Brother dorian's terrified cry for help spread like an alarm through the First Company's communication network.
Soon, hurried and heavy footsteps echoed from both ends of the corridor; not only the Apothecary, but also nearby patrolling warriors and Lieutenant Golden, who had heard the news, quickly arrived at the scene.
First Company Captain Cassius lay sprawled on the cold floor outside his office, eyes tightly shut, face pale, while dorian, like a startled giant bear, squatted beside him, utterly at a loss, his mismatched "disguise" looking even more comical and pathetic.
"Move aside!" the Apothecary's deep voice carried an undeniable authority as he quickly pushed dorian out of the way, knelt beside Cassius, and activated the scanner of his portable medical instrument.
A multi-functional probe gently touched Cassius's carotid artery and temples, reading his vital signs.
A profound silence enveloped the area, everyone nervously watching the Apothecary.
dorian didn't even dare to breathe, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, terrified of hearing any bad news from the Apothecary.
If the First Company Captain had truly suffered a serious mishap due to him, he had no doubt that the enraged Chapter Master would launch him directly into a star via a torpedo tube.
A moment later, the Apothecary put away his instrument, visibly relieved.
He stood up and addressed the onlookers, especially the pale-faced dorian: "Don't worry, the First Company Captain is merely overtired, his mind has been under high stress for a long time, coupled with a sudden... strong stimulus, leading to temporary unconsciousness.
His vital signs are stable; he just needs a good rest to recover."
"Strong stimulus..." Lieutenant Golden repeated the phrase, casting a complex glance at dorian, who resembled a quail beside him.
To "stimulate" the battle-hardened and hot-tempered Captain Cassius into fainting, dorian had certainly set a unique record.
When dorian heard that the First Company Captain was fine, the heart that had been in his throat finally dropped back into his stomach; he felt utterly drained, collapsing onto the ground, gasping for breath.
"It's good that he's alright... it's good that he's alright..."
Meanwhile, inside the Chapter Master's office, Marius Calgar had just concluded an encrypted communication with Agmar, the Hero of Connaris.
He was taking a moment from his busy schedule to confirm the latest movements and final anchor coordinates of the 2nd Company and the local Connaris forces in the forward patrol zone.
However, no sooner had he hung up the communication and before he could attend to his next task, Honour Guard Captain Vitrius strode in, a hint of unusual gravity on his face.
"Chapter Master, an urgent report just came in from the First Company's sector," Vitrius's voice was steady, but the content was unexpected.
"Captain Cassius... has fainted outside his office."
"What?" Calgar's brow furrowed instantly.
"Cassius fainted? What happened? Is it an old injury acting up?"
He knew Cassius had been busy with administrative duties recently, but he hadn't expected it to reach this point.
Vitrius replied, "According to the surveillance footage I reviewed, Captain Cassius fainted immediately after stepping out of his office and seeing Brother dorian, who was standing guard for him outside the door.
The specific circumstances are unknown, but the Apothecary, who arrived first, diagnosed it as... overwork, combined with... excessive fright."
"Overwork I can understand," Calgar's brow furrowed even deeper; he knew the severity of those administrative documents.
"But excessive fright? Vitrius, are you saying... Cassius was scared unconscious by dorian?"
This conclusion struck him as somewhat unbelievable.
What kind of situations hadn't Cassius seen? Chaos Space Marines, Tyranids, Orks, Greater Daemons...
He would faint because he saw dorian? That sounded even more absurd than Konrad Curze's return.
Vitrius's expression was also a bit strange, but he nodded affirmatively: "The surveillance footage and the Apothecary's diagnosis confirm it.
It seems... Brother dorian engaged in some... unusual attire."
Calgar was silent for a few seconds, rubbing his temples.
While he couldn't fully comprehend the specific process of the "stimulus," considering dorian's consistently "outstanding" performance and Cassius's recent stress, it seemed... not entirely impossible.
"Immediately relieve dorian of his guard duty," Calgar ordered decisively.
"Tell him to go about his business and not appear before Cassius for now.
When Cassius wakes up, tell him to rest assured and recuperate; Lieutenant Golden will temporarily handle administrative duties."
He didn't want Cassius to wake up, open his eyes, see dorian again, and then faint once more.
"Yes, Chapter Master," Vitrius acknowledged, immediately relaying the order through the internal channel.
When dorian received the Chapter Master's direct order, lifting his punishment, it was as if he had heard the Emperor's pardon!
He was so excited he almost cried, repeatedly thanking the communicator, then, like fleeing a plague site, he ripped off that unsightly red cloak at top speed and rushed out of the First Company Captain's office area without looking back.
All he wanted now was to be as far away from here as possible, fearing that the First Company Captain's first act upon waking would be to pull out his Bolter and shoot him.
Meanwhile, on the distant Nightfall (Warship Name), the atmosphere was entirely different, filled with a grim, explosive tension.
Sevatarion gently handed the sleeping Koreni and Otani to two silent and reliable Black Guard warriors beside him, whispering, "Protect them.
No one is allowed near them without my command."
"Yes, lord," the Black Guard warriors bowed in assent, guarding the sleeping girls like the most loyal shadows.
Sevatarion straightened up, and in his eyes, like those of a dark crow, all warmth and helplessness vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, soul-freezing killing intent.
