The pustules on the ship's hull opened all at once, their murky eyes fixed on their prey with a relentless, fanatical fervor.
"Major General, the third detachment on the left flank reports that the enemy frigates' survivability far exceeds expectations, and their conventional Macro-cannon are less than 30% effective at destroying targets."
The observer's voice carried a barely perceptible tension.
"Most of the ships have reached the 'wreck' standard in terms of damage rating, but still maintain maneuverability and firepower output capabilities."
Dominic didn't turn around, but simply nodded slightly.
He had seen the battle records of the Nurgle Fleet and had heard Vulkan recount the devastation at Anvaheim.
The blessing of Grandfather is never an indestructible shield or an invincible blade, but rather an almost shameless vitality and proliferative capacity.
You can smash their hulls, you can blast their gun barrels, but only if the core corruption engine isn't completely destroyed.
They can survive by proliferating flesh and blood until they stick to your face.
"Maintain firepower, prioritizing the engine area amidships." His voice was calm, devoid of emotion.
"The carrier-based aircraft will flank the enemy formation and concentrate their attacks on its weak flanks, preventing them from closing in easily."
The order was quickly relayed, and a formation of dozens of Thunder fighters and bombers roared out of the fleet, trailing pale blue flames as they circled around the flanks of the Nurgle Fleet.
Missiles and laser bombs rained down, exploding into bursts of fire on the rotting hull.
Even so, the Nurgle Fleet's advance speed did not slow down much.
Under the cover of seven infected Imperium frigates, the Pale Hand's capital fleet resembled a swarm of slowly wriggling maggots.
They were slowly eroding the Imperial Fleet's firepower depth, steadily closing in on the nearest left-wing battle group.
The battle group, centered around a Lunar-class Cruiser and comprising four frigates and two destroyers, was a relatively prominent node in the dispersed formation.
Soon, the distance between the two sides was reduced to less than 100 kilometers.
A sudden change occurred.
The first anomaly was detected in the Void Shield readings of the Lunar-class Cruiser.
"Report! The Void Shield's energy is abnormally low, and the decay rate is five times the normal value!" The Shield Officer's voice suddenly rose.
"An unidentified corrosive energy field has been detected, penetrating the shield matrix from the outside!"
Dominic's gaze instantly locked onto that area of airspace.
In the Field of Corruption.
Unlike ordinary infected ships, true Nurgle capital ships possess a constant Field of Corruption.
It was a combination of Warp energy and plague power, formless and intangible.
However, it can slowly erode energy shields, metal hulls, and even the will of the crew, just like mold.
This is their most lethal weapon.
On the screen, the Lunar-class Cruiser's pale blue shields dimmed at a visible rate.
The shield's surface looked like it was covered in a layer of grayish-green mold, and the energy readings plummeted.
The ship's Tech-Priest prayed desperately and adjusted energy output in an attempt to stabilize the shield matrix.
However, the corrosive energy was everywhere, seeping in little by little along the energy circuit, and even the pipes of the shield generator began to show signs of corrosion.
"Order them to retreat! Create distance!" Dominic ordered in a deep voice.
But it was too late.
The Nurgle Fleet had clearly timed their attack perfectly.
Three plague-infested frigates charged fearlessly at the forefront, braving concentrated fire to crash headlong into the weakest point of the shield.
The dark green pus and corrosive matter exploded upon impact, like boiling water splashed on ice, causing the already precarious Void Shield to flicker a few times.
The Chaos energy of the Warp clashed violently with the working principle of the Void Shield Void Shield, constantly eroding its remaining energy.
"Bang!"
The moment the third frigate slammed into the shield's front with a self-destruction, the pale blue light shield finally succumbed to the pressure and dissipated like shattered glass.
With its last layer of protection gone, the massive hull of the Lunar-class Cruiser was completely exposed to the Nurgle Fleet.
A dozen plague warships swarmed forward like hyenas that had smelled blood.
The two plague cruisers at the front were the first to press against it, their tooth-like growths biting hard into the cruisers' armored hulls.
