Emperor's Bane

Chapter 835 Pig teammates

"Fulgrim."

"Ok?"

"Why do you have so many tulle skirts, full skirts and Grecian skirts in your wardrobe?"

"Because I put my bikinis in another closet, and my winning suit was left on the boat: is there a problem?"

"That's not what I meant... Never mind, just pretend I didn't ask anything."

Sanguinius gently covered his face.

If possible, he would never want to team up with Fulgrim: even the psychological pressure of fighting alongside people like Lorgar or Mortarion would not be more exaggerated than that of Chemos' Phoenix.

At least, when working with Luo Jia, you only need to worry about whether you can win.

With Mortarion, you just need to stay a little further away from him and his legions.

But when cooperating with Fulgrim: in addition to thinking about how to achieve victory, you also have to be extra careful, otherwise, your precious worldview may suffer irreversible damage in the process of cooperation.

This is not a joke.

Once upon a time, there was an ignorant Archangel who, during his first joint war with the Emperor's Children, visited his Chemos brother during a break in the war.

It was a very informal visit, somewhat like a visit between relatives, and both parties seemed very relaxed.

So, of course, when the relaxed Sanguinius, without any followers or gifts, walked into the depths of the Emperor's Pride, he saw the equally relaxed Chemos Phoenix, casually wearing a cloak and a gauze skirt that barely covered any part of her body, twisting her white muscles, walking towards him.
Fulgrim looked enthusiastic and wanted to give Sanguinius a deep hug.

The entire Apocalypse War did not leave as deep an impression on the Archangel as those three seconds that were so long that it was beyond imagination.

Since then, Fulgrim has been on Sanguinius' blacklist of allies: if Horus had not been so hopeless, the Archangel would not have asked this white-haired phoenix for help in setting a trap for the Spider Queen.

Of course, there was another reason to win over Fulgrim: apart from the private inventory of this most private phoenix, there was no other place in the galaxy to find clothing and cosmetics suitable for a female Primarch.

Not even the Aurora: Morgan seemed more interested in purchasing Primarchs and their organs than in purchasing cosmetics.

But then again: In fact, when she just returned to the Legion, Morgan also planned her own private living area on the ship. In the initial plan, there was indeed a space for cosmetics and a clothing room that could match the identity of the Primarch.

But unfortunately, it is common in this galaxy that plans cannot keep up with changes: before the Lord of Avalon's private space officially broke ground, a series of major events and missions sent by the Emperor made Morgan dizzy and he could not take care of them at all.

In the end, not only has the envisioned private kingdom become a distant dream, but the original living space has to be further divided up to deal with unplanned visitors.

Thus, the areas originally planned as cosmetic rooms, large cloakrooms, and divination towers were unknowingly transformed into Jonson's private bedroom, Guilliman's secret meeting room, Corax's preschool classroom, and Konrad's copy workshop.

In the end, it seemed that the only truly private area that was preserved was the Macragge Baths, which Morgan and her daughters could only enjoy: even when the Midnight Haunter had just returned to the empire and was at its most unruly and rampant, he did not have the courage to use this room as his refresh point.

Sanguinius was certain of this, for Conrad had told him so himself, when the Night Haunter had come to visit the Blood Angels for what was perhaps his seventeenth or eighteenth time, to avoid his work with Nostramo.

Yes, he really is that free.

Contrary to what people imagine, as the gatekeeper of the galactic abscess of the Ghoul Stars, Midnight Haunter's daily life is actually quite leisurely: he may be the one with the least work pressure among all the Primarchs.

Due to the existence of the Ghoul Stars, the Eighth Legion basically does not participate in the military activities of the Great Crusade, but occasionally sends a few elite companies to fight alongside the brother legions: for this reason, the power of the Night Lords has always been well preserved.

Of course: this may also mean a lack of significant experience in large-scale military operations.

Nearly seventy years have passed since Conrad returned and officially took over his legion. The defensive ring surrounding the Ghoul Stars has long been built, and the Eighth Legion only needs to maintain daily garrison, and the actual military pressure is not great.

As for Conrad's own country, it is basically in a semi-free-range state. Although Nostramo is vast, its actual size is actually quite limited. Even if you follow the Far Eastern Frontier and the Five Hundred Worlds to eat the surplus, you can still live a good and comfortable life.

