A Precious Future (I)

From waking up to being able to walk on his own, Fulgrim had taken a full four days. And even then, he still could not walk naturally. At this stage, he had to rely on a cane or someone else's assistance even to walk.

Ultimately, what Nurgle had done to him in Its garden could no longer simply be described as "injury." It had been more akin to "conversion" or "remodeling."

Taking that into account, Belisarius Cawl stated bluntly that forget walking naturally—his survival alone, and survival in his original form at that, was the greatest miracle.

"When we found you, my lord, you were scarcely distinguishable from a corpse," said the Archmagos Dominus, who was soon to receive another promotion, before giving a slight bow. "Forgive my bluntness."

The Phoenix gave a wry smile and shook his head. Leaving aside the fact that he did not care about it at all, even if he had, he could never have been angry with Cawl. Over the past four days, disregarding Sanguinius's objections, he had roughly read through most of the post-battle reports.

Belisarius Cawl's contributions in this battle had been immense. By himself, he had simultaneously destroyed most of the vines, cleansed the surface, and saved the survivors, all with astonishing efficiency.

Without him, there was no chance that fifty-two percent of Chemos's population could have survived. Although that figure had fallen considerably due to the widespread epidemic that later erupted, Cawl had already done everything he could. From any perspective, Chemos owed him a debt.

"More like a corpse than I was?" another person asked curiously. "Did you take any pictures at the time? I'd like to see them."

His words instantly plunged the small conference room into silence. Fulgrim furrowed his brows, Ferrus Manus looked unusually inclined to