in the military" law in the star system directly under the control of the Ultramarines.

Mortarion went even further, activating a nationwide mobilization mode in the Stormstar region and removing age restrictions.

Perhaps for this Primarch, the average age of the Death Guards on Barbarossa was around 13 years old back then, so age was not an issue.

The other Primarchs also showed off their special skills. Conrad Coz and the Midnight Lord emptied the prison and the prison planet, turning those who obeyed orders into trench slaves and those who disobeyed orders into machine servants by removing their prefrontal lobes.

Of course, Kiliman and Motalian recruited soldiers based on their strong appeal and influence in the local area.