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

Chapter 844 [286.] A cunning rabbit has three burrows

"This is not Roboute Guilliman."

Macador said when he first saw the body.

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

The unmanned ship was drifting among the stars. An old man in a white robe stood silently on the deck. Next to him lay a huge stasis cabin - a special gift from Trazyn.

In fact, Hades was still sleeping, but that didn't stop Malcador from throwing Pluto out and using him as a feces stone. The Demon Patterner had already mastered the method of switching on and off the black domain of Pluto (unconscious version), which meant that as long as Malcador was about half a star zone away from Hades, the unconscious underworld would immediately descend.

Ha ha.

After discovering this, Makado felt nothing in his heart, and only wanted to laugh.

He stood on the enemy ship that had been occupied by them, and on the other side was the corpse of another Primarch of the Line of Destiny——

Malcador had heard the whole story from Finus, and he judged that at least this Primarch would not be resurrected again, and the devouring from Hades would not bring his soul back to another fate.

On the other side, Fulgrim stood side by side with Fenuth, seemingly listening carefully to what Malcador said, but Malcador knew that no one cared about him except Hades, who was now subconsciously suppressing the Black Domain.

From time to time, Fenus would glance sideways at Fulgrim with an expressionless face, and Fulgrim would immediately turn around and look at Fenus with a smile - they seemed to have a lot to say, but due to the presence of Malcador, they just looked at each other and smiled.

Malcador remained calm as ever, having just used his psychic hands to drag back the two Primarchs who were shaking hands and spinning in the virtual space.

After all, compared with the difficulties brought to him by the golden man, all this was nothing but an ant meeting the sky.

The old man took a step forward and tapped the blue-helmeted corpse's armor with his scepter. The metal collided, making a crisp buzzing sound.

"This is not Roboute Guilliman."

Makado said,

"No matter which line of fate he is in, he will not be Roboute Guilliman."

He had fought wits and courage with Guilliman for a hundred years, and Robert had also cut off the head of the Demonic Rune. Among the living people, no one would be more familiar with and understand what Robert Guilliman looks like than Malcador, not even the Emperor.

"he is……"

The light in Malcador's eyes dimmed. He had raised that Primarch for a hundred years, and no one would understand him better than him.

"He is Omega, another Omega in the destiny line."

The old man even recognized which of the twins it was. Perhaps compared to the Emperor, Malcador was indeed very competent.

"The substitute emperor..."

Malcador's voice dropped.
"Brainwash your brothers completely, and then use them as a substitute? That is exactly what I expected Roboute Guilliman to do."

Long, long ago, Malcador hated Guilliman's naivety and justice - he wanted the Primarch to be more cruel and ruthless, but the thousand-year-long struggle ended with the Emperor's defeat.

He had planned for Guilliman's death, or for him to die - and Guilliman, who could kill him, was destined to be a crueler individual, who would grow again from failure and blood.
But Malcador, the former Emperor, was wrong. Guilliman was still the same Guilliman. He would rather squeeze himself further than lower his bottom line even a little bit.

In this regard, Robert Guilliman has an absolute bottom line and conscience. The education he received in his childhood is too perfect, too good, and too correct, so correct that it even has a cowardly air.

[Then the Primarch who is now confronting the Imperial Lord Guilliman... is he the real Guilliman of the Chaos Empire? ]

Fenus asked, and Malcador was silent for a moment before shaking his head firmly.

"No, if my guess is correct, the Primarch who is dueling with Guilliman on the other side of the battlefield should be Alpha."

"They have deep Chaos psychic energy in them. I think the real Guilliman must have used some forbidden techniques to gradually distort the souls of Alpha and Omega to resemble his own soul. I guess Omega thought he was the real Guilliman before he died, but he was not qualified."

The old man said sarcastically. On the side, seeing Fenus asking the question, the Gray Phoenix also looked at Malcador - he had been enslaved by Malcador, but the old man's rescue just now diluted his displeasure in the short term.

[So where is the other master of the Chaos Empire, the real Robert Guilliman? ]

Fugen asked. Hearing his words, the old man raised his eyes, and his wise gaze seemed to penetrate the stars and look straight at that specific direction.

"According to my understanding and speculation of Guilliman... Guilliman of Chaos - will only be on Terra, which he occupies."

