Forced to die just after becoming invincible in Warhammer?

Foucault looked nervous, and while whispering urging, he took the lead and walked towards a dark mine.

The entrance to the mine was narrow and shrouded in thick shadows, like a dormant giant beast with its mouth open to devour everything.

The others did not dare to delay and hurried to catch up.

Ella held the gun behind her back in front of her and moved cautiously.

The mine was extremely cramped, and every step forward was extremely difficult.

Her shoulders and back kept rubbing against the rough cave walls, the hard rocks hurt, and her clothes were caught on the sharp stones, making slight "sizzling" sounds.

Helius walked behind Ella. He was big and strong, and it was difficult for him to move in this narrow space.

He bent his body slightly, trying to make himself as small as possible, but even so, his body was still almost tightly squeezed against the surroundings of the mine. He was breathing heavily, and beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down his forehead, wetting the soil under his feet.

Clarks was held tightly in Ella's arms. The little guy also felt the difficulty and grabbed Ella's clothes tightly. His small body swayed slightly with Ella's movements.

Foucault was climbing up the mountain with great difficulty, looking back from time to time to see if everyone was keeping up. He supported himself on the cave wall with his hands, his nails turning white from the exertion, and his feet groped for a foothold on the uneven ground, taking each step cautiously and laboriously.

Foucault finally emerged from the narrow tunnel, breathing heavily and complaining irritably, "Damn it! Who was digging here? They dug so finely."

"This mine was dug by a group of nobles back then in order to make full use of the resources and let the children dig in this mine." As she said this, she first gently pushed Clarks out, and then handed out a few spears. Only then did she and Foucault finally escape from this torturous tunnel.

Afterwards, Ella rubbed her sore shoulders.

After hearing this, a trace of guilt flashed across Foucault's face. He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.

"Stop chatting, I'm stuck, pull me out quickly." Helios' anxious voice came.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw that his upper body had already exited the tunnel, but his body below the hips was stuck inside. He supported himself on the ground with his hands and struggled hard. His face turned red and veins bulged on his forehead. He looked very embarrassed.

"Your shoulders are not stuck, but your waist and hips are stuck like this. What are you doing?" Foucault looked helpless and said as he and Ella pulled Helios' arm hard.

The two men frowned, beads of sweat appeared on their foreheads, and the muscles in their arms were tense as they tried their best to pull Helios out.

Little Clarks also hurried forward, his little hands tightly grasping the corner of Helios' clothes, his little face flushed red, and he made a "hey yo hey yo" sound from his mouth, trying hard to help pull.

Moments after the Primarch joined, Helios was finally pulled out.

He staggered and almost fell. After stabilizing himself, he gasped for breath.

"I was wondering how you got stuck? Turns out you had a gun stuck on you."

Foucault had sharp eyes and saw at a glance the gun on Helios' waist. It was the gun that was stuck in the narrow tunnel wall, making Helios unable to move.

Helius looked down at the gun at his waist and scratched his head awkwardly. "Oh, I was so anxious that I forgot about it. Fortunately, I have you guys. Otherwise, I don't know how long I would have been stuck."

Foucault patted Helios on the shoulder and said unhappily, "Alright, hurry up and pack up. Don't make any more mistakes. If the guards find us dawdling here, we'll be in big trouble." Everyone nodded, packed up their things, and continued to walk deeper into the mine.

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Chapter 241: Clarks' Ideals, Guilliman's Troubles; Eternity and Change

As soon as Ella entered the mine, she quickly hid several spears in the cave made of rubble.

Clarks happened to see this scene, and he discovered that there were several crudely made pistols and rifles hidden in that hidden place.

Foucault, his face filled with confusion, spoke up. "Helius, even now, I still find it hard to understand why, in such a harsh environment, you harbor such a lofty yet inexplicable dream. We slave laborers might die tomorrow in the tunnel, or even in an accident, crushed to death by falling rocks. Yet, even so, you still cling to your unattainable dream."

Clarks also turned his gaze to Helios, he was equally eager to know the answer to this question.

Helius was silent for a moment, his gaze slowly sweeping across the damp, cold, decaying mine. His voice was hoarse but revealed an undeniable strength: "You think we are just slaves at the mercy of others, that our lives in this mine are worthless and could be wiped out at any moment. But have you ever thought about why we endure all this in silence?"

He slowly squatted down, picked up a piece of gravel, and scratched a mark on the dusty ground. "Our suffering is not destined, but is caused by the greed of those in power. They trample us underfoot and wantonly deprive us of everything because they believe we dare not resist and that we are born to be their beasts of burden."

