This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 453 Ramses: Nurgle seems to be stressed (5.6k)

"."

Mortarian flapped his wings and charged into the decaying castle.

The warriors of the Ascetic Warband burst out of the smoky exhaust, brandishing weapons that were crumbling under the baptism of the High Heaven Virus.

These people from the wild world tried to hold him back and stop him.

They faced a formidable enemy against whom they had no chance of victory, yet their charge remained unwavering.

Warriors draped in the bones of their brethren roared their battle cries from the barbaric homeworld, carving a bloody path through the daemons and Chaos Space Marines to reach the daemons Primarch.

Phew!

He casually cleaved the resisting warriors in two, leaving crimson bloodstains on the floor with his scythe.

wow~
As the corpses were retrieved from the scythe, the casual sweeping motion entered a crack in the floor. Mortarian reached out his hand, trying to grasp the souls first, but was blocked by an even greater force.

The power from that cold sun in the subspace grew stronger, even on this planet that had been completely taken over by the Father.

"Damn it!"

The tall, withered figure paused for a moment, then muttered a curse, retracted its claws, and finally gave up on these souls that were so close at hand.

'Let me see how many you can protect!'

Mortarian chose to forget the man's power, picked up his scythe, and continued inward along the fortress's crisscrossing passages.

He is currently in Civitavecchia, Port World.

Decades ago, this was an unremarkable ocean world, but with the establishment of the Greater Otlam District and the arrival of the Ultramarines, the planet began to develop.

Taking advantage of the planet's own strengths, a magnificent spaceport was established here, and fuel was extracted from the polar ice caps. The people of Civitavecchia no longer relied solely on fishing for a living, but instead provided supply and repair services to passing merchant ships, and sold some of the ocean world's specialties as a side business.

Prosperity and abundance quickly enveloped the planet.

It is said that the inhabitants of Macurag love a type of crab food from this planet.

Yes, that's why this planet was able to develop in such a short time—it's relatively close to Macurag.

Mortalian's footsteps continued forward along the steel of the airport. This massive, ravaged building was so vast that its stepped harbor, used to hold merchant ships, rose in a ring-like structure, so high that even his gaze could not take it all in.

He was not unfamiliar with such prosperous ports.

The Lion's Gate, the Saturn Gate. When they stormed Terra, there were four more magnificent starports, one of which was shot down by the Death Guard himself.

But when did such an insignificant planet become comparable to Terra?

This aroused a slight jealousy in him, jealous that his brother's kingdom, which was just an insignificant planet, could possess such prosperity.

Now every wall is covered in a dull grime, mostly from the fierce resistance of the garrison in the port. As the Death Guard moved in, blankets of mold and algae began to spread across these still-warm walls, further contaminating and decaying the remaining sections.

The harbor is now covered with a net-like vine, swollen and drooping with sap. Buzzing mosquitoes pile up in the corners, overlapping with maggots to form a vibrant black and white carpet. This huge, spectacular building is beginning to decay and slowly dissolve into biomass.

The same applies to the planet below it.

The azure sea began to turn green, and a highly toxic fog began to spread. What was spewing from beneath the two ice caps was no longer fuel, but clumps of viscous gel, poisoning the planet's few remaining lands.

That's it again.

Mortarian frowned.

It has always been like this.

Whenever a planet is conquered, the longer it is occupied, the more it resembles Barbaros.

Was this something Mortarian did intentionally?
of course not.

They all hated that world, especially Mortarion. When he learned that Llane had destroyed the planet, the Lord of Death felt a subtle sense of pleasure.

He looked down and saw that the soul of his vicious, monstrous adoptive father was still tormented in the lantern, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Boom!

The shockwaves from the explosion rang out again, and the revitalized starport groaned under the strain.

The Death Guard's blessing provided them with heavy protection from artillery fire, but the port forces' resistance was so fierce that these plague warriors had to navigate through the dense barrage of gunfire. Meanwhile, enemy wounded soldiers and damaged vehicles were still able to be transported to support bases located outside the defensive hub, and soldiers who recovered and vehicles that were repaired after a short stop were also sent to the front lines.

The fleet's detection instruments showed that the flow of supply trucks from the defending side was much thinner than when the attack had just begun, and now, everything from basic rations to ammunition was about to run out.

