Burning Down the Garden of Nurgle, Uh-Huh

Matthieu had seen the Emperor in a dream he believed to be a prophecy.

He could sense that everything was for this fateful moment.

There is light and fury, a light that pierces bones and scorches the soul. An endless, eternal voice.

There are the silent wails of Psyker, drained dry to satisfy His terrifying majesty.

There were images of gods, demigods, and a brown-skinned man with a calm expression. He wore leather, chainmail, and clothes of various colors and patterns, including Golden Armor. He had many faces, all radiating pride and suffering betrayal.

He saw an old man wearing a hood among them.

That must be the hero Malcador, the first Lord Regent.

He was tormented by countless thoughts, memories that had persisted for millennia.

Random, cyclical thoughts, anxieties, predictions, fears. So many voices, all the same yet all different, with no continuity whatsoever.

He saw a dusty room, the size of a Titan creation, filled with countless machines he couldn't understand but still found terrifying. The living died constantly, just to maintain this horrific existence.

"Where am I? Great Emperor, what revelation do you wish to bring me?"

Matthieu looked around in a panic, and before the throne forged in golden Radiance, he saw the Emperor sitting on it.

It was a skull-faced corpse, lifeless, resting on the seat, just as everyone expected—but then the image began to shift, and he saw a king with unlimited power, contemplating for a moment on his throne, disappearing for a time before his subjects, and then rising to continue his just reign when his contemplation ended.

He saw a weary man, perhaps like his father, solemnly giving him advice he couldn't hear, telling him what he had to do.

Once again, he saw the scene change; he saw a power comparable to the Chaos Gods.

He saw sorrow, victory, defeat, and potential.

Among so many faces, there was no human face, no human voice, only a chorus, only background noise.

The Emperor's appearance was a devastating blow to his soul, a profound shock to his very existence. Unable to stand before him, he knelt down, wanting to hear the teachings of this legendary deity.

He looked at the Emperor of mankind, yet could not see him. Too many, too bright, too powerful. The unreal existence before him utterly overwhelmed him.

A hundred different impressions, all false and all true, rushed into his mind at once.

However, just as his head was throbbing with pain and he was about to completely collapse, Matthieu saw a face that belonged to himself on the throne, a face that was also suffering.

It was in that fleeting glimpse in his youthful dreams that he believed he was the chosen one of the Emperor, the god who had suffered all the hardships for humanity.

At Parmenio, even before he was transferred there as the high priest, Matthieu had always kept a low profile and did not care about the size of his title or official position—he believed that everything was arranged by the Emperor, and all he needed to do was to believe—believe in the Emperor's guidance and his arrangements.

And what happened next was exactly as he had predicted. Under the Emperor's guidance, he was assigned to this planet that would become the center of the Plague Wars, and led a arduous journey towards the enemy of Emperor.

But just now, right before his eyes, the embodiment of the Emperor fell.

The demon defeated Him.

Even humanity's last hope was extinguished—on this battlefield, no one could stop the mad, corrupting demons from ravaging the world, and there was no longer Emperor's Light to help them rid themselves of the terrible diseases and poisons that had appeared on their bodies.

"What should we do next, Priest?"

Half of Parmenio has been turned into Daemon World, and their small squad didn't even have a chance to see what a demon looked like before they faced their demise in the putrid swamp.

"Go ahead."

"Go ahead?"

The leader of the Astra Militarum, Audramael from the 4021st Regiment of the Cadia Army, looked somewhat dejected.

Where else could they go in this vast swamp shrouded in a foul-smelling mist?

In such dense fog, even orbital bombardments from Star Fortress would be distorted and altered—just as the Void Shield projects energy into the Warp, the physical distortion laws of the Daemon World would similarly deflect these orbital cannons elsewhere.

Their operation has completely failed; the best option now is to evacuate this fallen planet.

But if even Emperor cannot defeat the many demons before them, what can mortals possibly do?

"We can keep going!"

"Whether the Emperor fails or his Radiance fades or remains—we will continue to move forward for the future of humanity."

Matthieu recalled the mysterious, pale man, though he himself was unwilling to accept everything the man had said.

But after that dream, he realized that Emperor might not be as successful as a god.

A decaying corpse sitting alone on Golden Throne, a hero who once tried to save the world. Perhaps he did possess great power and wisdom, but all of that vanished when he sat on the Golden Throne.

For ten thousand years, both the Imperial Cult and the Imperial Truth Faction have fought to protect the legacy he left behind!

"We are not just fighting for him, we are fighting for his beliefs!"

Matthieu roared, his voice seemingly amplified by some power, piercing the mist and stretching towards the horizon.

A halo-like light emanated from him, illuminating the toxic swamp filled with decay.

Whether the Emperor was human or god, whether he succeeded or failed, whether his Radiance had faded or not, the remaining humans should not give up the fight!

"Soldier! Does that mean if—I mean if— Cadia falls, you won't continue fighting?"

"No! Please allow me to correct this— Cadia will never fall, Priest!"

