Forced to die just after becoming invincible in Warhammer?

Outside the window, the cold moonlight struggled to penetrate the thick night, casting a few rays of light onto Fleckles's face, which was full of fatigue and entanglement.

Flex sat at the desk in silence. The candlelight was already flickering, and now it was flickering due to the draft. The light and shadow danced on the wall like a hideous ghost.

The room was eerily quiet, the only sounds being his heavy breathing and the occasional scratching of the pen across the parchment, which were infinitely amplified in the silent night.

The light and shadow swayed on his face, outlining his sunken eye sockets and furrowed brows, making him look haggard.

His faith in God and his devotion to the Lord were like two entangled thorns that strangled his soul and plunged him into endless twists and struggles.

Normally, whenever he stepped out of his room and saw the ordinary people in the streets, Fleckles would be filled with anger.

Looking at those ragged, vulgar-mannered people with faces full of ignorance and numbness, they also imitated others in chanting the name of the White King and stumbling through the so-called "prayer".

"How can such a reverent waste who has no knowledge of the essence of doctrine be worthy of being tainted by the glory of the Lord!" He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, and squeezed out this curse from between his teeth, his chest heaving violently with anger.

In his eyes, these perfunctory actions were a blatant blasphemy against the White King, like dirty spots of mud splashed on the holy white robe.

Until Yuanming's order was as heavy as a mountain and could not be disobeyed in the slightest - he used all his pen and ink to make everyone in the empire convert to the emperor's faith.

So, with reluctance and resistance in his heart, Flex picked up the pen.

The moment the pen tip touched the parchment, he shuddered as if struck by electricity. Every time he wrote a character, it felt like a fine needle piercing his heart. "I am going to weave a hymn for him and the Emperor, and pass on the Lord's faith..."

He muttered to himself, his voice full of sadness and despair.

In order to find a little psychological comfort, he kept finding excuses for this absurd task in his heart: most of the people are ignorant, and the emperor's dazzling achievements can easily lead them to blindly follow. Letting them believe in the emperor can be regarded as finding a "stabilizing force" for the chaotic world; and as for the White King, only a loyal and tested servant like him is qualified and aware to offer pure prayers and bathe in the Lord's secret and great glory.

This kind of self-hypnosis did not completely dispel the haze, and the contradictions still lingered.

Days passed, and his room was filled with manuscripts he had scribbled over. He carefully considered his words, sometimes feeling a brief surge of joy when a brilliant idea struck him, only to be overwhelmed by deep guilt the next moment. The more moving his words were in praising the Emperor, the more he felt like a traitor.

Yuanming was tall and straight, wearing a black robe embroidered with delicate silver thread, faintly outlining the obscure emblem of the White King. He exuded an unquestionable majesty, highlighting his special status as the number one attendant of the White King.

As the most experienced and knowledgeable person in the team, every event in the past kept flashing through his mind like a kaleidoscope.

He had witnessed machines' minds being invaded by blind belief programs, their originally precise and efficient operating logic becoming chaotic and reduced to scrap metal that could only mechanically repeat "respect" commands; he had also seen humans, after being deified and subjected to excessive worship, undergo a drastic change in their character, becoming immersed in vanity and unable to extricate themselves, their former clarity and wisdom turning into paranoia and madness, and they would do anything to maintain their believers and consolidate their so-called "godhood", stirring up bloody storms and causing countless lives to be destroyed.

So he later forced Flecles to spread the emperor's great achievements, and marginalized and made the reverence for the king transparent. He did this to prevent the reverence for the king from becoming an extreme product of power and religious sentiment.

The light in the room was dim, with only a few beams of light squeezing in from the gaps in the window lattice, shining on Yuanming's face, outlining his cold and somewhat helpless expression.

He tightly grasped the list of commanding knights, scanning each line with his sharp eyes, muttering to himself, as if weighing the weight behind each name.

"Hmph, the newly created title of Commanding Knight is obviously a selfish act by the King to dote on his daughter."

Yuanming snorted coldly, with a subtle hint of sourness in his words.

He had the longest seniority and the most distinguished military achievements among the White King's attendants, and he had thought that he was the one who deserved the honor. But now a high-ranking position commanding the knights had appeared, and he felt a little uncomfortable.

Especially when she thought that the title of Commanding Knight was established by the King to prevent the White King's servants from secretly causing trouble for her daughter's legion, she felt even more uncomfortable.

His eyes fell on his own name at the top of the list, and the corners of his mouth rose slightly, revealing a bit of pride, but when he looked down, his face darkened.

