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

A calm voice from the Imperial Guard rang out as he drew his halberd and aimed it at the dying Hades' head.

There was a brief pause.

The Imperial Guard seemed to be signaling to their master whether they should eliminate this uncontrollable factor, as they had done in the past.

"Do not."

"Take him back for treatment."

One more chapter to go, and the Barbarus chapter will be finished!

(* / \ *)

Happy reading! ('ω')

Chapter 35, Part I? ? Subspace Chess and Card Room?

Subspace, a card and chess room?

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It seems like I just randomly picked a piece of pure black space, the height of which I don't know, the depth of which I don't know, the width of which I don't know, and the breadth of which I don't know.

A floor made of black and white squares, reminiscent of a stereotypical card room, stands out starkly in this space.

A white light swayed and hung down from the black space above, its bright white light casting a monotonous glow on a circular area.

On the black and white checkered floor, there was a simple brownish-red four-legged round table, neatly covered with a black velvet tablecloth. On the tablecloth were countless chess pieces of all sizes, arranged in neat rows.

No one moves the pieces, yet they move on their own, each piece changing position on the board according to its own rules.

Every second, countless pieces disappear, and every second, countless pieces appear.

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Originally, this space was quiet.

But suddenly, as if in the blink of an eye, five figures were already sitting around the small table.

A large-bellied figure, with yellowish-green pus gushing incessantly from His belly, His chair, made of sturdy vines, half of which was vibrant with life, fleshy flowers joyfully exuding pus and sewage.

The other half withered and died, with nothing but death and silence clinging to the vines.

But if someone were to observe closely, they would see that the two sides of the chair were constantly changing; one second it was a dead half, and the next it was full of life.

His pus splattered on the round table, and the foul-smelling liquid soaked the nearby tablecloth.

But the others at the table seemed oblivious to this disrespectful scene.

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A constantly flickering and changing form "sits" on a crystal chair that is also constantly changing. One moment tentacles extend from its body, but the next moment they turn into sharp beaks of birds, chirping and screeching.

The only constant was the blue light, sometimes bright, sometimes dim, sometimes deep, sometimes light.

The crystal chair is constantly changing, shimmering with bizarre and wonderful light. Its shape sometimes becomes so strange that it can hardly be called a chair, but He who sits on it can always find a suitable posture and "sit" on this chair.

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The angry red light roared, and the chair, made of countless skulls and plated with brass, looked rather simple compared to the seats of the others.

But He liked it very much.

Beside the chair, a battle axe, embodying a violent aesthetic, was cleaved into the floor.

Countless drops of blood gushed from the gaps in the skull. Slaughter, destruction, beheading, and battle—He, who governs justice and tyranny, roared out angry words at all times.

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Beside Him sat a graceful figure that was constantly writhing. A strange, shimmering purple light flickered on His scales, both perfect and eerie. He hummed and chanted softly, his serpentine body coiled around the chair. Every now and then, a part of his tail would suddenly tighten or relax, accompanied by a distinct and abrupt hum.

The chair beneath him was an exquisite work of art, with patterns that countless artists could only imagine in their entire lives etched upon it—perfect and captivating.

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These four occupy most of the round table, and the green juice, blue light, blood, and lust of their territory seep from their seats, slowly permeating the black velvet tablecloth and gradually corroding the chess pieces on it.

Compared to the other four who were quite carefree, the last one occupied the smallest space on the round table.

But this cannot obscure his nobility.

He was dressed in a white robe, pure white and without any embellishment. Underneath the simple linen was the most perfect, muscular body imaginable, with powerful muscles that conformed to aesthetics.

Although he was clearly ignored by the four people at the table, occupying the smallest space, which could even be described as cramped, he still sat calmly, the gold chair gleaming discreetly.

On the round table, under the white light, above the chessboard, there were twenty-one chess pieces that stood out prominently from the rest of the myriad beings. Their intricately carved patterns shone without being illuminated, attracting the attention of the four players.

However, most of the exquisite pieces have been acquired by the least noticeable player, and the four gods shook their heads and blinked in dissatisfaction.

Greedy people must pay the price.

A contract is not the same as a rule; breaking a contract requires punishment from them.

However, the chessboard is ever-changing, and the time is not yet right; the story has not yet reached its climax.

On the table, near death and corruption, a delicately carved chess piece holding a sickle stands proudly, moving slightly according to its own rules.

Beside it, the benevolent father placed a rotting alien chess piece, and the two began to fight each other from the very beginning. The small but exquisite duel kept making the benevolent father laugh.

But, at some point, the smallest piece near them suddenly grew larger, which, of course, did not escape the notice of the gods.

At first glance, this piece looks just like the other smallest pieces; it's simply an ordinary piece with nothing particularly appealing.

But if you look a little closer, you'll notice a black spot on it.

Are they untouchables? These blackened chess pieces have always been despised by the gods.

But if you look closely, the black dot on that chess piece is actually a tiny hole.

The deep hole leads to who-knows-where; the tiny dot seems to connect to another infinitely vast and boundless space.