But beneath his feet continued the incessant roar of artillery fire, the earth-shaking impact, and the footsteps of the enemy's marching column, stretching for kilometers, as they counterattacked.

".suck."

Mortarian's masked face emitted another gasp.

His connection with his offspring allows him to see the overall battle situation, and the sensory structures that permeate the Death Guard's body give him a glimpse into the outside world.

The landscape within the Starport was mostly dark, as it had been for the past two weeks. Explosions born of resistance sent up billowing smoke, and flames and biological tissues clashed, spreading haphazardly from the logistics center in the north of the Starport, making the ruins of the massive buildings engulfed within look like stark white bones.

Most of the raging fires were ignited by phosphate weapons, while others were caused by fuel depots and deliberately stacked fuel transport vehicles. Above the spherical void shield in the western region, bizarre ripples still shimmered, and the flames spread from the center like an incessant infernal fire. The tip of a Death Guard battleship pierced into this furnace, but it appeared weak and vulnerable amidst the ripples caused by the explosions of various weapons.

In the eastern part of Starport, beyond the ruins of what was once a thriving trading post, stretches a network of trenches, most of which have fallen into the hands of the Death Guard. Mortalian fought there for several days, participating in part of the operation aimed at completely severing this area from the logistics hub protected by the Void Shield.

It was a tough battle, even though they were fighting along the poisonous swamps under the Primarch's leadership, the burning pain of the flames and the fierce resistance made it even more agonizing for the Death Guards who were the attackers.

Nevertheless, the operation was a success.

Corruption can still occur, and the souls of most people can still become nourishment for the plague.

However, how long this can last is a question.

The line of sight was partially cut off.

From the perspective of the members further away, Mortalian could see the mortals, clad in Void Armor, breaking through the flames and launching a counter-charge, shouting 'For humanity!' as they attempted to destroy the Death Guard's newly constructed artillery positions.

Maintaining an attack for even an hour consumes a great deal of lives and resources, even with the power of the High Heavens.

why?
Why waste your life?

Mortarian saw the flames burning in their souls, the blazing fire of revenge that would not slow down, much less cease, as long as the besiegers held this place.

They all know.

They all knew what their enemy was going to do to them.

They are defending their current life, which they believe is far better than surrendering.

The road sank underground, and Mortarion bowed his head, disappearing once more into the shadows that flickered with lumen lights and were filled with the acrid smell of asphalt. The further he went, the more frequent the explosions became, and the more violent the mortals' welcome to the Primarch grew.

One of the newly established large outposts was completely engulfed in flames. The remains of both attackers and defenders had long been burned to ashes. The small creatures from the warp told him that it was the work of the Destroyers, possibly a professional enemy commando team, or just a soldier driven mad by fear. There were many such people.

Once they have witnessed the enemy's actions, no one with a modicum of sense will surrender. However, the plague that infects the soul is everywhere and growing ever more severe, and no matter how resilient these mortals are, they cannot withstand such torment.

That's as it should be.

Finally, he traversed all the stations and ventured deep into the inner city, a city within a city, the last part of which was completely under the control of the garrison.

Too much trouble.

The Mortarion once took pride in the achievements of the Great Crusade, or rather, even among the rebels, none were not proud of the glory of that era.

In just a century, they liberated countless worlds, and those that resisted could not hold out for even a day in the hands of the liberators.

They even stormed Terra.

But the extreme star field is different.

The members here were so determined to resist and so well-equipped that it was unprecedented.

Mortarion personally led the Death Guard in an attack, but was stuck on this unremarkable planet for nearly two weeks.

Even without the Primarchs, the defenses of the Limit Starfield are not as riddled with holes as they were on Terra back then, and these people are not like the Terran defenders who each have their own agendas.

What caused this situation?

"."

Motarian was thinking of something he absolutely did not want to admit.

Perhaps this is because the Imperial Guard, the Terra Guard, and the Macado are no longer supporting each other, and the fanatics' minds no longer allow them to consider who they should be serving.

Mortarian consoled himself.

"It's ripe."

Kugas emitted a shrill sound in the projection, accompanied by a sobbing tone.

"We have everything ready."

This great impure being, far away on another planet, was boiling the cauldron with tears in his eyes.

