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Fungal Abyss.
The gears of the great clock spun rapidly. The remnants of the corrupted network in Ultramar accelerated, as if racing against time.
Mortarion once again contacted Ku'gath, the First Favoured of Nurgle.
His voice was hoarse and heavy:
"You've already obtained the blood of both Primarchs. When will the Godplague descend upon reality?"
A year ago, after the failure of the corruption at the core node—Iax, the world representing the sacred number seven—Mortarion was forced to revise the plan.
He secretly chose another world, one obscured and aligned with the sacred number three. In secret, he unleashed a triadic plague upon it.
That world became the factory for Ku'gath's brewing of the Godplague.
To avoid drawing attention, many Grand Epidemic Stars were sacrificed, and the whereabouts of key leaders hidden.
It was essential to avoid being besieged by the Imperial Regent and the Savior.
Fortunately, everything had proceeded smoothly.
The apparent setbacks were only temporary—or perhaps even deliberate—to protect something far more vital.
Once the Godplague was complete...
They would kill both Primarchs in one strike, dragging Ultramar and the surrounding worlds into Nurgle's Garden.
It would be the ultimate victory.
Cough cough cough—
"Papa Nurgle, it's so damn damp here... Everything's soaked. Even the firewood's wet."
Ku'gath wheezed, coughing on thick smoke, visibly frustrated.
"The Godplague is nearly finished. A matter of 3 hours, or 3 days—maybe thirty-three days, or three months... The sacred triple principle will decide. But it won't be long. The perfect plague will soon enter this world."
He spoke with absolute certainty.
"I've obtained the perfect recipe—augmented with triple-fold pestilence ingredients."
"It can kill a Primarch. Kill any of the sons of the Accursed One. Even you, my dear Lord of Death."
"It will even kill daemons—permanently."
The Godplague was so terrifying its toxins affected both body and soul, annihilating both simultaneously.
Mortarion nodded slightly.
"Make it fast. The Regent and the Savior are growing suspicious—they're already searching for our plague factory."
"The Scourge Stars are also facing increasing attacks. More factions are joining this war. We must kill the two Primarchs before the situation spins fully out of control."
"Otherwise, Papa Nurgle's grand plan will face failure."
"Move faster, you rotting little darlings! Fill the cauldron! Don't let your laziness doom our glorious cause!"
Ku'gath barked to the others nearby, urging the process along. Then he turned back to Mortarion.
"I'll speed things up. Cough cough If there's nothing else, I need to keep brewing."
"Ahh... So tired... Maybe I should take a little break…"
He turned around with heavy thuds, his body of fungal strands shrinking and fading as he disappeared.
Silence returned to the Fungal Abyss.
Mortarion then raised his scythe and struck the great bell once more.
Another sharp-horned silhouette emerged, buzzing flies swarming around him, accompanied by the faint sound of human screaming.
"You summoned me. Why?"
Typhus folded his arms, not bothering with pleasantries.
"Your weak and indecisive leadership has endangered Papa Nurgle's great endeavor."
"Perhaps you should hand over command to me. I'll salvage the plan."
"Keep your promises. Do your job."
Mortarion didn't argue with his gene-son—there was no point in escalating the tension.
"Your enemy is the Savior. Stop him. Keep him away from the plague factory."
"We need the Godplague to descend!"
Typhus' cold gaze pierced through. His words felt like a warning:
"I'll stop the Savior. But not for you. I follow the will of Papa Nurgle."
"This is your last chance. If the plan collapses again, you'll lose the right to give orders…"
"Thousands of worlds and countless souls are ripening. We're so close. The trap is set, and both Primarchs will step into it—ours to reap."
Mortarion's respirator vented green smoke as he cut the connection. Typhus' image, formed of fungal threads, collapsed into spores.
Silence returned once more to that dark domain.
...
Aboard the Dreamweaver.
Clone Laboratory Beneath the Ship.
"Damn... This plague is brutal…"
Eden grimaced in pain, his body covered in festering, pus-dripping boils. He had clearly been infected by some sort of plague.
