Mortarion stood up, and the wounds on his body that were cut by Jaghatai gradually healed. His eyes swept over the two Primarch brothers not far away, and then looked at Deathshroud who had just spoken.
"Ever since that day when Men of Iron rushed into the realm of Nurgle and used Panacea to wash away the boundless plague and awaken some warriors trapped in it, I have been thinking of ways to save all of you."
"My efforts have indeed paid off. After finding a way to isolate sub-Spatial Energy, it only takes a small amount of Panacea to free you from the curse of Chaos God."
"Warp has no future, only endless pain and torture. This should not be your ending."
Mortarion turned around and inserted Scythe in his hand on the ground.
"Jaghatai, I know that those Men of Iron gave you a lot of Panacea. As long as you let me save my Progeny, I am willing to return to Imperium to face trial."
An existence that is so huge that it is unimaginable and cannot be described with a fixed form has arrived.
It is not a specific form, but a corrupt will, loving despair, and eternal decay that pervades the entire space.
Countless overlapping sounds, as low and morbid as the bells of a rotten church, sounded directly in the depths of everyone's souls - that was the voice of Grandfather Nurgle.
Everyone at the scene immediately felt an indescribable pressure.
Typhus turned his head and looked around, his extremely distorted face showing incomparable fanaticism.
"Grandfather is coming!"
The filthy smell is almost suffocating.
Even Jaghatai and Dorn felt waves of intense discomfort.
"The Emperor Above!"
The Sons of Dorns at the scene felt as if something was swimming in their blood, and mushrooms were growing all over their bodies. This feeling even made them want to throw away their weapons, take off their Power Armours, then cut open their bodies with a knife and pour out everything.
Although the White Scarss felt uncomfortable, they still held their positions with weapons raised.
Typhus's blasphemous laughter echoed in the wasteland.
The suffocating, sweet and putrid smell suddenly solidified, and then shrank and condensed inward as if it was alive. The space itself began to groan and bulge, like a huge abscess that was about to burst.
The green mist is no longer a diffuse miasma, but a viscous, flowing entity, shimmering with countless sickly spots, in which emerges the blasphemous sight of rotten flowers blooming and dying, maggots gnawing the world, and plagues spreading in joy.
"Mortarion~"
Nurgle's voice was like the chorus of thousands of drowned people at the bottom of a swamp, full of sticky "care" and deep "disappointment." His "eyes" first fell on his painfully struggling champion.
"My most stubborn bud~"
Nurgle's voice contained a creepy doting sigh.
"Look at you, still writhing in the mud, refusing to bloom. You taste my nectar, but want to spit it out? Do you feel the embrace of eternity, but long for the cold nothingness?"
Nurgle's will was like an invisible giant hand, gently brushing over Mortarion's body, bringing him a deeper decay and a desperate "comfort". Nurgle's voice became more "sad".
"Your pain is so beautiful, Mortarion. But your resistance has made it... monotonous. You are like a seed that refuses to wake up, and you seem so... out of place in my rich Garden of Nurgle."
Nurgle's "sigh" is like hundreds of millions of flies flapping their wings at the same time.
"I never took the initiative to encourage you to germinate. I expected you to bloom a gorgeous flower on your own. Maybe I should change a new seed and let you become the nourishment for the new seed."
Nurgle's will receded from Mortarion like a tide, and there was no longer any nostalgia.
Mortarion felt that the huge Chaos power in his body that supported him, tortured him, and defined him instantly became cold and hollow, as if the core had been taken away.
This was not relief. He let out an untuned wail that came from the deepest part of his soul. His body was visibly accelerating in decay and withering, like a rotten tree that had all its vitality taken away in an instant, dry and weak.
Typhus let out a victorious, piercing laugh.
The will of Nurgle, full of rotten "love", was like a huge, slowly rotating whirlpool of plague, turning towards Jaghatai Khan and Roge·Dorn, who were facing a formidable enemy and whose will was as hard as Adamantium.
"Ah... my loyal children~"
Nurgle's voice became extremely "gentle" and full of seductive viscosity.
"Look at you, so hard, so... exhausted. Tens of thousands of years of fighting, ten thousand years of perseverance, and ten thousand years of wear and tear. Your Imperium is like a giant tower full of cracks, groaning in the wind and rain. That False Emperor sits high on his throne, but cannot listen to your confusion and loneliness."
