Chapter 451: You, Go Play Erebus!
The trio returned with the remnants of the God of Death.
Cegorach, now disguised as an ordinary Eldar, kept the comms open and touched the freshly pried-open Infinity Circuit.
Hm, still cold.
The aura of the God of Death within the circuit hadn't even dissipated, yet His main body had already been taken down.
The Eldar present and Trazyn were not surprised.
They had seen how Vashtorr was killed.
He was cautious to that extent, creating avatars, hiding his main body, signing contracts with the Four Gods to balance interests and protect himself as a minor creditor. Yet he was dragged out of the Warp by these guys and the Emperor, and killed.
Now Vashtorr's corpse was still soaking in the Necron's Tesseract Labyrinths, used as raw material to increase the Imperium's technological capacity. It was believed that more and more machines not blessed by the Mechanicus would be able to operate normally under Warp influence in the future, thereby enhancing the ability of various worlds in the galaxy to resist Chaos incursions.
Cegorach organized the information that became clearer as he talked with Romulus.
Apart from pure combat power bonuses, these gods seemed uninterested in enhancing authority based on individual power. Instead, they focused more on broader coverage, ways to make human survival easier across more territories.
Increased efficiency in information transmission further improved governance capabilities and alleviated administrative pressure. With technology protected, Warp travel became safer, material transfer capabilities increased, losses decreased, and economic prosperity fed back into the planets, maintaining stability. At the same time, the local Imperial Navy gained more tangible benefits.
Although skimming off the top was unsavory for official institutions like the Imperial Navy and a root of corruption, it was undeniable that the prosperity of the sector enriched the pockets of naval nobles while also increasing the enthusiasm of Imperial Navy fleets for patrols.
The increased production capacity of the sectors allowed these military aristocrats to exchange wealth for ships and favors. This exchange of interests, completable within a few years, made the Imperial Navy value its connection with planetary governments more, focusing more on protecting shipping lanes rather than constantly thinking about how to have a glorious battle with Chaos fleets and losing the entire sector.
Make do with it.
The tithe submission method reformed by the Dawnbreakers greatly reduced the pressure on developing sectors. No need to worry about the Adeptus Arbites destroying the planet upon arrival. From the Ultima Segmentum to the Obscurus Segmentum, the overall production and living standards of various Imperial worlds radiated by the Dawnstar Sector had ushered in a great improvement.
Plus, Romulus tirelessly ordered Star Forts from various Forge Worlds, connecting large-scale solid defense belts between sectors. Fortress planets and moons were everywhere. Powerful defensive forces firmly pinned these planets onto the Imperium's map.
This was also the fundamental reason why Terra could still actively export armies to fight Khorne's legions on various planets, and the Galactic Core could still resist invasions from all sides without direct intervention from the Dawnbreakers.
"My Lord, your sword."
Yvraine, with a confused face, carefully approached Ramesses. Her gaze fell on the small sphere filled with the will of death, and she subconsciously looked away, exhaling with lingering fear.
Although the rebellious youth had verbally submitted, she was still somewhat unwilling deep down. Why should they bet the future of the Aeldari on the Dawnbreakers, even at the cost of abandoning past glory?
Now she knew.
Recalling the flowing light darting through her consciousness earlier, the confusion in Yvraine's heart was dispelled.
Her petty thoughts were like laughable fantasies. She thought she had a choice, but in reality, there was none.
Hoping to rely on the Eldar God of Death to save the Eldar was like climbing a tree to catch fish.
Ramesses revealed a triumphant smile.
Recruiting senior staff in this universe was much simpler than on the planet they originally lived on.
After all, back then, he argued with others online, posting videos and visa photos, fighting fiercely. No one could convince anyone, which precisely showed that each side had its pros and cons. Everyone's experience was different, plus individual conditions varied; even in the same region, it was naturally difficult to reach a unified opinion.
Then let's turn our attention to this universe.
Look at the competitors in the galaxy now—
All heavyweights.
Show the most authentic side of the competitors to the employees. Unless the employee is brain-dead, naturally, they can only choose you.
"Keep it. You are my chosen now."
Ramesses waved his hand grandly.
The power of the God of Death was very dangerous. It couldn't be used casually like Vashtorr's. It was best for him to control it.