As more of Ultramar was reclaimed, the corrupted network seemed to be having a final death spasm—releasing stronger, more virulent diseases.
Assassination attempts and stealth attacks by Nurgle's daemons became increasingly frequent, and once infected, the plague proved incredibly difficult to purge.
When infected by such unnatural pestilences, even Panaceum couldn't cure it. Not even the light of the Holy Spire could cleanse it.
That's because the divine energy would burn away both the plague and the host cells, causing catastrophic damage.
The only viable treatment in such cases was the specialized Purification Serum—an incredibly costly variant of Panaceum.
"Savior, please don't move."
A gentle, angelic medicae High Sister walked over. Through the protective suit, she carefully examined Eden's body and reached a grim conclusion:
"At your current condition, you'll need fifteen vials of Ultra-Concentrated Purification Serum to fully recover."
"That's too expensive! Isn't there another option?"
"This is the only one. Your immune system is collapsing entirely. Even your soul is slightly affected. Thankfully, your psychic energy is still resisting the worst."
"Damn it…"
Eden frowned, clearly distressed. He hesitated.
Because of the war against the plagues, Purification Serum was in dangerously short supply. Those fifteen vials could purify more than ten entire planets—
That meant saving hundreds of billions of lives.
"Then don't treat me."
He looked at the High Sister, face resolute.
"Save the Purification Serum for the purification divisions. The citizens of the Imperium need it more than I do. I can still hold on."
"This pain won't stop me from fighting daemons. Victory will be ours."
"Savior, your mercy knows no bounds... But your body…"
The High Sister's eyes welled up with tears. She knew how much suffering the plague brought, and her heart ached for him.
The other medical sisters also wept.
They wanted to protest.
But Eden silenced them, unyielding:
"Leave. The Imperium's people need you more."
One by one, they tearfully exited, turning back with every step.
And what they left behind was the broad, merciful back of the Savior.
The frame froze.
A recording device preserved that powerful, emotional scene—capturing the mercy of the Primarch of Hope, and his steadfastness in the face of the plague.
It brought tears to all who watched.
Even the Savior's own propaganda crew wiped away tears as they left.
The Department of Propaganda would transmit the precious footage to all worlds within the Savior's realm—and to all loyal Imperial territories capable of receiving it.
So all could witness the Primarch's compassion... and his unyielding resolve.
It would inspire countless more humans.
"Hsss… I really can't hold it anymore…"
Once everyone had left—
Eden finally stopped posing. He turned slowly, his face twisted in pain from the plague.
That earlier performance? All for propaganda.
War was war. But propaganda for the Savior's image couldn't be neglected either.
It meant more prestige, more faith.
He then ordered the Bio-Sage to inject him with an overdose of anesthetics—to numb the pain as much as possible.
Even though it would wreck his body further, he didn't care anymore.
Unlike the Regent, this Savior's body wasn't built to endure—most of his power lay in the psychic realm. He really couldn't handle this kind of torment.
Still, Eden didn't regret refusing the serum.
It was just too damn expensive.
Better to save when he could. Spend when he had to.
Anyway, this body he'd used for over a decade? Totally trashed.
Out with the old, in with the new.
Eden passed through layers of heavily guarded gates and entered the deepest restricted zone of the clone laboratory.
There lay the Savior's deepest secret: the Clone Storage Vault.
Without hesitation, he located one of the cryo-pods and climbed in.
Fwoooom—
Blazing flames erupted.
His body was incinerated, purged entirely. Even a miniaturized Ash Bomb detonated, ensuring complete purification.
He even scattered his own ashes.
Next moment—
Another cultivation pod opened.
A muscular, chiseled body stepped out—like it had been sculpted from living adamantium. Viscous nutrient fluid steamed off his frame.
Savior Clone Body No. 4—was now online.
This was a new, enhanced form crafted with the latest tech. Certain parts had even been optimized.
It radiated greater authority—and charisma.
"Not bad. Worth every penny. This one feels even better than the last."
Eden flexed, adjusting to his new vessel. Psychic arcs crackled across his skin.
This body had been grown from materials worth several planetary GDPs. It could endure much more intense combat.
