Gulp, gulp, gulp. Valens drank it down and felt much better inside. He had seen the effects of this Milk on the frontlines and believed it could cure him.
After drinking the Milk, Valens felt the voice in his ear diminish countless tis over.
A sharp pain suddenly flared in Valens's left hand. His entire left arm detached and transford into a fat maggot.
Everyone, including Zeke, was stunned by the scene before them.
"I..." Valens's face turned pale. He rembered. He rembered everything. His left hand had long been blown off during a battle on the frontlines.
Zeke looked at his minimap. So that's why. His arm was actually ford by a Nurgle creature.
No wonder it could resist his Milk. The target was completely wrong; it would be weirder if it did work.
The maggot's fat body bloated, and an incredibly foul stench perated the air.
Upon slling the stench, Zeke truly realized how huge of a mistake he had made.
The maggot's epidermis bulged as if engorged with blood, the skin stretched almost transparent. The foul liquid flowing underneath presented a blasphemous, sickly yellow.
With a low, muffled pop, all that accumulated filth finally found its exit and poured out.
Even if the Milk could cure the infection caused by this thing, Zeke absolutely did not want a single drop of it touching his body.
The chief director had already collapsed on the floor in terror, stamring and pointing at the yellow water surging toward him.
Zeke rummaged through his backpack. With the hand speed honed from years of PVP, he used Sponges to build a wall right in front of him.
The mont the filthy liquid touched the Sponges, it was completely absorbed—not a single drop left, not even a trace remaining on the floor.
Thank goodness for Sponges. Zeke breathed a sigh of relief.
–
Rumble... Accompanied by the sound of a wound tearing open, the sky over Iax was ripped apart.
Outside the rift, the real world remained unchanged.
But inside the jaundiced rift, a scene of madness erged. It was a massive garden on a sweltering sumr day, boisterous and jubilant amidst its decay.
Nurgle's Plague Garden.
Seven colossal Plague Arks sailed forth from the eerie sky reflecting Nurgle's Garden.
These Plague Arks had once been living creatures, and perhaps they still were.
Skin hung off muscles that twitched and spasd; the thick fat underneath had all corrupted into a furry, bloated mass, playing host to a multitude of parasites.
These Plague Arks had been imprisoned by the will of the Plague God, becoming terrifying entities.
The maggot was rely a signal. Through the rift, Mortarion led his plague army across the frontlines, arriving directly at the rear-guard world of Iax.
Hordes upon hordes of Daemons, Plaguebearers, Nurglings, and rotting swarms of flies marched to the tune of septic wind instrunts.
Nurglings rained down constantly from the orifices of the foul-slling Void Whales, inundating the land amidst the complaints of larger Daemons.
"So this is it. The human who destroyed countless plans of the Grandfather is right here."
Mortarion suppressed his inner desire to seek out Guilliman, casting his gaze toward Iax beneath the Plague Arks.
It was no easy feat; this was a long-preditated attack.
Mortarion had long since dispatched Plaguebearers to various parts of Ultramar—seven per planet, precisely Nurgle's sacred number. It was their combined spellcasting that had given Mortarion this opening.
–
Zeke looked at the Plague Arks overhead. To be honest, this was the first ti he actively didn't want to engage in lee combat. He didn't even have the slightest inclination to board those Plague Arks.
He wasn't about to willingly jump into a cesspit.
It was Guilliman who rushed to the battlefield and took command.
Having just concluded his audience with the Emperor, a certain indescribable gravity still lingered on the Primarch's brow.
Ever since Zeke used the Nether Portal network to connect the entirety of Ultramar, Guilliman no longer feared this kind of household-raiding tactic.
No matter which planet Mortarion attacked, he was essentially fighting the entirety of Ultramar at once.
"Mortarion!" Guilliman looked at the Plague Arks swarming with flies in the sky and clenched his fists. He swore that this ti, he would bury Mortarion here forever.
"Mortarion."
The magnificent, vast voice of the Emperor rang out. Guilliman almost lost his footing. He turned his head and looked toward the source of the voice.
Isn't that my Father's voice?
Zeke was holding the [Bubbell] he had asked back from Guilliman, having switched it to the Emperor's voice.
This [Bubbell] can even adjust the volu. Quite handy.
"Father." Mortarion stood upon the Plague Ark. His first reaction upon hearing the voice was disbelief.
Then, he trembled instinctively, like a little boy caught committing a minor but unforgivable sin.
The voice was highly recognizable. It was absolutely impossible for Mortarion to mistake it. This was the Emperor's voice.
"This is impossible. Shouldn't you have died long ago?!" Mortarion stepped back, retreating toward the rift leading to Nurgle's Garden.
Just the Emperor's voice alone was enough to make Mortarion harbor thoughts of retreat.
A dissatisfied hum echoed from the garden within the rift, incredibly viscous, halting Mortarion's continued retreat.
Mortarion stiffened and slowly turned around. "Forgive my cowardice, Grandfather."
"You traitor. Unfilial son. You plunged all of this, which still held hope, straight to the bottom! Have you done right by the people of Barbarus who followed you?!"
Mortarion had always believed the Emperor was already dead, or at least powerless.
He believed he could attack the Emperor's realm, torture the Emperor's people, and hunt down the Emperor's sons, while the man sitting upon the throne could do absolutely nothing.
Now, the will to fight receded from Mortarion's body like a receding tide.
Creak. That was the sound of a door opening.
The boundary between the battlefield of Iax and Nurgle's Garden flickered. The ground of the garden trembled increasingly violently.
The creak of a door opening echoed from the garden—faint, yet utterly terrifying. The Manse of Nurgle had never opened its doors before.
Mortarion looked toward the house. A minuscule window opened outward, revealing the profound darkness within.
Grandfather Nurgle was currently extrely displeased.
Formless words drifted over. Mortarion learned the truth, and his body jolted. "Liar! You tricked !"
Nurgle had awakened Mortarion to the truth. When Mortarion realized he had actually been made a fool of to such an extent, his face flushed bright red.
"Tch, soone spoiled the fun. How boring." Zeke lowered the [Bubbell] and said to Guilliman beside him, "Prepare to engage the enemy."
Knowing he had been humiliated, Mortarion charged toward the hive city where Zeke was located with a hundred, no, a thousand tis his previous morale. He was going to wash away his prior sha.
--
Goal = 500 Powerstones.
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