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

Death, please allow me to be merciful to myself.

Mortarian stood in the command room, burning with rage.

Were those cruisers patrolling around the Endurance just for show?!

The sudden appearance of a strange enemy ship, with its familiar flagship structure, cast an ominous premonition over the place.

The pale green vegetation clinging to the enemy ships, covered in a dense layer of slime...

The scene in the illusion reappeared

The enemy fleet is still accelerating; there's no time left—

The most important priority is to ensure the Endurance.

"Perseverance, turn around and show the bow to the enemy."

"Maximum Void Shield, Gravity Field".

There's no time to speed it up.

"Fleet regroup, End of the World and My Deceased Daughter, move to the enemy ship's attack route, sine wave against the enemy, maximum power Void Shield, maximum engine power."

"Cruiser, charge towards the other side!"

Since the other side has chosen to abandon its outer ships to ensure its attack, then similarly, it can also choose to abandon its own ships.

[Motalian] laughed, "My past self, are you still using such outdated methods?"

A straight, blinding explosion erupted within the densely packed fleet, shattering countless ships, but also successfully slowing down this sharp spear aimed straight at the heart of the Death Guard.

however--

"The distance is enough."

[Motalian] murmured.

Even if there is a disparity in troop strength, it doesn't matter; plague and disease will cause the Death Guard to choose the master they wish to follow.

Psychic energy explodes!

The empty hall was left with only the sudden drop in temperature and frost.

Green and fleshy, like tumors, spread through the corridors of the Endurance's lower decks.

One by one, the lights went out, their final buzzing echoing through the corridor.

The fog began to spread.

No one is immune.

The mortal crew member vomited and collapsed, then transformed into flesh and blood that grew in the corridor.

A lamp shines in the mist, its eerie green glow filtering through the fog.

He saw it.

With every step he takes, [Motalian] can see his unique past.

Hades?

Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

A withered smile bloomed beneath the mask.

Do you still think anyone will trust you?

Do you still think you can trust others?

Nobody really wants to stand next to you, Mortarian; you don't deserve to be chosen.

Except for your loving father, they have all abandoned you.

They only crave your power, they only covet your wealth. Betrayal is your inherent tragedy; the more you trust, the more painful it becomes.

[Calathiphon], he chewed on the name, but his [Calathiphon] was no longer Calathiphon; he had become Typhon, and after betraying [Motalian], he received his reward.

After betraying him!

After he and his legion were sacrificed!

Mortarian!

Even [Karas] will turn his back on you, so what are you expecting!

What a weakling.

It's just a different traitor.

He will betray you, I swear.

[Motalian] will seize the next traitor and then make another version of himself taste the poison called betrayal.

The bells rang, their long echoes reverberating in the darkness of the Endurance's lower levels, and the plague descended upon him.

Mortarion gripped the Deathbringer tightly. The towering Primarch stood in the most spacious hall of the Endurance, with countless Terran veterans clad in their armor behind him.

The area, which had been destroyed in advance to stop the enemy's advance, was engulfed in flames.

He saw it. That was it—

[future]

A body ravaged by plague, a cursed, swollen, pale body, slime seeping from the gaps in the power armor, and eerie, tattered wings extending from its back.

Is that him?

What about the fallen self?

Mortalian felt a tightening in his chest, a faint, foul odor seemed to permeate the air, and the desolate touch of the war scythe began to fade.

"Motalian?"

"Motalian, if we take a light cruiser now, we can still escape, right?"

The familiar voice and the still strange suggestion pulled Mortalian back to his senses.

He took a deep breath,

"No, this is fate. I realize it. We are destined to fight."

Wearing Terminator armor, now dressed in a death shroud, Hades blinked. "Is it too late for him to run now?"

However, an unfounded malice was staring at him.

There should be more... extra chapters later, and it'll probably be updated weekly.

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Chapter 91 Extra 42: So your name is Mortarian?!

