Nurgle's Move Was Truly Too Cruel

In a corner of the Warp that no detector could ever discover, the Four Merchants had gathered together as usual to seek amusement.

Compared to the dull chaos of the Warp, the Four Gods preferred wandering through the real world, especially the Milky Way, this favored land of destiny. After all, the human race was simply far too interesting.

" Nurgle, why are you so happy today?"

The speaker was a mass of purple fluorescence. As the youngest lady in charge of desire, Slaanesh immediately saw that Nurgle was different today. That sinister, chubby old bastard was actually radiating positive emotions called excitement and happiness.

And Nurgle truly lived up to his title of Nurgle, being more than happy to answer his junior's question. He said cheerfully:

"Nothing much. I merely entertained a little friend who shares my interests. Although I didn't appreciate him before, after this encounter, I realized that I was completely wrong. He really is a good child!

"All these years, not even Isha has genuinely wanted to taste my thick soup, but he was the first—and the only—being to drink the entire pot dry. He even praised how delicious my soup was.

"I'll never forget that greedy, yearning gaze for as long as I live. He even called me Uncle. He called me Uncle! Do you know what that means?"

Lost in his memories, Nurgle revealed a chilling smile. Seven tears slid from the corners of his eyes, and the moment they appeared, they transformed into seven plagues that raced toward the eternally immortal Garden of Delight, spreading Nurgle's affection throughout the world.

Following her instincts, Slaanesh, who represented wanton indulgence, could not remain silent. As Nurgle expected, she picked up the conversation. "What does that mean?"

The instant she finished speaking, unparalleled confidence surged from Nurgle's body. Then he roared:

"That means we are not alone!"

"Huh?"

Nurgle grabbed his junior and pointed at the soup pot, signaling for Slaanesh to take a careful look.

After examining it all around, Slaanesh indeed noticed something different. Compared to before, a ring of tooth marks had appeared around the soup pot today.

Hiss~~~ What the hell!

Even as the Lord of Desire, Slaanesh could not help praising him inwardly. What kind of general was this? He had actually dared to drink that chubby bastard's thick soup. How abnormal was he?

It was true that Slaanesh pursued the ultimate heights of indulging desire, but that did not mean she would chew on a lump of shit after knowing full well what it was. This was no longer eating snow—he had licked the entire latrine clean.

But Nurgle, having found a kindred spirit, still was not finished. He began sobbing again:

"Whenever I think about how I failed to entertain him properly because we were short on time, and could only make my guest eat raw ingredients, I feel ashamed of the trust he placed in me! I never want to see that slightly regretful look in his eyes again, Kiya!

"No, I must carefully cook another delicious dish for him. As for The Cursed, he made a pact with us. He must give me those two children."

Watching Nurgle suddenly become fired up, throwing all sorts of bizarre ingredients into the soup pot and transforming into Senior Nurgle as he stirred it furiously, the youngest lady could not help showing pity in her eyes.

"It's over. Nurgle has already started fantasizing about imaginary friends."

In Slaanesh's view, the truth definitely was not like that. Nurgle must have grabbed some unlucky bastard from somewhere and coerced him just as he had coerced Isha, then moved himself by imagining that the other party liked it.

"I hope that unlucky bastard really does think this soup is delicious."

"Delicious my ass! Even if I starve to death, die right here, I absolutely will not eat shit! Damn fatty, I'll blast you apart!

"Wahhhh, I don't want to live anymore. I'm filthy now. Ugh~~"

Looking at Mordred bawling beneath him, alternating between self-abandonment and impotent rage, even the Emperor felt a trace of pity and refrained from provoking him further.

Instead, he chose to record the scene with Psychic Power so that he could bring it out and mock him repeatedly in the future. Only The Khan, standing nearby, found himself unable to sit or stand comfortably.

He stared blankly at the great sword stabbed into his primarch's chest. Yes, even now, no one had thought to remind Mordred that the Ashen Herald was still stuck there.

Although Mordred was full of flaws—petty, stubborn, and frequently falling into emo spells as if suffering from menopausal complications—at least he had a strong enough mental constitution and was very good at comforting himself.

Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, Mordred finally finished his impotent rage and slumped to the floor, because he discovered that his useless stomach had grown hungry again.