Helius stood up, his eyes burning with anger. "But I refuse to accept my fate! Each of us has the right to live and the right to pursue happiness. If we remain silent, our descendants will be forever trapped in the endless darkness set for us by those nobles."

"I want everyone to know that freedom is not a distant fantasy. As long as we unite, we can break the cage that imprisons us."

"The road to liberation may cost me my life, but for a future of freedom for all, I am willing to be the first to charge." Helius' voice echoed in the mine. "When we overthrow oppression and regain our new life, all our sacrifices will become meaningful. The birth of new life on Redemption Star will no longer be bound by endless shackles. What a beautiful future that will be!"

Clarks and Foucault listened, their blood ignited by Helios' words.

At this moment, the young Clarks found the purpose of his life, the ideal that made him give his life for it.

……

In the magnificent Macragge, the iconic building exudes a solemn atmosphere in the sunlight.

"My Robert, are you willing to teach our Primarch brother Curze who has just returned?" Xi stared at Guilliman with a sharp gaze, her eyes full of expectation.

Guilliman heard this and responded without hesitation, "Of course, Your Highness. However, after careful consideration, I feel that there are more suitable candidates. Horus, Sanguinius, Dorn, Ferrus, and my two sisters are all extremely outstanding in all aspects and should be more qualified for this task of teaching than I am. Moreover, in my current position, perhaps it is not appropriate for me to participate in this matter."

Xi nodded slightly and patiently explained, "But in my opinion, you are the best candidate. Curze doesn't need to learn things like military etiquette. What he urgently needs right now is the ability to manage the planet. No one can surpass you in this area, so it is most appropriate for you to teach him."

Guilliman fell into deep thought. After a moment, he raised his head and said sincerely, "May I consider this for a moment, Your Majesty the Regent?"

A gentle smile appeared on Xi's face, and he nodded in agreement: "I'll wait for your reply. Oh, by the way, you don't have to be so restrained in the future. Just call me Your Majesty the Regent, or just call me mother." After speaking, Xi turned and left, leaving Guilliman there, continuing to think about this sudden request.

The night is falling, the moonlight is beautiful, and the silvery moonlight pours down without reservation, covering the whole world with a dreamy veil.

Robert Guilliman leaned quietly against the fence alone, the gentle evening breeze blowing slightly, causing a few wrinkles on his gorgeous dress, but it did not detract from his innate majesty and elegance.

"Robert, so you are here. I have been looking for you for a long time." A gentle voice came from behind, and Ms. Yuton walked over slowly with light steps.

As the Primarch, Guilliman had keen senses and had already sensed her approach, but he did not look back.

Ms. Yuton tilted her head slightly, her eyes filled with concern, and asked softly, "Is there something on your mind? Don't try to hide it from me. Ever since you were little, whenever you've been hiding something, you've always had this expression on your face."

Guilliman sighed slightly and said slowly, "Her Majesty the Regent, my mother, told me during the day that she hopes I will teach the newly returned Primarch Curze."

Once I have someone to talk to, the pressure that has been accumulating in my heart seems to be relieved a lot.

Ms. Youton couldn't help but feel a little puzzled and asked, "Is it just for this?"

Guilliman looked anxious, his brow furrowed as he explained, "But Curze's situation is different. His homeworld is adjacent to the Five Hundred Worlds. If I were to teach him, the High Lords of Terra would undoubtedly regard me as ambitious, believing that I was secretly allying with my brothers and attempting to establish a foothold in the Far Eastern Sector."

Ms. Euton couldn't help laughing and asked, "But are you such a person, Robert?"

Guilliman shook his head without hesitation and said firmly, "Of course not."

Lady Euton patted his arm gently and said gently, "That's all right. Since you are not what they think, and the Regent arranged for you to teach Curze, it is also hoped that you can get closer to the other Primarchs and enhance friendship. Isn't this a good thing?"

……

In the mysterious place of the highest heaven, the waves of the sea of ​​souls are like angry beasts, surging and rolling endlessly.

The two great giants engaged in a fierce battle.

Nurgle, the eternal Chaos God of disease and decay, waved his mighty arms and vigorously poured out the thick, pungent and foul-smelling soup from the rusty cauldron.

Wherever the thick soup went, the bodies of his Great Unclean Ones grew stronger, and the smell of plague around them became stronger; those small but energetic Nurglings, nourished by the thick soup, jumped more happily, and the pus on their bodies also flashed with strange light.

Ku'gath, the Plaguefather, also has an extraordinary fondness for the great work of Nurgle, the kind father.

It cleverly hid the spilled soup under its tongue full of filth and germs. Unlike its other brothers, it did not rush to drink up the soup that contained great power, but savored it carefully, as if enjoying this unique gift from chaos.

