This Is Only a Transaction, Grandfather
Guilliman looked at the spoon and those Plaguebearer who were still screaming, and the curvature of the corners of his mouth became wider.
"No, no, no, how could I provoke you, my kind and loving father?"
His tone was as sincere as a wronged child explaining:
"You are so generous and kind, and you love your children so much.
How can I bear to provoke you?"
While he was speaking, he bent down and picked up a still struggling Plaguebearer from the ashes at his feet.
The little thing's belly had been burned open by golden flames, and dark green pus seeped out from the crack.
One of its horns was broken, and half of a burnt mushroom hung from the remaining horn.
In Guilliman's hands, it looked like a cat with its neck pinched, its limbs kicking around, its mouth opening and closing, making a tiny "squeaking" sound.
Its green bean eyes were full of fear, not because of pain.
It's because it realizes that the existence that captures it is more dangerous than anything it has ever seen.
Guilliman held up that Plaguebearer as if he was holding a collection that had just been bought at an auction.
He turned his head and looked across the burning ruins, landing on a golden figure in the distance who was chasing a demon.
"Black, can you help me cut off this piece of shit?"
The golden figure who was slashing Plaguebearer with his sword suddenly stopped.
It was a Adeptus Custodes, about three meters tall, covered in golden Ceramite armor, with only a pair of dark brown, amber-like eyes exposed.
His long sword was stained with dark green blood, and there were several unknown tentacles stuck in the fine serrations on the blade.
When he heard Guilliman's voice, he turned around suddenly, and his eyes lit up when he saw the Plaguebearer in Guilliman's hand.
"My pleasure, Your Majesty!"
His voice was low and hoarse, with a roughness left after being torn apart by war cries countless times.
He walked from the depths of his heart with steady and powerful steps, causing ashes to scatter with every step he took.
He walked up to Guilliman without any hesitation. He didn't even look at the Plaguebearer. He just raised the long sword that was still bleeding.
The sword flashed.
The Plaguebearer was cut in half from the middle, and the two halves of the body slipped from Guilliman's hands.
It fell to the ground, twitched twice, and then turned into two pools of dark green pus.
The pus quickly evaporated in the golden flames, and even the last "squeaking" sound was burned into nothingness.
Black put away his sword, nodded slightly towards Guilliman, then turned around and continued walking towards Plaguebearer who were still screaming in the distance.
His back was stretched out in the golden sea of fire, and the long sword was raised in his hand again, with the remaining fluid of the Plaguebearer still hanging on the blade.
Guilliman looked down at the two pools of evaporating pus on the ground, and patted the ashes on his hands.
"See, kind Grandfather Nurgle?
My warriors, the warriors of Imperium, are so brave.
Now, countless warriors are galloping in your Garden of Nurgle.
Either this golden flame goes out or they recede, you can only choose one~"
His tone was as brisk as a salesman introducing a set meal to a customer.
"You don't want to see even one Plaguebearer left in the entire Garden of Nurgle, right~"
Nurgle was silent.
The dark green cloud no longer trembled, expanded, or contracted.
It just hung there, like a piece of dried, moldy old bacon that had been hung under the eaves to dry for decades.
On the Plague Throne behind the clouds, Nurgle's body leaned forward slightly.
Those turbid little eyes, like the mud at the bottom of a pond, stared at Guilliman standing in the middle of the sea of fire through the layers of golden flames!
He saw those blue-gold eyes.
There was no provocation, no pride, no anger in those eyes.
There is only a naked, undisguised calmness like a businessman's quotation!
It is a kind of calmness of "I have made an offer, you can make a counter-offer, but the final transaction price cannot be lower than my bottom line."
If you dare to go below my bottom line, then I will be happy to play with you to the end!
Nurgle felt the naked malice of human beings at this moment.
Not the kind of hysterical malice that wants to destroy everything, but a calm, calculating malice, like a cat and mouse.
He knew he couldn't run away, so he deliberately ran a few steps and then stopped, then ran a few more steps when you were about to catch him.
Repeat this until you are exhausted, until you give up struggling, until you accept your fate.
Nurgle's mind was running at high speed at that moment.
He is not a Chaos god who is good at calculations. His domain is decay and circulation, the eternal process of life being reborn in decay.
But at this moment, he was forced to do multiple-choice questions.
Option A: Let the golden flame continue to burn.
Then his Garden of Nurgle will be burned more thoroughly, more Plaguebearer will die, and more importantly, the flames will continue to severely damage his domain.
The domain is the foundation of god Chaos. Damage to the domain means that his power will be weakened, which means that he needs to spend a lot of time.
It may take thousands of years, it may take tens of thousands of years to repair the damage.
Option B: Extinguish the golden flame.
But Guilliman said that the flame was not set by him, but by Emperor, and he could not extinguish it.
So he could only use his own power to suppress the flames.
That means he has to consume a lot of Chaos energy, which means he will temporarily become weak.
When they are weak, those Space Marines, Adeptus Custodes, and Grey Knights who are still running in Garden of Nurgle will take the opportunity to kill all the living creatures in Garden of Nurgle.
No matter which one he chooses, he will lose a lot.
Nurgle's fingers rubbed the huge copper spoon, and the pitted dents on the handle of the spoon made a subtle friction sound in his palm.
His eyes moved away from Guilliman and scanned Garden of Nurgle in all directions.
He saw that under the still burning trees, the Adeptus Custodess were encircling and suppressing a group of fleeing Plaguebearers;
He saw that in those still smoking swamps, the Grey Knightss used Psionic Energy storms to burn the Plague Walkers to ashes;
He saw that in the flower bed that was once full of Skeleton Rose, a Black Templars warrior was slowly putting away his long sword, with dark green pus remaining on the blade.
Nurgle's mouth opened and closed again.
A low growl, like a sigh, came from his throat.
He finally made a choice.
"Make them stop, Avenging Son! I allow this Psionic Energy golden fire to burn for a while longer in my Garden of Nurgle.
No need to be extinguished by Cursed One, my next pot of soup will douse it all.
The new Nurgle's Garden will surely grow, and then the endless plague will sweep across your Imperium!"
He threatened fiercely, but in Guilliman's ears, the threat no longer had any deterrent effect.
It was like a child who had been robbed of candy saying "I told my mother to go", pitiful.