"We need to find him quickly - even if time in this world doesn't make sense, trying to get ahead of the anchor point still makes sense."
Malcador's anxious voice rang out, his words becoming heavy and sticky due to the heavy protective clothing.
The Imperial Regent Malcador stood on the ruins of the hospital, like a water egg filled with sticky liquid that exploded in the middle of the hospital, sticky and emitting bursts of foul odor.
The old man in the yellow protective suit walked towards the center of the hospital without hesitation. In his hand was a scepter covered with a shell, and the flame was flickering.
[Do you have any solution? We will do our best to help you.]
Angron said dully, the Primarch wearing only a gas mask as he followed Malcador.
Robert Guilliman was not here. He suffered a great blow this time. What was even more difficult for Guilliman to accept was that, to some extent, his negligence led to the disappearance of the Lord of Death.
After a brief rest, Guilliman, who had not yet fully recovered, returned to government affairs - it was obvious that the Lord of Macragge would carry out a drastic reform.
Guilliman's promise to Malcador was that if they could find Mortarion's location, the Ultramarines would help retrieve the Lord of Death at all costs.
Malcador coughed, and he scratched the ground with the end of his staff, pushing the slime aside and revealing the marks underneath—
Some seven-pointed altars were drawn on the ground with a mixture of blood and vomit.
Malcador frowned.
"Teleportation array."
The flame of the scepter in Malcador's hand suddenly began to burn, and the golden flame burned. After a moment of brilliance, the golden light dimmed again.
"… "
Malcador was silent for a long time, then he spoke.
"Give me a Death Guard. I only want one of Barbarus descent."
Vox, who was following the old man, took a step forward immediately. In the heavily polluted hospital ruins area, the Death Guards were still wearing ordinary wartime clothes.
The old man motioned for Walker to raise his hands, and the wizard slowly led the Death Guard to the center of the altar. Then Malcador stretched out his hand and motioned for Walker to hand him the dagger at his waist.
Vorx handed Malcador the dagger, and Malcador placed the scepter on the ground, holding the dagger in one hand while holding Vorx's hand with the other.
The dagger flashed coldly, and blood flowed from Vox's hand.
The wound was exposed to the foul-smelling environment, and Angron watched helplessly as pus-green quickly climbed up the wound, but Vorx continued to breathe calmly, as if it was not his wound.
Rapid whispers came out of Malcador's mouth, and golden flames ignited between the two. Blood dripped down and was quickly evaporated by the flames.
The flames flickered, and Malcador stared at the flames. In a trance, Angron seemed to see a vibrant world in the gap between the flames.
The flames grew fiercer, and the sorcerer's words became faster and faster—
Malcador suddenly let go, and the previously silent Vorx fell down like a lost puppet. Angron stepped forward and steadyed the Death Guard. He seemed to want to thank Angron, but after struggling for a long time, he could not speak.
"He's fine,"
Malcador spoke calmly.
"... is not enough. I need someone closer to Mortarion - their fates must be closely connected."
Vox regained his balance and stared at the old man in front of him.
"I know who is suitable for this. Please wait a moment."
Karas Typhon.
————
Karas Typhon swore this was his worst ever wake up.
Even though he had only woken up twice since his burial in the Dreadnought, Karas thought his last conversation with Mortarion had been bad enough.
He followed the forging cub in front of him in silence. The Death Guard named "Pasteur" was hurriedly leading him into the transport plane and then to Macragge.
Just like last time, he had no idea what was going on, why he was woken up, or what he should do.
Standing in the transport plane, listening to the mechanical ticking sound of the Hades cult kid next to him, Karas thought for a moment whether he should just blow himself up right here.
But for some reason he eventually stopped this behavior and instead began to observe Pasteur out of boredom.
"Hello,"
Karas said,
"Where are we going?"
"Captain Vorx orders us to proceed to Macragge D3 immediately."
"Then what?"
Pasteur shook his head, and Typhon made a huge, strange sound of dissatisfaction.
"Vox—" he said strangely, "That brat was the one who followed Hades every day. He was still wet behind the ears, but I didn't expect that he has become the company commander."
"Please respect Commander Hades and Captain Vox."
Pasteur said, "You are a member of the Death Guard. Even if you betrayed the Death Guard, you should still pay attention to the reputation of the Death Guard."
"I don't!"
Typhon roared, and the Dreadnought's engine roared loudly.
"I didn't betray you, you guys don't know—"
But in an instant his tone became humorous and indifferent again.
"Whatever you say, I've been canned anyway."
Karas said,
"Listen, little one, I don't care about anything else. Tell that big guy Vox that if he wants me to help him, he should be more polite to me. Maybe I will feel better and help him a little."
Pasteur paused. He had never seen such an unreasonable person.
The Master Forger mobilized his few emotional quotients. He remembered what Commander Hades once told him: A higher rank can crush a person.
Yes, that's what Hades said when he persuaded him, who was still a technical sergeant, to apply to become a master forger.
Maybe Hades said something else, maybe he didn't mean it, but Pasteur only remembered this sentence.
Pasteur spoke,
"This is the order from the legion commander. He ordered you to go there. You cannot disobey the order, Karas."
He looked at the old man with a weird temper and remained silent. After a while, Karas spoke again.
"Mortarion? He needs my help?"
Old Fearless laughed, and then seemed to be coughing violently.
"Since he has lost face, I must help him. Why do you think of poor Karas Typhon, who is sleeping in the Dreadnought, instead of the reliable commander?"
Karas's voice suddenly turned cold.
"I'm curious about what exactly requires my presence."
As he spoke, he felt the transport plane shaking beneath him. Finally, a crack appeared in the cabin door and a strong stench rushed into the cabin as the door opened.
Karas paused imperceptibly.
He blinked, and the dazzling white light blurred his vision. Karas realized that something was wrong. Perhaps it was because he was not used to the gravity of Macragge. Karas tried to walk out, but he found that his engine was motionless due to tension and fear.
He smelled the scent that was most familiar to him.
Karas Typhon had rotted before, and he knew it all too well—
"Mortarion?!"
Old Fearless shouted suddenly, pushed away Pasteur who was blocking the cabin door, and rushed out.
"Mortarion?!!!!"
Where the hell is Hades at this time? !
Karas rushed out, and saw neither Mortarion nor Hades except Vorcus and those who were strangers to him.
Old Fearless slowly stopped under the gaze of the crowd.
"That's you."
Machado said.
Yay!
(End of this chapter)