He adjusted his power armor, adorned with crow feathers, and strode towards a specific area deep within the warship.
He was going to meet their "guests"—or rather, their prey—with the night haunter.
Deep within the Nightfall's massive hull, there was a vast, specially isolated space.
Here, originally, Konrad Curze had conducted his twisted "trials" and torturous labyrinths, but after the Legion's reconstruction, most of this area had been dismantled or repurposed.
However, at some unknown point, perhaps due to the infiltration of some Warp power, or perhaps intentionally, certain parts of this area had begun to undergo bizarre transformations.
Viscous, putrid fungoid growths covered the metal floor and walls, emitting a nauseatingly sweet and rotten mixed scent.
Exotically colored but highly poisonous decaying plants sprouted from cracks, growing in twisted forms.
Some amorphous creatures, seemingly composed of pus and decaying tissue, slowly wriggled and floated in the shadows.
The entire area was permeated with the scent of death and disease, strikingly similar to a corner of the Garden of Nurgle.
And at this moment, this corrupted domain was completely surrounded by a dense formation of Night Lords Warriors.
Their Bolters, plasma guns, and melta guns were all pointed at the center of the encirclement, their cold killing intent almost solidifying.
In the center of the encirclement stood a colossal, pale, and formidable figure.
He wore robes stained with filth and rust, seemingly merged with the surrounding decaying environment, and on his face was his iconic, broken bird-skull-like rebreather mask.
In his hand, he clutched the massive scythe, "Silence," which constantly dripped corrosive liquid.
It was Mortarion, the Primarch of the Death Guard Legion, the pale lord.
Behind him, three Deathshroud Terminators, similarly clad in heavy Terminator armor, surrounded by deadly miasma and swarms of flies, stood like three decaying gravestones, silently guarding their father.
Not far in front of Mortarion, the situation of Zso Sahaal, the head of the Black Guard, looked quite grim.
His black power armor was covered in deep scratches and corrosive marks, with several armor plates shattered, and trickles of blood seeped from the cracks, staining his midnight-colored war-plate.
The iconic, upturned bat-wing decorations on his helmet had been severed at the root, leaving only broken bases.
He was currently being supported by two Night Lords Warriors, one on each side, barely able to stand, but his eyes, visible through his damaged eyepieces, still burned with unyielding fury and resentment, glaring fixedly at the uninvited Primarch who brought plague and despair.
Evidently, before Konrad Curze and Sevatarion arrived, Sahar had launched a brave attack against Mortarion, but he ultimately failed to bridge the insurmountable chasm between Astartes and Primarch, suffering a crushing defeat at Mortarion's hands.
Mortarion's voice, transmitted through his rebreather mask, echoed through the silent space like the howling of a plague storm, carrying a condescending "pity" and mockery:
"Meaningless resistance... foolish loyalty..."
"Look at you... following a madman tormented by prophecy... a phantom long lost in his own fears..."
"Give up, lost sons of the night... following Konrad Curze, you will only march towards eternal darkness and destruction... embrace grandfather's arms... only then can you find true... peace and 'rebirth'..."
However, his response was not wavering or fear, but even more intense hostility and uncompromising gunfire!
"Long live the night haunter!" someone roared first, and immediately afterward, the Night Lords Warriors in the encirclement pulled their triggers!
Countless Bolter rounds, plasma beams, and melta rays poured down like an angry downpour towards Mortarion and his Deathshroud Terminators!
However, a chilling scene unfolded.
As these deadly projectiles and energy beams entered a certain range around Mortarion, they seemed to strike an invisible wall filled with corrupting power.
Bolter rounds rusted and decayed at a visible speed, then turned to dust in mid-air; plasma beam energy rapidly dissipated and dimmed; the high temperature of melta rays was neutralized and absorbed by some viscous force...
All attacks became ineffective before they even reached Mortarion, like a mud ox entering the sea, failing to harm him in the slightest!
"Heh... ignorant... and fearless..." Mortarion let out a low, mocking laugh, as if ridiculing the futility of these mortals.
However, his laughter had not yet faded—
A sudden change occurred!
Just within the most viscous and corrupt shadows behind Mortarion, a figure deeper and swifter than darkness itself, flashed into existence like a ghost without warning!
In the eye sockets of that figure, two points of crimson light, like burning blood droplets, locked onto Mortarion's masked head!
The next second, accompanied by a shriek that almost tore the air, a claw-like shadow wreathed in destructive energy arcs—the Lightning Claw "crow's talons"—stabbed directly at Mortarion's back neck with a speed imperceptible to the naked eye!
This strike was vicious, cunning, and as swift as lightning! It contained the resolve of a killing blow!
Mortarion also seemed to have not fully anticipated this surprise attack from his most trusted domain of shadows!
In the nick of time, one of the Deathshroud Terminators standing to his side and rear displayed an astonishing reaction speed, unbefitting his bulky appearance!
He lunged forward, and the massive power scythe "Silence" in his hand, also dripping corrosive liquid, swung upwards to block with all his might!
"Clang—!!!!"
]
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A deafening clash of metal, accompanied by bursting energy sparks, instantly illuminated the corrupted space! The immense impact caused the Deathshroud Terminator to stumble backward, and the power scythe in his hand even bore a clear scorch mark from the Lightning Claw!
