"Let us begin. Bestow Grandfather's blessings upon these common folk deceived by the Corpse Emperor," Gurlo said, striding forward as the other Plague Warriors parted to make way for their lord.
The Plague Warriors' armor seeped foul-smelling liquid, stretched wide over their bloated bodies and covered in layers of large green flies. A nauseating stench and sickly green mist emanated from them, from within and without.
"Let us bring Grandfather's gifts to those fools as well," Gurlo's lieutenant said. His voice carried the rotten, festering quality of a throat that had decayed yet could still speak.
He followed closely behind Gurlo, carrying a Power Hammer grown from flesh as he headed toward the battlefield. Distillation apparatus and experimental Blight Grenades clinked across his body.
It was worth mentioning that Gurlo's lieutenant was a Plague Surgeon. By blending different pathogens and viruses, he could create terrifying plagues capable of easily poisoning entire Imperium worlds, even spreading to other worlds and bringing countless deaths and suffering.
Plague Surgeons were far more threatening than ordinary Plague Warriors. They poisoned every Imperium world they came into contact with and could even conduct sacrificial rituals, offering up Imperial worlds to turn them into the Garden of Nurgle.
"Praise Grandfather."
"Gifts. Bring them gifts."
"Grandfather's love."
"Destroy the Corpse Emperor."
The other Plague Warriors also raised their rusted Bolters, blades, heavy hammers, and Plague Sprayers fitted with Corrosion Sprayers, cheering as they followed Gurlo and prepared to launch the final assault.
At the front, Gurlo raised his enormous plague battle-axe and unleashed a hoarse, terrifying war cry. "We are Mortarion's sons. We are the incarnations of plague and death."
The other Plague Warriors echoed the same battle cry. Thunderous cannon fire rang out as Daemon Engines and traitor-operated artillery bombarded the fortress once more.
Plague shells flew toward the fortress's flickering shields, blooming into fire petals brimming with malice across their surface. Vast clouds of plague toxin spread with the explosions, only to be blocked outside by the shields.
The fortress's shields flickered erratically. They had clearly reached their limit.
Under the continuous bombardment, the Shield Generators were already on the brink of overload. A few more rounds of shelling, and the fortress would lose the protection of its shields.
Without shields, the fortress would become fish on the chopping block, slaughtered at will.
"Release Grandfather's gifts," Gurlo ordered.
Before long, a vast horde of Plague Zombies was driven over from afar.
They had once been living people—residents and defenders of the planet. Now, they had all become Nurgle's puppets and playthings.
Many of the zombies still wore the uniforms of the planet's defenders, their weapons and equipment hanging limply from their bodies.
They retained only the simplest instincts and could not use weapons.
Gurlo had no need for them to use weapons. Plague Zombies primarily relied on the diseases they carried to inflict casualties upon the enemy.
These creatures stared blankly ahead as they trudged forward in confusion, green slime dripping from their snarling faces.
Rotting flesh and writhing tentacles exuded a putrid stench, while the sobbing of dead souls echoed through the air.
Driven by the Plague Warriors, the Plague Zombies marched numbly toward the fortress, serving as expendable cannon fodder.
Tens of thousands of undead poured through the ruins, staggering toward the Imperium fortress's firing line.
The Plague Warriors followed behind them, herding the zombies like shepherds.
Behind them, Daemon Engines used for long-range bombardment, such as Plagueburst Crawlers, continued their relentless shelling, causing the fortress's Void Shields to flicker ever more violently.
As the enemy entered optimal range, the defenders' firepower came alive. Heavy Lascannons and Cannons roared, mowing down ranks of plague-ridden mutants.
Artillery thundered as countless zombies were blasted skyward, blown into heaps of rotten flesh scattered across the battlefield.
Massive Flamers unleashed streams of fire, burning the plague flies attempting to approach the defensive line into charcoal.
Laser beams shot out from the fortifications and struck the Plague Zombies, making them sizzle as they collapsed into blackened corpses.
The defenders shouted the Emperor's slogans, trying to conserve ammunition while inflicting as many casualties as possible, hoping to repel the enemy once again.
The Plague Warriors returned fire in kind. Their Bolters precisely targeted the Imperium defenders' heavy units and key firing positions, their triggers pulled without pause.
