This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 389 The Raging Plague

Romulus sat behind the huge floor-to-ceiling window, his view largely obscured by thick stacks of documents.

The magnificent chandelier made the entire hall as bright as day, and the drifting fluff from the stacks of documents was unusually noticeable in the once spotless house.

He looked at the increasingly frequent reports of attacks that had been coming in since the beginning of the year. Outside the window, Imperial Guards were lined up in neat rows on the road, and the radio broadcasted the quarantine policy that had been officially promulgated as early as July. Medical staff in white coats were hurrying through the Star Ring Passage from house to house.

Romulus frowned as he processed the information.

Even though it was anticipated that the galaxy would be very lively 800 years from now, such an unexpected change still caught everyone off guard.

In less than a few years, the Orks’ sudden and intense activity almost coincided with the timeline of the Swarm’s entry into the galaxy, and with the Chaos gradually unfolding its activities, the entire Empire was dragged into war.

Every moment, the besieged human world prays for hope to arrive; they need a god to once again walk among the stars in a miracle.

However, the state of the Dawn Galaxy is not optimistic.

"grown ups……"

Ernesto de la Cruz looked grave.

Beyond the void behind him, occasional flashes of light appeared, and when the starlight shone on the metal hull, the massive silhouettes of heavy transport ships were revealed.

As they docked at the pre-established ports, countless people suffering from various diseases were transported out and then transferred to quarantine areas by medical staff.

At each pass, the fully armed Imperial Guard stood ready.

"Macurag cannot be moved."

Romulus immediately shook his head: "Baal won't work either."

These two areas are the most impregnable, even though they are currently in relatively good condition and able to respond to support from the surrounding areas.

"What Calgar and Dante are to do is recall the mother group members and sub-groups that are still active outside, and then organize the Imperial Navy to defend various fortress worlds. Any attempt to weaken the sector's defenses is not allowed. This is an order."

"but--"

De la Cruz instinctively offered some advice.

Without relying on these two star systems that rose to prominence through reunification and control of the discourse of faith, the burden of supporting other star systems would fall entirely on the Dawn Sector, which is currently almost surrounded by the Chaos Wotan Alliance, the Tyranid swarm fleet, and the Ork greenskins.

But can they still catch up?

Erector Delacroix looked toward the ruler trapped between the thrones.

No one thought of this.

The Dawn Star Sector, which had been preparing for war long before it broke out, suffered an unprecedented blow before it could even set out, leaving it only able to deal with a series of internal problems.

"Both Bar and Macurag cannot afford to fall, and the current situation is clearly forcing them to divide their forces to provide support."

Romulus calmly interrupted, "Wait a little longer, de la Cruz. Trust our compatriots, and trust us."

"We can solve these problems."

He stared at the alarming report in the document—

It was this report that revealed everything that effectively imprisoned the four Primarchs, thirteen battleships, twenty-six capital ship formations, and three legions of the Dawn Sector within the sector.

His crimson eyes narrowed dangerously.

plague.

A plague that ravaged almost every world within the Dawn Sector.

"We can."
-
Wolumond, the capital of the Letania system, in the northern part of the Dawn Sector.
A terrible plague ravaged the area.

This targeted infection of the Imperial Guard and its technicians has turned this planet, renowned for producing precision industrial components, into a series of quarantine zones.

All factories had to lower their targets to reduce the failure rate of machinery due to a severe shortage of maintenance personnel, and struggled to maintain production; the orbital fleet also had to dock at the edge of the star fortress, enduring the slowdown caused by the sharp reduction in personnel.

Inside the quarantine zone, countless infected people were transported there by vehicles.

They were placed on small beds separated from each other by several layers of sterile material, where medical staff were busy moving around.

Death was everywhere, as were the groans of the sick and the fear of death.

Every patient is being tormented by the sudden burning and pain.

Some people's skin was cracking, allowing clumps of microorganisms multiplying within them to gently fall to the ground; some people's bellies swelled, their fingers began to twist, and their backs arched; some people's eyes softened and welled up with tears, like half-cooked eggs. Some people's bodies melted like wax in a fire, their appearances were reshaped, and they were then killed on the spot by the battle nuns or Astartes who were supervising this place.

At the other end of the isolation zone, a steady stream of corpses were dragged out, identified, and then placed in a specially designed incinerator to be burned. Everything about them would be sealed in the black stone deposits and then launched onto the surface of stars, relying on these great beings of the real universe to completely annihilate their contamination.

wow~
The isolation curtain was lifted, and disinfectant was sprayed out.

The hospital beds, which had only been set up for a short time, were soon filled with several more people.

"By the Emperor!"

As yet another wave of patients were brought into the rooms by the golden-red Astartes, a medical worker from the State Church instinctively exclaimed in surprise because of the patients' symptoms.

Suppressing his fear, he instructed Astartes to drag the unconscious first man back to shore and then pull the woman out and put her on the bed.

Then they started pressing on her mouth with their hands, and a stream of dirty water gushed out of the woman's mouth. After the woman's vomiting slowed down, the medical staff turned her over and placed the tube on her mouth to assist her breathing.

Then he quickly jogged to the next bed.

An old man's eyes were gone, replaced by a pool of extremely viscous pus hanging on his face, with the upper half of his body, which was constantly writhing with each breath, buried in his eye sockets.

His forehead was severely deformed, and with the experience of a professionally trained caregiver, it was clearly abnormally swollen due to fluid buildup, and endless tears streamed down his cheeks.

Why can't I see anything?

said the old man.

"I'm itchy all over, I need help."

On the hospital bed, the old man waved his hands wildly, his gray-green hands tearing at the thin membrane beside him with a sharp tearing sound.

The busy caregivers rushed over, but they still couldn't stop the commotion he had started.

People tend to follow the crowd. Under extreme pain, those infected who heard the noise could no longer bear the suffering and began to wail.

For a moment, even the Consolidated nuns, known for their steadfast faith among the medical staff, felt at a loss.

For a moment, they even considered burning these less devout believers to prevent the plague's side effects from spreading further.

However, the Primarch's teachings still echoed in their ears.

do not give up.

They patiently and did everything in their power to prolong the lives of their compatriots.

But how long can these flickering candles last?

Rotten, decayed.

This disease, tainted by the evil power of the subspace, cannot be cured by ordinary means. Countless academies have studied it day and night without any clue. Except for a very few star systems, the only way to fight against it is through devout faith.

Some people, seeing the patient's suffering, instinctively looked away.

"I am coming."

A gentle voice, as warm as the sun, came through.

The old man pricked up his ears, and he could hear what sounded like the last batch of insects of the year rustling in them, but nothing else.

He decided to treat the sound he had just heard as an illusion.

"I am coming."

A pair of warm hands reached out.

Karna grasped his hand, a withered hand trembling incessantly from the cold and disease.

"Lord Karna, is it Lord Karna?"

The old man exclaimed incredulously, "You've come again! Thank you for coming!"

He seemed incoherent.

He, and the injuries they sustained, miraculously healed at that moment.