These clone bodies were why he could still join frontline battles from time to time.
The war between the Imperium and Chaos was unimaginably brutal. Mortals—and even Astartes—often didn't last more than two episodes.
In this kind of war, where even Primarchs frequently perished and ancient forbidden relics were brought to bear…
Not even the Emperor Himself could afford to be careless.
In a war like this, you needed more than just courage to survive. Without a few extra layers of security, Eden feared he wouldn't last long.
He donned a robe of deep dark gold, its embroidery woven with sacred sigils. A mask soon covered his face, concealing the changes his new body had undergone.
Afterward, he slipped into a private passage and returned to the Savior's Sanctuary, ready to resume command over the Plague War.
...
Within the Miniature Garden.
Eden listened closely to Tarko's latest report.
Humanity had now reclaimed over 70% of Ultramar. Countless lives had been saved.
The momentum was on their side.
But that only meant the war was entering its final—and most dangerous—stage. Nurgle's inevitable counterattack would be ferocious. One misstep now, and everything could collapse.
Eden frowned. "Has the recon team located the Godplague factory yet?"
Tarko shook his head, tone grim.
"Scouts are still searching. No solid leads yet."
That was exactly what Eden feared most. Big Fat Flyboy—Ku'gath—was too quiet, seemingly unconcerned as one Chaos foothold after another was lost.
It reeked of a larger conspiracy.
The only secret weapon that could justify such confidence... was the mythical, terrifying Godplague—a disease said to kill gods.
If that thing was completed, Eden's forces would be forced into a purely reactive position.
No one knew how it functioned—how it could unmake a Primarch, or worse, spawn something more lethal.
Could it contaminate all of Ultramar?
Due to Eden's interference with the timeline, many events had changed. Iax and several worlds hadn't fallen, and trillions of lives had been saved.
But still—he couldn't be sure if that had delayed or prevented the Godplague's creation.
Even though Eden had worked to keep his genetic essence hidden, it seemed not to have slowed the plague's brewing.
Because the enemy had the Regent's blood.
Getting hold of Guilliman's genetic material was laughably easy. The guy had been ambushed and bled all across the stars—samples were everywhere.
In the original timeline, Ku'gath only used Guilliman's blood to forge the Godplague.
Which meant—it was likely the Godplague would still emerge.
From the patterns so far, Ku'gath had probably relocated the plague factory—hence his current smug confidence.
A terrifying possibility.
Eden pondered what might happen after the Godplague's release.
What if Ku'gath didn't drag Guilliman into Nurgle's Garden after poisoning him... but simply killed him outright?
Or what if they infected Ultramar, the Savior's Domain, and the surrounding core systems with it—wiping out both Primarchs' available forces?
If Eden were in Ku'gath's shoes, he wouldn't bother bickering with the Regent—he'd take the Godplague straight to Holy Terra.
Poison the High Lords. Kill the entire bureaucratic structure.
Wouldn't that plunge the Imperium into chaos?
"Hissss— Maybe not…"
The more Eden thought about it, the more he realized: if the High Lords, nobles, and senior officials all dropped dead...
Sure, there'd be short-term pain—but in the long run, it might be an improvement.
The Regent could then move in with his own people and take control of the entire Imperium.
Or better yet—Savior's Domain administrators could step in, expanding Eden's influence.
It could even benefit humanity overall.
So for Ku'gath, the true path to harming the Imperium… was to kill or corrupt the last two Primarchs. To extinguish the Empire's final lights.
"Which brings me to the real question…"
Eden tapped his fingers against the throne. "If Guilliman can survive the Godplague, can I?"
He wasn't too confident.
Given how many times he'd been infected, both his cloned and real bodies lacked durability.
If he got hit with the real thing, he might not make it.
The tension hit him hard.
It had been years since Eden felt this kind of pressure—his life truly endangered.
The only path forward… was to stop the Godplague from ever appearing.
That meant destroying the plague factory. Or using the Corruption Network to strike Nurgle's Garden directly—forcing the enemy to pull back.
Eden pulled up research data from Abyssus Prime.
