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

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As the Khan spoke, he turned and dodged Horus's claws. A piercing shriek erupted, and Horus's strength increased dramatically. The Khan felt his hand go numb from the shock.

Can't you feel him?

As the Khan spoke, the war eagle's eyes gleamed in the darkness, and wisps of white mist began to emanate from Yesugei's body, soon forming a thin layer of mist on the floor.

You refuse to believe me—yet you're willing to believe Mortarian?!

Horus roared, "How is this any different from me?!"

I can distinguish between leveraging external resources and using my own strength.

As the Khan spoke, the fog continued to rise, and the space seemed to tremble. He heard a roar, a roar from the distant garden, as if he had interrupted some process.

He heard sneers and groans—he wondered why these forces had become wary. They seemed to fear Mortarion. Had Mortarion become so powerful? Or did the Pale Lord control something that made them fear him?

Due to some mystical connection, Mortarion's power seems to have arrived here easily—his power is similar to, but not exactly the same as, the power that Horus borrowed.

The Khan continued speaking, a sly smile spreading across his face.

He's been trying to contact my storm prophets, and perhaps he's even tried to contact you—our brother seems eager to get here, so—why not let him have his way?

【you! 】

Horus roared and swung another claw at the figure in the mist.

Why do I prefer to believe him?!

But this time, a giant scythe emerging from the fog blocked his way.

Because I don't look that stupid.

Mortarion's weary, even languid, voice rang out, and the colossal beast, its surface glowing faintly in the mist, moved.

Moreover,

Motarian said, "At least, I had a long talk with the Khan alone to achieve my goal."

Also,

Motalian spoke almost in a whisper, "The Second War Master was appointed to me by Guilliman. How was I supposed to know that the title of War Master meant betrayal?"

That's it! Great!

Chapter 491 Mutual Defense Break

The candlelight went out abruptly, and wisps of cold mist rose slowly from the charred candlesticks, drifting into the darkness.

In the silent darkness, the Pale Lord's sighing voice rang out, and a sharp iron blade scraped across the ground, producing a discordant creak.

What do you want to do? Kill the deceased?

It was as if the rustling whispers of insects crawling through a dark corner emerged from the hazy mist, and the cold, deathly words seemed to rise from the listener's spine, giving them goosebumps.

Horus chuckled softly, as if annoyed, and flailed his claws wildly. A weak white mist drifted from between his claws.

Is this the only deceptive tactic you know?

Mortarian chuckled softly.

I can't compare to you.

He said, "At least I know where my power comes from—Horus, do you know whose gift you are receiving now?"

The Great Khan promptly interrupted their conversation. The Primarch of White Scar, holding the White Tiger Scimitar, cautiously crouched in the mist, the rising white fog surrounding him like the tall grass of Chogolis, providing him with cover.

Horus, you are not the person you once were.

The Khan said cautiously, "Surrender. You need rest."

The Khan watched as Horus's face contorted into an inhuman shape—the power of language was so great that it had successfully enraged Horus.

【you,】

Horus, panting heavily, his eyes burning with rage, asked, "Do you still think I'm wrong?"

The War General, the War General of the First Empire, spread his arms wide and stared at the Khan.

[You've joined forces with a traitor, Khan. You once held a place in the Empire—are you really willing to abandon it and follow someone...]

【one……】

Horus looked at the scythe in the mist. The war general, who had been speaking eloquently, fell silent. He paused for a moment, as if searching for a suitable adjective.

His momentary silence enraged Mortarion, or perhaps the Pale Lord had already made up his mind at that moment. The whistling sound of the scythe cutting through the air rang out, heading straight for Horus's head!

throat!

A brief explosion and sparks erupted, followed by a dazzling second strike! A third strike! A sudden downpour of blood and gore arrived with the glint of swords, and a blinding flash illuminated the dimly lit room!

Another clanging sound of metal tearing rang out, the giant scythe split open, the ashes on it scattered, and crimson blood splattered into the air from the silvery metal like beads, only to be silently swallowed by the white mist.

Horus grinned maliciously, shaking his numb hand. A barely noticeable scratch appeared on his face, but he was certain he had succeeded; his giant claws had successfully encountered resistance.

Even though no blood was torn from his blade, Horus was not discouraged—the Mortarion of today did not seem like a being still dripping with blood.

He gazed at the figure in the mist, and Horus was briefly taken aback when he realized he couldn't see Mortarion clearly. But then he realized it was a sign of Mortarion's cryptic behavior.

He fears you, and therefore is unwilling to fully reveal himself from his domain.

Yes, from beginning to end, Horus and Khan, whose bodies remained in the physical world, were aware that the space beneath their feet was not solid ground; at least, in a sense, half their foot was in the domain of the Pale Lord—the Storm Prophet Yesugei had summoned him, as if summoning a demon.

It's like summoning a demon.

Horus couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. What right did they have to criticize him? He was still fighting with his fleet, his sword, and his warriors, but what about Mortarion?

He sighed, lamenting the Khan's poor judgment of character. Chagatai had the potential to become a valiant general under him, a Primarch who had always been marginalized by the Empire and could have become a great man who restored the Empire.

But after witnessing Mortarion firsthand, he did not hesitate to side with Mortarion.

