Chapter 400: Come, Let Us Begin the First Deathmatch
The wall that had prevented the material universe from striking at the warp finally collapsed.
At this moment, the gates to the Garden were thrown wide open. The enemy was right in front of them, and what remained would be swift and clean.
Destruction, just as all humanity expected.
Patter, patter~
A drizzle of rotting rain began to fall from the sky.
Silver-grey knights stepped out from behind the curtain of smoke and ash.
They treaded in streams that had begun to burn, their lightning-wreathed halberds pointing diagonally, allowing the rain carrying decayed matter to fall.
The moment the voice echoed back in their minds, the Nurgle daemons and their current leader abandoned any conspiracy or dream of success.
Typhon Plagueheart stood before the smoke, watching everything burning before him, feeling his connection with the infected creatures in realspace gradually weakening. He could easily see that his mission had failed.
No one expected that humanity would not choose the lesser of two evils in this situation—either rushing to support despite the pressure of the plague, or abandoning support to focus on internal affairs.
They played a card no one had played for eons: between two choices, they chose to beat the person who posed the question to death.
Using practical actions to tell them that even the domains of the Gods were no longer safe.
Whoosh—whoosh—
The rotting rain grew heavier, contrasting with the flames, like two gods with endless bodies confronting each other. The Great Unclean One looked at the increasingly clear front, knowing that the inspiring promises made during the planning had vanished.
But this was not the most important thing.
Typhon Plagueheart stood frozen for several seconds before being awakened by stinging pain, opening his mouth in disbelief.
"It's you?!"
This figure evoked painful memories for countless daemons, an experience they would never forget.
It was just an ordinary outing, away from the Great Game, carrying endless joy, preparing to spread the Grandfather's care to realspace, but captured by the ultimate fear wandering in the warp.
The Greater Daemon was shattered on the spot, everything constituting it turned into pure psychic energy. Believers with shallow connections to the Grandfather were plundered, and along with those believers in realspace gathered over a long time, were eliminated by various institutions arriving in time.
In the end, only a few returned, panicking and reporting to the Grandfather, making countless partners who valued brotherhood a laughingstock.
Splash!
Wooden ladle, toxic clouds, plague attacked together. The storm condensed from corruption swallowed Ramesses's body in an instant.
But with a few stars flashing, an invisible twist deflected, and the Formless Lord and his daemon army appeared on the other side.
"Yo~"
Ramesses waved, the golden light constantly invading the Garden from the other end of the sky making him shine brightly.
He was observing the reaction of this area at all times.
Nurgle had obviously noticed their arrival and was currently counterattacking. The main force had been blocked by the Emperor. The accumulated normal personalities over these years were still relatively numerous, allowing the Emperor to exert His ability at critical moments.
"A pity."
No one expected these Greater Daemons to be so good at running, fleeing faster than anyone else.
He said to Arthur in his heart: "Mortarion and other Greater Daemons obviously have more important things to do. They probably won't come this time, at least not now."
"The next wave of support troops can be sent out. No rush to play the Emperor's next card."
If a sneak attack fails, turn to a frontal assault. They have to fight anyway.
Arthur replied: "I will start reducing power and gradually transfer the energy supply of the 'Probe' to the shards of the Burning One. If Nurgle chooses to let those Greater Daemons retreat, then continue to apply pressure. Let's see if the Grandfather truly loves His children endlessly."
"Okay."
Ramesses maintained his smile.
At this moment, he didn't rush to cross the boundary drawn by Nurgle unless the guy in front turned and ran. But rather than watching, he was threatening.
Run as far as you can with it. I'll chase you as far as you go.
Let's see what you choose.
Rustle~
An Emperor's Tarot card flew in his hand, engraved with the image of an ordinary middle-aged man with features of ancient Mesopotamia on Earth.
Compared to those icons always attached with countless sacred elements, the Emperor himself preferred this image. Although Ramesses had a loose mouth, one of his great advantages was providing sufficient emotional value when asking for help.
The card flipped in his hand, as if showing off how many cards he held.
This made Ramesses look like he was smiling, but in the eyes of daemons, it only felt horrifying.
A group of Greater Daemons hid outside the fire line that stopped advancing, hesitant.
ROAR—
Far at the other end of the castle, a roar sounded.
It was Nurgle.
The Lord of Decay made His choice.
Typhon Plagueheart immediately looked terrified.
