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

Chapter 885 [327.] A blood-boiling combination of skills! ! !

There was a movement in the distance. Deep in the jungles of Caliban, beside the Lion and Mortarion who were half-squatting to rest, Lorgar's sewn eyes flashed with a strange light.

+The time is now! +
The Primarch shouted, and the floating pages of the book in his hand rustled and a golden light rose!

Beside him, the two Primarchs were horrified, cursing in their minds the bald ass for his jumpy behavior.

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

+LAUNCH!!!+
That powerful command seemed to still echo in the air, shuttling between the cannons. Tens of thousands of golden lights drew arcs in the air and shot towards the Black King.

The heavens and earth were trembling with the thunderous volley, shaking visibly, but the next moment, something even larger and sharper tore them apart.

A bloody rainbow pierced the sky! The long spear of blood that was forever hissing whistled out from the other side of the sky, and in an instant it rushed to this side of the sky like a long dragon dancing in the air, which was filled with half of the sky that was filled with darkness and shining gold.

The blood bird was flapping its wings at the other end of the sky. The huge wings supported him in the air without any support. Blood was dripping from the arm that he had thrown the spear with, and the muscles were shaking uncontrollably.

This spear carries endless power and expression, questions and puzzles, and countless painful questions in the nights. But nothing has been said, and there is no need to say anything. All you need to do is cut off His head, and the pain will be gone.

And in this world, he is not the only one who hates the emperor as much as he does, and he may not even be the one who hates him the most.

At the far end of the sky, a scythe of gathered thunder was winding and roaring in a way that Mortarion had never done before.

He shouted at the top of his lungs, and every word was heart-wrenching.

The Primarch was silent, but the weapons he threw were far more noisy than the Dark Lord, and they roared out his thoughts and feelings on his behalf.
The bright yellow thunder dragon flashed and distorted, tracking the real enemy from the endless dimension and destiny.

The Pale King was hidden in the dust and fog, his figure dim. The original thunder had gone with the scythe, and Mortarion seemed even more illusory. Puffs of dust floated down from his bone helmet, as if they would turn into dust in the next moment.

Ashes flew and scattered on the earth. On the earth, the king held the sword high up and had not yet fallen. The golden-haired primarch still pointed the sword at the dark king.
A sharp silver light flashed from the tip of the sword, and the first and foremost point of the artillery fire fell right on the tip of Guilliman's sword, between the brows of the Dark Lord.

boom!
The flying dust and fog exploded, and there was only a speck of dust on the huge monster. But in an instant, two long rainbows that penetrated the space arrived!

Sizzle!!! Boom!!!
It was as if a scarlet spear and a thunder sickle from another dimension hit the behemoth together. One side represented the throne that had not been ascended for thousands of years, and the other side represented the divine power stolen from an alien race. The High Heaven was stirred, and the Dark King who had just ascended the throne was roaring.

His figure suddenly enlarged again, as if piercing into the depths of the galaxy, as if piercing through the entire human civilization. The trauma of being attacked made this monster extremely angry, and huge scarlet and bright yellow psychic arcs crackled at His wounds.

But the king's sword, raised high, did not fall.

The next moment, after the first drop of rain, the artillery fire finally fell from the sky, boom-boom boom boom!!! Every explosion set off a colorful light and shadow, and behind every loading and firing was a burning soul of different colors, so every shot of artillery fire was stained with different colors, but the overall color was still shining gold.

The Dark Lord was roaring, and unspeakable movements and catastrophes were occurring. No one could say what they were, but they knew that they were gradually becoming weaker, their legs were weakening, their eyes were darkening, and the gap between the sky and the earth seemed to be shrinking.

The bird flying high in the sky seemed to fall suddenly, but struggled again to rise, dragging its heavy, blood-stained wings. Suddenly, a stream of air brushed across its cheek, and Sanguinius was ready.

On the other side, the tall, thin figure in the fog was still hazy, as Mortarion always was, but he was ready, as he always had been.

Above the earth, the king standing among his legion and his warriors still did not put down his sword, which he held high. Even though some huge pressure came down, the sword, which was originally as silver-white as the bright moon, was instantly covered with a layer of hazy black color, but he still did not put down his sword.

Countless black and golden meteorites fell from the halo in the sky, hitting the vehicles that were marching on the muddy and bloody plains. The screams of metal being crushed and deformed by the huge force echoed among the figures who were bowing in devotion.

Roboute Guilliman simply said,
+LAUNCH!!!+
emission!!!

Fire! Fire at their most hated enemy, humanity's greatest enemy, humanity's greatest benefactor, their father. The Emperor of Humanity!
+LAUNCH!!!+
Hot tears kept streaming down Guilliman's cheeks. His face was distorted by the force he exerted, and darkness stained his blue helmet along with the sword, but the golden light in his eyes would never go out.