Had it not been for the Deathshroud Terminator's self-sacrificing block, Mortarion, even if he didn't die, would certainly have paid a heavy price!
Failing to strike, the dark figure didn't hesitate, retreating instantly like a true phantom, merging into the formation of surrounding Night Lords Warriors. Only then did everyone clearly see his appearance—it was "prince of crows" Sevatarion! The crow's talons in his hand still flickered with dangerous arcs of electricity, and his pale, handsome face showed a hint of regret for not succeeding, but more so a cold, focused, and murderous intent, like a crow eyeing its prey.
With Sevatarion's arrival, a terrifying aura, far more immense, colder, and soul-shaking than before, instantly enveloped the entire area like an invisible tide! The air seemed to solidify, and even the wriggling speed of the corrupted plants seemed to slow down.
Immediately after, in the perceptions of all Night Lords Warriors, including Mortarion and his Deathshroud Terminators, a colossal, terrifying phantom of a giant bat, with wings that blotted out the sky and eyes burning with eerie flames, seemed to flash before them!
The phantom vanished in a flash.
The next second, silently escorted by many Black Guard, a tall, gaunt figure in black power armor, as if condensed from the deepest night sky, slowly, step by step, emerged from the densest shadows.
Konrad Curze, night haunter of the Eighth Legion, had arrived in person.
His sunken eyes, like two parched wells that devoured everything, bypassed all obstacles and fell upon the pale figure that brought plague and despair.
Konrad Curze's figure stepped out from the deepest shadows, his black power armor seemingly absorbing all surrounding light. Only his sunken eyes, like two ancient wells reflecting endless pain and coldness, were firmly fixed on Mortarion's massive and bloated body.
Facing this uninvited guest who brought corruption and disease, Koz's face showed no solemnity toward a powerful enemy. Instead, he curled his lips into an extremely caustic, mocking sneer. His dry voice echoed in the foul-smelling air, like cold metal scraping, every word carrying a poisoned barb:
"Oh... I wonder who dares to intrude upon my warship, spreading this nauseating stench." Koz's gaze swept over Mortarion, his tone as flippant as if he were evaluating a piece of trash, "Is this not our 'great' First Company Captain of the Death Guard, 'Lord' Mortarion?"
He deliberately emphasized "First Company Captain" and "Lord," full of undisguised humiliation. It was well known that the Primarch of the Death Guard was Mortarion himself, and Koz's words were tantamount to directly denying his identity and dignity as a Primarch.
Before Mortarion could respond, Koz's venomous tongue continued to spew:
"What? Did you come alone? Where is your 'Primarch' Typhus?" He mentioned the former First Company Captain of the Death Guard who betrayed Mortarion and eventually replaced him as Nurgle's chosen champion, which was undoubtedly rubbing salt into Mortarion's deepest wound. "Is he still hiding in his grandfather Nurgle's massive, pus-flowing, and laughing... 'toilet,' afraid to come out and show his face?"
Finally, Koz concluded his "welcome speech" with the simplest, most direct, and most insulting words:
"And... Mortarion, you smell... exactly like a pile of various rotten things... that has been baking in the sun for three days... a pile of shit."
"..."
Koz's utterly malicious words, precisely hitting all the sensitive points, were like lighting the fuse of a powder keg!
Mortarion's massive body trembled violently! Even through the damaged bird-beak mask, one could feel his instant eruption of volcanic fury! The viscous, sickly sweet-smelling miasma around him churned violently, like a boiling swamp!
"You—are—dead!!!"
A roar, as if from the depths of the Warp, mixed with endless malice and plague storms, burst from Mortarion's chest! His already massive body seemed to swell further, and beneath his cloak, a pair of tattered white wings made of corrupted flesh, twisted bones, and wriggling maggot-infested fascia suddenly unfurled, emitting an even more intense stench!
Reason was completely consumed by rage! Mortarion wasted no more words. He violently swung the massive, corrosive-liquid-dripping scythe "Silence" in his hand, and his huge body, with a destructive momentum like an out-of-control plague war engine, charged recklessly towards Koz! Wherever he passed, the metal deck beneath his feet rapidly corroded and rusted, viscous fungal growths spread like living things, and more corrupted plants grew wildly—he himself was a mobile source of plague, the embodiment of corruption!
"Everyone, retreat immediately! Stay away from the contaminated area!" Facing the charging Mortarion, Koz's voice remained eerily calm. He quickly issued orders to his sons, "Clear the aisle with fire, suppress the spread of corruption, and ensure this filth does not spread to other areas of the warship!"
He knew Mortarion's power characteristics well; if this corrupting plague spread, it would cause irreparable damage to the Nightfall (Warship Name).
"My Lord!" Sahar, supported by a warrior, shouted anxiously, wanting to join the fight.
"Stand down!" Koz sharply commanded, his gaze never leaving the charging Mortarion. "This is not a battle you can face. He will be dealt with by me."
Before his words finished, Koz's figure moved too! He did not choose to directly confront Mortarion's charge, which contained the laws of corruption, but instead, like a true specter, his figure flickered, instantly merging into the constantly shifting shadows around him, disappearing from sight!
Mortarion's furious strike—a scythe swing powerful enough to split mountains and evaporate rivers—landed heavily where Koz had just stood, but only struck an afterimage and splashing metal fragments that were instantly corroded and vaporized.
