Chapter 431: Even Calling Him 'Grandfather' Won't Make Him Drop Loot
Worth it.
Yes, worth it.
Corax thought so.
Only this word could describe it. This action was unprecedented, and the result was exceptionally perfect.
Blocking Vashtorr back to his lair was already incredible, but killing him, relying on the Emperor's power to break the blockade of the Four Gods, and dragging his body across the warp and reality far exceeded the scope of imagination.
When Corax figured out what the Dawnbreakers wanted him to do, he had been trying his best to obey orders. Although he was always puzzled by their unconventional methods, in fact, requests from Ramesses or Arthur were always hard for him to refuse.
The daemons of Nurgle's domain were exhausted and terrified. He led the super Raven Guard, whose fate he had once brooded over, to start another Great Game in Nurgle's domain. Now they were acting on the other side of the galaxy, and could even get the Emperor's assistance. This kind of operation only existed in the theories recorded in the internal documents of various ancient factions with long heritage under the shadow of the Imperium of Man.
However, an unprecedented start always brings considerable possibilities, and the Dawnbreakers seem to always be the ones to seize them.
Since they could invade Nurgle's domain while maintaining their self-integrity, functioning normally, and squeezing out power from daemons that shouldn't belong to them, why couldn't they go further and target those secondary gods?
This operation would disrupt the ecology belonging to the warp. The last large-scale death of secondary gods dated back to the birth of Slaanesh. Heaven knows what kind of chaos such behavior would stir up, stimulating these already crazy slave owners into frenzy, but in the current situation, there seemed no need to worry about these things.
But this journey was still terrifying.
Huge resistance came from the sector in the direction of advance. Khorne raised a firestorm filling the sky, severely testing their abilities. Inside the warp, the entire space was shaking and screaming, squeaking with the roar of the gods at every moment.
The roar from Nurgle's Manse was deafening, continuous smashing sounds disturbing all thoughts.
Despite this, Corax couldn't help but enjoy this journey, amazed by its audacity and ingenuity.
When Ramesses took the lead to kick away those chains and hugged Vashtorr directly, Corax couldn't help but put away the method of suggesting evacuation, waiting for these partners to come up with their own methods.
Just when Vashtorr seemed destined to spend his life as a divided trophy under the snatching of the gods, they put their own mark on this operation in their own way. When the claws of the gods gradually approached them, leaving tragic traces all over the way, they saw a cold sun engulfed in flames coming towards them, beginning to cleverly manipulate its power with the assistance of the Dawnbreakers.
The cycle of billions of years began to shatter under their control. I wonder what the Dawnbreakers who achieved this great achievement would think?
"Sorry to trouble you, Corax."
Arthur squatted slightly, his long cloak hanging over his knees, pulling up Corax who still had traces of war on him.
The divided trophy was now floating in the anti-gravity facility. Under the suppression of the Lord of Knights, the corruption covering the left arm and left leg began to fade gradually, slowly rotating under the gravity fluctuations of the Planet Killer.
Inside the Planet Killer, the sounds of killing had long ceased. Operators were adapting to the Planet Killer's system. Grey Knights maintained supervision over various important facilities, mainly preventing daemons from escaping, and incidentally counting the list recording the True Names of daemons, crossing out those already dead.
Thanks to Vashtorr, the operating system of this ship was very advanced. Various furnaces providing power sources still maintained the squeezing of daemons, and most operating systems were replaced by park overseers.
The miserable screams of daemons were pleasant, and there were no other annoying noises.
Soldiers of the Dark Angels Legion gathered in groups of three or five, silently guarding their posts, inputting technology—except for the Pentagrammic Host, the Dark Angels absorbed Necron technology to a higher degree, rarely using psychic technology, and conventional combat also tended to use weapons and equipment with clear origins.
Although paying attention to these miraculous skills, as the main force of the Dawnbreakers, except for equipping a certain number of Spirit-Forged series unmanned weapons to reduce casualties in the early stage, the three frontal forces would not let things like daemon engines exist excessively within the Legion.
While gradually absorbing the technology of various races, bonuses focused on humans themselves based on the technological achievements of various races were also gradually popularized. For example, humans have their own Wraith engines. Those elders who died in battle and were difficult to revive by rituals changed a way to continue fighting in realspace. They also possess living metal facilities controlled by independent systems to prevent being hacked and destroyed by Necrons in war.
No one spoke loudly.
"Coordinates recorded. Next, we will prioritize dealing with the Chaos threat within range. After the environment stabilizes, we will proceed with awakening the Lion."
Arthur stated the next plan.
"Do you want to stay and meet him?"
He asked for opinion.