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

Another fate line

【Terra】

【now】

The sun was shining brightly on Terra at this moment, and the crown on the golden hair was shining. In the cool shade of green trees, a king was enjoying afternoon tea in his garden. This was a good habit he had developed on Macragge. Even though there would no longer be such a thing as afternoon tea on Macragge, Guilliman still retained this custom.

He likes it, so he does it.

Guilliman, who loves the color blue, even restored the ocean system for Terra, making this originally dry and yellow planet become blue and beautiful again.

Click.

The silver teacup was put down, making a crisp sound of silver bells.

[Sounds good, Finus.]
Guilliman smiled, as if talking to someone in the void.
[Although I am still angry that you let Horus go - but after reading the battle report you submitted, two complete legions came to help, which was indeed beyond our expectations, so I forgive you, Finus.]
[White Scars and Space Wolves...]
Guilliman sighed and said,

[I always knew they were trouble and never gave up the hunt. They were far more tenacious than I thought—spies from another world.]
The blue-eyed king was silent for a moment, tilting his head slightly to listen to the voice on the other end of the communication.

[…The target is Terra, very fast?]
Chaotic emotions rolled in Guilliman's eyes.

[No, there is no need to send the other legions back. The battlefield over there cannot be retreated. The defense of the solar system is enough to stop them.]
The cold-blooded king had a calm expression.

Unless... unless that person is still alive.

The other self in his destiny was a complete lackey, a moderate, and a compromiser, Guilliman thought with some indignation. This was why he might have to face another problem that he had not completely eliminated.

But so what?
Guilliman blinked and looked towards the depths of the Imperial Palace, where, on the Golden Throne, his cruel father was still suffering.

Apart from him and Mortarion, few people can recall the true appearance of the tyrant.

That person is fading from everyone's memory, which is exactly what Guilliman wanted. Perhaps it is also because of that person's own mistakes. But no matter what, in this Chaos Empire, except for Guilliman's locked underground maze, no one will find any record or trace of that person.

His character, his personality, and his actions are all being forgotten.

[Come back, Finus.]
Guilliman said calmly.

[It looks like we need a new war plan.]
………………………………【Original destiny line】

【now】

For the other Primarchs, the length and intensity of the battle was enough to cause them to collapse to the ground in exhaustion and fall into a state of suspended animation.

But for the two Mortarions, it was just a warm-up battle.

Even though they were all panting at the moment, as if only the last fifth of their health bars were left - but those who were truly familiar with Mortarion knew that the Primarch's remaining health bars were getting longer and longer. Aside from monsters that could be killed instantly by mechanisms like Pluto, Mortarion's last drop of blood could even have the effect of seven drops of blood of other Primarchs, making him an indestructible cockroach.

There is no other reason, just perseverance.

Strong! Tough!
The black flames at the edge were burning fiercely, and the chaotic red, deep green, and bright purple were whistling among the black flames, rolling like ghosts in the dark flames.

The thick white mist was burned away by the black flames, but it poured down again. The white waves rolled silently, trying to swallow the screaming black flames like a giant mouth, but after repeated attempts, it was blown away by the flames again.

In the white mist, the towering giant whose edge was so hazy that it almost merged with the mist stretched out his hand, and thick fog like soup flowed out from between his seven fingers. The concentration was obviously higher than the surrounding white mist, like leaking poison gas, and it climbed in front of the chief rebel in an instant.
Seven hooded skeleton Grim Reapers made of mist stood up from the white fog and swung their scythes at the rebel!
[Tsk, such a trivial skill.]
A sneer sounded behind the ghost mask, and black flames rose up like a whirlwind. The pitch-black sickle flowers fluttered, blocking the attack from the mist. He suddenly turned his hand back and spun the sickle again!
The god of death condensed from the mist was instantly cut in half, but even though it was cut in half, the sickles in the hands of the mist monsters attacked him again!
But it's still a case of showing off one's skills in front of an expert, the chief rebel thought, the flames in his eyes became even more fierce, but he suddenly felt something was wrong - his sixth sense took effect, and the chief rebel suddenly turned sideways. He had to use his shoulder armor to block the scythe of the misty god of death on the side, but he just managed to avoid the fatal attack from behind.

boom! ! !
The giant sickle like insect arthropods chopped down beside him at such a fast speed that the white mist produced by its sonic boom penetrated into the armor of the chief rebel like real shrapnel, as if a hydrogen bomb exploded next to the chief rebel.