"Coward! Come out! Konrad! Face me like a warrior!" Mortarion roared, brandishing his scythe, unleashing insane plague energy indiscriminately, turning large areas into corrupted lands of death.
However, Koz's figure was like a ghost, appearing and disappearing in the gaps between shadows and corruption, his cold, mocking gaze, like a persistent curse, always Entangled Mortarion. A Primarch-level battle of pursuit and hunt suddenly erupted in this corrupted labyrinthine ruin!
Meanwhile, in the Macragge's Honour's medical bay, the atmosphere was relatively peaceful, even a little awkward.
Captain Cassius was carefully divested of his heavy First Company Captain power armor, dressed only in a simple hospital gown, and lay on a pristine medical bed, still unconscious. His face was pale, his brows furrowed, as if even in his sleep, he was battling endless documents and a certain annoying figure.
Kolesa, upon learning of the Captain's collapse, immediately rushed over accompanied by Gaius. She walked to the bedside, looking at the usually irascible Captain, who now appeared unusually weak, and gently extended her hand. Between her slender, fair fingers, a soft and pure silver psychic glow flowed, like warm moonlight, slowly enveloping Cassius's forehead and chest.
This life-giving psychic energy gently permeated, soothing his nerves taut from overwork, and nourishing his weary body and mind. Soon, Cassius's eyelids fluttered a few times, and he slowly opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was Kolesa's exquisite and beautiful face, filled with concern, and Gaius's steady figure behind her.
It wasn't Dorian!
Cassius instantly let out a sigh of relief, his tense nerves relaxing. He even subconsciously muttered, "Thank goodness... it's not that bastard..."
He blinked his somewhat dry eyes, looking around blankly at the white walls and medical equipment, only then realizing where he was. "I... what happened to me?" He struggled to sit up but felt a wave of weakness.
Kolesa quickly and gently pressed his shoulder, saying softly, "Captain, you fainted. The Apothecary said it was due to overwork and that you need plenty of rest."
"Overwork?" Cassius frowned deeply, repeating the words to himself, his face full of confusion. "How could I be tired? I... I was just dealing with documents... there are still so many I haven't finished... Strange..." His mind seemed to still be stuck among the mountains of data-slates, and he was completely baffled by his body's protest.
However, when he subconsciously closed his eyes again, wanting to clear his thoughts—in the darkness, Dorian's big, grinning face, wearing an eagle-faced helmet and an incongruous red cloak, instantly appeared clearly like a nightmare!
"Ugh!" Cassius jolted in fright, his eyes snapping open, almost leaping directly from the bed, his heart pounding, and a layer of cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead.
Just then, the attending Apothecary walked over. Seeing Cassius awake and reacting so violently, he quickly said to Kolesa, "Miss Kolesa, thank you very much for your help; the Captain has regained consciousness. He now needs absolute quiet to recuperate and should not be subjected to any further stimulation." He paused, adding pointedly, "Also... please ensure that Brother dorian does not appear within the Captain's line of sight anytime soon."
Kolesa nodded understandingly. Although she didn't know the specific details, she guessed that the Captain's collapse must be related to Dorian. "I understand, Apothecary. I will remind Dorian." She gave Cassius a comforting look. "Captain, please rest well."
With that, Kolesa turned and left the medical bay. The hard, heavy boots she wore, belonging to an Ultramarines mortal tech-adept, made clear sounds on the polished floor. Even now, she was not quite used to these shoes, always finding them restrictive and uncomfortable. She preferred the light, form-fitting soft boots of the Eldar, or even going barefoot. But Gaius was insistent, believing that on a human warship, especially in situations where sudden combat might occur, wearing proper boots was a necessary safety measure. She had to compromise, though she would still complain to Gaius privately.
Silence returned to the medical bay. Cassius lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind uncontrollably alternating between endless data-slates and Dorian's hateful face... He groaned in pain and pulled the blanket over his head.
It seemed that truly "resting in peace" would be a rather difficult task for him.
Mortarion, thoroughly enraged by Koz's venomous words, resembled a maddened plague beast.
He wielded his massive scythe, "Silence," which constantly dripped corrosive liquid, and furiously slashed at the shadowy figure that flickered within the realms of shadow and decay.
Each swing contained enough power to tear apart a warship's armor, enveloped in nauseating putrid miasma, stirring the surrounding space into chaos.
The acrid smell of corroded metal, the sweet toxic gas released from crushed decaying plants, and the ozone scent produced by energy collisions mixed together, forming a deadly atmosphere capable of instantly killing mortals.
However, Koz's figure was like a true phantom, elusive and unpredictable.
In his sunken eyes, countless fragmented images, foretelling the future, seemed to rapidly flow.
From Koz's twisted and unique precognitive perspective, Mortarion's seemingly wild and chaotic attacks—their trajectories, their force, and even the subtle changes they contained—were as clear as an open book.
He always managed to evade the deadly blade at the last possible moment before the destructive scythe struck, with an almost instantaneous agility that defied physical laws, narrowly escaping.
The scythe often only tore through his afterimages or left shallow marks on his dark armor, which were quickly smoothed away by shadow energy.
"Calm down, my 'dear' brother," Koz's sarcastic voice, like a cold viper, slithered into Mortarion's ears during the lulls in his furious assault.