"Omiren, a robot specifically designed to fight aliens was manufactured during the Golden Age. It's quite reasonable. It has some real abilities and deserves the title of Anti-Alien Knight."

When mentioning Omiren, a hint of recognition flashed in Yuanming's eyes. After all, his real achievements on the battlefield were there and should not be underestimated.

"Aigosoya, back when you were just a dancing robot, after becoming a human, you spent all day doing those fancy dance steps and humming a few tunes, just to please the king. Who would have thought that you'd now be among the knights, truly soaring to the heights and becoming a phoenix?"

"Look at Belleville, too. He's spent his entire life in logistics, doing repair work. In terms of strength, he's mediocre; in terms of ability, he's nothing special. Yet, the king chose him and selected him to become a Knight Ruler."

Yuanming frowned, seemingly unable to comprehend the situation. "However, this Belleville does have one good point. He is always friendly and has a good attitude. He doesn't have that icky habit of being arrogant. Perhaps the King is attracted by his common sense. But can he be made a Commanding Knight based on this alone?"

"The threshold for becoming a knight is becoming increasingly unpredictable."

In the gorgeous yet somewhat deserted palace, Xi sat quietly on the carved throne, tightly holding the list of commanding knights in his hand, his eyes full of helplessness and fatigue.

She also knew that there were all kinds of people in this world, with different temperaments, but the servants around her showed a polarized attitude, which really gave her a headache.

Looking at the names on the list, Xi couldn't help but sigh slightly.

Yuanming is indeed an outstanding person. He can handle all kinds of difficult problems with ease. For such a talent, it is inevitable to give him a high position. There is no choice.

As for Belleville, although he is just a logistics robot and his abilities are not top-notch, he treats people sincerely and never shows any falsehood. His peaceful state of mind and friendly attitude seem to warm everyone around him, which is rare in this complex environment.

There is also the song Soya, who in her own unique way, uses beautiful songs and dances to passionately sing praises to the courage of mankind. Her praise and recognition of mankind comes from the heart, and it is for this reason that Xi values ​​her so much.

But apart from these few people, the remaining servants, if not for Omiren's outstanding achievements.

Just like Omiren, they are always polite to others, wearing a polite smile on their faces, but behind that smile, there is a deep contempt. In their hearts, except for their own compatriots, everyone else seems to be inferior and not worthy of being treated seriously.

"Why is it so difficult to find squires who are sincere and kind to humanity? This list may seem simple, but in reality, there are many considerations behind each name. However, this is the only way for now. After all, her knights must be of pure character!"

"Strength isn't a problem. At most, I can give you strength and blessings, but it has to come from the heart. Otherwise, if you're just pretending and attract my attention, that's too..."

PS: I sent this to the wrong person, but I can't delete it, and I can't send it again. It should be placed after Chapter 93. I'm sorry, everyone, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Ok, everyone, it's done now.

Chapter 98: Not Taking Vashtor Seriously

Xi leaned lazily on the throne, tapping the armrests with her fingertips from time to time. Recently, she had always felt an indescribable strangeness in her heart, as if a trivial matter had been left in the corner of her memory.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she chuckled, "Oh, by the way, why hasn't Vashtor asked me for the contract fee? No wonder I always feel like I've forgotten something." Her words were full of nonchalance, and it was obvious that she had never taken Vashtor seriously.

At that time, Vastor, the Lord of the Furnace, was like a mortal being held in the palm of the devil's hand, suffering from the torment of purgatory.

His body twisted violently and uncontrollably, as if countless invisible hands were tearing and manipulating it, trying to reshape it into an even more terrifying appearance.

The body of that sub-god of the sub-space was a nightmare incarnate. Its back was like a winding and rugged python, abruptly arched and twisted. The joints of its limbs were reversed and bent at weird angles. The mechanical parts all over its body were like madly growing parasites, piercing and embedding into the flesh without any order. Dark red blood oozed along the edges of the metal and dripped down to the feet. It was a hideous defective product created by Frankenstein's monster that had gone out of control.

And when he moved his body and waved his spider-like mechanical arms, the scene became even more terrifying.

The sharp metal fingertips shone with a cold light, as if they could penetrate everything in an instant; the creaking and friction sounds at the joints were like evil spirits grinding their teeth and wronged souls wailing. The air around them seemed to be cut and shattered by the harsh sound. When others saw this scene from afar, they would break out in cold sweat and their hairs would stand on end.

At that moment, the roar from the heart of the furnace shook his soul like thunder, plunging him into a fierce struggle. A thought repeatedly circled in his mind: Should he go to the Ruler Xi and demand the reward he deserved?