He also happened to need a Warp domain to meet the growing needs of employees for a better life.
Can I refuse?
The God of Death is still alive.
Yvraine almost cried.
The true face of the God of Death was too terrifying.
But she dared not disobey the boss, so she obediently put away the sword of silent screams—Asu-var, the Sword of Silent Screams.
"Should be coming back now, right?"
Romulus, chatting with Cegorach, asked, an irrepressible smile on his lips.
Originally planning to support the Dark Angels and salvage the Lion's operation, now look at this—
Vashtorr was completely taken down, the weakest part of the wicked technology grasped in their hands; humanity was about to usher in the next wave of technological leaps.
The Lion not only returned successfully and completed his awakening but also brought nearly fifty thousand Dark Angels. Most of these Dark Angels were Great Crusade veterans. Subsequent military reforms for nearly two million Astartes Chapters across the galaxy would face no obstacles.
The power of the God of Death was obtained, the last piece of the puzzle for Guilliman's original resurrection process was complete. The Emperor, the biggest trump card, could continue to be his nuclear bomb for deterrence.
The Laughing God also brought his family, intending to completely merge with humanity. In the future, humanity would add another FTL method.
"Ha~"
Romulus couldn't help laughing out loud, stunning the surrounding Ultramarines secretarial team.
Cultivating internal strength is indeed the only way to success and excellence. As long as they continuously cultivate and improve in knowledge, skills, mentality, and morality, while deeply exploring and practicing in selected fields, other members with pursuits would naturally lean towards them.
No, steady, steady.
Just gradually narrowing the gap now, can't be proud.
Romulus revised documents, paid attention to the beacon fires still burning across the galaxy, allocated resources, and suppressed the corners of his mouth.
"Mortarion hasn't been found yet?"
Ramesses asked.
"No."
Romulus shook his head.
"Missing persons cases are not only hard to investigate, but even if found, they can't be caught."
After speaking, Romulus sent a document to Cegorach, signaling him to read it first, then brought up the data in his hand.
Cegorach shut up, feeling warmth in his heart for this tiny respect. Clutching the Enigmas of the Black Library and the Book of Truth in his hands, he squatted quietly aside.
Apart from mutual military support and colony allocation, formal cooperation would definitely have to wait until Nurgle was settled. The Dawnbreakers obviously couldn't spare hands now.
Ramesses looked up, then frowned.
This was an image taken by an Imperial high-speed cruiser.
In the image was a whale-like creature as huge as a planet, covered with massive patches representing Nurgle corruption. As the image zoomed in, the things constituting the patches also revealed their forms.
They were densely packed Nurgle daemons piled together.
"Void Whale?"
Void Whales, giant creatures living in the Warp. Adults could reach twenty thousand kilometers in length. They had extremely strong resistance to Chaos corruption, could freely shuttle between the Warp and realspace, and were extremely intelligent, deliberately avoiding those dangerous domains of Chaos Gods.
And Nurgle was one of the few Chaos powers capable of corrupting such creatures.
In the original history's Plague Wars, Nurgle relied on the corpses of seven Void Whale calves to forcibly break through the orbital defenses of the Hospital World Iax, forcibly corrupting this planet crucial to the Ultima Segmentum, thus allowing the Godblight to be completed.
"Correct."
"What about Macragge?"
"Macragge has completed civilian evacuation. It is now garrisoned by the Ultramarines and the entire Nemesis Chapter. Guilliman remains there."
Arthur replied.
Having studied a series of battlefield examples, he was also guarding against the opponent's sudden face-rush.
"Our defense zone reaction is quite good. Referencing the magnitude of sacrifices for the Godblight provided by Ramesses, I'm afraid Mortarion doesn't have enough to achieve his goal."
"Is that so?"
Ramesses wasn't sure when Arthur started paying attention to galactic-wide military deployments, but he nodded.
"We depart immediately."
Arthur said.
The Obscurus Segmentum matter was settled; leave the rest to the Space Wolves. They had to rush to a more important battlefield.
This time, Nurgle's hand reaching into realspace must be broken.
"What about Ramesses?"
Romulus asked.
"I'll listen to you guys. Anyway, preparations are done; I can solve the rest myself."
