Warhammer: I don’t want to be a can of worms! ! !

Act 1. Prologue [Death of Hades]

[I was present the day Pluto fell. 】

Hundreds of red and black cables criss-crossed in layers, hanging from the dark ceiling and connected to the largest data board in the room. The electronic sound sounded, and a few characters lit up on the dark data board.

"Common sense fails."

The red-robed sage in front of the big screen said calmly,

"Correction: Hades still answers the prayers of believers, and gods will not die."

"603, you still have two chances."

[You little thing with a peeing engine! When did I curse Hades to die? ! Actually——】

The sage stared at the data screen blankly, vaguely, as if he felt pride on a data tablet.

[It was I who saved Hades! I--】

"Unqualified personality."

"Correction: Hades saved the Empire."

The sage calmly interrupted the dataslate,

"603, you have one more chance."

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O ocean of infinite changes, O shore of wonders and wonders, a gathering of countless ingenious thoughts, abode of vast spiritual wisdom, O beautiful supreme heaven, O exquisite vast ocean, why are you uneasy? Why are you in turmoil? Why do you use your plump arms to stir up ripples in the river of destiny?

Billions of minds are swaying with firelight, the stars are twinkling, the sun is falling, and the haze of darkness is shrouding the corners of the world.

If there is no wise person to stop it, if there is no brave person to step forward, if there is no benevolent person to dissuade, if there is no skillful person to advise - the pure land will collapse, and the paradise will no longer be restored!

The first cry that sounded like a smile but not a smile sounded from the labyrinth of change. The strange light flashed across the lens of the wise man and dripped into the ocean of knowledge. The King of Change smiled and touched his hand on his skin. , the scales shining with nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine kinds of light quickly faded, and the hair composed of nine and nine hundred and ninety-nine kinds of fibers grew, and the nine nine hundred and ninety-nine hairs were twisted and twisted. Together, weave a bright blue bird feather.

Zhuan Biantian chattered and smiled, his sharp claws brushed against the light feathers over and over again, and he screamed into the distance, and the distance responded with a roar, a whisper, and a tender sigh.

There was a scream, and nine bird feathers fell quietly.

The sigh of the wise man when he was thinking blew by, and nine feathers were blown from the depths of the maze. The light feathers fell, and they trembled and fell into the eighth pool of blood——

A giant hand holds up nine feathers, and the eternal blood surrounds it. On the brass throne of eight trillion skulls, eight hundred and eighty-eight skeletons look at the Father of Blood. The warriors knock the battle axe, and the weapons clash with each other. , there was a loud noise, and the war drums were roaring.

On the bloody skin, the brass dagger scratched, and eight drops of blood came out. The pale bones were exposed, eight drops of blood dripped on them, and the white bones slowly turned bright red.

Nine feathers suddenly flew up, and after a seemingly non-existent cry, the blue feathers stuck to the end of the white bones, and the feathers bloomed like a small fan.

With a roar, the Skull Master threw out the bones, which whirled around, causing the garden to scream in surprise.

The loving father murmured softly. He panted and stretched out his hand to signal the crowds in the garden to calm down. He put down the spoon that was stirring the crucible with one hand. He held the bones of the Blood Lord and reached into the smelly mouth with one hand.

With a slight lament of discomfort, the loving father withdrew his hand with satisfaction. On the palm covered with mucus, there was a decayed tooth. The tip of the tooth was decayed and sharp. The seven cavities showed its good luck. The Lord of Plague muttered seven times. He made a sound, smeared the mucus on his hand on the cavities, and then carefully tied the tip of the tooth to the other end of the white bone with his swollen hands.

He raised his hand with satisfaction. Now there is an arrow in the hands of the loving father. The Lord of Changes provides the fletching, the Lord of Blood provides the shaft, and the Lord of Plague provides the arrowhead.

He slowly looked at Yin Palace, three eyes piercing into it at the same time.

In the graceful and light bed curtains, in the bed of singing and dancing, a strand of tangled hair slipped down, and a lazy yawn sounded like a complaint.

Birds whistled from the maze, roars came from the throne, and the loving father shook his head dissatisfied.

He stretched out his hand, and arrows fell from the plague swamp.

Between the silk and satin, the flawless snake feet slid down, and the slender tongue of the Lord of Joy wrapped around the arrow body, licking it gracefully and slowly.

The Prince of Darkness who destroyed hundreds of millions of spirit creatures was the one chosen to shoot the arrow. With the ultimate arrow path, the Lord of Joy cried out with joy. He stretched out his hand to caress his snake body, like a noble lady carefully selecting his favorite. The treasure, a snake tendon was pulled out.

The tendons bend and gradually twist into the shape of a bow and arrow.

The Lord of Joy drew his bow happily, then lowered his bow and arrow, and spoke coquettishly,

+Not enough~+

It's not enough, this blow must hit, this blow must kill it, this blow will complete the backflow of the river of destiny.

He lowered His slender eyelashes, and His eyes were as lively as the purest deer,

ah!

The Lord of Joy screamed, he knew what else was needed——

Death of a Primarch!

The altar is grand and lively, and they need the death of a Primarch, a Primarch who died in front of it, a Primarch whose fate was intervened by it - to use it as an anchor, firmly fixed around it subspace realm.

The realm of the four gods became noisy, as if celebrating the death of the cursed person.

The arrow was sharp and hung loosely in the arm of the Prince of Darkness. The Lord of Joy caressed it, lazily waiting for the order to shoot.

Which cutie will it be? The Lord of Joy laughed and applauded his dancer, but not the bird he had set his sights on.

The writing about Slaanesh was blocked in seconds. This is the third time I have changed it. It is not my fault that some of the sentences in Slaanesh do not make sense.