On the other side of the battlefield, pushing past the wave of corpses, a squad of Ultramarines moved like shadows through the heavy toxic mist.
A veteran clad in power armor lowered his voice over the encrypted comms channel: "I didn't expect that even the legendary, fearless Helldivers would suffer from low morale."
Though they hadn't deliberately eavesdropped, the supernaturally keen senses of the Astartes had captured the conversation from the trench position in the wind. To Ultramarines, who viewed honor and discipline as life itself, a soldier attempting to retreat from the front line was difficult to tolerate.
"They are still recruits who haven't left the planet yet," Cato Sicarius replied from the front, taking the lead without looking back. As he scanned their surroundings, he offered an explanation for their allies:
"Their junior officers remain exceptionally capable. That commissar seized the moment brilliantly, using honor and the desire for advancement to restore morale rather than brutally threatening them with a bolter. That is a far higher art of command than coercion."
"Come to think of it, I have never seen a Helldiver officer force his troops, even under the most desperate conditions," another Ultramarine mused. "Perhaps they are simply too lenient with their men."
"As long as they show no mercy to Xenos and heretics, that is enough," Sicarius declared flatly, his power sword leaving a faint arc of light in the mist. "The rest falls under their internal doctrines. We have no need to interfere with how our mortal allies manage their ranks. Let them handle it."
The Second Company squad pressed forward through the suffocating fog. Moments later, the Techmarine monitoring the auspex scanner abruptly halted.
"Captain, I'm detecting abnormal Warp energy residue."
The progress was almost impossibly smooth. In past campaigns against the Death Guard, locating the source of a plague was usually the hardest phase, riddled with decoys and jamming. Yet this time, the unholy energy signature burned clear as a beacon in the night. Even the rotting moss on the ground seemed to point toward the destination like a trail of signposts.
"This tactical operation is proceeding unnaturally well," a veteran remarked. "Key intelligence is practically falling into our laps."
"Do not question good fortune; this is the Emperor's guidance," Sicarius said, tilting his head proudly. "The Emperor protects us, and His gaze rests upon this place. Those abominable traitors will be reduced to ash by holy wrath."
Following the trail, the Ultramarines traversed a forest of stone, reaching the depths of a massive canyon.
Here, the stench in the air was so dense it almost condensed into liquid. A colossal, sickening mechanical structure stood in the canyon's center—built from rusted metal, pulsating flesh, and scores of translucent fluid conduits. It throbbed like a giant heart, pumping massive clouds of plague spores into the sky with every beat.
This was the plague engine responsible for driving the horde of the dead.
On the platform beneath the engine, a towering figure swarmed by flies roared in fury. Clad in battered, heavy Terminator armor with toxic fumes belching from his power pack, he gripped a signature giant scythe, a cloud of insects buzzing around him.
Typhus, Herald of Nurgle, First Captain of the Death Guard.
Right now, the feared harbinger of pestilence pointed at the engine, interrogating a trembling Death Guard sorcerer beside him.
"Why?! Why is it still unable to operate at full capacity after all this time?!"
Typhus's rage sent nearby Nurglings scurrying into the mud. "Theoretically, the power of this engine should unleash a zombie tide across the entire star system, converting several worlds into the Grandfather's garden! But on Perditia—on this damned planet—it only covers a mere few hundred kilometers?! This is a joke!"
The sorcerer tasked with maintaining the engine was drenched in pus as he frantically checked the runes, unable to find a single fault.
He had no idea what was wrong, but he desperately needed an excuse before Typhus's scythe claimed his head.
Seizing upon an abstract yet all-purpose explanation, the sorcerer blurted out: "My Lord! This... this must be the planet's will at work! This world is actively resisting the Grandfather's gift! An unseen force is suppressing our ritual!"
"The planet's will?" A doubtful voice echoed from beneath Typhus's decayed helmet.
"Yes! As long as you keep advancing, infect everyone on Perditia with the zombie plague, and break their will to resist, this inexplicable interference will surely end!" the sorcerer swore fervently.
Typhus fell silent for a moment before letting out a cold scoff. "I only hope this isn't an excuse for your incompetence. Once I slaughter every defender here, if the engine still—"
Before he could finish, Typhus's instincts—honed by ten thousand years of war—screamed in alarm.
"Die, traitor!"
A thunderous roar shattered the air. Cato Sicarius leaped down from the high rocks above, bringing his power sword down toward Typhus's head with terrifying force.
CLANG!
At the critical moment, Typhus spun around, bringing his massive scythe up to block. The power sword crashed into the daemon scythe, sparking blinding flashes and waves of Warp energy.
Though he blocked the lethal strike, the massive impact forced Typhus back half a step. He raised his head in shock, staring at the blue warrior before him and the nearly one hundred Ultramarines charging out to engage the caught-off-guard Death Guard.
"Ultramarines?!"
Seeing the wave of blue warriors storming forward, trading blows with his surprised troops, Typhus was fit to burst with rage. This was his rear base, heavily guarded by outposts and poison mist!
"How could the Ultramarines infiltrate this far without triggering a single alarm?! Where are my detection wards?! Where are my patrols?!"
Faced with the chaotic spectacle, the Death Guard sorcerer double downed on his lie to save his skin, shouting frantically:
"The planet's will, My Lord! It has to be the planet's will interfering from the shadows! There is no other explanation! We had eyes everywhere, every inch of the poison mist was under my control!
Unless the planet itself shielded their presence and cleared a path for them, not even a rat could have slipped through!
My Lord, this place is cursed—it is rejecting us!"