Ramesses didn't intervene in these matters. He was only responsible for ordering people to work according to needs.
If Arthur was responsible for military, Karna for grassroots, Romulus for coordination, Ramesses was more like a state-owned enterprise.
"Hm."
Romulus expressed approval, finally adding a sentence.
"Remember to bring Yvraine."
"Okay."
Ramesses made a gesture.
Silence on comms.
"Old High."
The Laughing God was stunned for a second before realizing he was being called.
"Here, Boss. Any instructions?"
He smiled, rubbing his hands as he came to Ramesses.
"Your Harlequin troupe will be responsible for exploring the Webway routes with reference to the Enigmas of the Black Library. If short on manpower, ask Biel-Tan. By the way, help me pay attention to news of the Loyalist Thousand Sons. I'll protect the Solitaires you have now."
"Done."
Cegorach agreed immediately.
"Her—Herald of the Corona."
"Here, my Lord."
"You are responsible for obeying the commands of various departments. I'll give you Romulus's dedicated line for this; you can contact him anytime."
"Yes!"
Ramesses ordered people around. Compared to before, like a scholar teaching knowledge to members of various Imperial psychic organizations and Custodes, he now looked a bit like a monarch issuing orders to subordinates.
"Next is to launch the Resurrection of Guilliman operation."
Ramesses handed the organized draft to Arthur to facilitate his coordination and deployment.
The composition of this ritual required Guilliman himself, the Armor of Fate forged by Cawl over ten thousand years, plus the power of the God of Death to be authentic.
Now Cawl, hearing Nurgle was targeting Guilliman, had run to Macragge early to guard him. Although theoretically they could directly reforge the Primarch's body, with a successful case, they decided not to get fancy.
"And you, Yvraine."
"?"
Me too?
Yvraine, still entangled by the power of the God of Death, looked confused, but hearing the order, she subconsciously straightened her back.
Ramesses didn't let off this senior employee selected by the God of Death.
He knew what Romulus's hint meant. At the moment of intending to absorb the important race of Eldar, some unnecessary objections were still troublesome.
Compared to the Webway, psychic powers, and ancient technologies that most Imperial citizens couldn't perceive, the resurrection of a Primarch could better integrate aliens into the human political ecology.
Hm, although the demands are different, the method is no different from history.
Rubbing his chin, feeling some element was missing but unable to recall what, Ramesses pointed at the sword in Yvraine's hand.
"You are responsible for stabbing Guilliman."
"?"
The reassembled fleet set off majestically.
Just as they suddenly appeared in the Obscurus Segmentum, now they suddenly disappeared.
A series of problems were solved, leaving behind a quiet cosmic space.
Swift, efficient.
In the empty star system, the light of the distant star appeared pale. Only a lava planet gradually piecing together, falling into illusion as if not existing in the material universe, and a garrison fleet exceptionally small compared to the past entire fleet remained.
"Where is everyone?"
The famous Living Saint of the Imperium, Saint Celestine, resurrected again.
She looked at everything in front of her with confusion, finding her target gone again.
Greeting her were the muzzles of the Lion's sons aimed at this illegal intruder.
After a brief confusion, she was sent back to the Warp by the resentful Dark Angels again.
"..."
Crash~
Saint Celestine pushed aside the severed arm blocking her vision and climbed out of her own corpse pile.
She looked at the cold sun in the Warp, feeling bitter about her luck for the first time.
And Nurgle also felt bitter.
This bitterness had been accumulating since He began intervening in realspace, existing for who knows how long.
The reunification and growth of the Dark Angels, the power of the God of Death He dreaded being stolen by the Dawnbreakers, the stagnation of Mortarion's plan, the cost far exceeding any past actions, and the almost invisible return in the future...
All of this, like the ruins still burning in the Garden, shrouded Nurgle like a black fog, pulling at His limbs, clogging His thoughts, making Him question every decision He made, every order He issued.
He hadn't given Himself a chance to breathe for a long time.
His composure was gradually lost, reactions began to slow. Believers and children relied on Him for decisions on all matters, asking for aid, with endless demands, seeking help and begging for guidance. This angered Him. And behind Him, the eyes of those greedy siblings stared at Him constantly.
