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

Death Guard

puppets

low-level monsters

ordinary villagers

Chapter 16 Psionic Power? I'll fight psionic power!

Barbaros, southern swamp, Diderot Mountains.

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The alien lord Dursley was standing beside the experimental table, deep in thought, as his transformation experiment had suddenly failed.

On the experimental table, seemingly haphazardly cut pieces of the corpse were quietly arranged in a certain order, crudely sewn together with thick, black hemp thread. Some yellowish-black pus was slowly flowing from the wounds.

Yes, Lord Dursley is creating a high-level puppet. Generally speaking, whether low-level or high-level, puppets are pieced together from the corpses of strong lower-class people. The only difference may be the different psionic spells cast on them.

The sorcery of creating high-level golems is extremely energy-intensive. Given Dursley's level, creating a high-level golem would leave him weakened for a period of time.

But if it were Barbalus's true master, the Great Lord Nacre, that guy could instantly create a dozen high-level puppets with a wave of his hand.

Although the Dursleys could also create a dozen or so low-level puppets with a wave of their hands, the gap between low-level and high-level puppets was insurmountable.

These mass-produced low-level puppets can only fight, unlike the high-level puppets which can organize tactics, use simple psionic powers, and command lower-level puppets.

Moreover, the combat power of a high-level puppet is several times that of a low-level puppet.

Before this, Lord Dursley had always adhered to the principle of focusing on quantity over quality, believing that as long as he had enough low-level puppets, he could overwhelm a single high-level puppet on the other side.

Yes, the lords in the south prefer to make simple puppets, and some also tame other monsters, but only those lords with enough territory have other options besides puppets.

For example, Dursley, after overwhelming several minor lords in the vicinity with sheer numbers, started keeping a large number of dirty hounds.

But now, none of it matters.

Dursley thought through gritted teeth that ever since the arrival of the Death Guard from the north, and the arrival of that scythe-wielding monster that roamed the nights, the harvest at the bottom had become increasingly difficult.

At first, they just thought that taking over the village at night would be a bit more complicated.

In fact, initially, Typhon and his Death Guard actively organized nighttime protection efforts in various villages.

.

But they all overlooked the creature that, like them, was wandering in the poisonous fog.

What happened?! That guy was clearly from the lower class, and unlike Karastifon, he wasn't a half-blood with psionic powers. He was just a tall, strong lower-class guy! How did he manage to kill those minor lords?

None of the lords knew that the person involved was already dead.

The man, carrying a scythe, appeared silently in the poisonous fog and then severed the heads of the alien lords who had come down from the mountain to hunt.

Dursley was somewhat relieved that he never went down the mountain to hunt, but his slave-hunting team suffered heavy losses, with nearly a hundred puppets dying in several hunts down the mountain.

—No, it won't. If it comes down the mountain, it will definitely kill that damned bastard.

That lowly, underprivileged class!

That being said, the alien lord Dursley has remained quietly in his territory ever since.

News of alien lords being killed in their territories kept coming out.

It's impossible not to be nervous.

However, the path to the lower reaches of the mountain to hunt slaves was blocked, and no matter how many slave-catching teams went down the mountain, they were all killed.

Without the raw materials to manufacture puppets, Dursley could no longer continue its mass production strategy.

So Lord Dursley had no choice but to bite the bullet and try to create advanced golems.

But his first attempt just failed.

It felt like my connection with the High Heavens had been suddenly severed.

Dursley stood deep in thought beside the lab bench, while other experimental instruments operated elsewhere in the room, the steam engine humming and the robotic arms creaking and turning.

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows at the doorway, its face blurred beneath the gas mask, making it difficult to discern its true features.

The shadow was about three meters away from Dursley, while Lord Dursley remained standing by the lab table, oblivious to his surroundings and with his back to the door.

Lord Dursley knew that if there had been an attack, his puppets and filthy hounds would have already begun to stir.

However, it miscalculated—

—In an instant, it felt as if someone had suddenly grabbed my throat and choked me. Everything went black before my eyes, as if the connection between my soul and body had suddenly been severed!

The figure at the doorway suddenly sprang up! It drew its knife and slashed straight at the creature's face!

Dursley instinctively raised his hand to block, while simultaneously using his other hand to unleash his most common explosive magic!

"what!!!!"

The hand that attempted to use witchcraft instantly exploded, while the scythe changed angle, bypassed the block, and went straight for his internal organs!

The curved blade of the scythe skillfully avoided the obstruction, and the tip sliced ​​through Dursley's massive, bloated body as easily as slicing through tofu.

The blade probed further in, revealing a string of blood-red organs hanging like plump grapes, which fell out with the fall of the sickle!

"you!"

Dursley stared intently at the uninvited guest, and in the last second of its life, it saw the ghost.

Compared to the others on the lower rungs, he stood tall and imposing, clad in a dark leather protective suit. Above his gas mask and beneath the hood were a pair of deep, soulless black eyes that seemed to devour everything!

This is a cursed ghost!

Those dark eyes stared at it without any emotion, then raised the knife and slashed again.

The knife rises and the head falls.

Today is a good day.

Hades thought to himself smugly, "The assassination was a success. I ran into a fool."

