What Was That Thing?
He wants to be the first to kill the intruder with his hands.
He wants to cut off the opponent's head and plant it in the poorest soil of Garden of Nurgle, so that the most colorful Skeleton Rose will grow from his head.
He wants to dig out the opponent's heart, crush it with a sowing cane, and scatter it in the corners that need fertilizer most, so that those withered flowers can bloom again.
He wants to nail the opponent's soul to the entrance of Garden of Nurgle, so that every demon who enters Garden of Nurgle can see the rotting head, and scare the shit out of everyone who dares to set foot on his father's territory.
He rushed out of the secret passage.
In front of him was a piece of scorched earth.
The Garden of Nurgle that once belonged to him, the Garden of Nurgle that he had carefully taken care of for 65 million years, and the Garden of Nurgle that he planted with his own hands every tree, every flower, and every vine, were now turned into a gray dead land without any vegetation.
The Material Universe energy of the storm stripped away all the Chaos components in this land, leaving only the most basic elements without any vitality.
Slimux's pupils suddenly contracted.
There, in the center of this scorched earth, stood a blue-gold figure.
The figure was not tall, only a little over two meters tall, and looked like a blue nail on the scorched earth.
But his momentum - Slimux only glanced at it and knew that this was not a character he could easily deal with.
Because the blue-gold figure was burning with a flame that he had never seen before.
The flame was not from Chaos, not from Psionic Energy, or material. It was a fusion of the three, so pure that it almost sublimated into some kind of higher existence.
"Where did the snail come from?"
Cato·Sicarius Hearing the sound of slime sliding behind him, when he turned around, he happened to see a huge snail as big as an armored vehicle rushing towards him.
Riding on the snail's back was a one-eyed fat green man whose body was covered with mushrooms and vines. The fat man held a sickle high and let out an indistinct roar.
Cato didn't think much about it.
He instinctively raised his right arm and clenched his fist with five fingers. Smart Atoms instantly condensed into a light blue energy shield on the fist surface.
His body squatted slightly, his center of gravity shifted back, and his feet were firmly planted on the ground.
Then he punched him out.
There was no fancy technique in that punch, no charged forward swing, or even a run-up.
That was just a casual punch thrown by Cato·Sicarius--Ultramarines Sword Master, one of the Four Heroes, a warrior personally blessed by Guilliman.
Slimux's body felt as if it had been hit by a cannonball under the impact of the punch. The whole person instantly broke away from the snail's back, and his bloated body rolled in the air for an unknown number of times. Finally, like a mosquito that was swatted away, it crashed into a pile of ruins hundreds of meters away.
The ruins collapsed, and rotten wood and moldy stones fell on him, burying him entirely underneath.
"However," Cato retracted his fist, looked down at the dark green mucus remaining on his fist, frowned, and wiped it on his cloak, "Where did the snail come from?"
He looked back at the Material Universe crack behind him that was still slowly healing, and then at the ruins in front of him that were destroyed by the storm.
The corners of his mouth raised slightly, revealing a satisfied smile.
He originally wanted to go out and clean up the surrounding trees first so that his Gene-Father could walk safely without stepping on those slimy mushrooms or getting his heels bitten by those "delicate flowers" with teeth.
It's better now, there's no need to cut down the trees anymore.
The storm has plowed this place completely.
Cato bent down, took off the white cloak from his shoulders that was given by Guilliman himself and was inlaid with a golden eagle wing badge, and spread it on the ground.
The fabric of the cloak is Macragge's finest silk, and each silk thread is woven with Smart Atoms's protective coating, which can resist most Psionic Energy attacks.
At this moment, this piece of precious cloth, which is comparable to the armor of a battleship, is used to pave the road.
"Father," Cato shouted towards the crack behind him, "Come over, the road here has been cleared."
Guilliman walked through the crack.
His pace was neither hasty nor slow, as if he were walking in his own home Garden of Nurgle.
His blue-gold Psionic Energy formed a thin film of light around him, isolating all the floating spores, poisonous gas, and rot in Nurgle's Garden.
He was still wearing the extremely elegant black Victorian tuxedo, with a meticulous white shirt collar, and a dark blue tie that was pressed squarely on the buttons of the shirt.
He wears a top hat on his head and a golden monocle hanging on his right eye.
He didn't hold the sword in his hand, because Emperor's Sword was floating behind him, and the sword was burning with golden flames, like a silent guard.
He lowered his head and glanced at Cato's white cloak spread on the ground. The white silk was particularly dazzling on the dead gray scorched earth of Nurgle's Garden.
A corner of the cloak had been blown to a broken log by the storm and got caught in a small hole.
"There's no need to hurt your cloak for me, Cato·Sicarius."
Although it feels disgusting, it is also necessary to be loyal when stepping on this land of Nurgle.
"However, since your cloak is dirty, I will go back and forge another holy relic-level cloak for you myself."
Cato's eyes lit up.
It's not a metaphor, it's "lit" in a physical sense.
His pupils were shining with blue-gold light, like two small light bulbs being lit.
At that moment, the corners of his mouth curled up to his ears, revealing a proud smile that he couldn't even hide.
"Then thank you so much, father."
He lowered his head slightly, with that respectful gesture and that humble and polite tone.
Guilliman said nothing more and stepped forward.
Cato followed him, feeling happy in his heart.
In his mind, he was already thinking about how to design the cloak of the holy relic - should it be black with gold edging? Or white with blue edging? Should he add a hood? Should he embroider a golden "U" on the back?
My father is still so loving.
In the pile of rubble in the distance, Slimux finally pushed aside the rotten wood and broken bricks that were weighing on him, and struggled to climb out of the rubble.
He was still a little confused.
What just happened?
He rode his snail and rushed out of the secret passage. He saw the blue-gold figure, and then he rushed over - and then what?
He seemed to have been hit by something.
No, it didn't seem like he was just punched.
That punch hit his chest, knocking him completely off the snail's back.
He is a Great Unclean One, and he is Nurgle's oldest, strongest and most trusted Greater Daemon.
His loving father has blessed him for 65 million years. His body has been strengthened countless times by Chaos energy, and his skin is so hard that it can withstand the salvo of a battleship's main gun.
Then he was punched away by a Space Marines?