He could run no more. As part of the God of Decay, he had to pay the price for his actions. The distance he ran, the area of the Garden occupied by a pile of overlapping powers, had reached the limit of what the Plague Lord could tolerate.
No Evil God would accept their territory being violated, even Nurgle.
Especially since they were spreading death.
Typhon Plagueheart could feel the echoes emitted by those lovely creatures before dying.
Every moment, daemons were dying completely.
This made the God of Decay, who always seemed to be in endless joy, furious.
I just poisoned your house to kill you, how can you rush into my house and kill my people?
"Damn you!"
Squelch!
Gabriel Seth, Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers and leader of the Death Company, split a crying and begging Nurgle daemon in half with his sword and spat.
For some reason, although his emotions were still full of bloodthirsty rage, Seth simply couldn't muster a shred of bloodlust amidst this decay.
This allowed his brain to analyze the battlefield more intuitively, even to think about the meaning of their battle. Seth could observe the battlefield through the tactical analysis instrument still operating beside his vision.
He could see the daemons gathering after a brief chaos. The sky rained corrupt rain, sizzling on the flames on his armor. Data was constantly projected on his retina, assisting the Astartes in analyzing the battle situation.
The surrounding daemons began to counterattack. Under Nurgle's order, these crying daemons waded through the fire, filled with despair and resentment, driven towards them.
The number was terrifying. Those fat Great Unclean Ones, accompanied by various Nurgle daemons, stretched across the entire field of vision, layered upon layers.
Seth swore he couldn't finish killing them in a lifetime.
This was the Grandfather's Garden; no child could stay out of it.
The Grandfather would not save a child who couldn't get things done. Even if the Grandfather distributed love equally to every living being, there were still differences.
The influence of the Cursed One could not be allowed to spread further within!
Nurgle daemons constantly passed by him, like Typhon Plagueheart trembling to pick up the wooden ladle, and then charging the moment Ramesses smiled.
Venting the negative emotions brought by shock with howling, then beginning mutual destruction with these invaders.
Warriors rubbed shoulders, colliding head-on.
Gunfire and artillery scraped the senses.
Bolters roared, firing at close range, blasting bodies into pieces, hurting surrounding people like shrapnel from frag grenades.
Plasma weapons and volkite weapons flashed on heavy armors. Scorching beams turned Nurgle daemons into burning torches one by one with each shot.
Heavy vehicle cannons fired at the faces of Nurgle daemons. Phosphex weapons exploded in dense biological groups, plunging the entire 'Weeping Plague Swamp' into a sea of fire.
Some Space Marines died standing. Various patterns of Terminator armor were locked by daemons, then corroded, and then shattered like destroyed statues. Some mortal soldiers' bodies exploded on the spot along with their power armor, the swinging iron cones and bells powerful enough to shatter their bones, leaving only a few remains.
Flames licked these remains.
The Nurgle Legion was not without resistance. After a brief chaos, the Nurgle daemons tried to dominate the battle with that slow but almost endless brute force, waving wooden clubs and anvils at everything around, overwhelming and crushing these Legionaries from realspace.
The number of Dawnbreakers was too small compared to daemons. Many warriors died under simultaneous attacks launched by many opponents from all directions.
But the Dawnbreakers never lacked fierce warriors capable of fighting a thousand.
They had warriors like Titus. At this moment, he held 'Fearless', forged by the Lord of Knights, waving this master-crafted chainsword to slaughter among the daemon group.
In order to re-integrate the various Chapters almost completely split by the implementation of the Codex Astartes for ten thousand years, the Dawnbreakers, while holding the glorious battle of the Victory Celebration, also established the Ring of Unity directly under the Dawnbreakers early on, including those warriors screened from various Chapters.
Some stayed with Romulus to learn his wisdom and management plan, some were placed on the battlefield to hone their martial arts and establish merits with brothers from other Chapters.
They also had Hal from the Shattered Legions and those ancient warriors eager for revenge under his command.
When colleagues good at strategy but not combat resided in the Gloriana, relying on their wisdom to drive one of the greatest creations of humanity to influence the direction of the war, these champions famous ten thousand years ago put it into action with force.
Old, new, past, present.
At this moment, they all came to the door and threw themselves into this slaughter that could truly inflict wounds on the enemy.