"Such irritability doesn't suit your status as 'Lord of the Death Guard.' Perhaps... we can temporarily put down our weapons and have a good talk?"
"Talk?!" Mortarion's roar was like a plague storm.
"What is there to talk about with a coward like you who hides his head and tail?! Offer your blood to grandfather!"
The scythe swept horizontally again with immense force, pulverizing a large area of writhing fungoid carpet and decaying metal structures.
Koz dodged again like a wisp of smoke, his tone still carrying that infuriating 'rationality': "Mortarion, think carefully.
We both chose betrayal, just taking different paths.
But ten thousand years ago, didn't we also have... similar goals?
To break that rigid order, to seek... true power and answers?"
His words were like a demon's whisper, carrying a hint of seduction.
"Perhaps... we can try another way? Like... cooperation?"
"Cooperation?" Mortarion's attack paused for an extremely tiny moment, and he let out a low, mocking sneer, "Hehehehe... Konrad, put away your hypocritical tricks!
grandfather Nurgle, he loves all forms of life, whether birth or decay, but he would never appreciate a coward who only dares to hide in the shadows and play schemes!
You want to cooperate with me? With just your..."
Just as Mortarion was momentarily distracted by Koz's sudden "cooperation" proposal, a tiny crack appeared in his towering rage, and his guard slightly relaxed for a thousandth of a second—
A sudden change occurred!
Koz's figure, which had initially adopted a helpless, seemingly open stance, suddenly flashed with a speed far beyond the limits of human perception, as if fast-forwarded!
One moment he was standing there "persuading," the next, he had appeared like a space-rending wraith to Mortarion's front-side!
His Lightning Claws, "Crow's Beak" and "Crow's Talons," wreathed in destructive arcs, struck fiercely and precisely, like the fangs of death, with an ear-splitting shriek and a heat that seemed to evaporate souls, cross-slashing Mortarion's bloated, robe-covered abdomen!
"Chhh—lah—!!!"
A teeth-grinding tearing sound and an explosive roar of energy erupted simultaneously!
Mortarion's incredibly tough body, imbued with plague god power, was torn apart like rags in the face of the carefully planned ambush and the Lightning Claws' ultimate destructive power!
A huge, hideous wound, almost severing him at the waist, appeared instantly!
The stench of charring and the instantly vaporized putrid tissue mixed into a thick smoke, gushing from the wound!
"Ah—!!! Konrad! You despicable bastard!!!"
Mortarion let out an earth-shattering roar of pain and fury!
The immense impact forced his massive body to stagger backward several steps involuntarily!
However, Nurgle's blessing, with its abnormal vitality, was fully displayed at this moment.
The terrible wound, enough to instantly kill any creature, saw its putrid flesh at the edges rapidly writhing and growing before one's eyes.
Innumerable tiny, maggot-like life forms gathered at the wound, secreting viscous pus rich with the scent of life, attempting to mend the horrific laceration!
This "minor injury" was indeed not enough to pose a fatal threat to Mortarion, who possessed grandfather's "favor."
But the physical trauma was far less than the humiliation and rage in his heart!
He, the Primarch of the Death Guard, had been successfully ambushed by Koz using such a despicable deceptive tactic!
This was simply more unbearable than killing him!
"I'll tear you to shreds! Grind every one of your bones into powder! Cast your soul into the filthiest plague pit for eternal torment!!!" Mortarion's eyes turned completely mad crimson.
He brandished his scythe, rushing forward again recklessly.
Koz, meanwhile, had already used the recoil from the ambush to lightly leap backward, landing on a pile of twisted metal wreckage nearby.
He raised one Lightning Claw, watching the foul blood and pus rapidly evaporating and peeling off under its own energy field, his face devoid of triumph, only a cold, indifferent expression as if stating a fact.
"Strike first, my 'dear' First Company Captain," Koz's voice was flat.
"This is a lesson another 'dear' brother of ours, Lion El'Jonson, taught me many years ago with his iron fists."
He tilted his head, his tone carrying a hint of mockery for the past:
"Chivalry? A fair duel? Heh... that's a fairy tale to deceive children.
On a real battlefield, especially when facing you... 'brothers' who have embraced Chaos, victory is the only thing that matters."
"Roar!!!"
Mortarion stopped wasting words.
His only response to Koz was a roar from the abyss, full of endless malice!
He violently flapped his tattered, decaying wings, stirring up a sky full of foul-smelling spores and viscous plague clouds.
His massive body, like a giant stone hurled by a trebuchet, instantly lifted off the ground, rushing towards Koz at an astonishing speed unsuited to his size!
The scythe "Silence" in his hand carved a deadly arc, directly cleaving towards Koz's head!
Koz's eyes narrowed.
He violently pushed off the metal wreckage with both feet, not retreating but advancing, swinging his twin claws to meet the attack!
"Clang!!!!!"
The Lightning Claws and the plague scythe crashed together again with immense force!
Dazzling energy sparks and splashing corrosive liquid exploded like fireworks!
The two Primarchs, one representing ultimate shadow and fear, the other representing undying decay and plague, engaged in the most primal, most brutal close-quarters combat in this defiled realm!
Koz's Lightning Claws were like two deadly black lightning bolts, each swing carrying the momentum to tear everything apart, constantly leaving charred marks on Mortarion's body, evaporating large areas of putrid flesh and pus, and even cutting and tearing Mortarion's bloated body into several pieces multiple times!
