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

Chapter 880 [322.] Eternal Darkness

The Lord of Darkness.

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

Malcador had many conjectures about the Dark Lord, and his own ideas would occasionally cross his empty eyes when he raised his hand to rub his neck in front of his desk.

What is the real Dark Lord like?
Hate, destruction? Or death and the end?
The silver-haired old man gazed up at the dark starry sky, where the void was no longer as clear and cold as it used to be, but an extreme chaos of light and darkness.

He saw his former emperor, master, close friend and enemy.

It was also a dazzling gold, colorful and brilliant.

He looked directly at Him, and the Dark Lord's vision made him feel dizzy, as if he had been staring at some radioactive and toxic substance for a long time. The bright gold gradually dimmed in his pupils, becoming darker and darker, and gradually turned into some kind of impurity-like black.

Malcador felt as if his thoughts were sinking. He was dazed and felt light-headed. Just looking at the starry sky and trying to outline the general outline of the Dark Lord in his mind made the old man fall into a light and fainting feeling.

? !
Malcador suddenly shuddered. He was standing on the smooth deck of the battleship. The cold wind from the air exchange system blew on him, making the sweat beads on his cheeks extremely cold.

No, not too strong.

Malcador stiffly tried to move his gaze away from the starry sky - the phantom-like black fog suddenly disappeared after a certain angle and turned into a very beautiful and magnificent golden color.

As Malcador gazed upon Him, upon the descending God, he seemed to have heard the promise, and he felt himself subconsciously about to take a step forward, step by step, to climb the ladder to heaven.

That land that is both pure and profane, that land filled with shining gold and chaos, there is no pain, revenge is promised, there are no more pale and gray colors, everything is passionate and strong, just like the sanctuary where milk and sweetness flow on the mountainside that the high priest promised to those ignorant and foolish young warriors.

Alarm bells were ringing in Malcador's confused mind.

He seemed to vaguely touch the outline of the Dark Lord.

Throughout the long history of human civilization, too many religions seem to emphasize one topic - death and reincarnation. Devout believers, worried about their own sins, pray diligently every day or throw gold coins into the donation box of the church.

Humans always seem to be overly concerned about the afterlife - where will they go after death? Heaven or hell? Or they may fall directly into reincarnation. But no matter where they go, there always seems to be a huge rule hanging over people's heads. If they don't satisfy this rule, they will be thrown into that "terrible place" after death.

In human history, these so-called fabricated "rules" were mostly based on simple moral concepts of good and evil, then mixed with the characteristics of various religions, and finally mixed into a myriad of strange rules. The places where the "good" and "bad" people go after death are also different.

Over tens of thousands of years, countless religions have been overthrown and re-established, but the core contents seem to be as stubborn as "humanity" itself.
There will always be religious rulers who use similar words and rules to spur on their believers, sometimes by persuading them to be good and make progress, and sometimes by spurring them on with lies that they will suffer in this life but be glorious in the next.

But now, he looked at Him, with turbid tears flowing from his eye sockets that were sunken due to old age. He now knew where the "sanctuary" that those stupid bishops talked about was. This was not just the pure imagination of fools, but a real paradise.

Or maybe hell.

It turned out that this was the final destination of mankind - all fantasies about what happens after death had concrete lines. The darkness was reflected in Malcador's pupils, and he felt that his soul was sucked deeply into it. This was the final destination pursued by mankind, a place for the soul to rest.

In the past, during countless nights of collapse, Malcador had fantasized about a pure land where he could truly rest in peace. He no longer yearned for forests filled with bird songs and sunshine. As long as his soul could stop and his life could come to a complete halt, the old man would be happy to accept even a dirty or messy slum.

Malcador had originally planned to knock Hades out directly after his 114514th collapse, and then throw himself into the Underworld to commit suicide.

But now - a paradise that naturally holds great attraction for him has appeared. Compared with the underworld of Hades that makes people feel nauseous and terrified at a mere glance, the divine realm formed by the Dark King is paradise.

A paradise from which no human soul could look away.

But in the eyes of some people with real strong will, the holy land formed by the gods suddenly turned into some kind of creepy hell in the corner of their sight, but in the next trance, it turned into the longed-for paradise again.

Malcador felt himself twitching.

If his current situation were described in detail and objectively, Malcador would probably not be happy about it. In fact, the silver-haired old man was slumped on the deck, twitching and struggling, and the passionate golden light penetrated thousands of spaces and sprinkled on him irresistibly.

Malcador felt his soul screaming silently.

He seemed to realize some kind of irrelevant similarities between Hades and the King of Darkness - in the imagination of gods, humans always implicitly project their expectations and doubts about death onto gods.

Pluto and the King of Darkness both satisfy human illusions about death, but they have different perspectives on death. Pluto provides the true warriors and those with no way out with terrifying yet absolute silence, while the King of Darkness displays the attractive and charming golden color to all living beings.

