Chapter 81: Plague
In truth, the Destroyer Plague and Nurgle's Rot had been released by Typhon himself.
Deep within the fleet, the warriors were already beginning to sense something terribly wrong. The reek of decay permeated the recycled air. Strange whispers emanated from within their armor.
Some warriors began hearing sounds that held no place in reality. Their bodies underwent subtle transformations, dark green blotches appeared upon their armor plating, and their breathing grew labored and difficult.
As time passed, the changes within the fleet became increasingly obvious.
The warriors' flesh began to rot. Pustules and fungal growths erupted across their armor. Their skin peeled away like putrid meat sloughing from bone.
"What's happening? Why are we becoming like this?"
"Ahhh! The pain!"
All the Death Guard aboard the warships roared in tremendous agony.
Had they not been Death Guard, bred for resilience beyond mortal ken, they would already be dead. But precisely because they were Death Guard, their bodies continuously resisted the plague's corrosion through sheer genetic stubbornness.
Constant decay. Constant regeneration. Constant torment.
Mortarion even employed his psychic power to help his sons purge the corruption. Soon, the lesions on their bodies gradually receded, and their skin even became paler and healthier than before.
Seeing this, he immediately laughed. "Everyone, remain calm!"
"I'll treat each of you in turn! Hahaha~"
Just as he turned toward the second Death Guard, the previously healed warrior suddenly roared.
"No! It's returning! It's coming back! My face!"
"My face!"
Mortarion spun around and witnessed rotted flesh sloughing from the warrior's body even faster than before. Countless pustules erupted from his flesh, rapidly filling his power armor from within. The entire figure became grotesquely bloated.
With the rupture of countless pustules, blood and corrupted matter oozed from every seal and joint.
When he tore away his power armor, splat!
Masses of flesh fell directly to the deck. His internal organs lay exposed to the open air; everyone could clearly observe the alien organs writhing with unnatural life.
Even the Death Guard, veterans of innumerable campaigns, recoiled from this sight.
The afflicted warrior gazed upon his own dissolution with utter horror. He could feel immense pain, yet he would not die. Trapped always upon the path of suffering with no escape, he clawed frantically at his own flesh.
Soon, only a skeleton remained, ceaselessly roaring. "Let me die! Let me die! I'm in so much pain!"
Even reduced to bare bones, he yet lived. Even his skeleton was corroded by unknown forces, fracturing into countless fragments.
Crack!
He collapsed directly upon the deck, like a puddle of animate filth.
But he was still alive.
Still muttering: "Kill me! Kill me! Who will grant me death!"
"Ahhh! I want to die!"
Everyone witnessed this spectacle in absolute horror. None would willingly remove their power armor again.
Mortarion observed this scene with even greater anguish. He could not comprehend how such a terrifying plague existed, nor how he had remained ignorant of it.
He roared: "No! This cannot be! All of you, gather close to me! Quickly!"
Upon hearing their Primarch's command, the other Death Guard assembled around him. Mortarion unleashed the greatest psychic shockwave he had ever manifested.
"Ahhh! Be healed!"
BOOM!
The massive psychic fluctuation swept across the entire Endurance. The bodies of countless Death Guard reversed their corruption, instantly dispelling the contagion.
However, Mortarion, already grievously wounded, could not sustain such a psychic outburst for long.
It lasted only five seconds.
The continuous large-scale psychic expenditure made Mortarion feel as though his brain would rupture. Two streams of blood flowed from his nostrils.
At that moment, an even more virulent plague swept through the assembled warriors. More terrible corruption manifested upon their bodies. Countless pustules, fungal growths, and rotted flesh oozed from armor seals. They were forced to seal their helmets to prevent their heads from detaching completely.
At this moment, a wisp of green miasma slipped into Mortarion's body.
Boom!
Mortarion, who had been immune to all toxins, also began developing festering pustules upon his flesh.
When a burning sensation manifested upon his face, Mortarion lightly touched his cheek.
Rip~
A section of lesion-covered skin came away in his hand. He stared at the corrupted flesh, his mind blank.
He? Mortarion, Lord of the Death Guard, was actually being corroded by a plague?
How could this be?
He was the most resilient among all the Primarchs; this was his pride!
At this moment, the whispers of Chaos began to manifest with clarity.
The voice was deep and gentle, as if a loving grandfather were comforting a suffering child.
"My children, you need not fear. This is not death, but new life. Accept my gift, and I shall grant you power."
All the Death Guard roared in delirium, like drunkards lost to reason.
"Pain! Pain! Let me die!"
"Let me die! Why won't I die!"
"Primarch, kill me! Kill me!"
