Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

[Beyond that, I think Carthage must be destroyed, sprinkled with salt, and...]

"..."

"Snapped!"

After unknowingly uttering the same words for the sixth time, the Queen of Avalon was stunned for a moment, then slapped her forehead mercilessly, with a gloomy look on her face.

Such a move made the mortal operators who were busy not far away look at each other, but the Spider Queen did not care about their reactions: as the battle continued, these mortals had taken turns several times, and now these were all things that Morgan did not care about. Recognized substitutes.

not to mention……

The Lord of the Second Legion silently looked at the mortal closest to him, the mortal servant loyal to the Dark Angel whom she never knew: he sat there, working without noticing, leaving only A focused aspect of the Primarch.

But Morgan could see clearly: the mouths, maybe six mouths, or maybe nine mouths, large and small, dotted on the [side], constantly whispering intermittent poems to her.

They speak of [Carthage] and [Constantinople], they describe extinction and decline, they sneer at this scene as a preview of what is about to happen on Holy Terra, they sing the death of the empire, Praising the rebirth of barbarism, praising divine betrayal...

They never stop.

【...Tsk...】

Morgan rubbed the corners of her eyebrows. Deep in her heart, the existence called reason was running with all its strength, roaring like an old engine, in order to maintain the calm individual named Spider Queen, to be able to exist. .

No...she can't do that...

She cannot kill these mortals, these are just hallucinations, but when such a terrible war reaches a certain point, it will inevitably lead to subspace phenomena...

Killing will bring blood, pain will seduce pleasure, and the pile of thousands of corpses will be enough to bring the corrupted dark green to the world. When all of this happens together, the most cunning god must have been hidden behind the curtain.

Nothing surprising.

These are just their tricks, just the aura and filth they inadvertently emit when they peek into the real universe. They are not worth her concern or fear.

She couldn't hear those voices, she couldn't hear the roars in the depths of the sea of ​​souls, because it was not the time for them to come to the world yet, and they would never come to her.

She couldn't feel the slimy tentacles emerging from her back, caressing her shoulders and neck, and the soft and boneless fingertips teased her earlobes, letting the soft whispers from the Silver Palace flow out. into her mind.

She couldn't hear the thin low laugh flowing in her ears. It was the most sharp and twisted long laugh, constantly born and died from nine inexplicably changing throats, with countless dying cries gathered into one taunt. .

It mocked her, mocking her descendants who were dying meaninglessly on the surface. Every time the second hand on the clock ticked, nine Avalonians would fall forever.

No one will remember them.

Not even she can.

【……】

【……】

【enough! 】

None of the thousands of whispers seemed to be more lethal than this taunt.

Morgan covered her face, her nails dug deeply into her hair, like a lion's claws grabbing the mane of another lion, and the original blue pupils changed. There was a trace of purple, making the original indifferent face of the Primarch become ferocious, and the originally plain eyes became chaotic. In the astonished eyes of the surrounding mortal servants, a terrifying aura flashed past. The moment it was about to sweep through the entire command room, it was reluctantly withdrawn by the ruthless rationality of the Lord of Avalon.

Morgan stopped there, almost for a second, before letting out a long sigh. She casually glanced at the mortals beside her, ignoring the increasingly distorted faces in her eyes, and waved her hand, signaling They continued with their original work.

The Primarch herself shifted her gaze filled with violent emotions to the war hammer in front of her: Thank God, as the battle situation continued to advance, the moment Zhuang Sen attacked the Ran Dan Palace, her workload also increased. Finally, it’s time to get a little less.

The absolute strategic advantage makes the fire support of the fleet no longer important, and most of the ground forces have also begun to carry out replacement rest operations. The Spider Queen's workload has declined with the stagnation of these two aspects, and she can even Ignore some minor things and throw them all to the mortal officials around you, because the amount of data in these minor times has been so low that mortals can barely handle it.

On the tenth or fifteenth day of the siege, the Spider Queen was finally able to temporarily stop her work and take a good look at the subspace rhythms around her: their activity had reached the point where the Psionic Queen It has to be handled with caution.

Until this moment, there was a trace of bitterness deep in Morgan's heart: the peaceful days seemed to have lasted too long, and even the monsters in her heart had not made waves for a long time. In such comfort, She wasn't even used to it, and what she was going through now was like walking on thin ice.

But Morgan had no time to examine her carelessness, because when she took back most of her will and began to check her projection in the sea of ​​souls, a rather strange feeling swept over her like the torrential rain in early spring. She had some hindsight perceptions: she didn't know whether these slowdowns in psychic senses were caused by the subspace gods, or because of her fatigue, or both.