Nurgle's will tries to penetrate their hearts, not with direct pain, but with eternal peace and desperate relief as bait.
"Son of the wind~... You long for freedom, but you are bound by the chains of responsibility. Run and gallop! In my boundless Garden of Nurgle, there are no boundaries and no restraints! Decay is the ultimate relief and the freedom to return to the origin of all things! Give up the futile running and embrace the eternal tranquility. Let your wind turn into the breath of spreading life and joy!"
The phantoms of countless rotting petals try to wrap around Khan, bringing a drowsy, giving-up "comfort" feeling.
"Lord of Fortress... The high wall you carefully built will eventually turn into gravel. Perseverance will only bring deeper cracks and endless fatigue. Come and join me in the eternal cycle. In the cycle of decay and rebirth, there is no failure, no collapse, only... eternal existence. Let your will become the fertile soil that nourishes thousands of new lives! Put down that heavy burden and get the true 'solidity' in my embrace - the peace of no longer fearing any erosion!"
A sense of absolute "peace" that gives up resistance is like sticky asphalt, trying to cover Dorn's indestructible will, promising to end the mental pressure he has been under since Horus Heresy.
When the rotten "tranquility" tried to erode Jaghatai, Khan's eyes erupted with a more dazzling light than Lightning.
He let out a roar of Fury, like the cry of an eagle tearing apart the thick clouds of plague.
"Freedom?!"
His voice was full of utter disdain.
"Does your rotten prison deserve to talk about freedom?! My freedom is the wind, the blade, and the unyielding will! Your 'peace' is the quagmire of stagnation and the grave of the soul! Get away, evil devil! The wind of White Scars only blows towards the enemy, just to cut off the shackles, instead of embracing the rotten eternity!"
His will is like the sharpest Bane Blade, cutting off the entangled whispers of depravity. The buzzing of White Tiger Sabre is his uncompromising war song.
Dorn's will is like the deepest cornerstone of the Imperial Palace, unmoving.
His amber eyes burned with cold fire.
"Eternal existence?"
His voice was like a giant hammer forging Adamantium, heavy and irrefutable.
"The 'firmness' that gives up resistance is nothing but a shameful surrender! Imperium's Fortress may be damaged, but the will to rebuild it will never die! My responsibility is to protect, to resist, and to build a wall of hope in despair! The 'peace' you promised is The betrayal of all victims is a complete negation of the meaning of Imperium's existence! My Fortress is based on responsibility and sacrifice, not on your rotten 'cycle'! As long as one breath remains, I will be the shield of Imperium!"
He took a step forward, and the Power Armour on his body shone with golden light, as if he himself was a mobile fortress that refused any corrosion.
There was a deep, slow "laughter" in Nurgle's will, like the cracking of rotten wood. It was not anger, but a kind of... disappointment with approval?
"Ah~~... What a hard soul... What a stubborn will..."
Nurgle's voice had a hint of "regret".
"Your pain and struggle are still so... vivid. This tenacity itself is a unique kind of beauty. Decay will eventually come, everything will return to my embrace, and time is my most generous gift."
"Boom!"
Before Nurgle finished speaking, a strange roar suddenly sounded. The sound seemed to come from the space itself, and everyone could clearly hear this strange roar.
Then Nurgle's voice immediately became distorted.
"Why are these disgusting things here!"
The huge metal structure covers the piercing false sky. Through the edge of the metal and the sky, you can see the roiling tide in Warp.
Jaghatai squinted his eyes and looked at the metal structure covering the sky, feeling that it looked familiar.
Dorn was surprised by Chaos God's reaction.
"Friendly unit identified."
"Chaos Plague detected."
All Imperium members at the scene heard the cold synthetic voice in their communications.
"Put Panacea."
While everyone was still stunned, dense Missile flew out from the steel structure emerging from the void above their heads, and then exploded above everyone's heads.
The explosion did not produce flames, but instead exploded into large clouds of mist.
As the fog became thicker and thicker, countless raindrops fell from the sky.
Nurgle tried to use Plague Storm to blow it away, but the sparkling cloud remained unmoved at all.
"Crack."