Compared to the underworld of Hades that makes people subconsciously feel fear, the sanctuary formed by the advent of the Dark Lord exudes an irresistible temptation and truthfulness, and no one will try to resist him.

Perhaps He was supposed to be the true destination of mankind after death. Even though the Dark King, the god who had never been born, had never been born, the Emperor, who was the predecessor of the Dark King, had already possessed the right to control the souls of mankind after death.

It seems that this was probably the real precursor, but Malcador and the Eternals at the time did not notice this detail.

The Dark Lord promised, or rather the Emperor promised mankind, that they would belong to themselves during their lifetime, that individuals would have absolute control over themselves, and that after death, all things would belong to the Dark Lord.

To spend far more time dead than alive is clearly in keeping with the Emperor's character - perhaps the Dark Lord is just as shameless as the Emperor in this respect.

It seems that... Malcador felt like he was taking deep breaths like a dying fish. He tried hard to turn himself over and crawl on the ground, as far away from the range of the golden light as possible. With blood oozing from his fingers, he finally crawled to a slightly darker place.

Malcador finally understood why the Emperor was unwilling to be called a god, and also understood why the Emperor had been allowing Pluto to grow - that old Deng might have directly chosen Hades as the real solution to the problem.

But now... Malcador gasped for breath, feeling the suffocating gaze disappear. He slowly stood up with the help of the wall and tried to run his psychic power. As soon as he tried, Malcador felt the feeling of being controlled and watched again. He immediately cut off his stupid attempt and realized with some annoyance that his psychic power was not completely separated from the Emperor.

Pluto above...

Facing the Dark Lord's gaze, the second his autonomous will returned, Malcador began to pray to Hades without any guilt or hesitation. He naturally did not care whether Hades was suitable for prayer now or not. Malcador would pray whenever he wanted, regardless of what Hades thought.

Although the gods are quite domineering, the decision-making power of faith in one aspect still belongs to the believers.

The familiar feeling of weakness and nausea came over him, and Malcador felt great.

He covered his eyes with his hands, trying not to look at the star field, but he knew that he was just blinded by one thing. The warship under his feet suddenly hummed - then, Malcador felt with horror that the ship under his feet began to move - and resolutely headed towards the area that had already been dyed with shining gold.

*!

Malcador, who was sweating profusely, finally had the mind to think about other people. The old man's already tired face became even paler. Even a skilled psychic like him could not resist the Dark Lord - those ordinary people could not resist Him, resist the Dark Lord!

At this moment, in the silent yet noisy universe, countless ships were suddenly drifting on the waterway simply by inertia. On them, countless people were standing staring at the portholes, or standing in front of the wall closest to the Dark Lord in a dazed state.

This state seemed to last for a long time, yet it also seemed to last only a moment - then, as if they had received some kind of instruction, people suddenly realized and began to act. The crew members responsible for driving the ship came and went, while those who had "nothing to do" began to gather towards the corner of the ship closest to Him.

The people who took action looked dazed, staring at their original gods.

Da da.

Drop after drop of cold sweat flowed down Malcador's neck and hit the ground. The old man was almost terrified. He suddenly realized how terrible the current situation was - perhaps all the humans in the human empire were rushing here.

Just because of Him, because the Dark Lord is there - He is the first god of mankind in the true sense. This is not only a crushing of some kind of volume, but also a crushing of some kind of concept. This is an omniscient and omnipotent God against mankind, just like Pluto attacking the subspace.

Malcador suddenly wanted to thank the Outsiders. If it weren't for the Outsiders, perhaps all the humans in the Eye of Silence would have become eternal slaves in the Dark King's domain. Or maybe it's worse, the entire empire, except for some lucky people in the Cult of the Underworld, would be doomed - no one really knows the scope of a Dark King's power, perhaps it is the entire empire.

But now, under the full suppression of the Warp by the Outsiders, the power of the Dark Lord is limited to this small and narrow place.

Malcador felt his soul still trembling, and he was still using tremendous willpower to suppress the control from the Dark Lord - after all, he was still a real human being. He trembled violently and tried to contact the Primarchs tremblingly.

Perhaps the Primarchs would be in better shape than any of them.

After all, they are not really "human" - never were.

Thinking of this, Malcador raised the corners of his mouth in self-mockery, but he looked even more embarrassed.

His attempt to contact the Primarch's psychic energy was undoubtedly cut off, and he almost let the powerful and overbearing power burn him again. Malcador tilted his head back suddenly, realizing that he really could not do anything this time.

Now - we can only rely on the Primarchs.

Malcador swallowed. Hades and the Emperor had both gone mad, and all of humanity had been deceived by the Dark Lord - perhaps the only one who could move with some degree of freedom now was the Primarch.

The Primarchs... Malcador's heart sank, and the corners of the old man's mouth involuntarily drooped. He gritted his teeth, hoping that they wouldn't mess it up again this time.

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

huh... huh...