It seemed the alien lord was already dead, but Hades, not satisfied, stabbed it a few more times.

He then looked at the things on the lab table with some disgust; body parts were scattered haphazardly on it, and corpse oil was spilled all over the floor.

grass.

Hades didn't bother with the corpses first. Now that the lord was dead, the puppets should have sensed the change in psionic energy and should be fleeing.

Hades quickly ran up the route he had just explored, and he reached the top of the city wall in a hurry.

Several puppets were running frantically on the castle rooftop, but Hades quickly granted them mercy.

Then he looked toward the edge, where several cannons stood prominently.

Unlike the medieval cannons you might imagine, the weapons here are all electronically modified – “they look like medieval cannons,” “they function like medieval cannons,” “they fire cannonballs like medieval cannons, only with greater power,” but they are “modified cannons that are not medieval cannons.”

Hades ran over and looked out through the observation port. The earliest fleeing puppets were clearly close to where he had planted the mines.

Hades adjusted the cannons and aimed them at the Dursleys' shed where they kept their filthy hounds. Affected by the commotion, several hounds had broken free of their chains and escaped.

Do not worry about it.

Hades lit the cannon, then quickly ran away, stopping five meters away.

If he had stood still, Hades would have bet that the cannon would either have stopped firing or exploded.

Several cannons were lit one after another, and Hades followed suit, blowing up the hound house and then the puppet group.

—The landmines buried in the distance also started to explode.

The scattered puppets had completely lost the will to escape; these corpses, imbued with witchcraft, only had the desire to kill and torture.

Amidst countless deafening and dazzling explosions, Hades leaped down from the fortress and wielded his sword to reap the rewards.

There was a time when he watched Mortarion ruthlessly harvest the puppets.

Now is the time for him to unleash his killing spree!

The second spirit is on fire!

What's the first thing to do after the battle in Chapter 17?

What's the first thing to do after a battle?

It's about looting.

Hades said so.

.

Barbaros, southern swamp, Diderot Mountains.

Hades hummed a little tune as he leisurely flipped through the bookshelves of the small-to-medium-sized lord Dursley. The bookshelves were filled with various steam-powered mechanical drawings, experimental records, and some ancient Barbarus books—most of which were related to psionic energy.

Hades thought to himself, "I'm lucky." He gazed at the thick stack of steam-powered mechanical drawings.

In fact, Dursley had far more steam-powered mechanical drawings than most of the minor lords he had previously fought.

These brutal, rude, and cunning aliens mostly rely on their psionic magic to dominate their territory. Apart from essential steam vehicles and anti-gas equipment, few lords would actively collect and research steam-based electronic machinery.

The lords on Barbarossa all focused on sorcery and psychic ascension, and didn't invest much in mechanics.

Of course, aside from the high-ranking Lord Nacre, who has an off-the-charts stat line, this guy has maxed out all his stats.

Sigh, is this what it means to be a little willful?

Hades thought silently, but his hands didn't slow down at all as he continued to look through and categorize the drawings.

Although Hades cannot touch machinery now—it kills him instantly—he believes that one day he will be able to compress the Dark Domain below his own body surface.

That way he can touch the machinery!

(He's such a little genius.)

Damn, this kind of super-powerful machine is the epitome of a man's romance!

In this Warhammer world, what's the point of life if you can't even touch a chainsword, a bomb gun, or a molten lava gun?!

No!

Hades revered machinery; a factory could produce in a few hours the Thermomelis gun, instantly equipping soldiers with 75 attack points, while a Space Marine required over a decade to train and reach 200 attack points.

No matter how you look at it, it's definitely the value of a hot melt gun!

Technology is power!

This is the faith of a simple engineering student from Earth 2K.

So you converted to the Omnipotent God, cough cough, no, no.

After sorting through the mechanical drawings, Hades turned to look at other instruments in the laboratory.

Hmm. A venom extraction machine, from which dark purple venom is dripping out drop by drop; two connected instruments, their purpose unknown, likely related to psionic energy; a skinning machine, on which hangs a human skin, peeled off some time ago, to dry.

Damn it, those bastard alien things.

After looking around, Hades determined that there were no instruments he could continue to use, or instruments that could be disassembled for materials.

(Yes, he had disassembled a bunch of instruments just to get the parts; these oddly shaped parts were jingling in his pockets.)

Then he walked towards the alien lord's corpse beside the experimental table. Hades drew a dagger from his waist and began—

Peel.

Yes, peel.

The aliens on Barbarossa can resist these pervasive poisonous gases, partly because they have evolved skin that can protect them from them.

Hades planned to skin them and sew several Hades-themed special protective suits.

Currently, the main way the resistance led by Mortarion is to resist these poison gases is by making armor similar to closed suits.

Mortarion absolutely could not stand Hades's practice of skinning people alive, but Hades knew what he wanted.

Those suits of armor wouldn't be able to protect against this poison gas, unless it's a high-tech power armor like that of Space Marines.

It's obvious that the craftsmen at Barbarus can't achieve that level of skill with their work.

But it doesn't matter, as long as Hades knows how to resist the poisonous gas on the highest peak.