The commander of the 4021st Regiment of Cadia immediately followed the priest's lead.

"All glorious Cadia warriors, onward!"

"Go ahead!"

He shouted.

"For the Emperor! For Ultramar! For the Imperium!"

"It's right there!"

"The demon and its cauldron are right there!"

Under the cover of the dense fog of Nurgle, no detection device could function properly, and the Augur Array on their bodies were all malfunctioning.

But it was as if a flame was burning in Matthieu's eyes, and he could see, see the shadowy figures laughing behind the thick fog of the plague swamp—they were there waiting for the world to be brought under their control, to make that land their breeding ground for decay!

And it was under Matthieu's guidance that they finally saw their target—a disgusting, ugly, obese, and corrupt evil creature, who was now stirring a filthy stirring stick in his hand, surrounded by countless Nurgling and Plaguebearer.

He seemed to show a hint of disbelief at the arrival of everyone.

"Demon, prepare to be annihilated!"

Led by the few remaining, still-unrusted tanks of the Astra Militarum, Matthieu was the first to charge towards the demon.

"Oh, oh! Look who's here."

Ku'gath remained completely unmoved.

His Great Maw laughed merrily.

As the creator of the Divine Plague, he naturally understood the power of his creation—the one impersonating the Emperor Incarnate was already poisoned and unconscious, and as Garden of Nurgle expanded toward Parmenio, the mortals' futile attempt to stop it was undoubtedly a ridiculous act.

But Ku'gath didn't mind playing along with them.

Even deep down, it felt a profound sympathy for these screaming creatures charging at it for the Corpse King in their mouths.

They were simply deceived and misled by the Corpse King on the Golden Throne, making them unable to understand the care and love from their benevolent father—but the patient Ku'gath believed he had the ability to persuade these lost children.

It delights in friends who wish to join the Garden of Nurgle —where they can play happily forever, rather than here for some vague promise of an afterlife.

"Little Corpse Gods, listen up, we don't need to continue being enemies."

Raising the stirring stick in his hand, Ku'gath smoothed the rotten flesh on its body, trying to leave a slightly better impression.

"Rather than sacrificing your lives for that vague and insignificant afterlife—"

Bang! Bang!

Their response was to unleash even more Bolter, and countless the Accursed soldiers charging at him.

"Rua--"

Ku'gath responded by vomiting large amounts of mucus, maggots, bile, and partially digested bones.

The viscous liquid protects it, while simultaneously hindering its progress.

"Alright, alright!"

Ku'gath said angrily, "Then let's solve this problem using physical methods."

(It sounds funny that a demon would say that, but it really did say it.)

As it spoke, it removed its hand from the Plague Cauldron that it had been stirring, and instead raised a rotten, rusty greatsword beside it.

"Kill these lackeys of the Corpse King. Since they don't want to be part of the Garden of Nurgle, then they'll become Garden of Nurgle nourishment."

Just a few yards away, in front of the group at the crucible, lay their target, guarded by a powerful demon.

Meanwhile, at Ku'gath's call, plague carriers attacked them from every direction in the swamp.

To cope with these sudden adversaries, the Space Marine's protective perimeter began to shrink, and they quickly fell into a disadvantageous position under the onslaught of Nurgle Daemon from all sides.

"Good heavens, who's going to take this sword strike next?"

"I."

Ku'gath watched as a grandson of the Accursed emerged from the darkness, as arrogant as Nurgling on a dung heap. He carried a shield bound with bones and a greatsword the size of the shield.

"Pah, you won't last long, kid."

"We must launch the attack, Colonel!"

As time went on, the Nurgle Cauldron remained intact under Ku'gath's protection, while the pressure from the Nurgle Daemon all around grew ever greater. As one side gained at the expense of the other, Matthieu's team suffered heavy losses.

But Matthieu is still waiting for an opportunity.

An opportunity to fulfill his mission.

"Now!"

As that damned demon felled the Primaris Warrior and boasted of its power and poison, Matthieu's Leman Russ (tank) broke through the demonic protective barrier and charged straight for the enemy's core.

Bang!

Ku'gath was thrown backward by the impact, and Leman Russ pushed the demon off balance and backward, tearing off pieces of rotting flesh flying everywhere. It was pinned to the wall, its fat head shaking, its mouth agape.

"Ugh. A sneak attack. The pathetic offspring of the Corpse King always has no sense of humor."

The black filth flowed towards Audramael's tank, which, under the influence of Ku'gath's blood, began to mutate and decompose.

The armor plates began to twitch rhythmically as the Plasteel started to transform into flesh and blood.

A creaking opening appeared beneath the turret, releasing a foul stench and groans. The power of the Warp was on full display. A Heavy Bolter fell to the ground with a soft thud, softened, and began to crawl away. The engine emitted black smoke and then shut down.

Matthieu might have been able to save him—but he chose to head straight for the corrupting Nurgle Cauldron.

After all, his task was much more challenging.

Although he didn't understand why the Emperor Incarnate would entrust this task to a priest, the dying Astra Militarum Commander Audramael chose to trust his judgment.