He stared at the huge monster, the Dark Lord.

Seems to understand something.

The King of Darkness has always been there. He is the Emperor and the Emperor is Him. He is the bad nature of all mankind. He is the darkness that has been deliberately ignored by all human civilizations as they develop rapidly. He is the tower built after the regression of all civilizations. He is mankind and man is evil.

The Emperor is the Lord of Darkness, as He always has been, and the Lord of Darkness is the Emperor, as He always has been.

Humans have always been humans.

The noblest giants and the most despicable villains live together in the same race. The purest character and the lowest morality can appear in the same person. Good will give birth to evil. Good and evil have the same root and origin and are different shadows of the same person.

If you want humanity to survive, exist, and prosper forever.

You cannot just want the noblest elder, the wisest sage, the bravest warrior; you cannot just want the good and the kind, as if the perfect victim never exists; you have to allow flaws, allow mistakes, allow darkness and shadows.

People are blindly pursuing a perfect emperor, but they don’t know that they are born unclean. They only seek holiness, but the unclean and dirty still exist and are far larger and more hidden than they imagine.

Only a human being who has received education and enlightenment will suddenly realize the many virtues such as sacrifice and thrift, while a human being who has grown up in the wilderness since childhood will be like a wild beast. Man is a beast, and the King of Darkness is the beast. There is an even greater chaos beneath human nature.

The emperor is a human being.

A human being.

Humans distinguish themselves from the beasts and call themselves the most intelligent creatures because they know how to sacrifice, be frugal, put the world first, and build thousands of mansions to shelter the poor. This is the biggest difference between the Emperor and the Dark Lord. No matter how unkind Neos is, no matter how negligent and careless he is, he knows how to exercise restraint and put others first, not himself.

The biggest difference between humans and animals is probably the distinction between altruism and selfishness, and probably the struggle between desires and ideals.

It turned out to be the case.

Guilliman was in tears, not because he was moved, but because he was overwhelmed by the Dark Lord's spiritual pressure and cried so ugly. He looked at that individual and knew that He had completely fallen into the obsession of becoming more powerful and sitting firmly on the throne of God.

He became a true god for the entire human race, and also a true beast. And Neos, the children raised by the Emperor, could be roughly called human beings, so they are now doing everything they can to stop him, even if they have to sacrifice everything and themselves.

The thought of dying next to the Emperor might be a little disconcerting to them, but that did not slow down Sanguinius and Mortarion’s speed. Like birds flying over a quiet lake, they rushed towards their predetermined fate on both sides of Guilliman’s hanging sword. They both knew what the other was thinking, and a spectacular psychic self-destruction completely damaged the Dark Lord.

The last hope and finishing blow were once again given to Guilliman, just like the Terra incident a hundred years ago, Guilliman completely won their respect and trust.

What wits, what confrontations, what Ola Ola, Muda Muda, what sword fights—

It’s better to self-destruct.

Everything is simple. First, hit Him to create space for him to get close, then take drugs until the buff is maxed out, then rush over and self-destruct.

Self-destruction, a kind of determination to compress the strength and life accumulated over many years to the maximum in a very short time, and then explode, with one's own life, everything, put into this one move.

The moment they stood together, the moment the three primarchs struck their poses and faced the Dark Lord, the moment the "Start Game" button was pressed, they had already prepared their tactics and the outcome.

I'm not even bothering to say or think any more.

They rushed towards the Dark Lord, and as the distance between them and him shortened, they began to shine brighter and brighter, as if thousands of flashbulbs were focused on them, making them shine like dazzling rising stars.

But in Guilliman's eyes, in his tearful eyes (still not moved, still overwhelmed by the spiritual pressure, the Dark Lord, this old Deng is too strong), his two brothers were withering rapidly as if they were infected with a deadly disease, darkness enveloped them, and they were stained by Chaos and the High Heavens.

Facing the Dark King, perhaps except for Pluto, they still don't have any better way to deal with it, and can only use the ancient method of self-destruction to severely damage the Dark King. But fortunately, from ancient times to the present, self-destruction has always been useful and easy to use. For humans, there seems to be nothing more desperate and more deterrent than "self-destruction". From those ignorant religious wars to our broadcasting of our location to the entire universe, it has been like this from ancient times to the present.

Time is too short, they don’t even have time to think about anything, nor do they need to think about anything. The end has come, they don’t need to think about anything, they just need to follow their nature.