As the first drop of water falls.
The surrounding ground, which had been corrupted by Nurgle's power and had begun to grow Vines, instantly became empty.
The frightening plague in the air is quickly being purified.
Jaghatai finally recovered from the shock caused by the cold voice in the communication.
Then he caught a few drops of 'rain' in the sky with his hands, and then reached out and grabbed Dorn's arm that was missing its palm.
Rainwater dripped in from the Bionic Limb interface that was damaged by Mortarion.
"What are you doing? What's going on?"
Dorn looked at Jaghatai with confusion written all over his face.
"Huh?!"
A strange feeling surged up instantly, making Dorn groan.
It wasn't pain, it was intense itching.
"Ding Dong."
The remaining Bionic Body fixing components in the flesh and blood were squeezed out of the body.
Granulation is growing on the bloody wound.
Dorn Looking at the rapidly growing sprouts, there was even a hint of panic in his heart.
"Jaghatai! What have you done? Am I corrupted?"
After all, the evil power of Nurgle can indeed manifest such a scene.
And Dorn doesn't understand at all why Jaghatai wants to pollute himself with a few drops of 'rainwater'. Is his performance just now just pretending? In fact, he has been corrupted by Nurgle?
The sudden change made Dorn somewhat lose his ability to judge.
However, Jaghatai opened his mouth to Dorn.
"What are you talking about? This is Panacea! Let your Progeny take off their helmets, quickly!"
"I asked people to drag out those injured soldiers."
Dorn frowned and kept feeling the strangeness in his body, but Jaghatai turned to look at his own Progeny.
"Go drag those injured brothers out to get wet in the rain! Take off their armor."
"Are you crazy?!"
Dorn grabbed Jaghatai and yelled.
Jaghatai raised Dorn's arm back in front of his eyes.
"See for yourself."
The original granulation is growing wildly, white bones are forming at a speed visible to the naked eye, followed by a layer of thin muscles, fine nerve tissue taking root in the muscles, and blood vessels continuously spreading towards the front.
Flesh, flesh and nerves overlap each other and then wrap the bones layer by layer, in a regular and orderly manner.
The skin at the fracture grew upwards, covering the scarlet flesh at an alarming speed.
The missing palm was completely repaired.
Dorn didn't have time to think about it. The touch from his palm shocked him and he immediately gave the order.
"Everyone turned sideways, took off their helmets, and used shoulder armor as a shield to block the frontal view."
Dorn has not forgotten the existence of Nurgle Daemon and those Death Guard not far away.
It is very dangerous not to wear a helmet on the battlefield. Just one Bolter can easily kill a Adeptus Astartes.
The Imperial Fists soldiers quickly obeyed the order and turned sideways, carefully covering their faces with their shoulder armor, and then pulled off their helmets with one hand.
The Panacea raindrops falling all over the sky turned into small streams of water when they touched their faces.
Waves of coolness and comfort flowed from the top of my head all the way through my body.
The feeling of extreme discomfort quickly dissipated from them, and they also felt something strange about their bodies.
Power Armour's link seems to be no longer so sensitive, and at the same time, the body has an uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed.
"Dorn, ask your Progenys to go back first and take off their Power Armours. The Black Carapaces they implanted will be squeezed out of the body!"
Dorn did not question Jaghatai's words this time. After all, the mechanical fixing component on his wrist was squeezed out by flesh and blood just now.
And Jaghatai obviously knows a lot of things that he doesn't know.
Just when White Scars and Imperial Fists are busy, it is not a good thing for Nurgle.
The falling Panacea is like strong acid that corrodes everything, and his demonic army is melting.
Great Unclean One's strength is fading, and the damage caused by Panacea makes it difficult for him to resist. His bloated body is bursting like a deflated ball.
The gushing pus and poisonous water were washed away by Panacea, and then lost all effects. Finally, some strange creatures emerged from it. They were organisms that were fused together using the power of Nurgle. They were redivided into various individuals by Panacea and recovered individually.
"Power, my power, how could this happen?"
Typhus was the one wailing the loudest at the scene. The twisted biological tissue was disintegrating, and his own body had disappeared. In essence, he was now a plague creature composed of viruses gathered together.
On the contrary, Mortarion's broken body seems to be bursting with new life.