However, Nurgle's blessing granted Mortarion an almost immortal characteristic.
Wounds that would kill any creature ten times over often recovered in the blink of an eye, amidst a nauseating writhing of flesh and surging pus!
Severed limbs reconnected, evaporated parts rapidly regenerated, as if he himself was composed of endless plague and life energy!
"It's useless! Konrad! All your attacks are futile!" Mortarion roared arrogantly in the cycle of being torn apart and reborn, feeling the "eternity" brought by grandfather's power.
"grandfather's great power is something you, a bat hiding in the shadows, can never imagine!
Give up resisting!
Surrender to me!
I will make you personally experience what it's like to wish for death but not find it, to wish for life but not have it!
Let you repent your sins in the embrace of myriad wonderful diseases and plagues!
Hahaha!!"
He violently flapped his wings, soaring into the air, then, like a hunting vulture, gripped his scythe with both hands, channeling all his plague energy into it, and with the momentum to crush everything, he cleaved down towards Koz, who had just had one of his arms severed at the root!
Koz's eyes were cold.
Facing this devastating blow from above, he chose not to dodge, but instead slammed his twin claws together above his head, bracing himself against the heavy chop!
"Boom!!!"
The immense force instantly dented and warped the metal platform beneath Koz's feet!
A terrifying shockwave mixed with decaying energy spread outwards, even blowing away the fungoid carpet and wreckage further away!
The two Primarchs, one above, one below, their hideous faces staring fixedly at each other through the intertwined Lightning Claws and plague scythe.
In Mortarion's eyes beneath his mask was mad glee and malice, while in Koz's sunken eyes, there was only the calmness of ten thousand years of ice and... a hint of imperceptible calculation.
"It seems Nurgle's filth has not only corrupted your body, Mortarion," Koz's voice came through the struggle of power, still with mockery, "It has completely replaced your already not-so-bright mind as well."
"Konrad! You treacherous bat!" Mortarion roared, continuously applying pressure.
"You will feel grandfather's 'beauty'!
When countless wonderful and unique diseases and plagues erupt simultaneously within your body, tormenting your flesh, bones, and even your soul to the brink of death, you will crawl like a maggot at my feet, begging me for release!
Hahaha!!"
However, just as Mortarion was immersed in the pleasure of verbal torment and pressing down with all his might, a fierce glint flashed in Koz's eyes!
His right Lightning Claw still firmly held the scythe, but his left arm was suddenly drawn out with lightning speed, moving so fast it left an afterimage, grabbing the Melta Pistol fixed to his waist armor!
There was no need to aim; the muzzle was practically pressed against Mortarion's bird-beaked masked face, and he pulled the trigger without hesitation!
"Whirr—Boom!!!"
An extremely concentrated, terrifyingly hot white melta beam blasted Mortarion's face at point-blank range!
"Ah—!!!"
Even a Primarch, even Nurgle's favored son, screamed in agony when hit directly in the face at such close range by a melta weapon specifically designed for anti-armor!
His damaged bird-beaked mask was instantly vaporized, and the skin and muscles beneath carbonized, charred, and evaporated under tens of thousands of degrees of heat!
Even the cowl on his head was ignited along with it, turning to ash!
But it wasn't over yet!
Koz's eyes were cold as iron, his arm steady as a rock, and he pulled the trigger again and again, continuously, at Mortarion, who instinctively recoiled from the intense pain, trying to create distance!
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
...Deadly melta beams, like the kiss of death, continuously struck Mortarion's head, chest, and shoulders!
Each impact carried away large areas of charred flesh and bone, leaving horrifying craters!
The terrifying heat even temporarily evaporated the surrounding plague miasma!
When the last melta shot was fired, and the pistol sizzled from overheating, Mortarion's upper body was already a gruesome sight, large areas exposing the internal, corroded dark yellow, yet stubbornly writhing, skeleton, and the stench of charring permeated the air.
"Ugh... Kon... rad..." Mortarion hissed like a broken bellows.
He swung the scythe in his hand, filled with endless malice, and swept it forward violently!
"Swish!"
The "Koz" standing in front of him was instantly cut in half at the waist by this enraged swing!
However, the severed "Koz" body slowly dissipated like smoke—it was yet another realistic precognitive illusion!
"Fool." A cold voice, as if from the depths of the Warp, sounded behind Mortarion.
Mortarion turned his head in horror, only to see Koz's true form, having appeared like a wraith behind his most vulnerable defense at some unknown moment!
Koz's eyes gleamed fiercely, and his Lightning Claws swung like a violent storm!
"Chh chh chh chh—!!!"
The sound of blades tearing through decaying flesh and bone was as dense as rain on banana leaves!
Before Mortarion could make any effective reaction, his massive body, which had just endured the melta barrage and had not fully recovered, was cut and torn again in a dazzling flurry of claw shadows, turning into countless charred, shattered pieces of flesh, mixed with viscous pus and broken bones, scattered across the ground!
After completing this series of deadly attacks, Koz didn't stop, his figure making several light leaps backward, landing on a higher, less severely corroded metal beam.
He panted slightly, his cold gaze looking down at the pile of decaying flesh below, which was frantically wriggling, attempting to re-coalesce.