With flapping wings, the two winged psychic alien Primarchs fell rapidly into the kingdom of darkness and shining gold like mortar shells. They were once members of the Warp, but ten thousand years ago they were taken away from the High Heaven by some stupid primitive man, given flesh and intelligence, and finally walked in the human world, and believed the lie that they were human beings.

But until now, it was just a matter of life and death.

Sanguinius felt that he was shining brighter and hotter, emitting light and darkness from the inside out. One of his eyes flashed golden light, and the other eye shed tears of blood. Looking from the perspective of the highest heaven, behind the archangel, the two sides of the sky of light and blood were rapidly advancing with the flapping of bird feathers, and then collided with the ruthless, insensitive and ignorant holy realm of God, and the warp was suddenly in chaos.

On the other side, the subspace was equally chaotic, with the sea of ​​fog rolling towards the divine realm. It seemed as if the human figures who were worshipping in the temple had really entered the divine realm in the sky. However, these seas of fog were like sickles that took lives. Before the foolish prayers could be finished, they disappeared with a slight snap in this surging sea.

Mortarion still felt some regret.

He regretted that his final fate was still tied to the Emperor instead of falling into the underworld - he had sworn ten thousand years ago that if he was really going to die and fall into chaos, he would definitely shout for Hades and Pluto before he died so that his soul could truly rest in peace.

But he can't do that now.

Now, everyone present could not call that person, could not praise him, and could not think of him. Pluto had more important things to do, and they did not want Pluto, who responded to their prayers, to be one step closer to complete destruction by helping them.

Hades can no longer devour the King of Darkness. That would be too much, too much.

And now, in order to cause complete chaos in the Warp, to severely damage the Emperor, and to harm the Dark Lord at all costs, Mortarion must not call out that name. He needs to use all the psychic energy that he has stored and grown for tens of thousands of years completely, without any residue left, and clench it into a fist to hit the Dark Lord hard. There cannot be any loss of force and no mistakes in the process.

Before, Mortarion liked to directly shake Hades in battle - he did not think that this way of attacking the alien enemy was shameful, on the contrary, the Primarch was quite proud of it. Look, Hades will respond to him, you guys who don’t have Hades’ response!

But now, for the last time, only the last time, he must not do this.

If Mortarion had to unload his strength in order to call on Hades, he would probably regret this action forever - the Primarch hoped that he could strike the Dark Lord completely, and hoped that the scythe he swung at the Emperor's neck would be absolutely sharp, and he would not allow any mistakes.

Therefore, in the end he did not think about Hades, and in order to avoid letting his thoughts touch there as much as possible, he did not think about Barbarus or the Death Guard. Mortarion just concentrated on thinking about when this old immortal Emperor would die?
The distance was close enough, and Mortarion could see clearly the grooves on the Dark Lord's bloated body. Then he felt Sanguinius's psychic power, and that feather-like psychic power passed across his cheek, which had been eroded by the Dark Lord and turned black. Sanguinius also arrived, and Mortarion breathed a sigh of relief.

Through careful numerological calculations, Mortarion and Sanguinius chose the most "vulnerable" point of the Dark Lord in the Warp, and they would launch a self-destruction on him from two different dimensions.

Three, two, one.

Mortarion thought to himself.

Finally, he wondered, when would the old emperor die?
——!!! Woo!!!——

There was no deafening explosion, but a long roar like a whale's roar echoed in everyone's soul and ears. Scarlet and pale waves surged up together, almost flattening half of Terra from under the earth's crust.

The king's sword was still raised high.

+LAUNCH!!!+
Guilliman shouted at the top of his lungs, the golden tears on his cheeks were blown away by the strong wind. In the midst of the hurricane, the Primarch tried his best to stand still, and his figure became taller and taller.

In the distance, the turbulence of the Warp that no one could see clearly covered most of the Dark Lord’s huge body. Guilliman tried his best to open his eyes and saw that the towering mountain began to collapse -

From the mountainside.

He was cut off in half.

In the subspace, a storm suddenly arose!!!
....................................

+Come here everyone!!! +
The rebellious believers roared, and in the midst of heavy rain and strong wind, Lorgar suddenly stuck his scepter into the ground. The huge magic circle began to operate instantly, and in the center of the circle, Angron let out a terrifying roar.

The bright pink and purple light almost suddenly lit up half of the sky on Caliban—and in the abyss beside Lorgar and the others, a webway entrance, standing on another altar, and the altar in front of Lion Jonson all burned fiercely! A blue light!!!
Tzeentch and a part of Slaanesh broke through the altar almost at the same time, and inevitably fell towards Caliban along with fate and reality. And just like a long and shrill dog whistle, even with such a brilliant light illuminating Caliban, the sky of Caliban is still dark and starless.

Not because it was still night.

But it’s because Pluto is getting closer.

(End of this chapter)