Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 571 Father's Love

Mortarion is a demigod walking in the world. This is not just an adjective. Even in the vast galaxy, there are only a dozen Primarchs created by the Emperor who can stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

And if we add modifiers like "toughest" and "most enduring" at the front, then even those equally great Primarchs cannot compare with it.

The Death Guard inherited Mortarion's stamina and tenacity, making them one of the most powerful heavy infantry legions in the Legiones Astartes, and he himself developed these two abilities to the extreme.

But even so, after Typhon's voice rang out, Mortarion still felt an indescribable pain.

It was as if countless ants were crawling inside the body, gnawing at the flesh and internal organs, and using their highly acidic body fluids to dissolve the bones and drill into them to continue sucking the bone marrow.

The Pale King was trembling all over, supporting his body with the Sword of Annihilation in his hand. He glanced at the death shrouds surrounding him with the corner of his eye and found that these equally unyielding warriors were also lying on the ground helplessly in pain.

Everything in front of me seemed to be stained with a light dark green color, just like the products produced by the constant death and corruption of mosses and algae growing rampantly in the endless swamp. A large amount of life force was transformed into another existence during the corruption and decay.

However, what really frightened Mortarion was that he felt not only the deep hostility towards the Warp from this power of decay and rebirth.

Instead, after the deathly silence, Mortarion felt a warm, kind, familiar breath that was calling out to something within him.

This kind of thing is very familiar to the Lord of Death. He once burned to death ten million beings with such characteristics, those evil wizards and damn mutant psychics.

When Mortarion felt the stirring of psychic energy within his body, the creed he had always adhered to suddenly collapsed.

The call from the existence deep in the sea of ​​souls grew stronger, and a voice of calling rang in Mortarion's ears.

As if a loving father was calling his child, asking him to take a break from his busy play, Mortarion's tense nerves began to relax silently.

"How is it? Do you feel the love of my father? My Primarch."

Among the many Astartes who felt suffocated, only Typhon was able to walk freely. No, perhaps he should be called Typhons now.

"It took me a lot of effort to finally bring you to the garden of the loving father, but it was all worth it because the ending is already determined."

There was a look of violent rage on Mortarion's face, like an enraged lion.

He understood, he understood everything, this was undoubtedly a trap, and his former comrade Typhon was the traitor who led them into the trap.

"You... betrayed the Legion. Why!?"

Mortarion roared word by word despite a strong feeling of suffocation, and his eyes almost wanted to eat Typhon alive and tear him into pieces.

But he couldn't do it. The evil power from the warp had quietly penetrated deep into the battleship, and even the Geller stand around the Terminus Est had been closed without anyone knowing when.

The Terminus Est is now completely defenseless, and all kinds of filthy things from the warp rush into the battleship under the guidance of a grand will.

A buzzing sound came from Typhon's body, and louder and louder sound. Countless fat nest-destroying flies appeared from nowhere, dancing and singing around him.

The poisonous fog and miasma of the Warp began to spread within the battleship. Those who still clung to their death shrouds began to be stained with dark green spots and stains. The plague of destroyers from the Warp was raging and spreading. Mortalia watched helplessly as his offspring were bitten and sucked by the demon flies from the Warp.

Any mortal in the cabin who was touched by the other party would immediately glow green and melt into a ball of sticky and smelly liquid in the blink of an eye.

These filthy liquids carrying a large amount of pathogens corroded the deck of the battleship like strong acid, and began to spread along the gravity generator inside the battleship.

Nurgle's warp power is expanding exponentially. If you look out through the warship's porthole at this time, you can see that the fleet has sailed into an extremely large garden of corruption.

Endless Nurgle demons are cheering and tiny Nurglings are drilling into the sore-filled flesh holes of the Great Unclean Ones and playing and frolicking in them. They have already sensed from the will of the Great Father that they are about to have some new friends and family.

The flesh and blood of Mortarion himself and the Death Guards were turning into festering jelly. The Warp flies that emerged from Typhons injected venom with the stingers on their tails. They easily penetrated the protection of the power armor and caused hard growths to grow on the Death Guards' bodies.

Their bellies were bulging, their eyes were oozing pus like cracked eggs, and their power armor was being stretched and twisted.

Those sophisticated mechanical structures are corroding and dissolving, but are being reshaped into various deformed states by a strange force, allowing them to operate normally as usual.

Suddenly, the terrible force that imprisoned everyone retreated, and Mortarion rushed towards the damned Typhons with a roar, chopping him into pieces with his scythe of annihilation.

The Primarch's attack was so fast that it could not be detected by the naked eye. All that was seen was a flash of sword light, and Typhons was reduced to fragments of flesh, blood and machinery.

But his actions seemed to be exactly what Typhon wanted. He broke free from the shackles of flesh and blood, and countless flies of destruction swarmed out of his body, disappearing into the warship with wild laughter.

“Feel the love of the Father. I will be waiting for your arrival by His side.”

Mortarion saw with his own eyes that Typhons turned into a monster made up of countless flies of destruction. His body was swollen and bloated, with dense holes like a honeycomb all over every corner of his body. He was spreading plague and reaping lives.

Typhus completely turned into an empty shell carrying countless pathogenic flies and insects. The bone tower on his back spewed out black poisonous mist. Thousands of Nurgle flies treated his body as a rotten nest and gave birth to wriggling life inside.

King Barbaros has lost Typhon forever, and now all that remains is an abomination named Typhon.

A plague was spreading through the Legion, and even the Space Marines' powerful pre-conditioned stomachs, pebble kidneys, and Laraman organs were of no use to them.

They are not a specific toxin or pathogen, but a kind of corruption and pollution that originates from the soul and the warp level.

The proud Astartes warriors had their souls taken away by the mysterious being. When their bodies began to develop pustules, to fester and swell, and their skin and armor began to merge into one, the Fourteenth Legion no longer had any chance of escape.

The Death Guard's powerful resistance and endurance became the last straw that broke the camel's back at this moment. They could only passively endure the spread of the disease, their bodies hovering between death and survival, and endless decay and pain tormenting their minds.

Even the Primarch could not escape this disaster. Mortarion's roars and roars became weaker and weaker. In the gardens of Nurgle, the kind father had unlimited time to make the proud Lord of Death succumb to His mercy.

The Death Guard fleet disappeared into the Warp without any echo.

　Mo Chou Chou will not be selected in the subspace defense, a preview

　　
　
(End of this chapter)