"not yet."

Mortarian's reply to his friend's urging was tinged with impatience.

"We have gained little but lost a lot, but we still need to be patient."

"patience!"

Kugas shouted.

"There's no need for patience anymore. You have no idea what's going on, you have no idea what kind of war we're waging. Your patience is like dawdling, my dear Mortalian. You should put away that twisted way of thinking."

Stop now.

The Primarch's voice suddenly deepened, turning into a warning growl that sent chills down Kugas's spine.

"This is a delicate juncture, and neither you nor I have been able to see the big picture."

“Of course I didn’t.” Kugas took a deep breath and made a painful sound.

“My father’s decision was forcibly changed. Some children had to die. This was so difficult for Him. It was because of this reckless recklessness, because of our dawdling, that we children couldn’t complete the task given to us by our loving father. Now everyone has to pay the price.”

Motalian hesitated, then asked, "The price?"

The projection briefly disappeared, then quickly reappeared.

Kugas tried to avoid staring at the plague-ridden figures before him, as if they were actually the corpses of his own kind.

The unclean one paused, as if he wanted to speak again.

But suddenly, the connection was lost, and the projection shattered into a ball of gray-green sparks, which gradually dissipated.

As a node in their communication, a plague messenger of the Death Guard suddenly exploded.

His existence was erased, and his soul, transformed into essence, was injected into the unfinished divine plague.

He was killed.

He was killed by his loving father.

"!!!"

Only then did Mortarian turn his gaze to the sky.

Only then did Mortarian realize what had happened.

because--
-
The septicemia patient was trapped in his own semi-melted fat and could not get up.

He was Nurgle's favorite, the seventh guardian of the Seventh Heaven, and the seventh great demon most favored by the Plague Lord.

He was severely wounded and lay among the bones of his kind.

Under the attack of the Holy Blood Angels, they were surrounded on this nameless planet.

These angels, who had saved countless lives, were so angry—angry at their own lateness, angry at the cruelty of these warp demons. Their eyes blazed with fury, and they abandoned all etiquette, transforming into pure killers. Even the Blood God couldn't help but take notice.

War always brings anger and hatred.

The giant on the bronze throne laughed, and the surrounding weapons trembled. More and more planets in the physical universe were shrouded in crimson mist, and wars intensified as the hatred between the warring parties grew stronger.

Even the Blood God's forces were thrown into the Khorne army. Some were able to return to the wasteland after their bodies were destroyed, receiving rewards and promotions, while others were annihilated by targeted methods and turned into consumables.

But Blood God's commitment remained unrestrained, solely for the sake of war itself.

Unlike Nurgle, Blood God anticipates an escalation of the war, a life-or-death battle that will ignite more waves in the warp. Blood God is never afraid of change, much less of bloodshed.

Even if it's their own blood.

Chi!

The Holy Blood Angels, consumed by hatred for humanity's enemies, tore apart anything still moving before them. Crimson threads wrapped around these warriors, strengthening their bodies and drawing more blood for the Blood God.

Around the septicemia, the plague guards are either dead or on their way to death.

boom!
Septicemia watched as a swarm of plague flies disintegrated into nothingness in mid-air, while the Imperial army sped forward in their vehicles, the tracks crushing the bouncing Nurgles into pieces.

Carrying flying bags, the Holy Blood Angels, who looked like true angels, surrounded a Great Impure One. Septicemia recognized it, but before it could even recall its name, the Great Impure One was torn to shreds by the swirling chainsaw sword.

Their souls departed, vanished, and wailed in agony.

They howled, always full of confidence in rebirth, until finally returning to nothingness, leaving only the eternal echo of death in the subspace.

The father’s sons are dying, starting with the impactor from the Dawn Sector that was driven into the garden.

The sepsis itself is worried that this will be its last.

Karna charged at it in a rage, his deep-seated hatred staining the holy angel crimson. The crimson spear drew a crescent-shaped flame in the air, burning the demon without touching it, the intense heat causing these wicked souls to cower in agony.

"stop fighting!"

The septicemia screamed.

It caught the crimson spear with its sword, its entire body exploding on the spot, its killing intent overwhelming. It had never seen such a furious and bloodthirsty being, like another blood god.