With the rising quality of life and the Eighth Legion's consistent iron-fisted policy, the former Star of Eternal Night can now be barely regarded as a well-safe and civilized area within the Empire: at least they have begun to rely on laws rather than human skins hanging on telephone poles to maintain social order.

As for more things, Midnight Haunter thought he could not do anything: so, in addition to regular ghoul expeditions, Conrad's favorite activity now is to visit his blood brothers one by one, eat and drink in the homes of various hosts, and experience the local customs and practices while traveling.

From Jonson to Guilliman, from Mortarion to Lorgar, Midnight Haunter's footprints have spread across the galaxy over the past few decades. While his brothers were still struggling for their own legions and kingdoms, he was like a second-round player who had already completed the game, focusing on swiping cards and collecting collections everywhere.

Such a carefree life was naturally noticed by the Primarchs, but except for old-fashioned people like Jonson, no one would deliberately blame the third-to-last Nostramo Bat, who was actually regarded as a younger brother by the Primarchs.

The archangel was no exception, and every time Conrad visited, Sanguinius would do his best to be a good host: but in his heart, the archangel, who was always so busy that sweat broke out on his forehead, would certainly despise such laziness.

How irresponsible.

It's really unprofessional.

So enviable.

Really: what kind of people are they?

What sins must he have committed in his previous life that he has to deal with such a bunch of weird brothers in this life.

The archangel rubbed his temple: I don’t know why, although the Lord of Mankind, who made him bored, has left the Great Crusade, he always feels that life seems to be a little more tiring.

Is it because he has been getting along with these two funny guys next to him for several months?
Glancing at Fulgrim who was struggling with Morgan in front of the mirror, Sanguinius finally couldn't come up with any answer, so he turned around and carried out his own task: Phoenix took on all the work of the artist, and the archangel only needed to assist him.

The Baal people were more than happy about this.

He knew very well that even though the Spider Queen seemed to have accepted her fate and sat in front of the makeup mirror after being dragged into the small dark room by the two of them, if Fulgrim really dared to do something cruel to Morgan's silver hair, then one of them would definitely go out lying down today.

The archangel thought that the person who walked out lying down would most likely be the Phoenix.

Although Fulgrim's strength was among the best even for a Primarch, and his swordsmanship was famous throughout the galaxy, Sanguinius had his own standard in his heart, based on his personal thoughts and the evaluations of his other brothers.

Just like Chagatai Khan, the eagle of the grassland, once evaluated the strength and confidence of each brother in front of the angels: among them, the evaluation about Morgan and Fulgrim has always left a deep impression on the angels.

------

"The danger of Fulgrim is that if you become even slightly careless when you are fighting him, and if you consider any other issues during the battle, you will lose your head."

"The danger of Morgan is that even if you can chop off Morgan's head, you can't declare victory with peace of mind, because considering the special nature of spiders, the game may only begin when Morgan's head falls off."

------

The angels were impressed by this.

So, when the nimble Fulgrim tore Morgan's hair, which had been styled with his psychic power, into pieces, the Archangel Baal, who was sitting next to him, was constantly moving his buttocks so as to get away from his two blood relatives silently.

All that reached the Archangel's ears was the Phoenix's nagging complaints and Morgan's occasional responses.

"Morgan, have you ever dyed your hair? Why do I always feel like something is not right?"

[I never dye my hair: Those things that look wrong are probably because I’ve been overworking myself lately.]

"Have you been staying up late lately?"

[Not bad: Get at least 30 minutes of sleep every day. ]

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, 30 minutes: Ferrus and I even spent more than that in the bath together."

"..."

Morgan and Sanguinius picked their ears at the same time.

"But then again."

Phoenix touched his chin, not realizing that he had said anything wrong.

"It's really strange. This is the first time I've seen this: Others who work too hard will have silver hair on their heads, but why do you have black hair on the top of your head? And look at the luster. I've never seen a purer black than this."

"Compared to you, Corax is just colorful black."

"Do you have any ideas about this?"

Phoenix turned around and looked at Sanguinius, whose soul was wandering in space.

The archangel blinked.

"Can you... dye it back?"

