Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 487: Black-Hearted King's Advice and Crispy Jam Cookies
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Just as Honso told Wanners before he went on stage.

The much-anticipated championship battle involving thousands of Chaos Space Marines, Corrupted Mechanicus, Space Pirates, Xenos and other strange monsters with their broken vehicles and fleets of various sizes and great differences was over in just one minute.

There is not much blood, no thrilling skills, power showdowns, or unexpected solutions to desperate situations, nor any scenes of betrayal or being betrayed.

Some spectators had only taken a few bites of the snacks and drinks they had bought before the game.

Some lucky gamblers risked their entire fortune before they had a chance to do so.

The fastest championship match since the Skull Harvest Feast was held at the Thorn Arena ended without any incident, making it the most exaggerated one in later legends.

Uluwenta's head had been precisely cut off by the apothecary's mechanical arm and placed steadily aside, while the onlookers watched with bated breath, watching the apothecary's steady hands and unprecedentedly advanced instruments perform one of the most sacred and brief ceremonies of the Astartes smoothly in front of the fallen and even aliens.

Hong Suo half-knelt beside the Blood God Champion and carefully examined the corpse of the Headless World-Eater. He first used a ray knife to cut open the multiple rib plates that had been fused to his power armor, and extracted his only remaining gene seed from the twisted and deformed chest cavity filled with rotten blood. This seed was as violent as its master. If you look closely, you can see that it has thin metal cable-like connecting tendons and sharp teeth, but no eyes, nose or ears. However, after biting the pharmacist's right hand, it was pinched viciously and then stuffed into a freezer. Only then did it gradually calm down due to the low temperature of the quick freezing.

Then the master of potions, accompanied by Grendel and Vannus, who were alertly holding weapons on his left and right, grabbed the bloody skull's head, closed the eyes of the World Eater's head with wide open eyes, presented it to the tyrant's seat, and inserted it into the longest and thickest black iron thorn under his armrest.

The blood of the last of the harvest flowed down the thorns, joining the blood of hundreds of the strongest and bravest warriors who had died before, bringing joy to the gods of the Most High and creating a new layer of tapestry under the feet of the tyrant Luft Huron - nothing else.

"You seem to think this is a boring battle, Your Majesty." Valserx whispered as Honso bowed to them. "Are you going to acknowledge his victory? I must say, there is no honor, no sense of victory between warriors after a test, it's as easy as a prank or a collective hallucination."

"This battle," Blackheart King pondered for a moment, "is indeed not very glorious. However, Valserx, the blessing of the unknown god and the equipment that this half-blood has obtained are so... beyond the usual level that the combat skills and strength we are accustomed to are useless in the face of such a huge gap."

"I don't know what to say after witnessing this completely unequal battle, Your Majesty. I admit that I felt a great emptiness, followed by panic." The Alchemist Master lowered his head slightly and glanced at the pair of metal nerve-stimulating whips in his hands. "I think if it were a warrior who didn't have other knowledge like me, perhaps the emotions in his heart would be even more difficult to describe - the Blood God's favorites might not think so much."

"Ha! Ahem! I am so fond of your loyalty and honesty, old friend."

The Blackheart King nodded with satisfaction. His perception, which had been abnormally enhanced since his resurrection, indeed tasted the emotions he described in Valserex.

"That's exactly what caught my attention. Ahem! Ahem... Moreover, this shameless little bastard has the talent to become a commander who will go down in history. I knew it the first time I saw him. We are the same kind of people... Even with my pride, I cannot deny that he has a terrifying battlefield intuition. Without training, he knows when to deploy an attack and when to use something as bait... While most warriors in the galaxy are still learning this knowledge in countless battles, he knows what the opponent wants with his talent alone, and can judge the appropriate time at a glance, hehe." The tyrant's throat, torn by rough stitches and staples, slid up and down rapidly, and the protrusions of the metal structure were clearly visible through the bloodless gray skin. "He is indeed the offspring of Perturabo... There should also be a perfect fusion of the Imperial Fists' genes. Fabius Bile's gene manufacturing technology does not seem to be as distorted and mutated as the intelligence we have obtained."

The Corpse Lord, who had earned the infamous title for dissecting a large number of enemy and friendly corpses, laughed emotionlessly. The Apothecary Lord followed the Tyrant's gaze and stared at Hong Suo's back as he walked out of the field.

"Then?" the master alchemist asked cautiously, "If you don't want to announce your decision or judgment at this time, I can prepare some poison later..."

"But Luft Huron kept his word in the Maelstrom, old friend."

The tyrant, sitting majestically on the throne of thorns, answered, his only remaining human eye flashing with a dark light, ambition and a certain hope burning again.

His bizarre Warp pet, Hamadrya, shifted restlessly between a skinned monkey and a dog while leaping about the Tyrant's massive life-supporting mechanical power armor.

"Firstly, the fact that he was not born on the side of the corrupt false emperor is our first chance. Secondly, he is a smart and proactive person. He did not choose to wait for his reclusive Primarch but came from afar to get what he wanted from me. Finally, he must have something to ask of me, because he actually wants to stay here instead of using his talent in war... I hope he can take the team he won to the outside of the Maelstrom to cause damage to the corrupt Empire... Despite this, you are the only ones I can really trust. We have to capture him... and his soul... old friend."

"What does your majesty mean?"

"You and Gareon... must find a way to obtain the secrets of his technology and make his talents truly useful to us."

"What if we find we can't really convince him to join?"

"Then you and Gareon can decide." Huron's mechanical right hand opened slightly. The coating on the palm of the Great Vortex Lord's power claw was as bright and clean as new, as red as blood, and the eight-pointed star symbol in the center was glowing. "You can make him a medical meditator, let a demon parasite him, or make him a mechanical servant... If he is ultimately proven to be unusable by me, then no one else can get him and his legacy."