Bolter rounds easily tore apart ordinary soldiers, destroyed heavy units, and eliminated one crucial Imperium firing point after another, allowing them to continue driving the Plague Zombies forward.
Daemon Engines such as Plague Spreaders also advanced, releasing terrifying plague shells and toxins that corroded the human defenders and suppressed their firepower.
The Imperium defenders gave everything they had, even attempting to halt the enemy's advance by strapping Melta Bombs to their own bodies.
Yet no matter how hard they fought, they were steadily driven back by the Plague Warriors' fierce assault. Position after position was lost, and their defensive line was continually compressed.
The Plague Warriors deployed their Dreadnoughts and Daemon Engines. The terrifying firepower of those colossal machines made the already undergunned defenders suffer even more.
Over several defensive battles, they had lost a great many artillery pieces and tanks. Trapped within the fortress, they had almost no heavy firepower left.
"Merciful Emperor, we're truly screwed this time," Dzansk said, holding a telescope as he watched those horrifying, flesh-covered Dreadnoughts emerge from the sickly green mist behind the Plague Zombies. He knew that without a miracle, the fortress's fall was only a matter of time.
The Plague Warriors possessed Dreadnoughts as well, and they were all models from ten thousand years ago. Their performance was superior, and they had received the blessings of the Chaos Gods, making them even more terrifying than the Imperium's Dreadnoughts.
Several Dreadnoughts marched past a burning Chimera Transport. Before their enormous size, even the Chimera Transport looked insignificant.
One of the Dreadnought's arms bore a massive artillery piece that spewed firepower madly. Its other arm was covered in barbs. At the chest where the Plague Warrior's remains were housed sat a huge mouth, with clusters of eyes blinking around it. It was deeply unsettling.
Dzansk had seen these Dreadnoughts fight several times. Against the Imperium, they crushed everything in their path. The defenders simply could not stop them.
He had personally witnessed those Dreadnoughts easily destroy a Baneblade super-heavy battle tank. Their firepower was truly terrifying.
"There isn't even a Knight. How the hell are we supposed to fight? Find a squad to serve as a suicide unit and see if they can get close enough to blow it up with Melta Bombs." Dzansk tried to make one final struggle, hoping to trade lives for that Dreadnought.
A squad soon rushed out. Other units used their firepower to clear the way as they charged forward with Melta Bombs strapped to themselves.
The tactic was simple. Get close enough to detonate the Melta Bombs. Even if they died, their comrades could trigger them remotely. They only had to deliver them.
Unfortunately, courage was precious and rare, but it could not change anything—especially not on a battlefield. It certainly could not reverse the course of battle.
"What a pity. They failed." Dzansk watched as the final soldier of the suicide squad shouted the Emperor's slogan before being blasted apart by the Dreadnought's long-range firepower. He smiled. After more than thirty years of life, today the Emperor had called for him.
"It's the civilians..." Dzansk turned to look deeper into the fortress, sorrow in his eyes. He knew perfectly well what would happen once the final defensive line fell.
Chaos had never shown mercy.
Dzansk raised his head. The shields flickered unsteadily, as though they would shatter the next second. Through them, his Bionic Eye could see the gray-green plague mist blanketing the entire sky. The planet had fallen, and their resistance was meaningless.
They had done their best, but the outcome had already been decided.
Facing an invincible enemy, they had no chance of victory. All they could do in the end was shout the Emperor's slogans and march toward death.
Suppressing the grief in his heart, Dzansk drew his command blade and Las-pistol, then activated the army-wide communicator. "It has been an honor to fight alongside you, comrades. May we all stand with the Emperor, and may all your souls be received by Him. Humanity's glory shall endure forever, and the Emperor's light shall shine for all eternity. We will fight until the final moment. Chaos will never make us submit."
As Dzansk's words fell, the overburdened shields flickered a few times before vanishing completely.
Plague Bombs fell into the fortress, unleashing explosions and clouds of plague toxin. Screams and weeping rose from within.
The desperate cries of civilians resounded throughout the entire fortress.
Everyone knew that their final moment had come.
Plague Zombies and Plague Warriors broke through the defenders' firing line and began a frenzied massacre across the final positions.
The defenders also tried to use close combat to hold the final line and preserve humanity's last dignity.
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