At the same time, Father Yu clearly felt that his own strength had skyrocketed under the influence of this special energy, and an even more powerful force of the epidemic was surging around him, as if he was about to undergo an even more crazy transformation.

"Go, children, go and win this chess game of the gods for me." Nurgle's voice was low and loving, as if an ordinary father was whispering instructions to his children, but the power of chaos contained in it caused strange ripples to appear in the surrounding space.

Seventy-seven disrespectful men, each as tall as a mountain, exuding a sickening smell of disease, took slow, heavy steps.

Behind them were 77,777 densely packed Nurglings surging like a tide. These tiny creatures jumped around and made sharp and strange noises; the Nurgle carriers staggered, and the festering pus on their bodies kept dripping foul-smelling liquid, leaving horrifying traces wherever they passed; and the buzzing Nurgle drones circled in the air, forming a black cloud that covered the sky.

They marched in a mighty force towards the realm of their eternal rival, the God of Ever-Change.

The Fate Weaver was surrounded by a strange and brilliant aura, and had been waiting here for a long time with ninety-nine ever-changing demon lords.

The scepter in its hand is like a mysterious source of energy, and the arcane power is like a nimble light snake, flowing, flickering and jumping freely on the scepter, and every fluctuation seems to foreshadow unknown variables.

Behind the Fate Weaver and the Lord of Change stands a formidable army of Chaos.

The 99,999 changelings' forms shifted in an unpredictable pattern, their silhouettes constantly twisting between reality and illusion, as if challenging the established forms of all things in the world. The Tzeentch Horrors (including pink and blue Horrors) had sinister gazes and exuded a chilling aura, their very presence seeming to instill fear deep within their opponents' souls.

The Tzeentch Fire Elemental was burning with strange arcane flames. The flames were not ordinary scorching, but carried a chilling chill that could burn the soul.

The Tzeentch Disc Rider controlled the suspended disc, drawing strange trajectories in the air. The runes on the disc flickered, echoing with the surrounding arcane power.

The Tzeentch screamers let out sharp and piercing screams, the sounds were like sharp blades, cutting through the calmness in the air, and they couldn't wait to flap their wings and fly.

All these chaotic creatures are eager to try. They have only one belief in their hearts, that is, in this thrilling game dominated by the gods, fighting hard will make the great God of Change turn his attention to them and gain supreme glory and blessings.

As Nurgle's army approached like a surging wave of plague, the atmosphere in Tzeentch's camp became increasingly tense and heated.

The Fate Weaver's two heads narrowed their eyes, which were flashing with strange light, and with a light wave of the scepter in his hand, an invisible wave instantly spread throughout the army.

The ninety-nine ever-changing Demon Lords understood what he meant, and the chaotic energy around them surged violently. Their bodies began to undergo strange changes, some of them grew extra arms, which were wrapped with deadly arcane lightning; others grew huge wings, the scales on the wings flashed with mysterious runes, and each one seemed to contain the power of destruction.

The changelings took the lead and rushed towards Nurgle's army at incredible speed. As they advanced, they kept changing their forms, sometimes turning into sharp arrows, sometimes into huge siege weapons, trying to disrupt Nurgle's army's formation during the charge.

At the same time, the Tzeentchians also let out sinister roars, their bodies blending into the darkness, sneaking silently towards the blasphemous ones of Nurgle, ready to deal a fatal blow to these powerful enemies.

The fire demons gathered together, and focused the arcane flames in their bodies into huge pillars of fire, which they sprayed towards the dense phalanxes of Nurglings, Nurgling Carriers and Nurgling Drones. For a moment, flames shot up into the sky on the battlefield, and the pungent smell of burning and the stench of disease mixed together, making people nauseous.

The Disc Riders rode the Discs, quickly shuttling through the air and throwing rune bombs filled with powerful arcane energy at the enemies below. The explosions sounded one after another, throwing Nurgle's army into chaos.

The Screamers rushed into the enemy camp like a group of crazy demons, screaming. Their sharp cries plunged the Nurgle soldiers into a brief period of confusion and fear, and they took the opportunity to bite the surrounding enemies with their sharp claws and teeth.

But the blasphemous ones of Nurgle did not retreat in the slightest.

They wielded massive weapons, sending swarms of Changelings and Screamers flying with each strike.

Although the Nurglings nourished by the thick soup were small individually, they relied on their absolute advantage in numbers to surge towards Tzeentch's army like a tide, trying to drown their opponents with their rotten bodies.

The carriers of Nurgle continued to release clouds of plague, trying to weaken the power of Tzeentch's side and make them gradually lose their combat effectiveness under the erosion of the plague.

