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

"Great, I'll come back to you next time!"

With a leap, you were tackled to the ground, your chest filled with fluffy, prickly hair.

It is indeed very warm.

You thought of it.

.

[Seventh Legion] Rogdorn

She is the king from her pocket kingdom.

She has short, neat white hair, a serious demeanor, and a perpetually stern face.

She was surrounded by golden ornaments, yet there was no extravagance; her crown was heavy with glory.

His fleshy body was heavy, yet exuded a stable power.

In those icy blue eyes lay unwavering conviction.

"For the Emperor."

She is loyalty, she is glory.

.

——Galgame route——

You are Sigismund (no).

You are an extremely loyal, adaptable, and rather tactful Imperial Fist.

Despite her seemingly tough and unapproachable demeanor, Dorn actually has her own endearing side.

She always fell asleep with the blanket her grandfather gave her, her large body automatically curling up on the bed, tightly hugging her little blanket.

When she is under too much pressure, she will mutter a few words to herself from time to time in her sleep.

As her son, you naturally want to help your mother.

You think about it as you look at the blanket that she has unconsciously crumpled up.

So you sewed a small plush bear for her. Although it was small for the Primarch, it was quite large for a Space Marine.

The little bear is pale yellow with reddish-gold button eyes and is fluffy; you even made sure the fur was the same type as her blanket.

You deliberately chose a time when she was reporting her results to deliver the gift. When it was your turn, you took out your fluffy teddy bear.

Dorn, whose face was usually stern, raised an eyebrow for once.

"You shouldn't make that kind of joke in such a serious setting."

Of course you were punished.

However, after that, you saw that same crumpled and wrinkled plush bear.

.

[Eighth Legion] Condracoz

.

She is a ghost of the night.

Pain, pain, pain, screaming.

No, we can't go where there's light. It's too bright, too bright.

Death, slaughter, fear, anger, screams.

Her long, jet-black hair obscured her pale face, with blood clots and fat deposits congealed on it, and even scattered spiderwebs.

His sunken eye sockets and dark, lifeless eyes were filled with madness and obsession.

She was thin; she was unlike most of the original bodies, which were plump and full-figured. She was dry and bony, like a skeleton.

Destruction, darkness, prophecy, the future.

This world is destined to struggle and perish; she will die, she will die!

Everyone will die!

There is no hope, no salvation!

Tormented by this long, long night!

——Galgame route——

You are Sevita. (No)

You are the first person in the hive who is willing to help Koz. You are kind and physically strong enough to survive her madness.

You saw that strange little guy in the bottom nest of the Nest City.

The human cub had just crawled out of the incubator, soaking wet, and looked very weak.

You, who originally planned to cut up human flesh, were suddenly moved. Struggling in the bottom nest, you rarely see unsuspecting babies anymore.

You thought for a moment, then took off your greasy, dirty coat and wrapped it around her, adding a little rat meat to the coat.

"hug me."

The baby uttered words intermittently.

Of course you didn't hug her.

Then?

Then you left; your remaining kindness and ability were only enough to go this far.

She was destined to die, but before she died, you couldn't help but do something futile.

However, after that, the bottom nest suddenly became much safer. Every day, hundreds and thousands of scoundrels were hung on the walls of the bottom nest, their skin peeled off and their flesh mangled.

Lately, no one has been bothering you, and every now and then, you'll find a bunch of skinned rats in your sleeping area.

When the emperor arrived, you realized that the baby was Kondratiev.

She's gone crazy again.

You sighed and stepped into the dungeon. Cold, sticky blood flowed on the floor, staining your feet.

In the darkest corner of the room, in that place piled with countless mangled corpses, something is hidden there.

You sighed again, resignedly walked over, and then casually sat down on a corpse.

"you will die."

"You are guilty."

A ghost whispers on your shoulder.

"You will die a horrible death, screaming as you die. You will call for your mother. I will inject you with a painful potion, and then you will experience a fear that turns into excitement."

You shrug. That's the 108th way you've ever heard of to die.

She licked your cheek.

"Why aren't you afraid? The future is a dark and chaotic place, and no one can be saved. The wise are foolish, and the benevolent are mad. Why aren't you afraid?"

You don't move.

"hug me."

She said that, and then her tone became intense.

"Hold me, fucking hold me! I saw you holding me, fucking hold me now!"

You didn't move; that's the only thing you could do.

You want to prove to her that prophecies aren't always right.

"Fuck you, hug me!"

She slapped you so hard you flew through the air, your body sliding in an arc before crashing heavily against the wall.

A ghostly figure appeared from the shadows and lay down in your exhausted arms.

"now it's right."

.

[Ninth Legion] Saint Gilles

She is Baal's angel.

She is the Empire's most perfect angel.

She has a full and flowing figure, fair and smooth skin, a kind face, and always looks at people with a smile.

With her soft, light golden curls and gentle, benevolent sky-blue eyes like spring water, she is a saintly figure straight out of an ancient oil painting.

Pure white wings unfolded on her back, soft and beautiful, gently brushing the air and carrying her into the sky.

She is an archangel, she is Saint Gilles.

.

——Galgame route——

You are Horus. (No)

You are an ordinary person.

You are very ordinary. You may not even be a Holy Blood Angel. You are average in appearance and martial arts skills. The only thing you can say is that you have some artistic talent, but not much.

You can analyze those particularly beautiful oil paintings, but that's about it. Your analysis is worlds apart from that of other art masters.

You are also wondering why the perfect angel chose you.

You're wondering if she's playing you, but that's not her attitude.

As for you, of course you love her, but you are indeed very confused.

The door to the room opened, and Saint Gilles entered, dressed in a simple white robe, with a green olive leaf laurel wreath adorning her golden hair.

She folded her wings and held a bowl of grapes in her hand.

"Want something to eat?"

She reached out and took a grape to eat, while poking you with the tip of her wing.

The soft feathers tickle you.

"An angel?"

"Well, what happened?"

She looked at you curiously, her eyes filled with tenderness and kindness.

Why did you fall for me?

"I'm not perfect at all."

Saint Gilles smiled, his eyebrows curving upwards.

"True love has no preconditions."

She loves everyone, and she loves you too.

.

[Tenth Legion] Phenusmanus

She is Medusa's steel.

Dull, short black hair; a serious expression; everything about him was the color of steel.

A robust body, strong muscles, and gleaming silver-black iron hands on her arms.

He often has a stern face, but sometimes he laughs heartily. He is rational, serious, and responsible.

Compared to his radiant phoenix best friend Fugen, he doesn't like to adorn himself much. Although he has a badge that symbolizes glory, it is either black or gray.

Pursue rationality, but also accept reality.

This is Phenus Manus.