In the twisted currents of the Warp, the concept of time became meaningless.
It could have been an instant, or it could have been an eternity, until—
"psychic readings are off the charts! Something's coming!"
The Navigator's shrill scream tore through the bridge's silence, his mutated eye between his brows spinning wildly, almost tearing free from its socket.
Alarms blared throughout the ship, their piercing hum like the whisper of Death.
"How unlucky, worrying about something and it appears."
Inquisitor knox suddenly opened his eyes, a faint glow flashing in his pupils, his gaze piercing through the thick armor plating.
In a dimension imperceptible to ordinary people, a mass of nauseating energy surged from the depths of the Warp.
Its viscous texture was like putrid pus, its surface constantly bubbling with festering blisters, emitting a sickly sweet stench of decay.
It was Father Nurgle's blessing, the most disgusting kind.
"All hands, battle stations!"
Toren's roar echoed through the ship's internal comms, every syllable seemingly squeezed through his teeth.
"Daemon invasion!"
Although encountering an attack in the Warp is as common as meeting an Ork in a Death World.
Or rather, like finding a piece of uncontaminated synthetic starch in the underbelly of a Hive City.
But each ambush is equally deadly.
Countless Imperial ships have thus vanished forever into the Warp's vortex, without even a single intact armor plate remaining.
At this moment, this warship faced the same fate.
The lower decks were the first to fall to corruption.
When Inquisitor knox and Toren led the Grey Knights squad and Adepta Sororitas to the scene, the bulkheads had turned into writhing putrid flesh, with yellowish-green pus oozing from the cracks.
The air was thick with the sickly sweet scent of rotting flowers, and several crew members knelt, vomiting, their skin covered in pustules, as if their bodies were joyfully welcoming the corruption.
"Purifying flames!"
Toren's furious roar echoed in the confined compartment.
The purity seals on the Grey Knights' shoulder plates glowed brightly, and their flamers spewed forth holy fire.
The Adepta Sororitas followed closely, their melta guns' high-temperature rays carbonizing the corrupted flesh.
The seared flesh walls emitted a piercing shriek, but then more abscesses swelled up from all directions, as if mocking the futile resistance of these Imperial elites.
Suddenly, dozens of swollen, festering arms pierced through the bulkhead one after another, accompanied by a bone-jarring tearing sound, as a group of cheerful Nurglings bounced and surged into the compartment.
These distorted little demons danced wildly, singing off-key songs to praise their Father Nurgle: "Pus drips! Blisters bloom! Father Nurgle loves good little children!"
Inquisitor knox narrowed his eyes, his pupils reflecting the true psychic forms of these demons: masses of writhing, putrid energy.
He ordered coldly: "Disperse and clear! Three per group, you two," He pointed to two fully armored Adepta Sororitas, "follow me."
His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.
The two Sisters immediately followed, their power armor appearing exceptionally holy in the corrupted environment.
Wherever Inquisitor knox passed, the corrupted tendrils attempting to approach quickly recoiled as if encountering a branding iron.
The two Adepta Sororitas, Matilda and Sophia, exchanged a look of awe.
They had heard legends of this Inquisitor; some said he was a living saint sent by the Emperor, others said he wielded lost ancient psychic techniques.
But at this moment, they were certain that no matter the rumors, this man indeed possessed the power to expel corruption.
Inquisitor knox had no time to consider the mental state of the Sisters behind him; he just wanted to quickly cleanse this filth.
It wasn't his first time dealing with these things, but every encounter made his stomach churn.
Even absorbing the energy fragments of these daemons felt like they carried an indescribable "taste."
Inquisitor knox's figure moved like a phantom through the narrow corridor, the bolter in his hand transforming into the scythe of Death.
Each precise shot was accompanied by the explosion of a Nurgling.
Those demons locked onto by his Soul-Seizing Eye were like insects pinned to a specimen board, only able to watch as the bolt rounds delivered their judgment.
He deliberately controlled his firing rhythm, making this slaughter appear to be at the level expected of an ordinary Inquisitor.
However, reality quickly shattered this composure.
More Nurgle Demons surged from ventilation ducts, gaps in hatches, and even deck seams, turning the entire corridor into a putrid beehive.
With a deafening roar comparable to an Ork rock concert, the bulkhead collapsed under the corrosion of yellowish-green pus.
A Nurgle Beast over three meters tall squirmed its way into the passage, its swollen body covered in oozing cysts, like a gift overly cherished by Father Nurgle—each step leaving hissing corrosive pits on the adamantium deck.
"Father Nurgle's embrace blesses you!"
It gurgled in an off-key guttural voice, opening its festering forelimbs and lunging at Inquisitor knox, the putrid sweet stench ten times more pungent than a Hive City's bottom-level waste disposal plant.
Inquisitor knox sidestepped with a textbook-perfect tactical dodge—this body, enhanced by the Khorne Greater Demon, had long broken through the shackles of mortals, even reaching the entry standards of the Custodes.
Bang, bang, two shots, the bolt rounds exploded two bowl-sized wounds in the Nurgle Beast's abdomen, but the demon merely swayed and charged again.
"For the Emperor!"
Two Adepta Sororitas arrived in time, their flamers' holy flames engulfing the demon.
The air immediately filled with the smell of scorched meat, but this "barbecue feast" was not over, as three more demons of similar size outflanked them from both sides.
A hint of impatience flashed in Inquisitor knox's eyes, his wide sleeves billowed without wind, and the Netherworld Seal hidden within them glowed faintly.
"Nether Soldiers, heed my command!"
With this low roar, three black mists imperceptible to ordinary people surged from his sleeves, instantly coalescing into armored and weapon-wielding Shadow Soldiers.
These warriors from the Netherworld moved in perfect unison, the cold gleam of their ghost-head sabers leaving afterimages in the air.
The three daemons charging at the front didn't even have time to scream, exploding one after another like overripe pumpkins, their putrid pus splattering the entire corridor.
All of this happened too quickly; from Sister Matilda's perspective, she only saw Inquisitor knox suddenly stop, and then the three Nurgle Daemons in front inexplicably exploded into fragments.
"Focus on your defenses!"
Inquisitor knox shouted without turning his head, secretly controlling the Shadow Soldiers' range of activity.
These Nether Soldiers always moved in blind spots, ensuring they wouldn't be detected by Grey Knights from other directions.
He deliberately made the Nether Soldiers' attacks appear like the effects of some psychic shock, even intentionally leaving a few "lucky escapees" Nurglings to maintain the credibility of this performance.
At the other end of the battlefield, Captain Toren looked back as if sensing something.
He always felt that the psychic fluctuations in Inquisitor knox's direction were somewhat abnormal, but the detector showed nothing except standard Warp interference.
He shook his head, attributing it to Nurgle's corruption interfering with perception, and continued to focus on the battle at hand.