"Bah! You traitor beast! As a legitimate Imperial abhuman, I condemn your vile betrayal!"
"You bastard who slaughtered an entire Legion, your betrayal will be eternally remembered by us human sub-species, the Aeldari!"
The Death Guard dressed as a Harlequin cursed Ahriman repeatedly, and with astonishing skill, spat seven globs of thick phlegm at Ahriman's face in three seconds.
What bothered Ahriman the most was that he inexplicably couldn't dodge them, as if the Harlequin's way of spitting had some unique ritualistic effect.
"Do you, an Aeldari, even have the right to accuse me?" Ahriman growled, pointing his staff at the Harlequin.
"I am a legitimate Imperial subhuman, with stable and reliable genes, unlike certain individuals whose entire Legions suffer from flesh change," the Harlequin cackled.
Ahriman wished he could burn the Harlequin to ashes on the spot.
But if he did, the damned Harlequin's soul might vanish instantly, just like that barbaric Aeldari, preventing him from gaining any information about that Death God.
Recalling how the so-called Death God's chosen, Yvraine, could resurrect Red Letter Warriors and restore consciousness to his brothers who had become puppets due to his mistakes, Ahriman gritted his teeth.
Damn it, he endured.
"Aeldari, what price has the Imperium paid you to make you proud people submit to humans?" Ahriman tried his best to suppress the anger in his heart, looking at the three Aeldari in front of him and asking.
The three Aeldari were the foul-mouthed Harlequin and two Dark Eldar.
"Loyal subjects need no reward; loyalty itself is the reward!"
The Harlequin declared righteously:
"Of course, you unstable-gened, constantly flesh-changing, giant Psyker ape mutants wouldn't understand such things."
"I feel we Aeldari are superior in terms of being human."
As he spoke, the Harlequin spat seven more globs of thick phlegm at Ahriman's face in three seconds. Ahriman, who had been on high alert, quickly raised his staff, and his Psyker power incinerated all the phlegm.
"Are you never going to stop? Are your Aeldari salivary glands that developed?" Ahriman's voice couldn't help but rise.
"I thought there was a reward for spitting twenty-two times to ascend to the 22nd century," the Harlequin said earnestly.
"22nd century."
Ahriman murmured the phrase. Why did this term sound like the Golden Throne when spoken by the Aeldari?
He pointed his staff at the three Aeldari, lowering his voice and saying:
"Before you reach your so-called 22nd century, you will endure unimaginable torment."
"If you tell me information about that Death God, I can give you a ——————"
"Ah ha ha ha ha!!!!"
Ahriman's words were cut short by a sudden, sharp burst of laughter.
It wasn't the Harlequin's, but that of the two Dark Eldar who had joined the Death Guard.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I really can't hold it in!"
One Dark Eldar clutched his stomach, laughing so hard that tears streamed from his eyes:
"Are you saying you want to torment an Aeldari? Torment a Dark Eldar? Do you know what you're saying?"
"Come on, I haven't had a good time since joining the Death Guard! Come on!"
"Idiot!" The other Dark Eldar was simple and direct: "When your mother was still a virgin, I was already having fun with a tank barrel."
"Quickly lubricate me with your damned red word warriors and Prospero's ashes, then shove the shoulder pad your dear brother left you into my ——————"
Bang!!!
Bang!!!!
Bang!!!!!
Psyker flames continuously erupted from the tip of Ahriman's black staff, exploding like cannon fire in the Webway, blasting the upper body of the foulest-mouthed Dark Eldar into smithereens.
Ahriman gasped, stepping on the Dark Eldar's relatively intact lower half, looking like a World Eater in the throes of the Butcher's Nails.
"Saint Doraemon above, have I completed my atonement?"
Ahriman vaguely seemed to hear the Dark Eldar's soul murmuring, but in the end, he couldn't grasp this soul.
It was as if some powerful entity was protecting the souls of this Death Guard.
How could this Death God be so powerful?!
"He didn't say it, so I forgot, didn't you have a biological brother?"
The Harlequin, seemingly anxious that someone died before him, said:
"I remember now, your biological brother was also a Thousand Sons, and then he died from flesh change."
"How pitiful, that's what happens to unstable-gened, constantly flesh-changing, giant Psyker ape mutants."
"We Aeldari, legitimate Imperial subhumans with stable and reliable genes, don't have such worries ——————"
Bang!!!
Ahriman's black staff swept through, and the Harlequin was directly reduced to ashes and dissipated.
The last remaining Dark Eldar looked left and right, realizing he was the only one left.
"Tell me information about that Death God," Ahriman said through gritted teeth, "I can spare your life."
"Are you out of your mind?"
The Dark Eldar sincerely asked:
"First of all, I am a Dark Eldar, and I have a strong perception of souls."
"I can confirm that the souls of my comrades were neither bound by you nor did they go to the Lord of Hunger."
"The Laughing God and the Death God didn't lie to us, there really is a 22nd century, so why would I care about your ways? Just kill me!"
The anger on Ahriman's face seemed to break through his mask. He raised his staff with trembling arms, pointing it at the Dark Eldar.
"I once peed on the ashes of Red Letter Warriors with the Space Wolves," the Dark Eldar said in a flat tone.
Bang!!
Bang!!!!
Bang!!!!!
Within the Webway, the Rogues' flagship, the Three Sisters, stood in mid-air.
The owners of these three flagships were the exiled Ahriman. After the two red word, Ahriman was exiled by Magnus, forced to wander among the stars, and the Rogues and these three flagships were his home.
Ahriman, tightly clutching his staff, landed on the Flame Lord, one of the Three Sisters, on his flying disc, and entered his flagship from the high tower.
The Flame Lord carried a faint scent that could be called home, allowing Ahriman's soul, enraged by the Aeldari, to calm down slightly.
He was as familiar with these three flagships as he was with his own sisters. He was connected to the machine spirit of the three flagships, just like brothers sharing the same blood.
But today, after taking a few steps into the Flame Lord, Ahriman felt something strange.
The Rogues' flagship was mostly silent most of the time, as the vast majority of the warriors in the warband were mindless red word, and only a few sorcerers moved within the ship. The mortal servants and horned beasts dared not make any sound in Ahriman's presence.
But now it was even more silent than usual, as if both the visible and invisible things within the Flame Lord were fearing something.
Ahriman noticed that in the nooks and crannies of the Flame Lord, translucent crystal scarabs were watching him.
"It's him." Ahriman's heart leaped into his throat, his voice filled with complexity and bitterness.