"It's not that simple." Phoenix waved his hand. His arrogant temperament would not tolerate rejection from others. When it came to dressing up, Fulgrim always showed an irrefutable sense of expertise: this was also the main reason why Morgan sat obediently in the chair.

"never mind."

Phoenix thought about it.

"Sanguinius: Please go and get my secret collection."

"collect?"

The archangel moved over slowly, but as soon as he opened the box, a pungent smell made him frown.

"What's in here?"

"Some very common materials."

Phoenix smiled.

"Mercury, lead, arsenic, cadmium, methanol, dioxane, asbestos, a little flavor, preservatives, emulsifiers, and pure young girl's blood."

"..."

"what happened?"

Seeing Sanguinius standing there in a daze, Phoenix raised his eyebrows in dissatisfaction.

"Have you any problem with my secret formula, Sanguinius?"

"No, I just want to remind you..."

"boom!"

Before he could finish his words, two silver ropes had already tightly wrapped around Fulgrim's neck.

"Remind you..."

------

"Morgan, please..."

"I can't believe we're losing so many people in such a crappy place."

"Even if there were an apocalyptic war, there wouldn't be so many casualties."

"Fortunately, there are no casualties..."

When the dusty Bernard finally finished the fatal journey of several hundred meters by stepping over his brothers who were wailing and rolling on the ground, a wider space appeared in front of him.

Smashing the bizarre metal scorpions, reptiles, and beetles, the Dawnbreaker task force finally broke through Sergeant Trazyn's outer defenses: they hoped that this was the only line of defense, and advanced all the way to where the old man kept his trophies.

"You go to the left, you go to the right, remember to be careful and don't mess up anything."

After dividing the still movable personnel into several teams in a competent tone, Bernard casually scattered them around, and then took charge of the center of the entire storage room with his men: this seemed to be the location of the control panel, and the tall machine that was twice as tall as Bernard made people wonder how Sergeant Trazyn built it.

Hmm… he asked with a hint of conspiracy.

While the other battle brothers were focusing on the wounded and the collections on the wall, the Primarch's adjutant's eyes were lingering on the main control panel of the room: he hoped to find some useful information from it.

But unfortunately, most of the buttons and codes left by Sergeant Trazyn seemed to be written in an unknown language, which looked like a very strange hieroglyphic language: Bernard swore that he was very impressed by this kind of language, but he forgot where he had seen it.

Hiss... It seems like an archaeological expedition?

Which time was it: It seemed to be an archaeological excavation targeting the catacombs, and it seemed that it was a team led by Sergeant Trazyn?

Can not remember.

After thinking for a moment, the Primarch's adjutant shook his head helplessly and could only try to find what he could see.

For example, those buttons.

"let me see……"

Bernard came closer.

"Red, green, black and white..."

"Uh-huh?!"

Suddenly, Bernard felt his attention drawn to a particular button: it was isolated and excluded, located in the most remote corner of the entire console, and seemed to be a system operating on its own.

But none of this is the most important thing: the most important thing is that this button may be the only one among all the compatriots present that Bernard can understand its meaning.

Because there was a huge, terrifying skull on it.

"Well, a button, placed where it's not easy to touch, with a skull on it."

Bernard thought about it for a moment, and then he was delighted to find that underneath the skull button was a sentence that was the only one he could understand.

That's Gothic: don't press.

"Well, that means..."

The Primarch's lieutenant pursed his lips.

"Logic tells me that if I press this button, I might regret it."

"..."

"But reason also tells me: If I don't press this button, I will definitely regret it!"

then……

"beep!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhh-"

Along with the crisp sound, an earth-shaking scream suddenly came from a room not far away.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Who put these things out?"

"Beetles! They're all fucking beetles!"

"Retreat quickly, retreat quickly, everyone, retreat to the side!"

"..."

The shouts and curses were so harsh that Bernard couldn't help but open his eyes wide.

But at this moment, his ears suddenly caught one of the sentences.

"Everyone, don't panic. Only one of the closets has been opened. Look! The remaining two closets haven't been opened yet. There is a safe area over there. Let's go over there quickly."

"..."

Bernard narrowed his eyes and looked at the button silently.

He thought for a moment.

------

"beep!"

"beep!"

(End of this chapter)