Mortarion was twitching, his eyes wide open, his pupils trembling and shrinking to the smallest size, poison gas spurting out of his nose again and again, he and Guilliman were exposed to the all-round golden light without any cover - and it was the highest intensity one.

Above their heads, golden light sprinkled on the land, so bright that not even a shadow was left, and then suddenly it became pitch black as if it was the eternal night.

Beside the Primarch, Guilliman was not feeling well either, but still better than the Pale Lord. Beads of sweat rolled down Guilliman's forehead. Guilliman pursed his lips tightly, as if he was enduring some extreme pain.

But compared to the Astra Militarum that suddenly moved, the Ultramarines and Death Guard stood stiffly in place. They became the best embodiment of the struggle for power between the Primarch and the Dark Lord.

Beside the two Primarchs, countless golden shadow-like human figures stood up, but they did not walk towards the two Primarchs. They just stared at them, and their number was increasing.

+hiss...hiss...+
+Get lost!!!+
Mortarion roared first, and a pale area instantly spread out from under his feet. The golden shadow closest to them was blown away, but there were still more who stood up and just looked at them.

+In the name of the Empire of Man, I command you to leave.+
Guilliman also spoke. The blue-helmeted Primarch spoke righteously, but still could not hide his blond hair wet with sweat. He stared sternly at those golden shadows. A certain clear existence extended out. Guilliman looked at those figures reluctantly for a few times, then bent down and disappeared.

Guilliman blinked again, frowning as he looked up at the stars, seeing the golden flames - now the stars were falling here, all the people, all the stars, all the fire.

No—it must not be so.

Guilliman lowered his head and looked around. He felt that the ownership of the Ultramarines was back, but for those ordinary people, who had not signed a deeper treaty with Guilliman, they were more obsessed with the Dark Lord.

can not be like this……

Guilliman took a deep breath and placed a hand on Mortarion's shoulder. The panting Primarch glanced at him, and then the two Primarchs' domains began to connect, which obviously gave Guilliman strength. Then Guilliman looked up at the sky and looked into the distance along the line of destiny in his hand.
He will first contact the Primarch, and then use the Primarch as a "signal transmission base station" to cut off or interfere with the Dark Lord's coverage of humanity.

But then, Guilliman's pupils trembled as he looked towards the starry sky.

Among the billions and countless sparks, he saw some... special existences?

Then he realized that it was the Emperor's back-up plan.

The Emperor still has a backup plan - Guilliman admitted that he had touched the moment at a certain moment.

However, this did not affect his decision. While contacting other Primarchs, he also urgently contacted the Cult of Hades and the Mechanicus in addition to the Ecclesiarchy.

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

[Inside the returning Astra Militarum warship]

"Okay, now you can stop praying."

The Word Bearer said expressionlessly, his voice following the crowd in the command room who were stunned and praying with the priest of the state religion. He casually pulled out a grenade launcher,

"God does not exist,"

The Word Bearer said,

"Anyone who calls him your god has only a claim on you. Even if you are as lowly as dust, your heart, your soul, your blood, your flesh, your bones - but according to the Imperial Constitution, according to the declaration of Robouti Guilliman, according to the joint declaration of Hades and the Emperor, you belong to yourself."

The Word Bearers placed their gun against the head of the Ecclesiarch. The man, who had fallen into the hallucination of the Dark Lord, was praying fervently. With him as the center, the golden ripples of his soul spread throughout the entire ship.

The Word Bearer whispered a few words, took out the Black Stone Beads with his other hand, and then -

Pull the trigger.

boom!
Blood exploded in front of him, along with the ripples of the priest's soul that surged at the time of death. The crowd suddenly trembled, as if they were frightened.

Mead suddenly lost his concentration, and the believer kneeling in front of the statue of the Emperor blinked in confusion, as if something had just happened, but then his eyes became dazed again -

But on the radio, the voice of the Word Bearer sounded again.

Further away, in the positions of the Mechanicus and the Cult of Hades, the hasty awakening work was also proceeding in an orderly manner. Even though some low-level camps did not know what was happening, after a brief panic, most people near the high-power Black Stone remained awake, but some people who were not firm in their faith needed extra steps to awaken them.

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

[……what happens?]
Inside the altar, Mortarion asked breathlessly. He looked at Lorgar outside the altar in confusion, and Lorgar just shook his head.

Pluto, who was running towards them, blocked the influence of the Dark Lord for them, but even so, as a Primarch he could naturally sense something.

[Nothing, the disturbances on other battlefields will not affect this side.]

The Primarch of the Word Bearers seemed to be in a better mood - ten thousand years ago, the Emperor, who was still a mortal, personally proclaimed himself a god in front of the Word Bearers.
Ten thousand years later, it was the Word Bearers who came and declared that the Dark Lord who was now God was not God.

What a coincidence and funny fate.

Of course, this was also tacitly agreed by Neos.

(End of this chapter)