Typhon Plagueheart kept his distance, trying his best to escape the retaliation of the 'Formless Lord', rushing into the enemy formation with a speed inconsistent with that fat body, killing wantonly in the crowd.
First minute.
Typhon Plagueheart began to concentrate, responding to the brilliance of the Grandfather, waving his weapon, and expecting a possible reversal of the battlefield.
Second minute.
He began to hide in the pile of corpses, hoping the Nurgle daemons could gain the upper hand.
This was normal. After all, they were Nurgle daemons, extensions of the Grandfather, the most unparalleled creations in the warp.
They had never failed. As the oldest daemons, there was no war they couldn't win. With the passage of time, their opponents would become fewer and fewer, while they existed eternally.
Surrounded by many Great Unclean Ones, Typhon Plagueheart began to calculate how to break through this defense line, thinking about what to do next. Perhaps the plague pollution operation set by the Grandfather at the beginning had failed, because their plan to control the plague to delay the Dawnstar Sector was gradually turning into a bubble under the pressure of both the enemy and the master—
But they could still adapt, or rather, respond to all changes by remaining unchanged.
Third minute.
Typhon Plagueheart thought so.
There were other targets: the Dawnstar Sector, the Great Rift, Macragge, even Terra, and the creation in front of him.
He threw off a Grey Knight rushing from the corpse pieces, the huge force knocking the warrior to the ground.
That Grey Knight was swallowed by layers of daemons in the blink of an eye.
Fourth minute.
He discovered 'Chronos Key'.
That was the root of the Cursed One's invasion of the Garden. Typhon Plagueheart was certain this was the reason for the invasion. So next, that should be their final goal.
They would cut a bloody path, leave the corpses of this rabble behind, take that cursed instrument, and let the Grandfather master it. Then they could end this sudden attack. The planet in the center of the flame wasteland would finally be exposed to the Grandfather's gaze.
The great Grandfather would surely be able to launch His attack from the forever pitch-black castle and raze it to the ground.
He would send down a plague like a monument, annihilating that planet along with the invaders inside.
Fifth minute.
He saw Herpes Simplex, who controlled pox, pinned down by the Lord of Shadows.
This Greater Daemon reacted a bit slower, not leaving the area occupied by the Cursed One immediately, so it was completely surrounded.
A flock of crows broke through the daemon's defense. Those crows transformed from the super Raven Guard who died ten thousand years ago assisted their gene-father in tearing apart the guard of the Nurgle daemon army. Then the terrifying creation far exceeding ordinary daemons pounced, tearing, dividing, and letting the crow flock devour it completely.
Then they fled into the shadows again under the guidance of their gene-father, waiting for the next opportunity.
This time, these loyal warriors no longer had any so-called flesh mutation.
This terrible loss was permanent. Its disease would no longer be manipulated by it. The moment this Greater Daemon died completely, the plagues ravaging realspace would be resisted by 'scientific' means.
Maybe the Lord of Plagues would spend power to create another daemon in the future, but that daemon would no longer be its deceased partner.
Typhon Plagueheart felt like he saw his own future.
Sixth minute.
The roar of slaughter never ceased, but became fiercer as the opponent's formation began to compress.
Typhon Plagueheart began to reanalyze the current situation.
Thinking is a good thing. Although Tzeentchian daemons always seized the opportunity of their thinking to hold back bad farts, it was also thinking that allowed him to walk step by step through the long career of a Nurgling, standing out from the competition of countless brothers and sisters, becoming a Great Unclean One favored by the Grandfather.
He began to realize he was tired. He should have realized it when fleeing just now.
This was a rather strange experience. They had never felt it in the past, naturally unable to adapt.
This made their proud endless offensive begin to slow down, begin to weaken. Some compatriots even ushered in death because key organs fell due to rot, and then were killed by humans who were also weakened by pain but had more tenacious will. Even the Nurgle daemons known for resilience couldn't gain the upper hand in this brief war of attrition.
He issued a retreat order to the surviving subordinates, compressing the attack route, and began to focus on defense.
Yes, Nurgle daemons would not get carried away like other daemons, dizzy with unstable emotions.
They were warriors who became wiser with the passage of time, knowing how to interpret the trend of life pulsation and take corresponding actions to seek advantages and avoid disadvantages.
Seventh minute.
When this counterattack revealed a stable posture in the tug-of-war.
Typhon Plagueheart realized he would die.
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