I'll Kill Him Anyway!

"You want to keep him, don't you, Nurgle?"

His voice was not loud, but those words penetrated Warp's Chaos, penetrated Nurgle's Garden's barriers, and fell straight into the core of the dark green existence.

Boom--Psionic Energy The huge wave stopped above his head.

It's not that it was blocked, but Nurgle stopped on its own.

That moment of hesitation was the opportunity Guilliman was waiting for.

You four gods are gathered together, I really want to give you a few points.

Even if you stand alone as Chaos Gods and appear in front of me in a state of complete victory, I will have to run away in a hurry because I know that I am no match for you.

But don't look at what's going on now!

Your entire Garden of Nurgle is being burned by the golden flame of Dark King, and a large amount of your own strength is being consumed.

The black sun is looking at you coldly from the other side of the Yar space, like the sword of Damocles floating.

He can't protect himself, how dare you come to demonstrate against me?!

"Then I want you to be a piece of shit and you can't hold it!"

He let go of the back of Mortarion's head and held the hilt of Emperor's Sword's sword with both hands.

The sword was drawn out of the void, and the golden flames on the sword had never been so blazing in this Garden of Nurgle illuminated by Emperor light.

Guilliman raised the long sword high and aimed the blade at Ku'gath's head wrapped in golden flames.

"Today, even if he Ku'gath is just a piece of shit, I, Guilliman, will step on it!"

A ferocious smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, that smile was cold and cruel.

The sword fell.

Ku'gath's Warp Essence let out a final wail in the golden flames.

That was not a sound coming from his throat - his head had rolled to the ground, and the fracture in his neck was still burning.

That wailing burst out from the depths of his soul, exploding from his demonic core that had been sown by Nurgle himself, watered with 60 million years of plague essence, and had long been integrated with Nurgle's Garden.

The sound was sharp and piercing, like a baby being pinched by the throat during childbirth, like a mother crying heartbreakingly at her child's funeral, or like a star's last flash of light before death.

He once swallowed an entire pot of Nurgle soup.

It was cooked by the hands of a loving father. It took seven, seven and forty-nine days, and the most exquisitely decadent raw materials collected from Milky Way were added.

The plague energy contained in that pot of soup was enough to corrode an entire star region.

He drank it in one sip, leaving not a drop left.

His body expanded several times after that, his strength increased several times after that, and his status was elevated by Nurgle to a height second only to Daemon Primarch.

A masterpiece of Father of Plagues, one of the most perfect creations among Nurgle's Garden.

At this moment, he is dead.

Not expelled, not sealed, not broken into pieces waiting to be reunited.

It is complete and irreversible, even Warp Essence is burned into nothingness by golden flames - death.

His soul burned in the flames of Emperor, like an old newspaper that was thrown into the fireplace. First, the edges curled and turned black, and then the whole page was swallowed up by the flames and turned into countless tiny ashes, scattered in the sky over the still burning Garden of Nurgle.

Those ashes were supposed to fall to the ground and become the nourishment for Nurgle's Garden and the seeds of new corrupt plants.

But they didn't fall.

An invisible force came from the direction of the wheel Black Sun in the sky, pulling, gathering, and compressing all the ashes into a dark gray, teardrop-like crystal.

The crystal suspended in the air for a moment, then shattered into countless smaller powders, completely disappearing in the golden light.

Mortarion knelt on the ruins, watching the disintegrating body as bloated as a hill turn into nothingness before his eyes.

His mouth was open, his lips chapped, revealing the pale gums inside.

His eyes were slightly red, but he could not shed tears.

His eyes were wide open, staring motionlessly in that direction - the direction where Ku'gath was standing just a moment ago, but now only a piece of charred ground was left, without even ashes left.

He suddenly felt very cold.

For the first time in six thousand years, he felt cold in Nurgle's Garden, a cesspit that was always humid and hot.

That kind of coldness is not felt from the skin, but seeps from the seams of the bones, spreads from every beat of the heart, and wells up from the depths of the soul that has long been eroded beyond recognition by the blessing of Nurgle.

Ku'gath is dead.

The old gardener, who was fat, ugly, covered in abscesses and smelled bad, died.

The Greater Daemon who, when he was in the most painful time, held a bowl of hot water with a simple and honest smile and told him that his loving father had found the soul of his adoptive father for you, died.

The only friend who silently made soup after he was injured, stayed with him quietly when he was autistic, and stood up to speak for him when he was marginalized by other demons, died.

He hates Ku'gath's smile, that face covered with abscesses is uglier when he smiles than when he cries.

He hates Ku'gath's soup, which tastes worse than shit.

He hates Ku'gath's silence, that kind of dullness that can't even hold back a word to ask three questions.

He even hates Ku'gath's kindness to him - he is Daemon Primarch, he is Mortarion, he does not need anyone's pity and care.

But the old fat man who was always given the cold shoulder by him never got angry.

Mortarion didn't want to drink the soup he brought, so he left it at the door and would come back to collect the bowls in a few hours.

Mortarion didn't want to hear the joke he told, so he just laughed to himself, and then continued to immerse himself in trimming those Skeleton Rose.

He is right there, like a tree in Garden of Nurgle that will never die, in the same place every day, doing the same thing, for six thousand years.

Mortarion I don't know what that is called.

If he was still human, if he still remembered human emotions, he should be able to say that word - friendship.

His lips trembled.

In the field of Chaos Gods, there are things that truly shine with the brilliance of humanity.

Although they are not pleasant in themselves, even though their appearance is so disgusting that it makes people sick to their stomachs just looking at them.

But it is said that in the palace of Slaanesh, there is still a pair of demons who maintain a pure love relationship.

In that land where desire was rampant, they were not distorted by Chaos, and were not swallowed up by Slaanesh. They just loved each other, and it has never changed from the beginning of their birth to the present.

The purity of that original intention makes countless human beings feel ashamed.

What a pity.

Mortarion closed his eyes.

It's a pity that this is Nurgle's Garden.

Warp Deep in the depths, the dark green existence twitched violently.