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

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[If you put an Oglin in there and put him in charge of two thousand years of government affairs, he'd also learn how to argue with those bureaucrats.]

【etc,】

Mortarian raised his hand, swallowing the bland water. "I know you want to ask Guilliman... but not now."

"Then Makado?"

Hades chuckled, his gaze flickering slightly.

【…】

Mortarian slowly propped himself up. He glanced at Hades. The Pale Lord understood, completely understood this behavior; he had done the same thing back then.

Mortarian sighed. "What did you see?"

“Makado and the Lord of Man don’t get along,” Hades spread his hands. “I think Makado has finally awakened and started to rebel against his former superiors—sometimes it’s quite satisfying to team up with Makado to give the Emperor a piece of your mind.”

Hades paused again.

“Macado… it’s hard to say. Sometimes I feel he’s become more irritable and more of a riddle-man—but he’s always been like this. The Lord of Mankind, on the other hand, remains a riddle-man.”

“But I sensed that Guilliman was wary of Terra… so I became more cautious.”

So, is Guilliman someone who can be trusted?

"Don't you trust Killieman?"

Mortarian looked up and stared at Hades.

The Primarch recalled their past conversation; so much time had passed that the promises of yesteryear seemed to have faded from memory.

Perhaps this is the essence of this galaxy.

Am I someone I can trust?

Hades spread his hands, making a mournful face.

"At least you're really capable... Old Mo, words and expressions can lie, but actions don't. It's been ten thousand years, and I don't think even the guy sitting on the golden toilet has as much output as you."

Hades stared at Mortarian for a moment, then chuckled.

Golden toilet...

...That's blasphemous...but...hahahahahahaha.

"You can say it to his face," Mortarian laughed, "I'll cover for you, just run... that way we can drag him down to work."

“I think this is feasible.”

Hades was serious for a second.

“But he’s not…” Hades paused again, “…to protect the Internet?”

[Protecting the internet?]

Motalian repeated, "That old bastard..." he whispered, "You really believe him?"

Hades' expression became incredibly complex, a mixture of disbelief, shock, and utter astonishment.

"So... even the Lord of Humanity is playing a trick on me?! Neos?! ...

Damn it, that old yellow-haired guy! Hades thought about his workload lately, and thought, "Damn it! Refund!!!"

Mortarian glanced at Hades. "I don't know where you got the idea that the Netpath requires the Lord of Humanity's personal supervision."

The Primarch paused for a moment. Hades always knew things, some of which didn't seem like things a Lord of Man would know. Where did he get these things from?

It could also be a Void Dragon, Mortarion thought to himself with a smile.

The damage to the mesh is not severe.

Mortarian said, "According to what the Lord of Man told me... Magnus saved it in time. I speculate that at least two armies are now guarding the Web, the Imperial Guard, and the Salamanders... Vulcan may also be in the Web with the Khan, as well as lions and the Wolf King..."

As if sensing something, Mortarian's voice trailed off, and he fell silent.

Hades's eye twitched; there were at least five Primarchs already.

"This small online community... is truly full of hidden talents."

Mortarian gave a mocking smile.

[Because this is the only place where they don't have to face reality or confront chaos—unlike the Death Guard, who need courage to navigate directly within the warp.]

"Not necessarily?"

Hades said, "Perhaps they're just lost, or perhaps they have their own mission?"

Mortarian chuckled coldly, but then dropped his mocking expression.

Clearly, he was calculating.

But more obviously, due to the Dark Domain, he couldn't calculate it.

Where did the wolf go?

9.

Mortarian fell silent. "The Lord of Mankind... at least he's done some decent work."

"Master Mo," Hades pulled the sofa closer, "what did you figure out?"

Mortarian stared at Hades. Where did Hades come up with such a strange name? But it didn't matter.

The Lord of Humanity is battling against the ever-changing Heaven; it's too blurry for me to see clearly.

Hades nodded, which was consistent with what the weasel had said; he told Hades not to worry about Tzeentch.

"So, Old Man Huang is sitting on the golden throne now to fight against Tzeentch?"

"Yes and no..." Mortarian frowned. "While I don't want to excuse his laziness, he was badly injured—he didn't have much strength at the time."

“Back then?” Hades asked. “The Great Rebellion? Or…”

Saint Gillespie.

Motalian said calmly, his eyes reflecting the image of that day's raging fire.

"...I tried my best to dissuade them," Mortarian said, putting on his gas mask and adjusting it. His voice was muffled. "But they clearly don't trust me as much as you do."

He is still too terrifying.

However, they paid a price for it.

Chapter 621 [70] [The Lonely]

【927.M32】

Terra

Is Mortarian coming?