Nurgle Drones engage in fierce aerial combat with Disc Riders and Screamers, attacking their enemies with their stingers and sharp beaks to gain the upper hand over their companions on the ground.

On this chaotic battlefield, the first step in the chess game between the gods has been made, and both sides are doing their best to win.

The highest sky was suddenly filled with a burst of wild and unrestrained laughter. The laughter was like rolling thunder, shaking the space slightly.

The source of the laughter was none other than the renowned Blood God. He sat upon the Skull Throne, surrounded by a bloody aura so thick it was practically tangible. His eyes burned with an endless desire for war and slaughter.

"Since there is a war, how can I, the God of War, be absent?" The Blood God's voice was low and powerful, as if it came from the endless abyss, with a terrifying deterrent power.

After he finished speaking, he waved his hand, and in an instant, a huge hole seemed to be torn in the space. Eighty-eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight vampires rushed out of the hole like a surging red tide, rushing straight towards the battlefield below where the fierce fighting was going on.

These vampires have strong bodies and bulging muscles, and the serrated battle axes and broadswords in their hands flash with a cold light.

As soon as they stepped onto the battlefield, they were like a group of unstoppable warriors, brandishing their blades without hesitation and madly slashing at the demons of both Nurgle and Tzeentch.

Wherever the serrated battle axe passed, blood and flesh flew everywhere, and the body of the demon that was hit was instantly torn into countless pieces; every swing of the broadsword brought up a sharp arc, ruthlessly cutting off the enemy's limbs.

On the battlefield, screams and roars were intertwined, and blood fell like rain, soon gathering on the ground to form a winding river of blood.

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Chapter 242 Guilliman rushed forward, and Guilliman fell down

When the Blood God's violent offensive turned the battlefield into a sea of ​​blood, a melodious yet somewhat evil melody quietly sounded, breaking the pure atmosphere of bloody fighting.

This melody, like an invisible hand, gently plucking the heartstrings of every demon on the battlefield, instantly relaxing their tense nerves and replacing them with an indescribable intoxication and joy.

The minions of Slaanesh will also join in this intoxicating revelry.

Xia Lasi Demon Disaster, a being that exudes charm and mystery, leads sixty-six great secret keepers and quietly descends on the battlefield like a ghost in the dark night.

Just like the beginning of every brutal war in the past, the Seekers of Slaanesh were the first to step onto the battlefield, becoming the fearless vanguard.

Their figures appear and disappear in the interweaving of light and shadow, and every movement is full of deadly temptation, which attracts the enemy's attention involuntarily and their minds begin to waver at this moment.

The Heart Chaser, the leader of the elite assault team, shuttles through the smoke of gunpowder with the most exquisite dance steps, wielding the sword in his hand with extremely elegant sword moves. Every slash and every thrust contains endless cunning and splendor.

In order to serve the supreme Lord of Desire, they would do anything to offer the most pleasing and satisfying victory, so that the reputation of Slaanesh would spread across the battlefield along with blood and desire.

Unlike the Blood God's minions who crushed with pure force, they used an invisible force to disintegrate the enemy's will, causing the enemy to willingly go to destruction in confusion and intoxication.

As the followers of Slaanesh disrupted the battlefield in their unique way, a foul smell swept over like a surging wave.

The Gardens of Nurgle were disturbed by the clamor of battle, and from that realm of blight and decay, the Great Unclean Ones stumbled forth with swarms of Nurglings.

The Great Unclean One's huge and bloated body was like a moving mountain of rotten flesh. Every step it took was accompanied by a disgusting puffing sound. Green pus and black blood continuously oozed out of its body, dripping onto the ground and quickly corroding bottomless pits.

The Nurglings are like a group of crazy little beasts. They are short in stature but full of strange power. They hold diseased sticks and serrated knives in their hands, and rush towards the enemy while making sharp and piercing cries.

Anyone who is touched by them, even by a tiny piece of clothing, will quickly be infected with the deadly disease.

At the same time, Tzeentch's magical storm was raging over the battlefield.

The blue-haired and blue-skinned Tzeentch wizard was suspended in mid-air, waving his staff constantly and muttering to himself. Strange runes shot out from the top of the staff, interweaving into a huge magic net in the sky.

Within the magic web, all sorts of bizarre spells slithered like electric snakes, sometimes transforming into blazing black flames, raining down from the sky and reducing vast tracts of land to scorched earth; other times, they condensed into sharp icy spikes, raining down on the enemy like a torrential rain, instantly piercing their bodies. The situation on the battlefield grew increasingly chaotic, as various forces engaged in an endless struggle for their own ends in this battlefield filled with magic, disease, and desire.

……

Emperor's Fantasy.