He knew that conventional attacks, even tearing the opponent to pieces, could not truly kill Mortarion, who was blessed by Nurgle.
This battle was destined to be a long and cruel war of attrition.
But he had to win, not just to repel the invaders, but also to show the Imperium the value and... determination of the Eighth Legion.
On the 'Nightfall (Warship Name)' battlefield, shrouded in decay and shadow, the Primarch-level struggle had entered a fever pitch.
Koz and Mortarion, one a phantom manipulating fear and foresight, the other an immortal embodiment of plague, their battle seemed endless.
Every deadly sneak attack and rending blow from Koz could only temporarily delay Mortarion's almost abnormal regeneration, supported by Nurgle's blessing.
And Mortarion's attacks, imbued with the power of plague and decay, were mostly evaded by Koz's elusive movements and precise foresight.
This was a cruel contest of will and endurance.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, the prince of crows Sevatarion was single-handedly facing the siege of three Deathshroud Terminators.
These Nurgle champions, clad in heavy Terminator armor and surrounded by deadly miasma, were like three mobile plague fortresses, wielding massive power scythes, continuously launching dull and deadly attacks at Sevatarion.
However, Sevatarion's figure was as agile as a true night bat, twisting and turning in the confined space.
The Deathshroud Terminators' powerful but relatively slow swings always grazed his armor by a hair's breadth, only leaving deep corrosive marks and spreading fungal mats on the ground or walls in vain.
In a subtle sidestep, avoiding a waist-level horizontal slash, Sevatarion's arm shot up like lightning, the dark muzzle of his Bolter almost pressed against the unprotected side of a Deathshroud Terminator's helmet!
"Bang!!!"
A dull and deadly roar!
At such close range, even the Chaos-blessed reinforced helmet of a Deathshroud Terminator could not fully withstand the Bolter's implosion effect.
The Deathshroud Terminator's head exploded like an overripe fruit, viscous fluid mixed with brain tissue and foul blood splattering everywhere, and the headless massive body swayed, falling heavily backward.
But Nurgle's "grandfather" once again showed its unreasonable side.
At the headless neck's severance, flesh and bone frantically wriggled and proliferated at a visible speed, and even tiny, maggot-like creatures could be seen rapidly weaving new tissue.
In just a few seconds, a new, more twisted and ugly head outline had formed, and the Deathshroud Terminator actually struggled, trying to stand up again!
There was no surprise in Sevatarion's eyes, only a cold indifference.
He had long anticipated this outcome.
He moved like a ghost again, avoiding the scythes of the other two Deathshroud Terminators who took the opportunity to attack, continuing this seemingly futile but necessary dance of slaughter, trying his best to tie down these troublesome elites and relieve pressure on his night haunter.
In the distant 'Macragge's Honour', the atmosphere was completely different.
Dorian lay alone in his cabin, his Ironclad Pattern Terminator armor removed and neatly placed on a stand.
His hands were clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling, his rugged face, unusually devoid of its usual boisterousness, was instead filled with vexation and a hint of... guilt.
He recalled the foolish things he had done recently—discussing the Chapter Master's haircut over the comms, impersonating the Honor Guard, and finally making Captain Cassius, who was diligently handling political affairs, faint...
Each of these incidents, while perhaps only "insignificant" in his "illustrious" history of causing trouble, this time, he genuinely felt a bit bad about it.
"Captain... he was actually quite good to me normally..." Dorian thought sullenly.
Although Cassius had a bad temper and often put him in confinement and beat him, on the battlefield, the Captain never mistreated him, providing all necessary support and acknowledging his valor.
Had he gone too far this time?
He'd messed up the Captain so badly that he'd fainted from exhaustion...
Thinking about these troubles, coupled with the mental tension from his previous guard duty, a strong sense of fatigue washed over him like a tide.
Dorian's tough nerves finally succumbed to physiological needs, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and eventually, he let out a heavy sigh and drifted off to sleep.
In his dream, his thoughts seemed to sink into the deep sea of memory.
He dreamed of his distant childhood, on that not-so-affluent homeworld, how he bared his teeth and fought with fierce wild dogs for half a piece of moldy bread; he dreamed of his youth, how he picked up crude weapons to fight desperately against invading space pirates to protect his small town, leaving the first deep scar on his body; he dreamed of adulthood, facing Orks for the first time, their massive size and brutal strength making him feel the threat of death for the first time, yet also igniting the ferocity in his bones, and he recklessly fought, splitting open an Ork's rough skull with a machete...
Then, the dream rapidly shifted.
He dreamed of passing the selection, becoming an Astartes Brother, experiencing the pain and rebirth of countless modification surgeries.
He dreamed of charging into battle again and again on brutal battlefields, Bolters roaring, chainswords thrumming, brothers falling beside him, new brothers taking their place...
Blood, fire, roars, sacrifice... these made up the vast majority of his life.
Finally, he felt the surrounding scene suddenly change!
He found himself standing in the center of a huge, ancient gladiatorial arena, filled with the smell of blood!
Under his feet was dark red sand, soaked with countless blood.
Around him were towering grandstands, whose specific faces were unclear, from which countless mad battle roars and shouts, like a tsunami, emanated!
The sound was indistinct, yet carried a primal fanaticism, a craving for slaughter and blood!
This was not his first time here.