Horus was puzzled. Even the most delirious creatures, if they still possessed a shred of reason, should not choose to trust Mortarion—was that something humans could accept?

Are you angry?

Horus asked jokingly,

Look at you, Mortarian, I almost didn't recognize you.

Horus responded with another scythe strike! Horus laughed and dodged it, the giant scythe grazing past him.

I just want to survive...

Mortarian gasped for breath, seemingly constantly wheezing in agony, and with each breath, swirling white mist billowed from his mouth and nose.

+You don't understand...+

+What does it feel like to live—to live in accordance with one's own will, Horus?

As Mortarian spoke, he felt the blood of Horus, his wings fluttering slightly, shimmering powder falling from them—the substances extracted from Horus's blood were slowly and steadily taking effect.

I sympathize with you.

Mortarian said, "Because I know what it feels like to be watched...but you...you originally had the chance to escape through death, didn't you?"

Horus coughed violently, and in his anger, he tried to continue his attack, but the Khan, who had been lying in wait, struck like a tiger. The Khan's blade swiftly and accurately lunged at Horus's throat. His trusted friend still hoped to give him a dignified departure.

At the same time, Mortarion's scythe fell again—

boom! ! !

The entire room suddenly shook violently, causing the Khan's sword to deflect slightly. Horus blocked the Khan's attack and immediately faced Mortarion's scythe!

Blood trickled from Horus's mouth. He looked swaying, yet also seemed to have grown even larger. The darkness that had enveloped the house began to spread and expand once more. It had been silently observing the battle, but was unwilling to intervene further.

But they cannot lose Horus either.

The mist swirled, and Mortarian silently lowered his scythe, his stance becoming unsteady...

The Pale Lord stared intently at Horus, as if weighing something.

Horus struggled, coughing as if on the verge of death, muttering something under his breath, words of resistance or madness breaking off from his lips.

Mortarian stared at Horus, a faint sense of respect he held for him—perhaps they should both end this farce.

They all had a chance to end it.

As long as you say that word...

As long as you say it aloud... Pandora's box will be opened...

This familiar word possesses astonishing magic; the losses it incurs are disproportionate to the gains. All it takes is a single summons, and all you need is a heart prepared to perish.

His lips trembled.

Mortalian felt his heart pounding in his chest. Did he even have a heart?

But in the end, he remembered what that damned Makado had said.

"You need to think about the galaxy, Mortarian."

His eyes, hidden beneath the hood, were weary and serious. He pressed his bent scepter against Mortalian's breastplate.

“You can’t be so willful anymore—we have no more ransom money for your willfulness.”

+...It's time to go.

Mortarian's whisper drifted softly into the Khan's ears—

They realized what was happening.

That's all! Sorry, my roommate also collapsed today, and I went with her to the hospital.

Chapter 492 Corax's Desperate Journey

Kolac remained silent, nestled in the shadows of the Vengeful Spirit's ceiling, watching the Sons of Horus come and go before him.

The soldiers moved back and forth, but none of them noticed the gaunt Primarch in the ceiling.

【…】

Corax blinked, his pure black pupils shifting to the one beside him—

On the Sage Tarasim.

Now, two "people" are hiding in the ceiling of the Soul of Vengeance.

One was a tall, thin Primarch, and the other was a Sage of Talassin of unknown origin.

Corax glanced at Tarasin with a questioning look, but ultimately said nothing.

Corax had already realized that Talathim was no ordinary person when Horus boarded the Raven Guards.

The sage, who was originally on the White Scar Fleet, rushed to the Ravenguard ship and accurately predicted Corax's retreat route—using his mysterious tool to cut open the corridor of the Ravenguard fleet in advance.

In the hidden darkness, Corax looked at the green indicator light on the face of the Sage Tarasim, whose facial mechanical modifications were also quite rare.

Can an ordinary great sage really do this?

Kolas was skeptical, and he also sensed the Khan's suspicion of Tarahin, but they tacitly remained silent.

At least, Tarasim came to help them.

The two isolated legions now need more support.

Kolac thanked the Sage Tarasim for his help, and he even felt a faint sense of gratitude in his heart. In times of crisis, a helping hand always seems so comforting.

So, on the ceiling of the Soul of Vengeance, Corax and Tarasin exchanged a glance, and the Primarch decided to let go of these trivial details.

He will be wary of Tarahim, but he will also trust him.

Corax gestured with his eyes to Tarasin, asking if he could join him in diving into the depths of the Soul of Vengeance. Tarasin responded to the Primarch with his resolute green indicator light.

So they set off.

This was a perfect stealth maneuver.

No one noticed the figures in the shadows, and no surveillance cameras captured their hurried movements—this was unlike someone who had once struggled to crawl under the aliens' surveillance.

For Corax, stealth is as natural and effortless as drinking water and breathing.

For Taraxin... in any case, the primitive human eyes or technology could not detect him.

Using his previous memories, Corax headed toward the secondary command room of the Soul of Vengeance. What made the Primarch uneasy was that the massive ship seemed to be a living thing coming back to life. The deeper they went, the hotter and more sinister the giant ship became.

The feeling that the Spirit of Vengeance gave Corax was like that of Horus himself; something was reviving within them, they were being controlled, parasitized, and were gradually becoming an empty shell.