But no matter what, when the Spider Queen began to check her subspace projection after a long time, she discovered something that was definitely not in her cognition: it was a line, a thin The red thread had no end or source, but pulled her soul out of thin air, and its other end disappeared into the subspace filled with wild laughter.

By pulling on this red line, Morgan could hear countless dying cries: the number of cries was astonishing, and they were definitely not human cries, but more like some kind of alien that she was already familiar with, some kind of country that was about to be exterminated. of alien.

A very bad guess began to brew in Morgan's mind: she had to admit that this guess was crazy, but when she thought of the laughter of the gods that suddenly appeared at this time, she thought of Vashtor and Tuchucha Engine. When he told her about the riddles, she had to admit the possibility of this guess.

【……】

Morgan was silent for a moment. She quietly looked at the thin red thread that led to her soul: it was so fragile that it seemed that it could be broken by just tugging at will, but the energy and desire on it were still there. It's so powerful that even Morgan can't do anything to it for the time being.

and……

The spider queen's tentacles of consciousness stroked this wailing red line: from just the briefest contact, she could sense how many delicious souls there were on it, the number was enough to raise her power to a level that had never been achieved before. There has been a point.

And now, she is so...

hunger.

【……】

This may seem like a hard thing to resist: instinct is always irresistible.

but……

Greed is bad, she knows, especially when the whispers of the gods are echoing in her ears. Her greed may be exactly what they long to see, maybe it is exactly what they want to see in their countless great and boring chess games, A brand new round.

Morgan blinked, and she glanced at the battle situation in low-Earth orbit: most of the human warships had fallen into a state of doing nothing. They were retreating to ensure that the vanguard of the Space Wolves could move smoothly. Log in to the world beneath your feet.

There is nothing to worry about: the war on the surface is still fierce, but the overall situation has been finalized a few hours ago, and the last trace of suspense has been lost. Even the real-time casualty reports to her from the Dawnbreakers have not been available for a long time. New numbers have arrived.

She seemed to have enough time.

Morgan sighed.

She lowered her head and once again let her willpower be completely immersed in the waves of the sea of ​​souls. This time, she used all her concentration and calmness to fight against the red line that dragged her soul, because The pulling force from it has become stronger and stronger.

She knew what the red thread was going to do: it was going to drag her away, it was going to drag away the Spider Queen's will and body, just like a fishing net dragging away a big fish in the sea, pulling her to another place, and that place , most likely the burning world beneath her feet.

【……】

Morgan hoped that he could resist this terrible pull.

but……

——————

She is indeed very hungry.

——————

"..."

"Is the ceremony completed?"

"My legs are already a little numb."

Midnight Ghost was slowly playing with the starter in his claws, and his movements could be described as cautious: after all, the only button on it was connected to the results of his efforts in the past dozen Terran Standards, and he didn't want to What will go wrong in these projects created with his sweat?

The Primarch stood there upright, like a marble statue. He had not moved for a long time and stayed in the upper middle of the long steps: more specifically, the 599th layer.

Conrad never went further: in his limited subspace knowledge, he knew the four representative numbers that symbolized corruption and power, and he witnessed their power again and again in the future.

Conrad was not sure he could resist the power of those numbers, so he chose a very cowardly approach, one that was most suitable for a poor coward like him.

“When you face something that is extremely powerful, extremely malicious, and there is a high probability that you cannot compete with it, your best choices are only two: go crazy or run away.”

"And I'm clearly not crazy enough."

Grinning, Midnight Ghost whispered excuses for his cowardice. He talked about the knowledge and theories that he didn't know when he learned and who didn't know when they were stationed in his mind. He hated that he was affected. It's getting deeper and deeper.

He seemed less and less like a Nostramo.

Conrad turned his head and glanced out the window boredly, thinking so, his eyes became bright under the illumination of thousands of cannonballs, like moldy stones piled next to a campfire, shining with a An abnormal color separated from the sludge.

He quietly watched the new round of offensive launched by the Calibans for a while. In this somewhat empty tower, he could even hear clearly the war cries of the Dark Angels, most of whom were armed with unmedicated weapons. The accent of the redeemable Holy Terra does not sound fundamentally different from that of the bloodthirsty murderers.

He listened for a while, thinking it was a new pastime, and when he finally got bored, turned his head, ignored the blasphemous faces that kept appearing on the altar, and focused his eyes on the alien bastard who had accomplished nothing, He was a little disappointed to find that the guy still accomplished nothing.