The time travel experiment was not so urgent. Now that the coordinates and two artifacts were in their hands, rushing to open it would be ridiculous if it benefited Chaos.
"No need."
Corax replied.
His relationship with the Lion wasn't good. Back when he fished the Wolf King out of the pile of dead before the Battle of Yarant, the two of them were scolded by the Lion together, raising their blood pressure significantly.
"I will continue to guard 'Chronos Key'. I am needed there."
Putting half of Vashtorr's spine into Arthur's hand, Corax spoke, lest the other party didn't know his thoughts.
During the Great Crusade, his performance was lackluster. Now he didn't want to give up the opportunity to continue being busy.
Although he didn't think the Dawnbreakers would hold a grudge over a silence.
Corax thought somewhat self-deprecatingly.
The disaster of the Heresy, although there were many weirdos interfering with the Primarchs' decision-making in that period, the indecision of the Primarchs was the root cause of such disaster.
Arthur nodded.
"You are also amazing, good brother."
He looked at Ramesses again and said.
"I know I am amazing."
Ramesses waved his hand, dispersing the psychic energy on his body, and bragged again: "Self-discipline and caution, maintaining clarity of mind, stopping at the right point."
Can't help but praise him.
Arthur shook his head and stuffed Ascalon into the other's arms.
"However—"
Ramesses's expression suddenly became serious.
"How is the situation on Wyrmwood?"
Wyrmwood, the planet Vashtorr assembled by collecting most fragments of Caliban, positioned as a super fortress combining production, combat, and mobility.
Of course, because it is currently early 800.M41, this future famous megastructure has not been assembled yet.
"No anomaly, but still under observation."
Arthur pressed the communication device, then replied: "After the naval victory, the fleet has maintained observation and did not rush to land."
"Let the Dark Angels fleet assemble."
Counting on his fingers like a charlatan for a while, Ramesses punched his palm and cursed again.
"Nurgle or Khorne?"
Arthur turned his head to look at the residual traces on Vashtorr's remains.
"Nurgle."
Ramesses replied simply, then cursed:
"Vashtorr, this idiot, triggered a death rattle for me even after dying. Can contracts with these warp things be signed? The credit score of the five combined isn't enough to rent a shared bike."
The last pig-head who tried to sign a contract with the Four Gods was Magnus.
"No problem."
Arthur didn't dwell on the problem itself, turning to assemble the troops.
As for the cleaning of the peripheral area, he planned to hand it over to the Space Wolves also operating in the Obscurus Segmentum.
Since the Battle of Cadia, the Space Wolves had changed their past reclusive style and began to actively expand their influence in the Obscurus Segmentum, establishing diplomatic relations with various Ice Worlds, forming alliances with Rogue Traders and White Scars, paying attention to various warp rifts and Webway routes.
Since the galaxy fell into chaos in just a few years, the wolf pack expanded to fifty thousand has been active everywhere in the Obscurus Segmentum. They act as unstoppable breachers opening paths for other human troops, while the Astra Militarum, whose equipment quality is comparable to Skitarii with the support of multiple Forge Worlds, can also preserve the fruits of victory very well.
So with the military strength possessed by the Obscurus Segmentum, the defense of the Rock shouldn't have been fought like this.
But Dark Angels, you know how it is.
Because of the secret nature of the target involved, various Dark Angels Chapters refused the support of the Space Wolves. The Wolves knew a little about the little secrets of these cousins, and couldn't do much except curse the Dark Angels for being hypocritical.
"I'll go too."
Arthur said.
Corax, holding a gun, followed without hesitation.
Ramesses also planned to go, but was stopped by Arthur.
"You stay here to guard Vashtorr's remains, prevent accidents, and maintain the stability of the portal."
Arthur looked at the warp rift that was gradually closing.
Although he didn't say it clearly, Ramesses understood what he meant.
This was to prevent Nurgle from jumping over the wall in desperation.
Although the probability was very low, they couldn't take the risk.
"Okay."
Ramesses nodded helplessly.
It seemed he could only watch the show this time.
Realm of Chaos, The Garden of Nurgle
"I have lost too much."
Stirring the cauldron with a rotten arm, Nurgle poured another handful of plague into realspace, whispering.
Isha, the Goddess of Life, did not secretly take the plague to taste and make an antidote for creatures in the material world to resist the virus as usual, but shrank in the corner, trembling with fear from the angry emotions emanating from the Grandfather.
"Grandfather?"
Rotigus Rainfather wasn't sure if he heard correctly.
He actually captured more extreme emotions from the eternally joyful Grandfather.
Nurgle turned around.
He asked.
"Can you feel that planet?"