Darkness, like slime mold, climbed the corridor, breathing and corroding the tunnel.

A thick, pungent fog filled the air, and a bell that should never have been heard on the Endurance rang out, echoing through the narrow, dark corridor.

The humid, warm environment allows fungi and viruses to spread and grow rustlingly.

Shiny beetles and plump black flies huddled together, swarming and bumping about in the gaps of the corridor.

Sometimes, a piercing scream breaks the silence, but is quickly swallowed up by the darkness.

The muffled explosions rang out intermittently; they were tunnel bombs that had been planted beforehand.

Mortarian gripped the handle of the scythe of annihilation.

The first to arrive at the battlefield was a corroded crew member, either alive or already dead.

The loose, pale green skin detached from beneath his reddish-yellow muscles, falling like liquid and splattering onto the ground.

His eyeballs, like plump, soft worms, peeked out from his eye sockets, the front part clear and the back part cloudy.

A strange three-ring mark was branded on his forehead, a symbol of a loving father's caresses.

Upon seeing the fully armed Mortarion and Death Guard, the crew member drooled.

Liquid welled up from his eyes, wetting the worms.

The gun's whine was deafening, the air thick with the smell of burning fuel, and after a burst of flames, the battlefield returned to its desolate state.

But [they] have already found them.

Mortarian let out a sigh-like breath, as if mourning the death of his crew, or perhaps ordering everyone to be on guard.

The war began when the first plague warrior arrived.

The fierce hail of bullets immediately tore apart the first batch of enemies who arrived at the front line, and bits of flesh burst out along with pus, spreading across the deck.

In the long, narrow corridor leading to the hall, countless plague warriors poured in, seemingly tireless and fearless.

They just wanted to get here.

The stench of flesh and blood gradually accumulated, and the corpses of the plague warriors became excellent cover. The enemy troops in the corridor continued to advance, and the stench and fog soon enveloped the area they occupied.

Soon, the corpses of the plague warriors had piled up at the entrance of the hall, and a pale mist enveloped the area, obscuring the view to the other side.

But this time, not a single plague warrior emerged from the fog.

Mortarian took a deep breath.

They are waiting.

The bell rang again.

A dim, pale light emerged from the fog, revealing a tall figure—

"boom!!!"

Mortalian pressed the switch on the bomb hidden on the other side of the corridor wall!

The massive bombs severed the corridor!

This is a one-way road. Destroying it means that the enemy at the stern of the ship cannot come to the rescue immediately. The bait has now been taken!

However, as the smoke from the explosion dissipated, the figure slowly emerged from the fog.

[You don't actually think this can stop me, do you?]

[Motalian] stepped out of the mist, with seven death shrouds hovering around him.

Mortarian's pupils shrank rapidly—

That's him, that's him.

he himself.

The swollen body, like a white corpse soaked in water, was hidden between seemingly shaky armor.

Pus oozed from the gaps in the armor, and pale, flabby flesh squeezed between them, like a balloon filled with mucus.

Poisonous gas enveloped [him], and the breathing tube was inserted directly into his mouth and nose, growing together with his flesh and blood, rising and falling slowly.

Yellowish saliva mixed with small pieces of meat hung between his intricate respiratory tracts, like a spider web.

His eyes were hazy white, with mist drifting within them.

The moth folded its large wings, hiding them behind [him].

The pungent stench wafted past his breathing mask and struck his very soul; Mortarian felt his stomach acid rising.

That's him.

He will become that way.

Mortarian felt a wave of dizziness. Hades, who was beside him, realized something was wrong and immediately touched him with his scythe.

It wasn't just Mortarion; Hades sensed that something was wrong with the entire Deathguard after Mortarion's appearance!

A deathly silence enveloped them.

No!

Hades blinked and activated the obituary; the chainsaw roared, seemingly pulling some people back to their senses.

[Motalian]'s contemplation was also interrupted by him.

He looked away from his own weakness.