Silence.
Jaghatai and Dorn, these two experienced Horus Heresy, witnessed Imperium collapse in betrayal, and endured tens of thousands of years of loneliness and fighting for their loyalty Primarch. At this moment, they seemed to be completely frozen by the absurdity contained in Mortarion's words.
Then, there was a volcanic eruption of anger that almost turned into substance.
"Atonement?!"
Jaghatai·Khan's voice suddenly rose in pitch, as sharp as tearing cloth.
He took a step forward suddenly, and the buzzing on White Tiger Sabre became even more harsh due to the owner's rage.
"Mortarion! You rotten coward! You Traitors who betrayed your oaths, embraced filth, and trampled your father's ideals into the mire! You and your plague-soaked Progeny spread fear, despair and death to every corner of Imperium!"
"You desecrate life, corrupt the world, and make trillions of souls wail in endless pain! You are Imperium's deepest wound in thousands of years, and you are the most vicious cancer hanging over the head of mankind!"
Khan's chest heaved violently, and his eyes burned with rage and contempt like a storm.
"Now, in your delusion that your brain has been eaten away by the plague, and under your tongue that is swollen with Nurgle's pus, you dare to spit out the word 'atonement'?! Do you think that a light 'return to Imperium' can erase the heinous crimes you have committed against Terra, against your father, and against all mankind?! How... shameless!"
Roge·Dorn did not have as fierce a storm of words as Khan, but his silence was even more shocking.
His golden body was like a volcano about to erupt, emitting not heat, but absolute zero-degree anger that could freeze the soul.
His voice was low and slow, and every word was like a heavy forging hammer hitting Mortarion's rotten eardrums.
"Mortarion. Your existence itself is the greatest betrayal of the foundation of Imperium. You led XIV Legion to surrender to Chaos, and personally swung the butcher's knife at the brother and loyal Mortals who had fought alongside you."
"The massacre on Isstvan III, the blasphemous charge under the high wall of Terra, and every plague you spread, every world you destroyed... these crimes are too numerous to describe."
Dorn took a step forward, and the knuckles of his hand armor made a heart-stopping friction sound. He looked down at the corrupt brother who was kneeling on the ground. There was no wavering in his eyes, only a cold and absolute sense of judgment.
"'Return to Imperium'? 'Accept trial'? Are you mocking us? What do you think Imperium is? It's a hotel where you can defect and return at will?! Do you think your father will accept a man with venom from another space flowing all over his body and a spirit?" The so-called 'apology' of Traitors, whose soul has long been sold to Chaos God? Do you think those dead souls that rotted in your plague, those soldiers who sacrificed in your betrayal, will accept your thousand-year-overdue 'apology' that stinks of rancidity?!"
Dorn roared like thunder.
"This is a fool! It is a blasphemy! It is another trampling on the souls of all the victims! Your so-called 'atonement' is just another twisted and sad illusion that you have after being eroded by that vicious curse! Or, it is another despicable trick taught to you by your Chaos God master to try to corrupt the will of Imperium!"
The rebuke of the two Primarch was like a real storm, echoing in the surrounding flames that had not yet been extinguished.
That overwhelming anger was not only a personal betrayal of Mortarion, but also the ultimate anger at the proposal he made at this moment, which in the eyes of loyal Primarch was absurd and insulting to his IQ.
This proposal touched the deepest scars in their hearts and desecrated everything they had fought and died for.
Mortarion's request, instead of bringing about the possibility of reconciliation, was like Mars being thrown into an oil barrel, instantly igniting the accumulated hatred and contempt.
In their eyes, this is not a confession, but the most disgusting mockery issued by Traitors in the abyss.
"Zizzi."
In the sky, a huge Portal appeared.
The dirty Chaos power surged out from it.
Countless Nurgle Plague Zombie and massive Daemon emerged from it with shaking bodies.
Great Unclean One appeared in front of everyone with his huge body shaking with a mourning bell in his hand, and his voice sounded like a person speaking with thick phlegm in his mouth.
"Mortarion! Do you think Grandfather doesn't know your thoughts?"
As the bell in his hand shook violently, ripples of energy filled with Nurgle Warp Power echoed in the space.
Those ripples touched the Death Guard next to Mortarion, and then immediately sank into their bodies.
However, the expected corruption did not occur.
"Well, they can really refuse Grandfather's gift."
Some of the uncharred minced meat on the ground was twisted together again under the influence of these experiences, and then continued to sway and twist.
As the meat ball suddenly broke open, the figure of Typhus appeared inside it again.
He put his hands on the ground and panted wildly, then laughed wildly.
"Grandfather gave me kindness and new strength, Mortarion, I knew that I was more valuable than you!"
His Terminator Armour and "Rotten Calamity" are no longer pure metal at this moment, but more like a symbiosis of living abscesses and growth of rust.
Huge, pulsating pustules squirmed on the armor's surface, flowing with iridescent mucus. Countless flies hatched and flew from them, creating a scalp-numbing buzz.
On his huge plague Scythe "Plague Blade", pus flows like a waterfall, and the blade itself seems to become translucent, with countless twisted souls screaming in pain sealed inside, exuding a dazzling, sickly green light.
The most horrifying thing is his helmet. The original skull shape has been replaced by living rotten flesh and a mouth that is constantly opening and closing and dripping with pus, as if countless painful souls are trying to break free from it.
"Although I haven't been able to get the reward from Daemonhood, this recast body is so powerful."