At first, the Lord of the Furnace was full of confidence and thought he had every reason to come and ask for payment.

After all, before the Brass Throne of Khorne and the secrets of its kingship were leaked, he was fully qualified to go and demand it in the name of justice with fanfare.

However, an inappropriate act during the last war became an indelible shadow in his heart.

He once pretended to fight a fierce battle with Kabaha, but in fact he was slacking off and delaying the battle.

Although this behavior was not out of the ordinary compared to the poor performance of other divine armies, a more deadly crisis soon followed.

At that moment, Khorne's Webway exploded.

Between Him and Khorne, the thin piece of paper carrying endless secrets and conspiracies lay there quietly, like a bomb, detonating the tranquility of the entire warp.

The explosion of the Webway was like a breeze blowing by, carrying an indescribable strange power, gently lifting a corner of the paper full of secrets between Him and Khorne.

The secret words written on the paper seemed to come alive, quickly spreading in the void and turning into dazzling rays of light that pierced through the darkness.

The eyes of the gods converged at this moment, their eyes filled with shock, anger and hostility towards Wator.

Vastor's collusion with Khorne, his ambition to improve the Brass Throne, his conspiracy to communicate with Webway Technology... all of this was completely exposed at this moment, as if layers of disguise had been stripped off and nakedly displayed before the gods.

At that moment, the entire warp seemed to have fallen into dead silence. The twists and turns between Khorne and the waves caused by the moment of leakage continued to spread and spread until they reached every corner, allowing every living creature to feel the power of this storm.

At this moment, the Master of the Furnace faces a difficult decision.

If he goes to ask for his reward, he may face severe punishment from Xi, or even suffer the same fate as Khorne; but if he does not go, the chance to become a god will be missed, which is undoubtedly a huge temptation for him and hard to give up.

In the mysterious and profound mind of the Eleventh Primarch, it was as if a fantastical cosmic drama was being performed. The grand scene of the universe's extinction and rebirth slowly emerged behind him, so realistic that people felt as if they were there. Meanwhile, a different and explosive dialogue was being fiercely played out against this dreamlike background.

"So you took the hair of Leman Russ?"

Hui Le's eyes widened, and there seemed to be a flash of lightning in them. The thunder that originally surrounded her quietly seemed to be infected by her words and suddenly became violent, flashing and wandering wildly. The original body's face was full of confusion, and the tone of his voice suddenly rose uncontrollably, and the sharp sound echoed in this strange space.

"If a conflict broke out between Primarchs, it would have been intense. It wouldn't have been just a pluck of hair! Did you two just exchange a few moves like children playing house?"

Leila shrugged helplessly. She saw that under her feet, colorful flowers and fresh green grass were spreading and growing rapidly like lively elves. In the blink of an eye, they formed a small world full of vitality.

She spread her hands and explained calmly, "We didn't fight at all. The circumstances were quite special. I was about to leave when I quickly saw the opportunity, jumped up, and with great effort, I finally pulled myself off Leman Russ."

"Will your next experiment succeed? If not, I will go find Leman Russ and ask him to donate some blood." As Lario spoke, his brows were tightly knitted together, as if he could pinch a fly to death.

Behind her, the steel that was originally scattered in disorder seemed to have come into life. As her emotions changed, it gradually gathered towards one end, making a slight crackling sound, revealing a unique solemnity.

Her eyes were full of worry and seriousness, as if she was guarding some precious treasure. She sincerely hoped that Leila's experiment could go smoothly, even if it took a little longer.

After all, as long as Leila has projects on hand, she won't devote herself to studying the subspace which is as dangerous as the abyss.

In Lario's heart, even if it meant completely breaking off relations with the hot-tempered Leman Russ and causing a huge quarrel, he would never allow Lyra to venture into the warp again to study the muddy waters.

"No, these are just right." Lyra's voice was as clear as a mountain spring, with an unquestionable and confident confidence. "I have already gathered blood wine, Leman Russ's hair, and the heart I have painstakingly designed, modeled after the Primarch's body structure. Now I have everything I need."

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We ask for everything and want everything.

Chapter 99 You have nothing to do here, mother

At this point, she paused slightly, her tone as if ignited by a fire, adding a bit of uncontrollable excitement, even her eyes lit up, "I plan to create an extremely powerful Astartes! Just thinking about it makes me feel amazing."

"Ah, as the Eleventh Primarch, I really don't understand what's going on in your head all day long!"