Disturbingly, strips of rust and flesh even grew onto the colonel's own body.

"Hiss!"

Audramael jerked his hand away, tearing the fusion of his flesh and metal apart. His skin was a waxy yellow, but he continued to crawl forward, leaving a trail of crimson blood behind him.

"Thank God, it's time to die."

His words lacked a subject; perhaps he was speaking to Ku'gath, or perhaps he was speaking to himself.

With his last ounce of strength, he plunged his Power Sword into Ku'gath's eye socket. The final burst of energy from the failing disintegration Force Field Generator exploded violently towards Kugas's brain.

Despite being just tanks and mortals, they are about to use their own power to banish a chief Greater Daemon.

--What?

"Hahaha--Of course I was just kidding, kids."

Despite his head being completely blown off, in the colonel's dying, resentful eyes, the slime-covered Ku'gath stood up again and laughed heartily.

"You wouldn't believe it, this place has become Garden of Nurgle!"

"Haha, I'm sorry. My life is as vibrant as this Garden of Nurgle."

In Garden of Nurgle, the chief Greater Daemon Ku'gath was indeed not a top-tier demon in terms of combat ability—his power mainly lay in the highly poisonous potions he had created.

But who can kill it in Garden of Nurgle?

No!

"Little one?"

With a smile, Ku'gath gently lifted Matthieu, who was desperately resisting the erosion of the Plague Cauldron: "As a mortal, yet able to partially resist the plague of the Nurgle Cauldron, he is quite a good test subject for poison production."

"What else do you have to say? To your foolish little followers who believed in you, and to the Corpse King you trusted your whole life but who couldn't save you?"

"Demon!"

His skin began to fester under the influence of evil magic, but having dared to approach one of the plague god's most powerful artifacts, he had already accomplished everything he had—

No,

Not all.

"I, my Emperor, and everyone in this world will fight for ourselves—you cannot destroy our faith and will!"

"Nurgle, I (swear)!"

Bear!

A flame, a golden-red flame, began to burn in Matthieu's heart.

"What kind of witchcraft is this? You... no! This isn't the power of the Accursed!"

In pain, Ku'gath released his grip on the other man's hand—but in the next moment, he realized just how foolish that decision had been.

It was this subconscious letting go that caused Matthieu, whose body was already rotting away, to fall into the Nurgle's Plague Cauldron.

At that moment, the flames devoured everything.

At that moment, the flames devoured everything.

In Garden of Nurgle, a fireball blazing with incredible light is spreading wildly.

The last sludge on his decaying flesh was burned away, and a network of capillaries spread out, bringing in fresh blood uncontaminated by the divine plague. The metal of the Armor of Destiny gleamed and began an incredible self-repair.

As the rust crumbled and fell away, the bright decorations were restored to their original state. Cables grew back and began to reconnect, just like skin growing back.

"Stop him! Kasgar, we were wrong! Stop your powers!!!"

"No."

"You, and your master, have stolen the imagery from this world."

"They stole humanity's hope in rain, turning prayers for rain into a complete demonic summoning ritual."

Humanity deserves a brighter future.

But they—they have turned this world into a vortex of suspicion and pain. They have stolen humanity's drive and opportunities to move forward, using this to flaunt their so-called power!

And now, he's here to take back all of that!

Kasgar was recounting the sins of the other party, but the object of his accusations was not this demon who was about to be completely destroyed.

Rather, it was the owner of the black house on that low hill.

It can be seen from anywhere in Garden of Nurgle; that is Nurgle's own residence.

Father of Rain Rotigus was still wailing, his rotting flesh disintegrating and shattering in the flames of Kasgar —he didn't understand why he had to suffer this fate, but at this moment he had no way to think about it anymore.

In the complete eruption of flames, from that moment on, the demon named Rainfather ceased to exist in this world.

"You are not a god, but a despicable thief, a coward!"

"Now, I've come to take all of this back from you!"

Rain, and the joy of enjoying it, returned to humankind at this moment.

"And you too!"

Like a summons from the King of Hell, Kasgar charged toward another Great Unclean One.

The demons screamed and scattered in all directions. As the flames spread, those nameless creatures were instantly purified before they could even cry out.

The implosion from Garden of Nurgle will be more devastating than any destruction ever seen before.

It could all have been caused by Kasgar alone.

Under the relentless outward-firing flames, the cracks all over his body had almost completely covered him—like a humanoid figure completely enveloped in golden-red light.

"Actually, I've been waiting for a moment. A moment that allows me to unleash my power, but without tearing open another Eye of Terror."

"And now... the time has come."

He could sense the pleas and fear of the owner of the dark house.

It turns out that even the Chaos Gods experience fear.

Excellent, let's make it even more terrifying.

This was exactly the result he had hoped for.

Prepare yourself for the wrath of me—not the Emperor, but the wrath of Kasgar Sherlock.

Bang!

An explosion comparable to the birth of a god resounded throughout Garden of Nurgle.

At that moment, the flames devoured everything.