The high priest of Ran Dan is still continuing his great ambitions: while constantly whispering those spells full of loopholes, he almost thrust his body into the place that is enough to drown an Imperial Knight mecha. Gone into the pool of blood.

Conrad observed every move of the alien with great interest, even though it was less than a hundred meters away from the original gene. As long as Conrad wanted to, he could end its life at the next moment.

But he didn't do that, just like the alien ignored him. These two strange life forms were obviously mortal enemies in the same room, but for some strange reason, they ignored each other's existence.

The Midnight Ghost quietly waited for the arrival of the so-called ritual. His confidence was due to two superimposed reasons: First, in the future he saw, he should indeed be a spectator, a person who only needs to exist. , can change the wonderful background of this plot, because his mission has been completed long ago.

Before coming to this tower, the Nostramos were not idle: when the Randan army in the palace was frightened by the fear of the Primarch, it was difficult for them to discover those who existed in the power system. It's a huge, irreversible disaster.

The huge subspace energy stand that sheltered the Randan Palace had been weakened to the extreme by the Midnight Ghost, and all its energy sources had been carefully destroyed by Conrad. Although the Primarch was still unable to activate the attack on this subspace The final blow of creation, but he has indeed completed the task assigned to him by fate.

Faced with the future scene that was like a phantom in the water and became rampant again because of the departure of the Spider Queen, Midnight Ghost chose absolute trust and support: after identifying the authenticity of the future he saw over and over again, he even This fantasy future is even more authoritative than Morgan's.

Obviously, the Spider Queen's education still failed to completely change Conrad's thinking: at the very least, Midnight Ghost was still a loyal believer in his belief in the future.

This was also the main reason why he chose to stand aside: the future he saw did not allow him to choose to block the alien's actions at this time.

And the knowledge he has learned also supports this: just relying on his understanding of Ran Dan's language, Conrad can clearly hear a series of so-called words that do not match the words from the mouth of the alien high priest. Pray, and the chaos and complexity of subspace energy gathered above the tower are enough to make any subspace scholar laugh.

Of course, Midnight Ghost has never been an expert in the field of subspace, but being around the Spider Queen all year round still allowed him to see at a glance: all of this is just a ridiculous joke, just to let those It's just a comedy show where laughter can occur.

Look at the high priest Randan who has given everything. I’m afraid the alien doesn’t even know what a pitiful and abominable shape it has become: that expensive cloak has not been cleaned for a long time, and it is full of stench. Germs and mosquitoes, the ornaments that should have been neatly arranged have long been scattered everywhere, unable to produce real effects at all.

As for it itself: on its head that was so thin that only the skull remained, even a few basic teeth had fallen off. No matter how exquisite the words were, they were just a bunch of incomprehensible words, like the murmurs of an octogenarian.

Midnight Ghost has never seen the true appearance of the subspace, but he feels that the sad alien in front of him at this moment, constantly talking about the so-called "evil god", "curse" and "eternal suffering", seems to be the subspace. The best answer that space can give him.

"..."

Compared to such a fate, becoming a madman seems to be a good idea?

For a moment, Conrad thought about this problem seriously. He carefully calculated the passage of time and the illusion of the future revealed in front of him: he still did not know the thing summoned by the alien high priest. What could it be, but he was sure that it would definitely not be what this alien wanted.

But this kind of curiosity still urges the midnight ghost to stay here, watching the alien sacrifices that used to be more than ten thousand people, like a wriggling maggot, crawling, twisting, and twisting on the altar covered with dirty blood. Sending meaningless so-called curses.

And behind it, the magic circle was indeed continuously operating. A very powerful, but not enough to make the midnight ghost feel despair and trembling aura, was indeed highlighted more and more clearly in the magic circle.

Finally, Conrad slowly showed his claws. He stretched out his excessively long tongue and licked his lips, looking forward to the next minute's activities.

Is it a comedy?

Or a hunt?

It doesn't matter, he won't be a picky eater.

The Midnight Ghost laughed, and just behind him, in the outside scene that could be seen from the tower windows, those thick gray clouds were being peeled away mercilessly, and the falling meteors told the story of new reinforcements. has arrived.

anyway.

This war will come to an end within one Terran Standard Time.

In any case, I will end the main plot of the Randan War in the next chapter. If I continue writing it, I will collapse first...

I always feel that this plot is inexplicably... meaningless (face covering)

Whether it’s subscriptions, comments or my personal status, I’ve reached a low point. If I continue writing, I feel like my entire book will be finished, so I’d better end this plot quickly. I’m going to write about my daily life ruthlessly. I'd love to see your comments and subscriptions.

sad……