Lareo snorted coldly, and a trace of helplessness flashed across his stern face, just like a small stone thrown into a calm lake, causing slight ripples.

"In front of the Primarch, the Astartes are just a weakling, unable to withstand even a casual punch from the Primarch."

"No matter how hard you try to transform it, it's still essentially an Astartes. Its power won't make it any significant. Aren't you being a bit naive?"

"Didn't you support me at that time? Why are you pouring cold water on me now?"

Leila grumbled in dissatisfaction, her cheeks puffed up slightly like a puffed-up little goldfish. She looked as if she had suffered a great injustice, and her little mouth looked so swollen that a bottle of oil could be hung there.

Lareo crossed his arms, put on an extremely serious look, and stared straight at Leila with an expression of undeniable seriousness:

"Don't underestimate that cup of blood wine. The energy and value it holds far surpasses that of a single Astartes. Even if you brought an entire Legion of Astartes together, they wouldn't be worth as much as that one cup of blood wine! When you conduct experiments, you can't just focus on the final results. You also have to consider practical issues like cost and whether it's possible to mass-produce it. Otherwise, it's just unrealistic wishful thinking."

Leila nodded thoughtfully, a glint of enlightenment flashing in her eyes, as if the clouds had cleared and the sun had appeared.

"I see. It seems I'll have to consider the cost and feasibility of mass production when conducting experiments in the future."

As she spoke, she subconsciously stroked her chin, her eyes becoming deep, as if she had already begun to silently calculate in her mind.

I was thinking about how to cleverly adjust and optimize the next experiment to achieve the grand goal of creating a super-powerful creation while taking into account the two major problems of cost and mass production mentioned by Lareo.

After saying this, Leila took a step and began to walk in the void.

With every step she took, the void seemed to be cast with magical spells. Countless gorgeous flowers and lush vegetation instantly grew along her footsteps. The vibrant colors and vigorous vitality decorated the originally mysterious and cold void into a beautiful fairyland.

In this mind, the scene arranged by the Primarch with his powerful strength and wonderful ideas is truly breathtakingly beautiful.

Huile and Lario watched Leila quietly, watching her break free from her deep thoughts, her eyes flashing with determination as she regained focus.

They knew very well that this companion, who was also ranked as the eleventh Primarch, possessed extraordinary wisdom and resilience, and could always find the way forward at critical moments.

I just hope she can study anything, but don't study space compression.

She secretly made up her mind that the most urgent thing was to concentrate all her attention and deal with the urgent matters at hand. As for the subsequent complicated matters and unresolved problems, it would not be too late to calm down and think carefully and deal with them calmly after the matters at hand were completed.

Macragge.

"Ms. Euton, there is nothing for you to do here now. Please go back."

Guilliman straightened his back and uttered these cold words with an expressionless face. His stiff tone and indifferent expression made him look like a reckless teenager who was eager to prove that he had grown up and was determined to throw off the protection of adults.

This attitude was like ice, sharp and ruthless, piercing Yudon's heart directly.

But Euden seemed unaware of the chill, and his gaze, filled with love and concern, caressed Guilliman carefully:

"My dear Robert, look at you all day. You've been so busy that you haven't even had time to eat. I'm leaving soon, so remember to eat."

Others may not understand, but she, his adoptive mother, knows it best. Once Guilliman gets absorbed in his work, he becomes like a possessed man. No one can persuade him, and only her gentle words can bring the child back to his senses.

She gently placed the steaming milk and still warm eggs on the corner of the table, then turned quietly and walked towards the door with light steps.

Just as he was about to cross the threshold, Guilliman's voice suddenly rang out from behind him, sounding somewhat annoyed: "Mother... Lady Euden... I... am sorry. I shouldn't have been so rude just now."

He paused, and the word "mother" that was about to slip out of his mouth was finally bitten between his lips and teeth.

Ever since he grew up rapidly and became much taller than his adoptive father, he never said the word "mother" again.

"Ms. Euton" became the name he always called her. In his narrow and stubborn cognition, this was a symbol of declaring maturity and bidding farewell to the immature and dependent past.

"Rest well, Robert. Even if the business is urgent, don't go on an empty stomach."

Yuton's instructions drifted slowly in the air, and the person had long disappeared, but the light and rising tone of his voice was like a spring breeze, warming the heart.

In her heart, ripples of joy appeared because of the word "Mother" that Guilliman almost called out.

After all, no mother would really be annoyed with her own child or dislike her own child.

Lady Euton's figure quietly disappeared at the door, and the room was so quiet that only the sound of Guilliman's light breathing remained.