Hiss, hiss, hiss—
Deep within Nurgle's domain, where countless clouds of rotten poison fog and vital energy drifted back and forth.
Countless Nurgle daemons, battered aside by the rampaging Star Eater riding a silver board, had added endless fertilizer to the swamps and soil throughout the garden!
Looking around, even amid the vast number of demon carcasses flying in every direction,
one could clearly watch a severed arm belonging to Mortarion—the Nurgle Daemon Prince, second-in-command of the Death Guard, and Chaos Primarch—slowly turn into particles of rotten flesh beneath the savage impacts of streaking silver afterimages!
In truth, Mortarion's current appearance was utterly miserable.
His upper body was mangled and incomplete, the enormous scaled wings behind his back were broken, and the Barbarus Armor covering his body had been shattered beyond repair.
Even Scythes of Annihilation, clenched in his only remaining hand, had long since snapped into two pieces!
Although Grandfather Nurgle's exceedingly generous blessing would restore Mortarion's armor, weapons, and even his ruined body to perfect condition within a few breaths,
Mortarion, his pale face behind the Breathing Mask growing increasingly anguished, did not step forward to launch another futile attack. Under the cover of countless Nurgle daemons, he instead drove his Power Armor backward without pause!
In a sense,
Mortarion's will to fight, along with all his faith in battle, had been utterly crushed by the nearly invincible Star Eater!
Growing more lost and helpless, Mortarion seemed to have returned to Barbarus, his homeworld of ten thousand years ago.
To the time when he had been young and ignorant, facing his alien father for the first time.
No matter what combat techniques he used or what methods of battle he devised, the powerful being before him had successfully dismantled them all!
And that deeply familiar sense of powerlessness