Dorian could clearly feel himself, as if this was not a dream, but some kind of real projection.
He looked down at his hands, covered in familiar power armor, but a strange, tearing pain was coming in waves from deep within his head, as if countless red-hot pokers were stirring his brain!
This pain was so familiar, and so... unsettling!
It seemed to urge him, to urge him to fight, to destroy, to quell this burning pain with the enemy's blood and wails!
Just then, a voice, like the roars and screams of thousands of people mixed together, exploded deep within his mind!
The voice did not come from outside, but from the deepest part of his inner being, as if some long-hidden instinct had been awakened!
"Brave warrior... how does it feel?
The taste of the butcher's nails... you will love it!
It will also help you... tear apart all obstacles!
Become... the bravest warrior!
Win My favor!"
"butcher's nails?"
Dorian felt his head splitting from the pain, and he subconsciously raised his hand to touch his forehead and the back of his head—what he felt was a cold, hard, metallic sensation, like protruding exhaust pipes!
Rows of rough "iron pipes" seemed to have grown into his skull, firmly embedded in his cranium!
Just as he was somewhat disoriented by this sudden "realization" and intense pain, the huge, rusty iron gate opposite the arena slowly rose amidst a deafening roar!
Behind the gate were countless terrifying Khorne Bloodletters and Bloodcrushers, emanating sulfur and bloodlust!
They let out bloodthirsty roars, surging towards the only living creature in the arena—Dorian—like a tide!
"Roar!!!"
Facing this terrifying demonic torrent, Dorian felt no fear; instead, the violent rage ignited by the "butcher's nails" deep within him completely erupted!
He let out a roar like an ancient beast, not even using the weapons on his back, but bare-handed, like a human battering ram, he charged violently into the demon horde!
"Bang! Crack! Rip!"
Fists flew!
Every time his huge fist swung, it inevitably smashed a Bloodletter into pieces!
With a violent tear of his thick arm, he could rip a Bloodcrusher's bone-armored body in half!
Demonic limbs, severed parts, and foul blood splattered around him like a downpour!
Slaughter!
Destruction!
Power!
An unprecedented, pure and savage pleasure, like an electric current, swept through Dorian's entire body!
The tearing pain in his cranium, in this ultimate release of violence, seemed to transform into some intoxicating catalyst!
He felt stronger than ever, as if he could shake mountains and tear apart stars with a mere flick of his hand!
He roared up at the sky, his voice shaking the entire arena!
He even actively charged at some fully armed World Eaters projected by the illusion, using his terrifying fists to smash and tear them apart, power armor and all!
At this moment, bathed in endless blood and violence, Dorian seemed to truly transform into Khorne's bravest and most ferocious chosen champion!
In the cabin next to Dorian's, the atmosphere was completely the opposite, filled with warmth and a hint of subtle sadness.
Under the soft light, Kolesa sat by the bed, while Gaius stood behind her, holding a delicate comb, very gently combing her smooth, silver hair that cascaded like a moonlit waterfall.
His movements were careful, as if he was handling a priceless treasure, afraid of hurting her in the slightest.
Kolesa closed her eyes slightly, enjoying this rare tranquility and warmth.
But a hint of unresolvable longing and worry lingered between her brows.
After a while, she gently raised her hand and grasped the cold, smooth soulstone that she always wore close to her body.
She concentrated, trying to sense her distant blood relatives through this Eldar soul-carrier.
Gradually, the soulstone emitted a faint spiritual glow, perceivable only by her.
A fragmented, extremely vague thought, crossing the endless star sea, was transmitted to her heart—it was her sister, Koreni!
She sensed her sister's presence, and she seemed to be... on a huge human warship?
Taken away by some scary-looking humans in dark blue armor...
However, the emotion her sister transmitted was not pure fear; it seemed... there was also a vague sense of security?
She was safe now...
The connection was very weak, lasting less than half a minute before it extinguished like a candle in the wind.
However, it was this brief and vague connection that instantly broke Kolesa's emotional dam.
The moment the connection broke, the tears she had been holding back could no longer be suppressed, rolling down from her purple eyes like broken pearls.
She suddenly turned around, not even caring that her hair was pulled, and threw herself into Gaius's strong and warm embrace, burying her face deep in his chest, her delicate body trembling slightly with sobs.
"Gaius... I... I felt Koreni... She... she was taken away... on another human warship..." Her voice was heavily choked with tears, full of grievance, worry, and uncertainty about her sister's situation, "Is she okay?
Will those who took her hurt her?
I... I miss her so much..."
Gaius's heart tightened at her sudden tears.
He immediately put down the comb and, with the arms that could steady a sniper rifle and easily tear apart enemies, held her slender, trembling body tightly yet incredibly gently in his embrace.
He lowered his head, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head, feeling her tears soak the fabric of his chest.
He didn't say any empty words like "don't worry"; he simply offered his steady heartbeat and strong embrace as her most reliable support at that moment.
He gently patted her back, silently conveying his support and comfort.
He knew that for Kolesa, who had lost her home and was separated from her family, this faint connection across the stars was both a comfort and a deeper sting.
All he could do was provide her with a haven where she could cry and lean on him whenever she needed.
In the cabin, only Kolesa's suppressed, heartbreaking sobs remained, along with Gaius's silent but steadfast guardianship.