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

A faint, or rather, immense sorrow enveloped him, not from Angron, but from the Death Guards.

Angron glanced discreetly at the silent Death Guards—sad, very sad, with a helpless rage.

Generally speaking, such intense emotions would make people cry uncontrollably, collapse to the ground, and find it hard to accept reality, but in fact, the Death Guards simply stood there without making any other moves.

If Angron hadn't been able to sense people's emotions, he wouldn't have noticed that the Death Guards were acting strangely.

...Their grief is worthy of mourning.

Angron thought that after Makado's words, those familiar with Hades would naturally—

Malcador?

Angron suddenly realized that Makado didn't seem sad.

The Imperial Regent was enveloped in his golden psychic energy, making it even more difficult for Angron to gauge his emotions, which led Angron to deliberately ignore the old man—

The Lord of Red Sand realized that Makado could detect Angron's probing of others.

Even during this brief visit, Macado showed no sign of sadness, perhaps because he was not familiar with Hades and they were merely nodding acquaintances.

Anglon thought of it, but then, Makado showed emotions similar to "delight" and "amazement".

?

Angron realized something was wrong.

In his brief time with Makado, Angron did not believe that this warlike old man was a callous psychopath who would rejoice at the death of a noble person.

……

Angron remained silent, and the Primarch began to speculate... Was what Macardo had just said really the truth?

The Lord of Red Sand stood behind Makado, squinting as he stared at the old man's back, trying to find out something.

Sensing something, Makado turned his head slightly, and beneath his protective suit and hood, his eyes smiled and looked at Angron with a complicated expression.

Angron instantly withdrew his senses and continued to stare obediently at Fearless.

But deep down, Angron began to mourn for those poor Death Guards who had been deceived.

At the same time, the Lord of Red Sand also learned for the first time what the word "insidious" meant.

Macado took a small step forward, and the flickering, nameless white flame began to dissipate, the flames losing their heat and slowly dissipating in the wind.

Where the white flames scattered, the pale green slime mold began to recede.

Makado clicked his tongue in quiet amazement.

He stood expectantly before Karas Typhon, whose fearless soul had become complete—though not entirely his original soul, as Macardo could see the influence of the subspace within it.

But the subspace at this time was no longer the one they hated.

"how do you feel?"

Macado spoke calmly, leaning on his cane, circling the defiant and fearless vehicle as he examined it.

The fearless machine let out a wail-like sob, like the sound of someone who had just been revived from drowning.

With his neigh, white flames suddenly ignited in the open space between Macado and Dauntless, only to be extinguished again.

A massive scythe lay silently where the flames had just died down. Patterns resembling new leaves climbed the shaft and blade, while shimmering specks of black indicated that the scythe was crafted from black stone.

Blackstone, under different conditions, can either counter psionic energy or amplify it.

Now, this scythe is clearly of the type that enhances psionic power.

Behind Makado, Vox stirred, and Makado spoke.

"explain,"

Vox stared at the familiar scythe.

“My lord, I recognize this scythe. It is Lord Mortarion’s Mistletoe. It was forged by the Lord of Fire Dragons and given to my lord after a joint operation. It was previously displayed in the Primarch’s personal collection room.”

Macado seemed thoughtful. The old man thought for a moment, then laughed incredulously, muttering to himself,

"A smart child."

Makado chuckled to himself, yet felt a pang of irony. He recalled Motalian, the boy who had always been at odds with him.

Mortarion deliberately provoked Makado simply because Makado was a psionicist.

There is no other reason, no other reason whatsoever.

Now, Makado thought that this guy had even ingeniously left himself a physical world anchor, skillfully repairing a fragmented soul and making him his proxy in the physical world. Wasn't that a bit...?

Makado smiled with satisfaction, but then felt mocked.

These two cubs of the Death Guard,

Makado thought,

Each of them is there to antagonize him.

Even so, under the spotlight, Makado remained calm and spoke.

"Then he's alright."

He looked up at Karas, who seemed to have regained his senses.

"What did you see? Tell me."

Macado said that when Callas's hesitant voice rang out, he felt as if he had just woken from a dream.

