Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

Page 425

The demon Nurgle was no longer as composed and cheerful as before.

No matter how fierce the war before Casgar was, even if they were killed in the real world, the Nurgle demons could still return to the warp and continue to laugh and play as the little elves and their companions beside their loving father in the lush Nurgle Gardens.

Can!

This flame, possessing the power to erase names, is clearly the power of the cursed one, the stubborn false emperor in human terms.

He—has no sense of martial ethics!

It was clearly agreed that this was part of a grand game. Whether it was the Chaos Gods or the Emperor sitting on the Golden Throne, they would at most deploy some cursed troops, which would already be extremely unfair. How could they possibly intervene in the battle at this time?

Most likely, this crazy guy has jumped off the chessboard again, shouting, "I am a chess piece!"

"Run!"

"Hurry, let those plague zombies hold them off, hold them off!"

"Ah ...

Overwhelmed by the fear of utter annihilation, Nurgle's front lines crumbled at the first touch of Kasgar's flames, giving him the opportunity to push the front line toward Nurgle.

"Keep advancing! Under the Emperor's light, our troops will be invincible!"

Kasgar used his psychic powers to spread his voice from the front lines to every corner.

After countless days of fierce fighting without achieving satisfactory results, people desperately need a decisive victory to help them regain their confidence.

Amidst the enthusiastic cheers of the Star Guardians and Space Marines, Kasgar led his squad onward in the direction they were heading.

Even though the troops are advancing triumphantly, the real battle has not yet begun.

Kasgar understood that although his first wave of burning Nurgle was very satisfying, not a single prominent Archmage had appeared in the opposing camp.

He was not Guilliman after all, and at this time, the number of defenders on Pamenio was also slightly insufficient due to the threat of the swarm.

Under pressure, Casca must achieve sufficient results in this battle.

Nurgle excels at defense and counter-attacks.

If this drags on any longer, and they pollute the planet's environment, the longer the battle goes on, the more disadvantageous it will become.

Kasgar must seize this opportunity to kill one or two of the Nurgle Archdemons in order to shake the morale of the enemy forces.

The real enemy lies behind these screaming, retreating, rotting carcasses, deep within the dark green miasma, at that mountain-like...

The chief demon of Nurgle, the Plaguefather, Kurgas.

The great impure ones stand out among their servants.

As the Titans advanced, the Nurgle faction, with its ever-growing, bloated Mountain of Flesh, swayed toward the enemy.

Their obese, enormous bodies proudly display all forms of disease and decay.

At the center of the demon army was the chief demon's plague guard.

They are the royal guard of Kulgas, one of Nurgle's most powerful legions. Commanded by seven of the strongest archmages, the Plague Guard outnumbers any other legion by three and outguns by seven. They march through the nauseating swamp, their bands wailing and their counting bells buzzing. From their putrid throats spew out absurd and gloomy, repetitive melodies.

Kugas's palanquin led the way among the howling demons. Around it were its six lieutenants: septicemia, beggar, bad throat, famine, the Black Death, and stunted growth.

Compared to the previously nameless expendable minions, they are clearly more resistant to the flames of the Casgar—although the flames of the Casgar covering the entire battlefield are enough to make the originally lively and active Wall of Flesh listless and miserable, they are still able to maintain their rotten and smelly form in the end.

The flames that were originally burning everything like wildfire could only be locked in a stalemate with the miasma of the Plague Cauldron, a divine artifact that housed the power of the original Nagued.

We cannot make any progress.

"Hahaha... an interesting experiment."

"Your power is astonishing, but it does not come from the cursed."

Sitting in the plague-stricken, stench-filled sedan chair, the father of plague, Kugas, swayed his obese body in the seat, his small eyes beneath the rotting flesh slyly observing Kasgar and the flames enveloping him.

What is most remarkable is the enormous plague cauldron he holds in his hand—in the swirling mist of thick green liquid, the phantom of Nurgle Garden seems to seep into the real world.

As a gift from the merciful Father Nurgle, this cauldron was once used to boil forty-nine layers of deadly plagues. Each layer of plague was composed of forty-nine superimposed diseases. Even the strongest infected person would develop forty-nine lesions at the same time when facing the merciful Father's plague, making their life worse than death.

The most unclean ones reek of decay, yet their pockmarked faces hold eyes brimming with wicked wisdom. Decay and plague strengthen the offspring of the filthy.

The same cunning thoughts dwell in their corrupt and decadent brains.

"He has flames! He's terrifying!"

"He will burn us, he will annihilate us!"

"Save us, Father! Save us!!!"

Screaming and bouncing like a pinball, Nurgle bounced back and forth on the bottles and jars on Plaguefather's shoulder.

"Hahaha! Little one, don't be afraid, don't be afraid."

Kugas burst into laughter from both his upper and lower jaws: "I have no intention of making you pistachios disappear completely, my darlings."

In ordinary battles, the Plague Father would occasionally grab any Nurgle spirits that came near him and throw them into the crowd of people nearby.

These screaming bastards will smash themselves to pieces and then cover a large area of ​​enemies with their filthy bodily fluids.

At that time, Kugas would patiently observe the infectious effects of Nurgle's death.

Whenever the plagues met Kugas's expectations, he would laugh like a proud father.