Beneath a verdant laurel wreath, dotted with white hair, Guilliman, who was holding a whiteboard and making corrections, looked up in surprise.

Angron sat down casually, dappled sunlight filtering through the trees and falling on his light armor. On fine days, Gilliman would choose to work in the pavilion in the palace gardens.

Yes, it's him, there's no mistake.

Anglong said, his golden eyes gazing at the treetops, "That stubborn fellow, how long has it been since he contacted us?"

"In the year 599," Guilliman said, bowing his head to continue reviewing documents. "The Travis Galaxy's application for a tax rate reduction has been approved."

"Last time it was the Son of Dorne who made the request," Angron grinned, "If I hadn't rushed to stop him, he probably wouldn't have wanted to meet us."

Killieman paused in his work of reviewing documents.

Perhaps... he hasn't gotten used to our gaze yet?

Silence fell, broken only by the melodious chirping of birds in the garden.

Angron clapped his hands and sighed.

I've tried to persuade him countless times, but he still refuses to believe we don't care about these things... He's too stubborn.

Killieman smiled wearily.

Footsteps sounded at a moderate pace, making the afternoon sun appear brighter. "I guessed you were here," a light voice rang out, and Saint Gilles, in white robes and white wings, approached.

Anglon patted the seat casually, gesturing for the archangel to sit down, while Saint Gilles simply leaned against a white pillar in the pavilion, swirling the wine in his hand.

Good afternoon, everyone.

"Good afternoon," Killieman said. "Are you done with your work? Our brothers are planning to visit Terra."

Why are you here now?

Saint Gilles raised an eyebrow, his warm smile still playing on his lips. "I don't think our brothers in the Storm Starfield are the type to like visiting others and taking breaks."

Angron raised his hands,

I didn't invite him this time—and he's never accepted an invitation from me before.

By the Emperor, Angron invites Mortarion on average once every seven years.

Killieman, however, remained expressionless.

"It's becoming increasingly difficult for Terra to oversee the Storm Sector lately," Guilliman said. "Our brother has a lot of power—but I still hope he'll let us know."

Saint Gilles smiled helplessly.

[There's new information from the State Church; they've once again impeached Mortalian's bizarre religion... I continued to be cold to them and told them not to send me any more similar messages.]

The atmosphere fell silent. A country within a country is always a dangerous topic. If it weren't for the Death Guard's performance during the Greenskin War, the Death Guard's current status might be even more awkward.

Saint-Gilles took a sip of wine, breaking the silence.

Ordinary people always worry too much.

They were just doing their job.

Guilliman said, "Their vision may not be as broad, but they are fulfilling the mission we have entrusted to them responsibly, and we should not be too critical of them."

Saint Gilles smiled apologetically.

In any case,] he skipped Guilliman's correction, "I ordered the Church to stop interfering in these matters."

Anglon scratched his head. [I feel like I've heard that line more than once, Saint Gilles?]

Saint Gilles sighed, downed his drink in one gulp, and a look of melancholy crossed his face.

Because our brothers keep escalating the threat level.

Saint Gilles sighed again, "It's good that he's here this time; we can have a good talk... There shouldn't be any rift between brothers; the tragedy of the past thousand years must not be repeated."

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

Stay away from me.

Motalian said, breathing rapidly.

[And Saint Gilles, I solemnly warn you to cease your religious practices—the state religion can no longer expand, and the Lord of mankind cannot sustain these beliefs.]

The archangel's perfect smiling mask revealed a crack; his outstretched arms, ready to embrace Mortalian, awkwardly froze in mid-air, followed by Angron, who was rubbing his forehead, and Guilliman, who wore a wry smile.

I think we can discuss this topic later.

Sanguiles said, "It's been a long time since you've been to Terra, Mortarion."

"There was no need to come here," Mortarian said, leaning on his scythe, his body hunched over, the small segments on the scythe swaying. "You are here."

The archangel's smile warmed again. He lowered his arms and stepped sideways beside Mortarian.

Shall we go see the Lord of Humanity?

Saint Gilles gently suggested that the Emperor's condition was improving, a fact that was obvious to everyone; he sometimes saw the Lord of Man nodding to him in his brief dreams.

Mortarion gripped the scythe tighter, his knuckles constricting even more. He could barely see the path ahead; the warp was severely damaging him, and he felt himself burning.

He was walking on a burning golden sun.

【No. 】

Mortarian uttered a single syllable: "I don't need to visit this tyrant."

He was almost melted away, unable to maintain his sense of self. His former "creator" wanted to interrupt what he was about to do and wanted to turn Mortarion into a personless puppet.

The Lord of Humanity has been corrupted by these beliefs.