Swollen pustules, centered around the scimitar, began to spread along the tower-like Warp Engine.
This ancient metallic technological creation seemed to have been infected by a blasphemous disease from the depths of the Warp.
In the middle and upper part of the tower, within the deep, dark, wide ring, a storm from the Empyrean surged forth.
The boundary between reality and the physical universe was gradually broken, torn apart.
Amidst the gale, the Warp Engine raged, filling the entire underground palace.
Joyful laughter echoed in the air, and the surrounding atmosphere became heavy, hot, and turbid.
A rift opened, centered around the Warp Engine, and a storm of brilliant green, grey, and yellow colors surged out, forming a deep vortex.
Through the howling vortex, Alexander could see the scene within the Empyrean.
It was a magnificent garden, lush beyond measure, blooming with millions of flowers, growing millions of fungi, and spreading millions of diseases.
That sacred domain belonged to Nurgle, the Father of All, it was Nurgle's Garden.
In the garden, nurglings were laughing and celebrating their success.
Rainfather, shaking his massive belly, waved the boxwood branch in his hand, praising them continuously.
He was about to lead Nurgle daemonss to invade reality.
Another planet was about to embrace Nurgle's benevolence.
This gate to the Warp was far stronger than the one the Lord of Change had opened last time.
This gate could truly allow Nurgle daemons army to invade reality and drag the entirety of Ashford into Nurgle's domain.
"How did you, like one of my genetic brothers, mess up at such a crucial moment?" Sanguinius said faintly.
"Who are you calling Guilliman? Huh? Who are you calling Guilliman!" Alexander leaned against the metal pillar, his voice hoarse.
"I didn't say it was Guilliman; don't try to sow discord among us three of the Second Empire."
Sanguinius shrugged and said:
"The situation isn't good right now. If Ashford falls, the Leviathan hive Fleet can invade Baal without any hindrance."
"And the virus on you has infectivity in both the material and immaterial realms. Even if I can help you resist in the immaterial realm, there's little I can do in the material realm."
"The good news is that the opening of this Warp gate has also increased my influence over the real universe."
Sanguinius indeed seemed to become a little brighter and more dazzling.
"I will try to manifest in the material universe through this, to help you resist Nurgle daemons army."
"But there are no churches of mine here, nor any of my descendants, so manifesting here will consume a great deal."
At this point, Sanguinius paused:
"I may not be able to speak directly with you for a very long time."
"When the Tyranid invade Ashford, I will also be unable to provide assistance. At that time, it will be up to you and my descendants."
Sanguinius' tone was full of trust and entrustment towards Alexander:
"Oh, by the way, remember to stir things up for me on Baal."
"Also, on Baal, do not mention your true purpose until the very last moment; He is watching."
As Sanguinius spoke, the light around him grew more dazzling, even making Alexander squint.
"Wait." Alexander, his voice hoarse, interrupted Sanguinius' output: "Who the hell said I messed up—um?"
"Um?" Sanguinius, who was in the midst of manifesting, also froze for a moment.
Marquite, standing before the Warp gate, couldn't help but turn his head.
Footsteps echoed from the entrance of the underground palace.
The footsteps gradually became clearer, like drumbeats striking the heart of everyone in the underground palace.
The young girl slowly walked out from the entrance of the underground palace, like an ancient monarch descending from Her throne to re-enter the human world.
Marquite recoiled a step in terror.
He was utterly horrified; before him was merely a slender young girl in an ordinary synthetic fiber dress.
Just an ordinary girl with golden hair that had turned dry like weeds.
Just a tender child with misty, deer-like eyes.
Yet, every nerve in Marquite's body screamed in fear.
"Who are you?!"
Marquite's voice suddenly rose, his fear undeniable:
"I remember! You're the girl who came with Alexander? Joan?"
No sooner had Marquite spoken than he shook his head, denying his own memory.
"No, you're not... How could you be, yet this?!"
Marquite vaguely sensed what he was facing, but absolutely dared not believe it.
Behind him, sharp storms howled from the Warp gate.
But as this Warp wind, filled with supernatural viruses, blew past, a faint golden light shone around the young girl.
This light repelled the blasphemous evil forces from the Empyrean, burning away all diseases.
The young girl took a step forward, her pace light, enveloped in golden light.
The mistiness in her deer-like eyes was dispelled by the golden light in an instant, and her gaze became irresistibly sharp.
Her dry hair fanned out, drifting with the Warp wind, becoming as smooth as freshly poured molten gold.
Marquite found his gaze unable to move away from the young girl; he had to face her eyes directly.
Those eyes were as ancient as the oldest stars, as if they had witnessed every moment from humanity forging its first city to the first starship opening up the galaxy.
Marquite understood, Marquite saw.
Behind the young girl was the Golden Throne, towering to the deepest reaches of the Empyrean.
Atop the throne, the Corpse-King cast His gaze upon the material universe.
In His hollow, blood-red eyes, a cold and dark sun blazed fiercely.
Marquite's throat formed the word, but he dared not utter it for a long time.
As if merely speaking that name would reduce him to ashes on the spot.
He could only retreat in fear, trying to get closer to Nurgle's Garden for a little comfort.
Marquite, his voice hoarse, spoke the infamous name he had heard many times from the angels:
"The Cursed… One…"
The word seemed to burn fiercely in the air, inspiring dread.
Beneath the metal pillar,
Sanguinius, visible in the corner of Alexander's eye, watched the scene with bewilderment and confusion.
He murmured in a low voice, involuntarily, "Father?"
This word also burned in the air.
"Holy crap, the ten-thousand-year-old fox spirit has manifested!" Alexander exclaimed involuntarily.
This word made the air suddenly grow colder.
Joan turned her head, and the Corpse-God on the Golden Throne behind her also cast His gaze.
"Blue… Cat… Mon…"
A complex sound, laden with vast information, came, as if a billion people spoke at once:
"Blue… Cat…"
"Blue Cat Doraemon!"