Zaraphiston, Mao, the Blacksteel Queen and others had completely dismantled and studied the corruption machines. Initial simulations showed promising results.
Now, experiments were underway to replicate the Chaotic Network.
But their version didn't use warp corruption—it drew from Diablo, the dark side of the Mini-Sun.
A breakthrough of immense scale.
Then, another report arrived.
Ka'Bandha had issued another challenge—a bold but oddly pleading one.
The angry Bloodthirster was clearly losing his mind over the Savior's continued silence.
The message might as well have read:
"Please respond. I'm begging you. Just acknowledge me…"
Having been ignored by both the Savior and the Dark Prince, the mighty Ka'Bandha was now miserably irrelevant.
Which had been Eden's plan all along: to build frustration, stoke rage, and set the daemon up for manipulation.
Now, it was time to respond.
Just... not as the Savior.
After giving orders to expand recon efforts no matter the cost, Eden logged into his alt persona: the Dark Prince.
...
Bloodship of Khorne.
Within the Hall of Skulls—
Ka'Bandha slumped atop his throne, visibly depressed.
The Supreme Bloodthirster had been relentlessly attacking Nurgle territories in Khorne's name… but found little satisfaction.
His challenges had been ignored, his honor slighted.
Even worse, he couldn't even find the Savior or the Dark Prince to confront them.
Then suddenly—his head snapped up.
Vmmm—
A burst of eldritch energy appeared, carrying the presence of distant stars.
A sorcerous connection had been formed.
"Ka'Bandha."
A cold, commanding voice echoed as the Dark Prince's crimson eyes glared from the apparition.
"Dark Prince..."
Ka'Bandha growled, stunned the bastard who stole his glory dared show himself first.
The arrogance!
"I acknowledge your strength," Eden said through the Dark Prince, his voice razor-sharp.
"I've heard of your prowess in war, your talent for conquest."
"But I will defeat you—on the battlefield."
"My Terror Legion is launching an assault on Nurgle's Garden."
"If you dare, strike that domain as well. We shall compare the trophies of war—winner takes glory!"
And with that—
The vision vanished in flames, leaving only a glowing Challenge Pact hovering in the center of the hall.
"RRRRRAAAAHHH!!!"
Ka'Bandha roared in fury.
"Baal! Ready the armies! We attack Nurgle's Garden NOW!"
The Bloodthirster had already been planning this assault. But now, with the Dark Prince taunting him—
He moved the entire campaign ahead of schedule.
Though rage consumed him, a flicker of joy lit within.
He could finally reclaim his glory.
Across the Scourge Stars and Ultramar's edges, Khorne's armies began to gather.
...
Heart of Terror.
Eden, still controlling the Dark Prince, ended the transmission with Ka'Bandha.
He knew his "good brother" would take the bait—and storm Nurgle's Garden with everything he had.
No other choice.
Both Khorne and Tzeentch had been holding back, waiting for Nurgle to sap the Imperium's strength before launching their own attacks.
But Eden had no intention of letting them succeed.
Let them fight now—buying him time to act, and maybe forcing Nurgle to recall his forces.
And his own Chaotic Network was nearly complete.
Soon, he could join forces with the Regent—strike deep into Nurgle's Garden while the Chaos Gods were too busy tearing each other apart.
Then—another piece of news arrived.
The recon teams had found a suspicious location—believed to be the Godplague factory.
A fringe world in Ultramar. Not yet fully lost.
"Double blessing!"
Eden's eyes lit up. He immediately contacted Guilliman and sent the coordinates. He also mobilized all available forces—
Human, xenos, and otherwise.
Eldar. Necrons. Every ally under his banner.
He turned toward the throne room's steps, locking eyes with the Dark Thunder Guard stationed below.
"Summon the Terror Legion. We are going to assault the Godplague Factory!"
The Heart of Terror was the closest major base to that planet—perfect for a preliminary strike.
This would be the most critical battle within Ultramar.
A grand clash involving every faction and race.
The battle that would determine the fate of this reality.
At the same time—
The Plague God's minions had also received word.
They began mobilizing with grim urgency...
(End of Chapter)
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