Nurgle muttered something; as the ruler of stagnation, he had never liked these little guys who appeared from time to time.

They occur very infrequently and are often confused with each other.

According to the tacit agreement of the gods, these little creatures that might threaten the entire world should be eliminated directly.

What's more, this annoying fellow is right next to His favorite piece.

He began to rearrange the pieces, but a conflict arose at the far end of the chessboard, at the boundary with the Lord of Change.

Annoying guy.

Nurgle, who rules over stagnation, and Tzeentch, who rules over change, are mortal enemies and they often clash.

While Nurgle and Tzeentch were locked in their battle, the Lord of Man continued to calmly advance his pieces.

Finally, he arrived.

The exquisite chess piece wielding a sickle and the inconspicuous little chess piece appeared in his hand at the same time.

He did not erase the small chess piece immediately.

"Oh—no way?"

Slaanesh twisted his body dramatically, his face contorted, as if making the most exaggerated expression he could imagine.

"Are you going to change those little agreements between us?"

"You can't keep resorting to these petty tricks!!! It doesn't do anything good for the world!!"

The red figure erupted in fury.

The blue figure let out a wild, shrill scream.

"See? I'm not the first to change the agreement!"

"but."

A glint of wisdom and cunning flashed in his eyes.

“If you insist on doing this, then we can change the agreement.”

"You clearly just want to play around. Have you forgotten what happened back then?"

Nurgle glared at Tzeentch, that damned Bluebird.

"Exactly! It's clearly you who wants to play! It's always you?!"

Slaanesh winked at Tengachi. He wasn't averse to these little tricks, even though they were dangerous, because they brought him a unique kind of pleasure.

"We wouldn't stoop to such boring and risky schemes as long as it's just the two of you!!!"

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Seeing that the emperor still insisted on holding his son, they did not pursue the matter further. The Lord of Changes stretched out his "hand" and slammed it on the table.

Convention rewriting.

The subtlest changes occurred on the chessboard.

No one noticed that the four gods, who had been bickering, had returned to their previous normal state, as if the scene just now had not attracted much attention from them.

The Lord of Mankind seemed to have been neglected once again, but he remained calm and composed.

.

behind him,

The Fool, lurking silently in the darkness outside the lamplight, makes his appearance, while the loser of the previous game has long been mocked and kicked off the table by the four gods.

From where it could not be seen from under the table, He handed two sons to the Emperor.

His twisted smile was filled with resentment and anger.

The emperor smiled.

Fun fact: The main character's name is Hades, the god of the underworld in ancient Greek mythology.

They govern the underworld, death, and suffering. They are the symbol of the souls of the dead.

At the same time, he doesn't really get involved.

They are often confused with the Grim Reaper.

Card rooms don't exist in subspace, so they don't exist in this story. The above events didn't happen anywhere; they're all made up.

Furthermore, honestly, I just randomly picked the protagonist's name from a foreign baby naming website. Only after reading the comments and doing some research did I realize how many coincidences there were! When I gave him the nickname "The Lost Soul," I had absolutely no idea about the meaning behind the protagonist's name! Holy crap, am I being targeted by Tzeentch?!

Chapter 36 Outsiders

Imperial Dream, Laboratory.

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"My Lord, the test subject's body has been fully healed, and the test subject's vital signs are currently stable."

"Data shows that his physical condition is now suitable for modification surgery."

"Prepare for surgery."

The emperor put down the golden brush in his hand and stood up from the workbench. He was wearing a simple, standard laboratory white coat, and the gold threads underneath the close-fitting clothes were faintly visible.

He stood up and walked to the nutrient tank that was more than two people tall. The blue nutrient solution shimmered with light, and countless bubbles were bubbling up from the bottom. Dense, thick tubes extended from the top of the nutrient tank, piercing straight into the figure suspended in the liquid.

Hades, with his eyes closed, was floating naked and unconscious in the nutrient tank. After treatment and nutritional supplementation, his already tall height of 1.9 meters had increased further, and he appeared to be two meters tall, a truly burly man.

Countless scars covered his limbs, but surprisingly, his torso had very few scars.

The most eye-catching feature of the burly man is his head.

His original hair was shaved off, and on the left side of his head was a prosthetic brain that shone with a metallic luster. Looking through the transparent skull, the cables were laid out in a dense yet neat manner, and they shimmered with fluorescence.

On his left cheek, a huge vertical scar ran from the top of his head, forming a brutal inverted triangle that extended from the mechanical brain at the top of his head to the tip of his chin.

Hades' left eye has also been replaced with a prosthetic eye, a red mechanical round eye that flashes red light, but it is only the simplest model.

Initially, researchers from the Cult of Mechanics suggested using biochemical techniques to allow Hades' left brain to regenerate on its own.

However, the Emperor rejected this proposal and instead opted to install a semi-independent mechanical left hemisphere of Hades' brain.

The researchers were slightly puzzled by this, but simply followed the emperor's decision silently.