The repair and maintenance of Carl II proceeded smoothly and steadily, and the battle in one corner of the star system temporarily fell silent.
Meanwhile, on a distant deep-space route, the Orks fleet, returning in disarray, headed towards the planet Dorito.
The fleet was riddled with gunfire scars along its route, with patches upon patches on the hulls, and warships pieced together from scrap metal and junk were everywhere.
Many warships were belching black smoke from their engines and moving at a snail's pace.
After the disastrous defeat of Carl II, the Ork Boyz were demoralized, and their former roaring spirit had largely dissipated.
They slumped against the walls of the warship, listlessly wiping their weapons.
The leaders of the various clans under his command, including Goffs, Deathskulls, Bad Moons, each harbored their own thoughts and whispered among themselves in their respective cabins, their rebellious intentions gradually growing.
They all saw Ragnar's disheveled state and felt the weakening of the Waaagh Field.
According to the Orks ' logic, a leader who runs away before the fight is over is not fit to be a leader anymore.
If it weren't for the fact that Ragnar's reputation was built up through repeated victories right in front of them, they would have rebelled long ago.
Ragnar could naturally sense the unease among his men. He stood on the bridge of the " Flatbread Meat Roll " and paced back and forth restlessly.
He has now recovered to three meters tall, but his physique is still far from what it used to be, and his belly remains enormous.
But this time, the giant mouth on top remained tightly closed, no longer opening or closing.
His skin had a sickly, waxy yellow hue, and he exuded a strong, meaty aroma.
Carl's defeat in the Battle of Nashville, which resulted in the loss of a third of his fleet, severely damaged his reputation among his people.
What troubled him even more was that the Stew God had saved him from the Psychic Power collapse seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep due to overdrawing his own power.
The gaping maw in its abdomen fell silent, and no more familiar thoughts responded.
Without the blessing of the Stew God's divine power, his injuries healed slowly, and his strange immortality was greatly diminished.
"Damn purple shrimp, damn bugs!" Ragnar slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a fist-shaped dent in the metal.
His roar echoed in the empty bridge, but his subordinates all lowered their heads, not daring to speak, their eyes revealing indifference.
Looking at their expressions, Ragnar felt even more agitated.
He knew that if he couldn't win a battle soon and rebuild a sufficient Waaagh Field, he would be in serious trouble.
Before long, these unruly leaders will probably unite to kill him first, and then fight for the leadership position.
Without the protection of the Stew God, he was not confident that he could defeat all the challengers.
All he wanted now was to return to Dorito's lair as soon as possible, hide in the underground fortress, recuperate from his injuries, and wait for the Stew God to awaken.
Just as the fleet was sailing Dorito the outer orbit of the Dorido Nebula and about to enter the planet's gravitational field, three enormous shadows suddenly emerged slowly from the dazzling nebula Mist.
Those were three enormous, abandoned ships, unlike the standard ship designs of the Imperium and the Orks.
Their size was so enormous that the largest of the Blight Ark was comparable in size to half of the Carl II Space Station.
The ship's surface lacked regular armor and gun emplacements; instead, it was covered with a thick, slippery, green mold.
Thick, yellowish pus slowly flowed down the grooves of the ship's walls, dripping into space and forming ominous droplets.
Countless deformed, fleshy growths coiled around the hull, fist-sized tumors piled together, constantly writhing, and oozing more pus when they ruptured.
Twisted, fleshy tentacles lashed through the air like venomous snakes, their ends ending in mouthparts dripping with mucus.
The entire Blight Ark resembled a gigantic, living monster floating in space, exuding the eeriness and filth unique to the Warp.
A surge of instinctive disgust instantly welled up in Ragnar's heart.
His muscles tensed, and his previously dormant, enormous maw in his abdomen twitched suddenly, emitting a low, hoarse sound, subtly conveying a sense of rejection.
The aura was both strange and familiar, a distorted power, eerie, rotten, and filled with malice that corrupted all life.
It made him feel uncomfortable all over, like he had eaten spoiled and rotten stew.
"Boss, there's something ahead, something huge!" the Ork Boyz on the lookout shouted in terror, nearly dropping his binoculars.
However, the fleet was traveling at extremely high speed, and the light Orks assault ship at the very front had no time to avoid it.
Its engine was damaged in the previous battle, and its control system malfunctioned, causing it to lose control and crash into the foremost giant, Blight Ark.
"BOOM!!!"
After a deafening roar, the burst of light from the impact instantly illuminated the dark nebula.
Before the firelight had even died down, the dark green mold on the surface of the Blight Ark suddenly cracked open with countless fissures, like a gaping Great Maw.
Countless rotting zombies and grotesque, flesh-mutated monsters surged out of the ship's hull like a tidal wave.
These monsters have no self-awareness, no thoughts, no reason; they only let out roars of "Ah~woo".
Driven by their instinct to hunt down any living creature, they charged toward the Orks warship that had crashed into the Blight Ark.
The rotting zombie's skin was festering and oozing pus, revealing its stark white bones. Its limbs were stiff but tireless, and even with its arms and legs broken, it could still crawl on the ground.
The mutated monster was twisted and covered in fleshy growths. Its claws gleamed with a cold, eerie green light, and corrosive saliva dripped continuously from its mouth.
The moment they boarded the ship, they began a massacre inside; the stronger monsters were almost immune to physical attacks.
The Ork Boyz's machete could only cut a pus-filled wound on them, not kill them at all.
Even after the flesh and blood body is shattered, the scattered pieces of flesh can come back to life and grow into new little monsters.
"What the hell are these things? They're disgusting!"
The Ork Boyz inside the ship roared and fought back with their Shoota and machetes, but they were soon horrified to discover that these monsters were simply endless.
Moreover, when the plague's pus comes into contact with a wound, it will instantly cause it to ulcerate and decay, with disgusting mold and tumors growing from the wound.
Although not fatal, it significantly impacted the boy's fighting ability.
Ragnar, who was already seething with resentment and anger, was now completely enraged.
Carl suffered a crushing defeat in the Battle of Nashville, his fleet was destroyed, his reputation plummeted, and the Stew God fell into slumber.
The series of setbacks left him distraught and frustrated, with nowhere to vent his anger.
Now three strange, Blight Ark have appeared and blocked the way, while countless rotting monsters have sprung up out of nowhere.
But this is good news for Ragnar.
After all, for the Orks, fighting has always been the most important thing.
Who is the opponent, not the one being fought against!
They get excited and fanatical as long as they can fight and kill.
The Waaagh! Field can then converge!
"These bastards dare to block my way!" Ragnar roared from the bridge of the flagship, his massive body trembling.
The remaining Waaagh Field around him suddenly surged, and green light shone on his body.
"All warships, form ranks! Charge forward and fucking slaughter them! Chop these rotten monsters to pieces!"
"Waaaagh!"
The previously demoralized Ork Boyz were instantly ignited by the flames of war, their eyes once again shining with fanaticism.
They roared, raised their weapons, and maneuvered the warship to turn its cannons around.
One after another, Orks warships roared their engines and launched a ferocious charge towards the three desolate Blight Ark.
In space, Orks cannons roared, mutated monsters howled, and green violent energy clashed with yellowish-green plague energy.
A fierce battle between the Orks and the Nurgle Plague-mutated creatures suddenly the Veil in the skies above Dorito.