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

Mortarian crouched down, gently picked up the young man lying on the ground, and then stood up again, holding a sickle in one hand.

"Thank you for your question, Hades."

Mortarian looked at Hades, his eyes unreadable.

He chose the people, and from beginning to end, he only chose this one option.

Hades stood there, looking back at Mortarian, but in his eyes, Mortarian showed no suspicion or malice.

All I felt was anxiety and worry.

Mortarian spoke,

"But you shouldn't doubt me."

You've changed a lot in the past few years.

"Let's go back to the base and stop fighting aliens in the wild all the time."

Mortarian didn't believe Hades distrusted him anymore; he simply exuded a newfound composure and maturity. The familiar feelings Mortarian had before remained unchanged.

(For example, making inappropriate jokes, and still having a penchant for doing silly things.)

Hades' question will not become a reality; such a choice will not exist in reality.

It serves no purpose other than causing inner turmoil.

Perhaps Hades was being overly pessimistic; being alone in the dangerous wilderness all the time could indeed make one feel that the future was bleak.

Unfortunately, the people in the stronghold all disliked Hades because of his constitution.

I should pay more attention to my friends, but I'll wait until after I kill Nacre.

.

Compared to Typhon, a loyal and outspoken partner who often offered frank advice, Hades was more like a somewhat unreliable crony to Mortalian.

For example, he often chatted with Mortarion, even though Mortarion himself was not familiar with this way of killing time.

.

The young man was about to wake up, so Mortarian had to take him to a safe village before he did.

Mortarian prepared to leave, turning to face Hades, signaling Hades to end his conversation.

Hades was slightly shocked.

Just now, Mortalian was concerned about me?!

Holy crap, bro, you just held a knife to my neck, didn't you?!

So now there's only one possibility—that is, Hades has earned enough favor with Mortarion!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh!!!

Hades wanted to throw away his scythe on the spot, raise his arms high, and shout, "I did it! I've earned enough favor points!"

Before I was young, before Mortarian became the stronghold commander, those persistent feedings, those battles fought together, and those occasional dry jokes.

Finally, they had earned enough favor with Mortalian.

Furthermore, Hades also wanted to kneel down and pound his fists, yelling, "Oh, holy crap!"

—After all, in both his past and present lives, the number of people who care about the otaku Hades can be counted on one hand!

Ahem, these are all imagined by the brain regions responsible for Hades's unconventional thinking.

Meanwhile, the brain regions responsible for normal life are still thinking intensely.

The conversation had clearly ended, and Hades was unsure of how far Mortalian had come to consider his questions.

But his initial goal had been achieved: to lay a warning for Mortarian.

But he didn't know if Mortarian could figure out Hades' true intentions on his own.

After all, the plot of a powerful man suddenly appearing out of nowhere in the original work is indeed a bit beyond human imagination.

As for what Motalian will ultimately decide?

That was something Hades couldn't do.

Sigh, other transmigrators either have cheat codes or use systems to cheat.

Hades himself is the only one who doesn't even know the plot and can't think too much about it. He usually just slays small fry and can't even beat a single named character in the story.

Thank you, this fucking Warhammer world.

Hades shrugged and slowly walked to the edge of the road.

"Goodbye, Death. I will. I'll go back once I've finished packing."

Mortarian nodded.

"Let's go back to the north; the fighting in the south is almost over."

Hades scratched his head and laughed.

"Okay, I'll go back! I'll help you fight the Nacre!!!"

Hades made way and watched Mortarion leave with Vox.

.

When Mortarian reached the village's restricted area, Hades' presence behind him suddenly disappeared.

[In the subspace]

The Nurgle sprites leaped and hopped on their fleshy, rotten, pus-filled lumps, which were their favorite playground.

At the limit of the endless garden, on the edge where the flowers of flesh and blood gradually wither, and the decaying grass and flies no longer flutter, on the other side where life and death both seem too far away—

The hoarse cry of a bird suddenly erupted, traversing time and space, cutting through life and death, and the ever-changing gale broke through, cracking open the eternally stagnant waves.

He raised the spoon that He was still stirring, swung his short arm, and waved it in that direction, the thick saliva reluctantly dripping into the boiling, endless pot of soup.

"Get out of the way! Get out of the way! He's mine!!! He's with me!!"

The birdsong echoed unwillingly, lingering for a long time.

"Annoying guy."

He muttered.

Holy crap, Mortalian, please, just switch genders!

Oh, by the way, this story has no female lead; I don't do the Slut-like trope.

Also, please don't have too high expectations for this book. I'm a newbie (;Д｀). It's good that everyone is so interested in this book, but the author is very worried (;Д｀). Essentially, the protagonist is still a bit of a Mary Sue, and this book is quite different from the current mainstream Warhammer fanfiction. Have you ever seen a serious Warhammer novel where the protagonist has comedic attributes? _(:з」∠)_ (pointing and gesturing.jpg)

Chapter 22 Wheel of Fortune

In the vast Warhammer universe, a tiny planet floats silently. From the distance, it appears as a blurry, yellowish-green planet—Barbarus.