Of course, when faced with Kasgar's aggressive flames, he would no longer throw his beloved little Nurgles out like that.

After all, he himself was once a little Nugget spirit in front of the benevolent father Nugget.

"Prepare for utter annihilation, demon."

"My people, unleash the full force of our artillery fire!"

Although Kasgar now possesses psionic flames that are specifically designed to counter chaos, he disperses the flames to cleanse the surrounding Nurgle from corruption.

Now, the flames are concentrated in front of Nakugas, burning scorchingly in front of the giant green cauldron that emits a thick miasma.

As if seizing this moment of weakened firepower, the numerous Death Guard Chaos Space Marines following behind the obese body of the Great Impurity also emerged from the gaps in the Nurgle demons at the same time, firing cannons infused with the Corruption Virus at the Titan Legion.

The Death Guards' ranged attacks sent ripples of pale blue light across the Titan's Void Shield.

The battle between the two sides officially began at this moment, as their psionic flames and poisonous cauldrons collided.

Seeing this, the flames grew even more intense, spreading from Casca's arm toward the plague cauldron.

Despite being Nurgle's chief archduke, Kugas's strength remains formidable, and with the added power of his Chaos-specific psionic flames, even those with such abilities cannot rival him.

Casca must act swiftly.

A stalemate is the last thing he wants to see right now.

When facing the Nagle's army, a stalemate means defeat.

The other party can drag you into the cesspool they know best, and then defeat you by rolling around in the cesspool, which they are best at.

......

Just as Kasgar led the Ultramarines and Titan Order to launch a counterattack against Nurgle outside the city.

The city of Pamenio was filled with an atmosphere of piety and unease.

On the one hand, people believed in the power of the emperor and that under the guidance of the emperor's light, the human empire would be invincible.

"May the Emperor bless the souls that are faithful to him, so that they may return to the Golden Throne after death."

"Praise the Emperor, praise His glory and virtue..."

Since the Emperor's recent apparition, the Imperial Church has been packed with people eager to join the faith—they gather in front of the church chanting the Emperor's name and reciting the words they learned from the priests to praise him.

In this church packed with people, there seemed to be a missing pastor, who should have been there in the first place.

Mathieu.

"Who exactly are you? What do you want from me?"

In a secluded corner behind the church, he finally saw the unusually tall, thin, and pale man again.

The other person was wearing a linen hood and seemed to have been waiting for him there all along.

"You've arrived."

He nodded slightly to Mathieu.

"Who I am is not important—or rather, the moment you choose to keep the appointment, in your eyes I am the messenger sent by the Emperor to guide you; but if you decide to break the appointment, I am the demon sent by Chaos to tempt you—it is all up to you, isn't it?"

“No. But you are the Emperor’s envoy, I know that, and I have seen you before.”

Mathieu answered with unwavering certainty.

"Oh? Where is it?"

“In my dreams. He often appears in my dreams and uses this to tell me prophecies.”

"So what do you think?"

“His words contained wisdom I cannot comprehend,” Mathieu said, his expression still devout. “My inability to understand them only proves that I need more ascetic practice.”

As he spoke, Mathieu prepared to tighten the whip mechanism bindings on his body once more.

Ascetics like him often draw inspiration from the suffering of emperors, which is close to but far less intense than the emperor's.

"..."

The tall, thin man fell silent, as if he wanted to say something, but he only sighed.

"Friend, what exactly do you want to tell me by calling me here?"

Even with his portable, small atonement machine operating at full power, Mathieu calmly looked at the other person.

"You are very strong."

“That’s right, and I believe it’s a gift from the Emperor—he arranged the right places for us from the very beginning.”

Mathieu, an ordinary pastor, was born with unimaginable, superhuman strength.

Mathieu chose to attribute it to the Emperor's blessing—only the Emperor possessed such power to bless him and make him understand his worth.

"Yet you still choose to pray in church. Why?"

"Your power could have been used on the front lines, fighting alongside others under the so-called Emperor's Light."

“I…this is the Emperor’s decree.”

“But if I am, as you believe, an emissary from the Emperor, then what if I tell you—that the Emperor denies being a god, just as Guilliman has always proclaimed.”

How do you face this reality?

“I…I will try to understand His will and use the rest of my life to understand His wisdom.”

But he doesn't need your understanding.

"Ok?"

"He is dead. He died completely ten thousand years ago and will never come back."

The tall, thin man slightly raised his mask, as if looking at the gray sky, which had never seen a good view since the invasion of Nurgle.

"You! No, this can't be true! You can't sway my heart with your words!"

"So what if it's real? So what if it's fake?"

“Mathieu, have you ever considered that he might never want you to pin your future on dreamlike prophecies, meaningless suffering and prayers?”

"you--"

"Don't argue with me. I'm not here to convince you, you charlatan."

"What was the purpose of that?"

"It's my own will. I calculated it myself."

The tall, thin man patted Mathieu on the shoulder.

"This is not your fault. Some things require a great setback, and a long period of reflection and self-evaluation under the pressure of that setback before you can understand them."

"As for now, I have an even more important task for you—to destroy the Plague Cauldron."

Cauldron of Plague.

The artifact from the Chaos God is also the greatest nightmare of many extreme starfield defenders.

Ordinary people like him will be corrupted as soon as they get close to him.

But Mathieu believed in the power of the emperor.