Its head rolled to the ground, and it took a deep breath.

"Let's talk! We'll only benefit the Blood God by continuing like this."

"Talk? Because of the Blood God?"

Karna roared.

"You only know you're going to die, and your master is panicking!"

In an instant, the scorching light surrounded the septicemia, and flames exploded before it. The septicemia was filled with despair, but it was this power of despair that made it even stronger, and the great unclean beings that surrounded it were burned to ashes.

The septicemia patient's eyes widened.

He saw the source of the power that had transformed into angels.

Karna integrated himself into the human community through his actions. The Holy Blood Angels he led watched as groups of ordinary people were liberated from arduous and meaningless labor, and as they truly contributed to humanity while also embracing their own lives.

Receiving the gratitude of humanity, the Holy Blood Angels, these superhumans, blended into the crowd, covering them with the feathers of the Wings of Dawn.

No other Astartes is so close to humanity itself, and so considerate of so many groups.

Humans live in the swaddling clothes they have woven, and naturally forget the allure of the highest heaven.

Faced with an attack from the High Heavens, it is only natural for humanity to resist; they must defend their lives, and this will be a war to the death.

Even though mortals can never be as powerful as gods, the echoes of their deaths will ultimately become the power of guardians.

boom!
The questions that had been lingering in my mind suddenly exploded.

Sepsis renders one incapable of thinking.

"Now, I just need to do what I do best."

On this nameless planet, on this humus composed of countless human bones, an eternally burning angel proclaims.

I will kill you all!

"I will cast you into nothingness, and I will eradicate the festering sores you left in the real universe, without sleep or rest!"
-
This is the reason.

Nagle feared death, feared change, and feared hope.

But with one greedy act, an act no different from any of his past actions, things that the god of life despised began to appear one after another.

He could no longer allow the Wings of Dawn to continue advancing.

A loving father seeks victory, a victory that requires any means necessary, even if those means go against his instincts.

Once this fire is extinguished, everything will return to normal.

"No, my lord, you mustn't do this!"

When his hand swept past the Death Guard beside him and touched only a burst of pus, Mortarion, the Lord of Death, the Primarch who prided himself on his resilience, let out a wail.

Nurk's offspring continued to explode: believers, demons, Chaos Space Marines.
So many children die suddenly, their souls becoming nourishment within reach of their loving fathers, their bodies becoming thick water, scattered raindrops, and the occasional rumble of thunder in the sky.

The Primarch, who had become a slave of Nurgle in exchange for saving his children, was bathed in the death of his offspring, his expression one of despair.

"My lord, why! Why did you do such a thing!"

As the last offspring he could reach exploded, Mortalian cried out in vain to the sky, the despair that piled up with death seeping into his body.

He loathed these forces, yet he could do nothing to stop them.
-
"interesting."

Ramses watched all of this with great interest.

"Master Ya".

He immediately shouted.

"what happened?"

At the table, Arthur, who was still discussing military deployments with Ryan, looked up.

The two were discussing strategies to reduce the pressure on the Great Vortex region. Huron, however excellent, was still just an Astartes. The torment of the Great Vortex for years had left even this guardian of the Great Vortex exhausted.

Arthur is not an expert in this field. He is indeed good at learning and knows how to use people well, but the gap in talent is always difficult to bridge through learning. Ryan's level is really high and exaggerated. Perhaps he can focus more on the ideological issues of the Legion in the future.

Thinking this through, Arthur simply brought it up with Ryan and then went through an inauguration ceremony, which surprised the old lion.

Like I said before, these four are really tough to deal with.

"Look at this, the reaction to the grime is a bit strong."

Ramses first scanned the warp again before pulling out a paper document that Arthur could understand.

He spoke with considerable surprise:

"And it's ridiculously big."

　P.S.: Sorry I got home late.
　　Character
　　Mortarian: A loving father kills his son; his mentality is shattered.

　　Nurgle: We don't want to die!
　　Nurgle: I'm going all in. If I can wipe out Dawnwing this time, the game rules can still go back to the way they were.

　　Karna: Furious.

　　Ramses: I don't understand it, but I'm deeply shocked.

　　Humanity in resistance: Fighting for a better today!

　　Khorne: Battle! Awesome!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)