Their bloated bodies continuously exuded foul-smelling vapors. Like soulless zombies, they shambled toward Mortarion. They existed in agony, unable to break free from their affliction.
Suddenly, decaying armor tore open with great rents, and viscera slid forth in wet rushes.
"Typhon! Show yourself! What in damnation is happening!"
"What have you done!"
Mortarion furiously summoned Typhon, seizing him and forcing him to the deck. "Why did you betray me? Why did you harm your own brothers!"
Typhon did not resist. His voice trembled as he struggled to contain himself.
"Yes, I betrayed you!"
"But I did this for a greater purpose! That purpose is eternal life! Embrace Father Nurgle's embrace! Father Nurgle will grant you eternal existence!"
"Don't you desire power? This is power!"
His excitement mounted as he spoke, until finally he could no longer contain his manic laughter. He gazed upon Mortarion with undisguised mockery.
"You didn't actually think I wished to please you, did you? No, surely not!"
"This is all for Father Nurgle! Not you! Hahaha~"
"You should be grateful for everything I've accomplished this day!"
"Typhon!" Mortarion's roar echoed like thunder, his voice laden with fury and bitter disappointment.
"You traitor! You have defiled our Legion and offered us to the Ruinous Powers! This day, I shall personally exact justice for your crimes!"
Typhon—once the First Captain of the Death Guard—had become a devoted servant of the Lord of Decay. His armor had long been corrupted and fractured by the Destroyer Plague, crawling with flies and putrid matter, yet his body radiated suffocating power.
"Mortarion, are you still deluding yourself?"
Typhon's voice was low yet carried unmistakable scorn.
"This is not betrayal, this is transformation. The Gods have granted us eternal life and power. Only by embracing corruption can we truly master our own destiny."
Mortarion's eyes blazed with righteous wrath. His rage stemmed not only from Typhon's betrayal but from his realization that this was all Chaos's machination, and he had failed to prevent his Legion's fall into corruption.
"Silence! You are no longer worthy to speak of destiny!"
Mortarion raised Silence, his great scythe, and charged directly at Typhon.
Typhon did not flinch. He raised a plague-wreathed maul in both hands, psychic power surging from his body like a tide. He swung the maul to meet Mortarion's scythe.
BANG!
The collision instantly released a powerful shockwave, disturbing the corrupted air surrounding them.
Typhon's psychic power absorbed Mortarion's first strike like a shield, though he was still driven backward several steps by the scythe's overwhelming force.
"You think you can contend with me through psychic power alone?"
Mortarion roared, and Silence descended again, each blow containing unparalleled might.
Typhon gritted his teeth. His psychic barriers deflected the scythe's edge again and again, yet each defense placed immense strain upon his corrupted form. His armor began fracturing, and the miasma of pestilence surged forth wildly, enveloping the battlefield.
"Mortarion, you cannot ultimately defeat the Lord of Decay's power!"
Typhon shouted, his psychic might gradually intensifying. The plague fog transformed into countless corrupted tendrils, attempting to bind Mortarion's movements.
Though Typhon, relying upon his psychic abilities, fought Mortarion to a temporary standstill, the Primarch's power was ultimately insurmountable.
Mortarion suddenly swept Silence in a great arc, tearing through Typhon's psychic barrier, then surged forward with preternatural speed. The scythe drove toward Typhon's chest.
"Receive judgment, traitor!"
Mortarion snarled, and Silence carved a lethal trajectory, piercing directly through Typhon's body.
Typhon unleashed a scream of agony. His body was rent by the great scythe, and virulent green ichor gushed from the wound, striking the deck with sharp hissing sounds.
Mortarion did not relent. He seized the opportunity, wrenched Silence from Typhon's body, then drove his boot into Typhon's chest with crushing force, hurling him several meters distant.
"This is your end, traitor!"
Mortarion advanced upon the fallen Typhon, raised Silence high, and brought it down in a fierce blow that severed Typhon's head from his shoulders.
Typhon's body lay sprawled upon the deck, yet Mortarion felt no satisfaction in victory.
He noted that Typhon's corpse did not decay swiftly as would an ordinary warrior's, but instead emanated an even more intense plague aura.
Suddenly, Typhon's body began convulsing. His wounds rapidly sealed themselves. His severed head actually regenerated.
Typhon slowly stood, a cold smile upon his features, as if death had been merely a brief inconvenience.
"You cannot kill me, Mortarion."
Typhon whispered. "The Lord of Decay's blessing has made me transcend death, while you remain trapped in the shackles of mortality."
Mortarion's eyes burned with even greater fury...
[End of Chapter]