Without having time to stand firm, the eyes of the chief rebel were dark and ferocious. Ignoring the attacks from other white mists behind him, he turned around and swung his sickle, hitting his hideous self.

But the mist dissipated again, and the First Rebel's attack came to nothing - although the black flame caused damage to Mortarion, the physical sword could never seriously injure him.

The First Rebel gritted his teeth. He could also immerse himself in a state of further liberating his essence, but he was unwilling to do so. Releasing his essence while being seriously injured would mean further losing himself. After all, half of his soul's contract was still with him.

But the pressure from the God of Death Mortarion was everywhere, like wisps of mist lingering on his cheeks, lingering in his nostrils, everywhere, as if it wanted to penetrate into the flesh and blood of the First Rebel at any time, crush his heart, or shatter his soul.

Mortarion - another self - another rude, unruly, and unsocialized wild man, far more difficult to deal with than the first rebel had originally imagined.

The chief rebel felt the pain in his neck getting worse, black blood oozed out from between his clenched teeth. No... the plan he wanted had not yet begun, he could not fall here early.

The other self obviously would not sympathize with him - Mortarion would like his scythe to bite off the head of the First Rebel, and the First Rebel thought the same.

The war will never end.

There was no way out for him.

He has to win.

Black flames burned brightly in the eyes of the First Rebel, like the smoke of gunpowder that had never stopped for ten thousand years. Like Mortarion, his figure began to blur and merged with the rising flames.

The First Rebel did not understand why the essence of his other self was released as mist. Was it related to the mist that never dissipated on Barbarus? The essence of the Primarch might be a more abstract and vast concept. Their experiences in the human world would shape them and make them a concept that mortals could barely understand.

And the nature of the First Rebel... what he really knew, or perhaps the Black Fire he had stolen...

From [Emperor].

At least the raging black flames were initially ignited by that person.

To be more specific, it comes from the monster who can be called half [Emperor] and half [Lord of Darkness].

But no one realized this except Mortarion - they thought this was the original appearance of the First Traitor.

In order to confuse Guilliman, he never freed himself further, but now, along with the struggle of the First Traitor after seeing hope, the existence of the Terra's underground labyrinth also became active.

Then the black flames burned with a scream.

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Another fate line

【past】

【…】

Mortarion stood quietly beside the Emperor. The casual clothes the Primarch wore were obviously a little thin in the strong wind on the top of the Himalayas, but the Emperor knew that the child would not freeze to death.

The golden light between [Emperor]'s eyes was more dazzling in the morning sunlight, far brighter than the slowly rising golden sun. In the strong wind, his black hair was flying.

The Emperor stepped aside, clearing the cliff for Mortarion.

"Do it yourself or do you want me to help you, Fourteen?"

【I will do it myself.】

[Motarion] said lightly, he took three steps forward and stood precisely on the edge of the cliff, the front ends of his feet hanging in the air, looking at the abyss of snow under his feet, [Motarion] felt dizzy.

He suppressed his fear and trembling, turned his head, and looked directly into the Emperor's eyes without any courtesy.

【but why.】

Why him, why not others, why should he be treated like this.

"Your essence is resistance, Fourteenth - this is a special gift. If an emperor wants a qualified general, he will never add such a gift to his general."

The faint but majestic words dissipated in the wind.

Why was he so harsh on Fourteen? Perhaps he couldn't understand himself at the time.

【I don’t understand. 】

Are you saying I'm a defective piece, a failure? That's why I'm treated this way, father?
“You don’t have to understand.”

If an eagle wants to soar, it must first be pushed off a cliff.

Mortarion believed that the Emperor had kicked him down. He felt a violent force hitting his back, followed by a huge feeling of being suspended in the air. The blizzard scraped his cheek like a blade. With great anger, Mortarion tried to turn himself over and saw the black figure standing on the top of the mountain against the light.

The gold in the figure's eyes was intertwined with the black shadows.

But a strong wind suddenly blew up, and the messy black hair covered his eyes.

Your essence is resistance, Fourteen.

Remember it.

(End of this chapter)