"Your wisdom, Your Majesty." Upon hearing this, the Lord of Apothecaries turned around and smiled. Deep wrinkles spread across his thin face, making him look unusually old for a Space Marine, like a twisted old tree that was in urgent need of nutrients. "Then I am actually looking forward to the arrival of this new colleague. It has been a long time since the Hell Iris* has had any useful personnel."
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When everything was settled, it was time for Hong Suo to count the spoils he had gained.

At first, some of Uluvent's warbands were not convinced by such a sloppy battle, thinking that Honso had won by relying solely on his own equipment, which violated the original purpose of the arena. But after Honso stopped Grendel and Vannus, and personally smashed the two warriors who charged at him roaring in the name of the blood god into crispy jelly biscuit-like skulls, fully demonstrating his excellent skills in fighting among the Iron Warriors for centuries as an Imperial Fist hybrid, the Blood Skulls warband announced that they would abide by the results of the championship match and the authority of Luft Huron, and lowered the old flags that had just been replaced with blood skulls in their and their latest winning teams, and raised the silver skull emblem of the Iron Warriors.

Norsa Atasya, leader of the warriors who enjoyed fighting as an art, survived and offered his allegiance and the full might of his warband to Honso because he had not killed him in the final championship match.

Of course, the Blade Dancer later went to Honsou's camp for treatment, and as he wished, he was able to try the "delicious and just right" painful treatment provided by Honsou during the hormone balancing treatment - meaning that the master potion master actually crushed the ribs under the Blade Dancer's tight leather armor and let them all pierce into the lungs and chest of the androgynous swordsman. And according to what Atasiya wanted, he did not remove them immediately, but used a slow method to let the sharp fragments slowly separate from the flesh over several days.

Of course, the treatment was later passed on by word of mouth among many Slaanesh believers and was well received. In the end, when Honso re-boarded the War Breed that had been waiting for them in orbit for a long time, his status and power were completely different from when he came here, or when he first appeared here "again".

He was now a commander of 18,000 warriors of all races and genetic bloodlines, from ancient, dilapidated warships dating back to before the Great Heresy, to the latest captured Imperial Navy cruisers, and from alien tribal stone balls to gunboats converted from huge, bulky commercial cargo ships. Various floating fleets had received notices from the Tyrant's territory and gathered around the War Spawn, surrounding their new flagship like a halo, occupying a new orbit and forming an extremely large and bulky pirate fleet.

"I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty." Honso was still polite to the Badab Tyrant when he said goodbye, just like he was still walking on the 30K Olympia, speaking to the Star Claws Chapter Master and the Great Vortex Guardian from Badab as Perturabo's most favored representative son. "Seeing that your health is worrying, I am so eager to serve you, to give you a comprehensive check-up and relieve your discomfort. But I think I can't let these poor people who have taken refuge with me starve to death here, and selling them on the spot is undoubtedly a contempt for your authority. Unfortunately, their bodies are weak and they still need to eat and drink. They can't rely solely on photosynthesis to complete their mission."

No doubt, such sweet words, delivered in such a comforting manner - meaning that he truly and respectfully believed that Huron had never truly fallen into the trap of the Chaos Four Gods, or was truly successfully seduced by the Dark Gods - actually played into the conceited tyrant's hands. As Huron had commented before, the bastard somehow did not show any of the famous taciturnity and reticence of the Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists, but on the contrary, he really knew how to tickle his interlocutor's itchy.

Therefore, even though he knew that the half-blood war blacksmith's motives were suspicious, Huron subconsciously tore out a smile on his face, which was patched with broken skin flaps.

"Of course." He said half-jokingly, "Go ahead and bring some surprises to the hateful empire. I believe your cunning and strategy will surprise them. When you come back, maybe you can work with my two old friends on the Hell Iris to develop a method that allows slaves to work all day without eating or drinking."

"Thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty."

"besides……"
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On the bridge of the Battlechild, Honsou met Vannus and Grendel again.

The former was crossing his legs to admire the sight of them leaving the warp, while the latter leaned his axe aside and waited impatiently.

When the airlock door opened and the Warsmith stepped onto the bridge command deck, his two companions immediately turned their eyes to him.

"See, I told you he would come back from Huron's palace," Adalic said with a smile. "Grendel is such a reckless man! I have pushed him back several times. He thought Huron would detain you or do something bad to you."

"That's not wrong." Hong Suo slowly walked to the command throne and looked at the scenery that Wannas had just admired: as a large number of fleets slowly and cautiously followed the planned route to leave, the ominous and dying gloomy and withered yellow star of New Badab gradually began to disappear from sight, submerged by the dense stardust and matter in the vortex, like a dim light ball that continued to sink into the depths of the black translucent ocean.

"What do you mean?" Vannus' eyebrows knitted tightly. "He let you go, but planted a bomb in your brain? Or in your neck? Under the occipital bone? In your spine?"

"It's really unoriginal. Are these the only positions you can think of, Adalic?"

"He really did that?!" The former Raven Guard jumped up from the equipment panel where he had crossed his legs, but still landed lightly.

"of course not."

Grendel came over and looked at Hong Suo with a frown, seemingly wavering between "Should I pay attention to this mixed-blood superior" and "Will caring about him seem to be inconsistent with my style as a veteran soldier with both inner and outer strength?"

"Then why do you say he's bad for you?"

Honsou's blue eyes scanned the Raven Guard and Iron Warriors.

"He gave me a piece of advice about you guys."

"what?"

"He said that the strongest will always be alone." Hong Suo smiled calmly, even though the two people in front of him were beginning to get nervous. "He suggested that I kill you after you are no longer useful, so as to avoid being betrayed."

(End of this chapter)