"The Khan, go find me something to eat. I'm hungry enough to eat a Tyrannosaurus rex."

Having received the order, the Black Knights disappeared once more. The laboratory was left with only the Emperor and Mordred. Neither spoke first, and an indescribable awkwardness spread through the room.

Perhaps because he was close to Mordred, the Emperor's sometimes-functional emotional intelligence suddenly seized the high ground, urgently urging him to do something.

And the Emperor truly lived up to his reputation as the ultimate social anxiety sufferer. The moment he opened his mouth, he dropped a bombshell.

"Well done. The problem with the Sons of the Emperor has been solved. They can now participate in the Great Crusade."

"What did you say? Now?"

Mordred's expression darkened. He pulled the Ashen Herald from his chest and smashed it onto the floor, then pointed at the Emperor's nose and cursed:

"You bastard, couldn't you wait? Even waiting until they recovered to thirty thousand would have been fine! I really don't know what you're thinking. Throwing them out like this changes nothing from before. Nothing has changed at all. No wonder you'll end up with your family broken apart and half your body paralyzed."

As far as Mordred was concerned, his feelings toward Fulgrim were complicated. After all, he knew that the Phoenix would betray them in the official history. But the key point was that Fulgrim had not betrayed them yet!

Seeing Mordred react so violently, the Emperor had his own difficulties.

"How was I supposed to know what would happen in the future? You know that was the past. You don't really think I'm omniscient and omnipotent, do you?"

Now it was Mordred's turn to be dumbfounded. The two stared at each other, both realizing that some fundamental problems had appeared.

"Didn't you read my memories?"

"I didn't read all of them! I already told you your memories were poisonous. Who knows what sort of nonsense is going on in your head? You don't really think I was bluffing, do you?

"I only know that half of my sons will betray me, but how could I know who, or exactly why? Even if you told me, it wouldn't help. You, this Outsider Wanderer, have already thrown the threads of fate into chaos. The more you say, the more things will change. No one can say who will live or die.

"Otherwise, why would I have asked you to help me find the primarchs? You said you would join me in the Great Crusade for the rest of your life."

After saying this, the Emperor even put on a strange, pitiful puppy expression, his eyes sparkling as if Mordred were some heartless scumbag. Mordred's eyelids twitched violently at the sight.

Without any hesitation, Mordred leaped onto the Emperor, grabbed him by the hair, and began beating him while cursing:

"It's all your fault! It's all your fault! My greatest cheat is gone, you useless bastard!"

Pinned to the ground, the Emperor also had something to say. Why should humanity be enslaved by aliens? Why should he be ruined by the Four Merchants? If he did not hurry to launch the Great Crusade now, how could humanity become great again?

The angrier he became, the less the Emperor was willing to yield. He responded to the Rebellious son with a flurry of punches and kicks. Like two wild dogs, the two began another endless argument.

"You have the nerve to blame me? Look at what you've raised Fulgrim into. He's actually wearing a skirt now."

"And those Spartan Warriors—how did you learn Biochemical Alchemy? Tell me!"

"Shut up! That was peerless wisdom. Besides, your son was going to become gay in the future anyway, so why not let him get used to it first? What's wrong with that? Who told you to have twenty children? Are you a sow?"

"You're talking nonsense!" The Emperor punched Mordred in the eye, only to be ambushed by the Rebellious son, who kicked him in the crotch.

"Neos, admit it. Fulgrim is just like you. The one above is crooked, so the one below turns out crooked too. I know what you did in Rome!"

After saying that, under some inexplicable impulse, Mordred's flesh and blood churned. In a matter of moments, he transformed into a brown-skinned noblewoman wearing a laurel crown. He even created some golden jewelry out of flesh to decorate himself. His face was not identical to the Emperor's, but it was at least a high-quality imitation.

Seeing his deepest-buried Dark History exposed so nakedly, the Emperor was truly enraged.

However, just as the two were about to tear each other apart until they bled, the door was opened from outside.

Looking at his Second Brother and father, Fulgrim, who had been eavesdropping outside for some time, felt utterly dead inside. He had completely lost his former pride.

"Stop fighting! I understand everything now. No wonder Second Brother treated me so well. It turns out he isn't my Second Brother.

"Father, tell me—is she the mother I've never met?"