Nurgle lost too much. Lost His Chosen, lost the Plagueheart. Yet Vashtorr, this fool, achieved nothing, and even presented a big gift package to the Dawnbreakers.
Didn't even delay for a moment.
Even Arthur and the others were not eager to resurrect the Lion, preferring to go to Macragge.
No, Mortarion and the others were not ready yet. They couldn't let them go there so quickly.
Hoo—
The God of Decay panted, continuing to pour a bowl of plague into reality.
Rotigus took a deep breath.
His senses were surrounded by various warp phenomena. Nurglings shouted around him, constantly declaring their existence with vicious words in their mouths.
He concentrated.
The structure belonging to Wyrmwood rose in his spiritual vision. Sparse rain fell from the sky, marking the general outline of the planet's surface. But for some reason, in this area highly bound to the Grandfather's contract, he found it difficult to maintain focus. Rising terror sent stabs of pain through his perception.
Vision was blurred. Warp energy seemed to hit an indestructible wall, only able to observe relying on the power on the other side of the wall. He could hardly distinguish where those divinations came from.
No achievements.
Rotigus curled his lips, instinctively not wanting to disappoint the Grandfather.
Pop!
The Nurglings beside him exploded on the spot as power was drawn, but in the Grandfather's garden, these small lives were endless. In the blink of an eye, more than seven hundred Nurglings climbed onto him again.
Gently stroking these family members he loved most, Rotigus forced himself to continue deeper.
Then, he fell into focus, the source causing all this, the origin of despair dying in the garden now.
The Grandfather's people were screaming, wailing. Rotigus heard the despairing echo of Typhus before death from it. Everything of his was dismantled into fragments. At the moment of death, he was still pouring out the Grandfather's secrets like emptying a bucket.
Truly deserved to die.
Rotigus wanted to laugh, but thinking of the Grandfather's unity, he kept a straight face and continued to probe deeper.
He saw Ramesses, the Formless Lord, the cruelest existence in the warp, busy.
This legendary existence seemed to be counting his trophies. Daemons were squeezed diligently by him, finally drained of bone and blood.
Few existences could make the daemons of the Four Gods unite to resist, and this was one.
This flamboyant person, completely different from rumors, suddenly raised his head.
Bright golden pupils with a smile pointed to the source of the gaze. Behind him, in realspace, another truly formless, non-existent 'God of Death' also cast a gaze at the same moment.
He withdrew from the illusion.
The sound of steaming boilers and bursting bubbles instantly returned to his ears.
He stared at the Grandfather's body, as if doing so could stop him from collapsing completely.
"I can."
He said.
Nurgle nodded, staring at the motionless golden sun in the warp.
It seemed the Cursed One's power could only be used once.
Nurgle extracted all information from Rotigus's mind, ignoring the other's cleverness, satisfied with the result.
In this way, He could start forcing the start of the ritual, bring back Typhus of ten thousand years ago, and continue to delay the Dawnbreakers' pace.
As for the beginning of all this, perhaps other children needed to buy some time.
"I want to reclaim the child I favor, and make the existence causing all this death atone."
He put down the bowl stained with filth, his voice spreading in the rotten jungle.
Under His sound wave, the entire forest began to animate.
"My children, do not fear death, conquer it."
Death.
The thing Nurgle loathed most.
"Grandfather!"
A fallen believer opened his eyes, fear filling his heart.
He shouted loudly.
But the only response was the Grandfather's order.
Panic urged him to drag his fat body and start running. After a few steps, he fell to the ground, then his body melted on the spot, becoming nutrients for the soil under his feet.
Rustle!
A hand made of dead branches and rotten leaves tore open the nest. A daemon born from nutrients stepped onto the escape path of the fallen, joining the gradually awakening daemon army.
"Grandfather!"
"Grandfather!"
The garden began to surge. Existences fearing death disappeared constantly, shaped into the appearance their master liked under endless power of decay.
This was the problem. The Dawnbreakers could kill them directly, and more importantly, maybe kill their master too.
Time passed continuously. Nurgle daemons crawled out of their swaddling clothes, intending to contribute everything to the Grandfather. The Grandfather's voice dispelled their fear of death.
When the last daemon turned around and marched towards the target pointed by the Grandfather, here and now, only one answer remained.
"Give the order, Grandfather."
Rotigus said firmly, looking at the surging daemon army.
He was not Ku'gath, nor Mortarion. Compared to making plagues, he was better at spreading them.
He was the proxy of the Grandfather's power.
"I can definitely do it."
"No."
Nurgle gently stopped the eager Greater Daemon.
Rotigus, one of His favorite children, could sacrifice himself in the process of fighting the Cursed One, but not die here.
"You need not go."
"..."
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