The rotten planet that was the Garden of Nurgle had fallen into an unprecedented "silence."
Not the silence of thriving life, but the dead silence left after total slaughter.
The blasphemous giggles, bubbling pus, and droning flies that had once filled the air had all been replaced by absolute silence.
The heavy stench of blood and decay in the air had not faded. Instead, lacking any "fresh" sources of rot, it seemed even more stagnant and... stale.
Doom stood beside the pile of twisted, burning transport wreckage. He reached into it and retrieved the weapon that could freely change forms, his crimson visor sweeping over the scorched ground he had personally "cleared."
Broken Daemon remains littered the ground. Yellow-green pus and blood soaked into the fungal carpet, hardening into nauseating crusts.
No living Daemons dared show themselves again. They seemed to have completely melted into deeper layers of decay, and even the faintest whispers had vanished.
This planet had lost all value to him.
The prey had either been destroyed or gone completely into hiding.
He needed a new hunting ground. New Daemons.
The question was how to reach the territories of other Daemons.
Now, he faced two choices:
Call Luke. With the Hilling Empire's teleportation technology, Luke could lock onto his location and open a stable passage to bring him out. It would be effortless.
But that would mean owing the Senate a favor, especially with someone like Liang Bing among them.
Or he could venture into the Warp storm again and randomly search for the next Daemon nest.
But that blue storm might attack him again. Becoming a tool and being used by Daemons was intolerable.
Just as Doom's crimson gaze shifted between the wreckage and the filthy sky, weighing his options—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Several blazing streams