Chaos's power surged within his body, and the intoxication brought by the power even made Typhus arrogantly ignore the loyalty of the two noble Primarch. His rumbling voice, mixed with countless painful screams, directly penetrated the air.
The Scythe in Typhus's hand was pointed directly at Mortarion, who was still kneeling on the ground. Even Mortarion was not able to recover easily from the wounds caused by White Tiger Sabre.
"Ah... my 'beloved' Gene-Father..."
Typhus's voice was filled with sickening teasing and undisguised triumph, and every syllable was accompanied by dripping pus and the buzzing of flies.
"Look at your pitiful and pathetic appearance! Like a maggot with its spine broken, wagging its tail in front of your 'loyal' brothers!"
The turbid green flame burning in the hole of his helmet turned into a real gaze that swept across the angry and silent Death Guard behind Mortarion, and let out a low and vicious laugh like bubbling in mud.
"'Atonement'? 'Return to Imperium'? What a... touching confession, Father!"
Typhus suddenly opened his arms, pus splashed everywhere, and flies danced wildly, as if embracing the entire corrupted universe.
"The tolerant Grandfather heard it! He heard the deepest...'desire' in your heart! He saw your rotten heart that was hollowed out by weakness and regret!"
Typhus took a step forward, and his huge body cast a suffocating shadow, trying to cover Mortarion.
The Deathshrouds reacted immediately, and the huge War Scythe immediately swept towards Typhus.
However, Typhus speeded up his movements instantly, and the rotten Scythe in his hand quickly crossed the torsos of those Deathshroud.
The power of blasphemy corrupted their armor and touched their flesh.
Bright red blood continued to flow from it, but there was no trace of plague corruption.
Dorn and Jaghatai both noticed this, and their eyes narrowed slightly.
And Jaghatai has already guessed the reason.
No wonder Mortarion mentioned Panacea.
Thinking of this, he suddenly no longer worried about the enemy in front of him, but quietly looked at Dorn aside.
"As soon as the fight starts, ask your Progeny to move back a little."
Dorn was confused by what was happening in front of him. Although he didn't know what Jaghatai meant, he still made a secret gesture with the palm of his body.
Imperial Fists The soldiers naturally understood the meaning of this gesture and were a little surprised, but they understood that now was not the time to question.
Typhus kicked several Deathshroud to the ground, and then the "face" dripping with pus came close to Mortarion's broken respirator, and his voice was lower, but more harsh, full of extreme ridicule.
"You think your 'returning to normal' Progeny is the victory of your pitiful tactics? You are totally wrong!"
Typhus roared like Plague Storm erupted.
"That is the embodiment of Grandfather's supreme kindness! Now he has given me power again! It's me, Typhus! Your most 'loyal' Sons of Hreus! I will completely replace you, my dear father, with the power Grandfather has newly given to me. I will crush your so-called hope with my own hands and pile it at your corrupt feet!"
He straightened up and used the tip of Plague Blade's knife, with a tooth-piercing corroding sound, to gently tap Mortarion's chest, which was heaving violently with pain and anger.
"Look at you, Mortarion. You hate the gift of Grandfather, but you are stuck in it and can't extricate yourself. You hate your own weakness, but you sink in weakness again and again. You long for redemption, but you have long lost the qualification to be redeemed! You are a complete loser! A wretch who can't even control his own soul!"
Typhus's voice suddenly rose in pitch, full of fanatical blasphemy.
"Grandfather loves you! He tolerates all your resistance, all your rebellion, and all your pain! He turns this pain into eternal blessings! And you, like an ungrateful urchin, want to escape from this rich Garden of Nurgle and return to that cold, harsh, and doomed cage of destruction?"
He let out a series of harsh laughs.
"Your 'atonement' is just the last cry of your remaining humanity! It is the last sad chill you feel in the sweetness of eternal decay! It is meaningless! It will only become another beautiful flower called 'despair' that blooms in Garden of Nurgle!"
Typhus turned to the Deathshroud warriors who had climbed back to their feet, his voice carrying a twisted sense of "love" and absolute authority.
"As for you, my lost brothers? How does it feel to be 'awakened'? Does it make you feel the eternity and warmth of Grandfather's grace more clearly? Now, it's time to come back! Embrace this corruption! Embrace this new life! Embrace this Hold your true destiny! Under the leadership of Typhus, Apostle of Pestilence, we will spread the love of Grandfather to every corner! And our 'father'..."
He pointed at Mortarion again, his tone full of contempt.
"... He will become an eternal specimen of failure in the depths of Garden of Nurgle for people to admire! A perfect example to remind all Nurgle Cultist of what will happen if you resist Grandfather's grace!"
Typhus's words are like a poisoned sharp knife, accurately piercing every painful spot of Mortarion's remaining humanity.
His betrayal, his failure, his weakness, and his seemingly ridiculous request for atonement at the moment were all amplified, distorted, and trampled underfoot by Typhus in the most vicious and blasphemous way.
"Typhus! Do you think we will listen to your nonsense?"
Deathshroud, who was supposed to be silent forever, broke their vow for the first time, and a dull and dry voice echoed in the scene.
"We never care about Chaos God, nor do we care about Imperium. I only know that once in the wasteland of Barbarus, without Mortarion, many of us would have died in that Poisonous Air. It was he who saved us all and overthrew the terrifying Xenos warlord."
"No matter what Mortarion becomes in the end, we will follow him for life, not you, the flattering Traitors. Although we no longer have honor, now I still want to propose Duel with you!"