The Rust Plague spread wildly along the contact points, and dark brown rust spread like a tide across the metal hull.
Wherever it went, armor plates crumbled and peeled off, pipelines broke and burst, and even the heavy explosion-proof doors became as fragile as rotten wood.
Alarms blared throughout the ship.
"Bow armor corroded! System malfunctions across a large area from A to C!"
"The priest is presiding over the purification ceremony, but the corrosion is happening too fast!"
"Power output has dropped by 40%! Fire control system has malfunctioned!"
Amidst the frantic sirens, the prayers of the Ministorum Priest echoed through every corridor, the golden light of faith barely suppressing the pervasive stench of corruption.
The Tech-Priest waved their robotic arms, repeatedly washing the control panel with holy water and purification runes, but rust and flesh growth still sprouted from the cracks like weeds.
it's useless.
Dominic stared at the steadily declining system integrity reading on the screen, his eyes dimming.
That's the most terrifying aspect of the Rust Plague.
It is not simply physical corrosion, but a curse with Warp properties.
As long as the ship remains in contact with the plague warship, the rate of purification will never keep up with the rate of corruption.
The next second, the bulkhead at the point of contact exploded.
Countless Nurgle Daemon swarmed in through the breach, pouring into the cruiser's internal passageways like a rotting tide.
Leading the way was a swaying Plague Zombie.
Most of them were infected civilians of the Imperium, with festering, blackened skin, pus oozing from their facial features, and clothes they wore that came from different periods of the Imperium.
They are slow-moving but fearless; even if half of their bodies are blown apart by a bomb, they still drag their intestines forward.
Closely following behind are the bloated, Plaguebearer of Nurgle.
These obese, humanoid demons were covered in pustules and moved with a swaying gait.
Wielding Nurgle's version of the " Blade of Tetanus," these highly poisonous weapons can corrupt most lives with a single strike.
Even if you manage to incapacitate them, you must be wary of them suddenly exploding, spraying corrosive pus and plague spores throughout the entire cabin.
Rot Fly, over three meters tall, vibrated its transparent wings, emitting a sickening buzzing sound.
The corrosive liquid dripping from their mouthparts can easily melt through Ceramite armor, and the venomous stinger at their tail can incapacitate an elite soldier with a single strike.
Their favorite thing to do is to grab their prey with their long forelimbs and then inject the deadly venom from their mouthparts into the prey.
There were also round, Plague Toad of Nurgle that lay on the ground spewing poisonous mist and occasionally flicking out their tongues to grab and devour a soldier.
The Beast of Nurgle, like giant slugs, corroded metal and collapsed walls wherever they went, leaving behind only a sticky, putrid trail.
The entire cabin instantly turned into a foul-smelling swamp.
"Hold the line, for the Emperor!"
The sergeant leading the team roared, Boltgun, riddling the leading zombies with bullets.
The veterans, in groups of three, stood back to back, precisely targeting the demons' vital points. The Ministorum Priest raised his scepter, golden holy flames burning around him, forcing back the approaching demons.
The power of faith allowed the soldiers to temporarily forget their fear and the ravages of disease. The flashes of explosives rose and fell in the narrow passage, and they managed to withstand the first wave of attack.
But there are too many demons.
They emerged from every broken bulkhead and every ventilation duct. Although their numbers were fewer than those of the Orks, their sense of oppression far surpassed that of the Orks.
Plague germs permeated the air, and even with filtering masks, soldiers began to experience symptoms such as skin ulcers, fever, and weakness.
One after another, the carriers self-destructed, their pus splattering onto the Power Armour and sizzling as it corroded the armor's surface.
Rot Fly swooped down from above, their stingers piercing helmets and taking lives one after another.
The Beast of Nurgle rampaged wildly, smashing the carefully laid defenses to pieces.
The zombie with its head blown off was still writhing on the ground, and the toad, severed in two, was still spewing poisonous mist.
Even Beast of Nurgle that has been cut in half will quickly grow new granulation tissue at the wound site in an attempt to heal.
These children of Grandfather perfectly exemplify what "immortal vitality" truly means.