Mortarion: Old Thirteen, Let Me Pick an Auspicious Day for You

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The fighting on the front lines remained unremarkable. The only change had been brought by Mortarion's Death Guard forces.

Guilliman had to marvel at the adaptability of the Tau. The fact that this race had risen so quickly and carved out a territory at the edge of the galaxy already proved its merits.

Before this, they had adapted to the intensity of warfare Guilliman had deliberately kept under control, adapted to fighting Imperial forces, and, working alongside some allied Space Dwarfs, several small xenos races, and Dark Eldar taking advantage of the chaos, had barely managed to stabilize the defensive line. They could now serve to temper Imperial troops.

But Mortarion's Death Guard forces, which had entered the battlefield the previous day, were completely beyond their understanding.

They could not understand why battlesuits had suddenly sprouted fleshy tentacles and masses of fungi, fused with the Tau inside them, and turned to attack their own side.

Nor could they understand why enemies who had had more than half their bodies blown away could still keep charging.

Least of all could they understand why, after the Death Guard merely muttered a few numbers, incurable plagues began erupting inexplicably among their own forces.

Honestly, Guilliman could not understand that last part either. Previously, he had only heard Zhou Yun mention some knowledge about numerology. In practical application, Guilliman had also discovered that this thing called numerology was genuinely somewhat useful.

Though he did not understand the principles behind it, Guilliman had always maintained a certain degree of respect for numerology. He had even often sighed that Mortarion truly was a saintly master, capable of creating such a profound discipline as numerology.

But over the past few days, after Mortarion boarded the Glory of Macragge, he had begun teaching Guilliman this so-called numerology.