And He still had to fight.
The cauldron stirred the thick soup.
Noticing the wavering of the Goddess of Life, the faint hope flowing from that long-despairing heart disgusted Him so much. The Plague God's focused gaze peered into everything in realspace.
He rarely used "fight" to describe an action.
But He had indeed fought.
He had fought the master of the Primarchs, the arrogant Emperor, even more arrogant than the current Dawnbreakers.
But the death and change brought by each battle weakened Him, slightly weakening His foundation. Fighting the Emperor was the worst.
The Dark King could not be born; the End and the Death would take everything away. The Emperor could not stand up either; this powerful opponent would seize every possible opportunity to counterattack. Instead, there was rot. Nurgle had to let faith restrain the Emperor. While the plague of unbelief pinned the Anathema to the Golden Throne, the deeply rooted faith also made the Four Gods' food in realspace unsustainable.
Now it was even worse.
The ever-burning fire of the Warp, and the shadows moving beneath it were so dazzling. Nurgle could see His losses. He could almost confirm that His investment would hardly yield returns.
But Nurgle could not show rejection.
He could not betray His choice, nor show the slightest fatigue, nor show any weakness. Otherwise, the Great Game would end. The rules the Four Gods used to restrain each other would be completely broken, replaced by a war that would make even the Four Gods bleed.
So Nurgle's face remained peaceful as always.
He squared his shoulders. His thick belly hit the cauldron, the bump causing a handful of Nurglings to roll out.
Change brought unspeakable burdens.
He hid the virus raging behind His eyes, hid the fatigue when every rotten muscle twitched. Everything was to show His composure, everything was to provide something reliable and trustworthy for those children looking up to Him.
Just like those planned changes that welcomed different results. Although He paid so much, invested so much, the result was completely different from the past.
But is it enough?
Enough?
No, not enough!
The rules that lasted for almost eternity could not be broken...
Nurgle clenched His fist. The wooden ladle in His hand emitted a creak of being overwhelmed.
His thoughts were racing again, almost falling into a trance of fear and paralysis. It came from the heart of a god; it came from the gradually changing outside world.
Something was making Him lose confidence. Yes, facing the change of rules, even a god was not immune. This was especially severe for Nurgle, who loathed change. He was the apex of the Warp, but when the unchanging foundation was pried by other forces, even His peak would collapse one day.
So He began to look for things that could serve as a counterattack, just as the Gods had always done, just as they did against the Emperor.
Nurgle daemons, the echoes of His own children's deaths, screamed wildly around Him.
These creatures, chased by ravens or human fires of vengeance, dug in the Garden, tearing rotten wood to build fortifications, wanting to continue their decaying lives.
Just as They ran, shouted, and fell, those humans came. Led by the Raven Lord, holding power swords and lasguns forged for them by realspace, they activated those forbidden weapons capable of extracting and filling daemon essence.
Like rats, incredibly annoying, yet helpless against them.
They scratched Nurgle Himself, tearing His outer skin.
In reality, Mortarion was still preparing. His attempts were destroyed by the Dawnbreakers' unintentional actions time and again. Change. If He wanted to achieve His goal, He needed to cut flesh.
Just as the Imperium of Man bled constantly, facing the unequal threat of the Warp, driving countless lives to die.
"Father!"
The voice of Rotigus Rainfather rang out, waking Nurgle.
He still had wounds torn by some kind of bird on his body; one eye had been pecked out, disappearing.
Nurgle sprinkled a drop of rot water.
This great Great Daemon's body developed again. Smooth skin briefly repaired those wounds, then decayed in an instant, finally fixed at the moment before rotting away, the body appearing even more bloated.
"One last gamble. The future will change completely."
Nurgle told him directly, telling His child His guess.
The Rainfather was stunned.
He could hardly imagine the word "change" coming from the Grandfather's mouth.
"Perhaps I can no longer protect you..."
Every delay, every attack, every useless attempt.
Now, the Dawnbreakers, They began to converge.
The power of the God of Death was mastered, Eldar and humans merged, the Avenging Son would awaken. Their power in realspace would grow stronger.
The rules of the game would change completely because of the outcome of this war.
"Everything that can be done has been done."
☆☆☆
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you