In the trajectory of this world, there exist countless ordinary, endless individuals—

They are born into this world, struggle to live, and then die silently.

They do not know why they were born, nor why they will die.

Yet, clinging to life, obsessed with life, greedy for life—the taste of life, struggling to live, unwilling to die.

Just like humans in countless other worlds.

Perhaps the humans on Barbalus are better or worse than humans in other worlds?

But regardless, centuries of living have long since made these humans, whose average lifespan is less than twenty sidereal years, accustomed to it.

Life is a kind of inertia. People are busy going around in circles with their own inertia. In their brains, which they are not aware of, inertia is the law. Maintaining inertia is maintaining life and surviving.

Like silent livestock whose vocal cords have been corroded by poisonous fog, they toil day after day on the barren land of Barbaros, living day after day in eternal oppression and fear.

Perhaps, one day, thousands of years from now, one of them will erupt from this oppression, become enraged by this fear, rise up in rebellion, grab a knife, and confront the tyrant's oppression!

—But in any case, he certainly failed.

The creatures that made the changes are long gone, but human history on the planet continues on its predetermined trajectory, driven by inertia.

This planet silently revolves around its star, the god of fate silent, wordless, and without action.

Until the arrival of that nursery pod that fell from the sky.

Until the Lord of Death descended from the high mountain where poisonous fog never dissipated.

The gears of fate, which had been completely stagnant and endlessly repeating themselves for thousands of years, received instructions from the supreme god. The loose and decaying gears began to close, and the ashes-covered machine began to operate, with gears clattering and turning slowly.

—The carefully crafted destiny has begun to turn.

The protagonist is a distinguished guest from outer space, while the supporting characters are slaves who have been repeating the same script for thousands of years.

He happily simmered his wonderful broth, everything was ready, and all things were complete.

Seven meticulous compilations, seven heartfelt blessings, the simmering of seven ingredients, and seven centuries of preparation.

Seven blessings, seven curses, seven destinies—the rich broth has already released its captivating flavor.

All things decay, but all living things are immortal.

The merciful father had long prepared everything for his beloved son, and He looked upon His one and only son.

In the eternal and unchanging great garden of the loving Father, a place has long been reserved for His beloved child!

On the most beautiful, richest, most enchanting, and most comfortable fertile land of that great garden, on the most lovely, warmest, most comfortable, and most pleasant wilderness that can be seen from the window of that loving father's manor—

Bloody sores are tirelessly licked by industrious carrion flies, thick phlegm and rotten scars are reluctantly donated by adorable wasps, calamities and withered bones stand amidst foul-smelling slime, and nauseating rotten flesh is transformed into soft, warm ground.

The filthy spirits chirped merrily on the branches, the Great Impurity emerged offering its treasured possessions, scabbards squeaked, rotting flies buzzed, and plague toads gleefully praised their grandfather's mercy in their pus!

What a warm and loving family! Every member is nervously and excitedly preparing a warm and comfortable home for the child who is about to arrive. When he arrives, countless filth will sprout from the ground under the loving father's command, and endless festering sores will rise from the ground under the loving father's gaze. The child's favorite home will be presented to him in its entirety.

That child, that poor child who hasn't yet found his loving father's embrace, he will love it here, he will praise everything!

Oh, what a great and loving father! What a great and loving father!

All life in the great garden couldn't help but smile at the thought of this soon-to-be-born darling—that lucky child! They silently offered their blessings in their hearts.

however.

however.

however.

An uninvited guest has boarded the stage of repetitive stagnation.

The audience members who had come from afar applauded before the loving father.

The loving father, engrossed in brewing the broth of destiny, neglected those subtle enough changes to allow the most insignificant ones to begin accumulating.

He neglected it.

Unexpected changes and unexpected changes came upon Him at the same time; the former was too minor, and the latter too troublesome.

No! His child will be His! Mortarion, His beloved! You cannot take him away!

The loving father waved his arm to drive away the annoying fellow from afar, while the Nurgle Spirit busily tossed suitable ingredients into the soup pot.

The loving father grumbled as he dealt with His old enemy, which once again helplessly drew His attention.

The visitor from outside the world thus had a chance to catch his breath as his loving father glanced through the gaps in the room.

The Lord of Change is screaming, repeating himself countless times; the script everyone sees is about to end!

Change, change, change—unfathomable changes from beyond the world!

Ninefold transformation, ninefold subversion, ninefold irony—the threads of fate weave an endless cycle!

Let go of those fascinating and amazing past, present, and future!

Change itself is a reward, change itself is a purpose, and the changes of change condense infinite mysteries. All things in the world follow rules, and rules are inherently a contempt for and constraint of all of this!

He saw this wonderful change; the chaotic and uncertain time of the subspace revealed to Him endless variations, detached from the mystery of the world itself.

The arrogant shriek pierced through everything, the ecstatic shriek disturbed everything!

He shrieked, and the labyrinth of endless changes began to dance once more, imprisoning and trapping the creatures within, who were lost within, as they once again embarked on an endless escape.

Break the rules, manipulate fate, and provoke the world.