Makado was used to it; people who had just come out of the warp usually seemed to have an epiphany.

"Fog..."

Callas said, as if asking himself,

"...Motalian...why did you die so easily...no..."

Macado glanced at the mistletoe on the ground.

"not dead."

"...If he dies—"

Callas's voice suddenly stopped.

"not dead?!"

"Motalian is still alive?! That damned psyker! But I saw his empty armor with my own eyes, if he's still—"

Macardo tapped his cane.

“I understand how you feel, but watch your words, psychic.”

Karas paused abruptly. "I am a psionicist," Karas Typhon thought, suddenly realizing what he had just said—a pronoun that Mortalian or Hades would use, not one he would.

"Motalian is still alive,"

Hades might not be dead either, Angron thought to himself.

Makado said,

“And you have proven that, Karas Typhon, your soul is complete—why not try using your psionic abilities again? You have a great talent for them.”

Karaston was stunned, his mind a complete mess. He was still stuck in the fact that Mortarion and Hades were dead, but now the old man was telling him that Mortarion was not dead.

……not dead?

"Then how should we find it—"

Macado tapped his cane impatiently.

"At least we don't have to worry about him too much right now. Perhaps we can try finding a spot where the curtain is weaker,"

The old man recalled several other planets in the Altrama region where the plague had previously broken out.

That's it, Macado thought.

As the old man walked, he planned out his upcoming schedule.

He needed to first ascertain the situation in Mortalian, and then stabilize the region of Altrama—in the absence of long-distance communications, the confederation became especially important.

Then came the waiting, Makado thought, waiting for the moment the warp turbulence subsided, just a moment—or a signpost—to allow passage for the fleets heading to support Cartier and to the dark side of the Empire.

Great

Chapter 448 Karas believed he could go

[Three days later] [On the Resilience]

Vox stared at the Dreadnought in front of him, a familiar model, with the Primarch's mistletoe strapped to its back.

“I will never trust you, Karas Typhon.”

Vox said, staring at the fearless man who had been as lifeless as ever since his return.

"Even if you were chosen by the Primarch, I will not believe you."

Vox gripped his hand tightly; the wound that Macado had inflicted three days earlier throbbed with pain.

"The supreme leader of the Death Guard is Garo."

Vox finished issuing his announcement and stood there, awaiting Karas's response.

"..."

"it is good."

Karas Typhon said his hasty surrender even surprised Walkston.

Vox took a deep breath, as if battling with his own thoughts.

"Karas Typhon,"

His voice softened.

"What exactly did you see, and what did Lord Mortarion say to you?"

Karas remained silent, and in a daze, Vox seemed to think that the Dauntless was trembling.

"...after that day,"

Karas's muffled voice rang out.

“I’ve thought about it a lot, Vox.”

Vox shifted uncomfortably in his feet. He didn't think it was a good start, but for some strange feeling, he continued listening.

"...I am a loser, a traitor."

Karas said,

"Hades was right. He saw through me long ago, before anyone else—long before we first met."

"Barbarus?"

Vox asked in a low voice, and Karas confirmed his question.

"He's right."

Karas Typhon said sullenly,

"If you wish to repent,"

Vox said, "You can speak directly at Lord Hades' grave—but only after the funeral; you can't go out now."

After learning the news from Makado, while waiting for the voyage to retrieve the Primarch,

The Death Guard is preparing to hold a memorial service for Hades—the Death Guard has never had a tradition of mourning the dead, but Hades could be the exception.

They invited Macardo, Angron, and Guilliman; Macardo declined the Death Guard, while the two Primarchs accepted.

"I know,"

Karas Typhon answered, lowering his voice as if not wanting to disturb the memorial service in the hall below deck.

"I just... I just don't understand..."

"I don't understand why Mortarian hasn't shot me yet."

Karas fell silent, his soul trembling before his conscience, burning with the fact that he was a scoundrel. He desperately realized that he was utterly unworthy of such treatment. He was like a reformed scoundrel who had just been released from prison and hoped to serve his parents, only to find that his parents, who were waiting for his release, were already dead.