The battle lasted a full half hour.
They attacked from the bow to the bridge, and from the outer compartments to the core propulsion area.
The defenders' resistance grew weaker and weaker, the priests' prayers grew softer and softer, the golden holy flames gradually dimmed, and even the Boltgun in their hands grew flesh and blood, beginning to turn against its master.
As the final gunshot rang out, the green dot representing the Lunar-class Cruiser on the main screen turned a completely murky dark green.
It was utterly corrupted.
Familiar pustules and blood vessels began to grow on the surface of the ship, and the gun barrels of the ship's guns twisted and deformed, oozing a viscous dark green liquid.
The originally silver-gray Imperium warships were transformed into new members of the Nurgle Fleet in just half an hour.
What followed was even more disgusting.
The surrounding plague warships did not leave immediately; instead, they all moved closer to it.
They wrapped the newly corrupted cruiser with the granulation tissue on its hull, as if sharing food.
They extracted streams of pure energy and soul, and the flesh and blood hull, which had been ravaged by artillery fire, was repaired at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Damaged blood vessels began to pulsate again, and new tissue slowly grew from the shattered cannon barrels. Even the bow, riddled with holes, gradually recovered under the proliferating flesh and blood.
This is a carrion feast.
They devour the remains of their companions, draw nourishment from their prey, and are reborn amidst decay and death.
This is Nurgle's war logic, and it's also what makes them so despairing.
Every warship you destroy may become nourishment for them to repair themselves.
Silence fell over the bridge.
Everyone stared at the bizarre and disgusting image on the screen, feeling as if a the Rock was pressing on their hearts.
Dominic's face remained expressionless, but his slightly trembling fingers suggested that he was not as calm as he appeared.
The image of Ragnar flashed through his mind.
A giant cauldron that devours cannon fire, an endless horde of Orks, and those Orks warlords who can never be killed...
Those memories that had long been buried in the past have become clear again.
But he did not dwell on the memories.
After the initial shock, he quickly calmed down.
His gaze swept past the Nurgle fleet that was "feeding" and landed at the very back of the battlefield, on the heavy cruiser that remained motionless.
The Pale Rose.
Since the start of the battle, it has remained stationed behind the Nurgle Fleet.
Neither advancing nor firing, it remained a calm observer, quietly watching the battle unfold before it.
It is waiting.
Waiting for an opportunity to head straight for the Gemstone.
Dominic knew very well that those frigates and cruisers were just cannon fodder.
The real killer move was that plague-ridden flagship.
He could sense that the other person's attention was entirely on him.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his surging emotions, his voice as steady as ever:
"Pass down the order: the central fleet should consolidate its formation."
" Gemstone at full power, main guns charging."
"I'd like to see if these plague rats have the ability to take down my flagship."
The roar of the Macro-cannon echoed through the void once more; an even larger-scale collision was just beginning.
The Lunar-class Cruiser that had been putting up a fierce fight just moments before had now completely shed its silver-gray paint scheme typical of Imperium warships.
Thick, purulent slough, like mold after rain, covered every inch of the armor, while large, vascular-like tissues meandered along the gaps between the gun barrels and the bridge.
It then spewed out gray mist carrying the plague virus with each pulse.
The once angular bow became bloated and limp, with jagged bony growths growing along its edges, resembling a writhing, rotting Great Maw.
It did not sink or disintegrate; instead, it seemed to be infused with a new soul, turning its cannons around and aiming at its former allies.
"Major Admiral, the enemy ship count is complete." The observer's voice trembled slightly.
"The enemy originally had seventeen combat units. After absorbing our fifth, their total number of combat units has not decreased but increased, now reaching eighteen."
"The new unit is a corrupted Lunar-class Cruiser, possessing relatively complete firepower capabilities."
Dominic stood with his hands behind his back in front of the porthole, the hem of his military uniform swaying slightly with the ship's gentle tremors.
He stared at the dark green fleet of ships that was constantly moving in the distance, his brow furrowed.
First came the immortal Orks warlord Ragnar, then the Genestealer lurking in the shadows of the Lower City.
Now another Nurgle Fleet has emerged, capable of "infecting" Imperium warships and turning them into their own kind.
Although his Tithe Fleet was not part of the Imperial Navy's main combat force.
However, with nearly fifty warships of various sizes combined, they would barely be enough to fight a sector-level counterinsurgency campaign.
But in the obscure border system of Calixis, Second Company running into all sorts of monsters and demons that only appeared in heretical archives.
"Just how many filthy things are hiding in this godforsaken place, Brevis?"
He muttered a curse under his breath, his tone tinged with weariness and the cold hardness of someone who had been through many battles.
No one answered.
Everyone stared at the main screen, at the Nurgle Fleet that was completely unharmed and had even grown larger.
Like a horde of ghouls crawling out of rotting corpses, they slowly adjusted their course.
Their next target is the second combat group on the left flank.
The battle group, centered around a Tyrant-class Cruiser and comprising three frigates and one destroyer, is currently the forwardmost node in the dispersed formation.
At this moment, they were still unleashing their full firepower, the Macro-cannon raining down on the plague frigates charging at the forefront, blasting rotten flesh and pus everywhere.
However, those ships riddled with holes can reseal the wounds with proliferating flesh and blood in just a few dozen seconds, temporarily maintaining their "integrity" without even slowing down.
They were like a group of madmen who knew they would never truly suffer a loss, braving the crossfire of the entire Tithe Fleet, and fearlessly pouncing on their next prey.
It doesn't matter how much is lost, as long as we can take a bite out of the Imperium's warship, we can make back our losses with interest.
"These bastards are treating our warships like supply ships!" Lieutenant Karen cursed angrily.
"If this continues, every ship we lose will increase their fighting strength, and we'll eventually be worn down and killed."
Dominic certainly understood this principle.
He had been observing them for a while now, and ordinary armor-piercing shells and high-explosive shells were extremely ineffective against these plague warships.
An explosion can tear apart the surface flesh and tissue, but it cannot destroy the deep, corrupted core; instead, it will cause the splattered pus to spread even faster.
Only the high-temperature burning of the light spears could inflict relatively effective damage on them, but the light spears charged slowly and were few in number, and were simply not enough to cover the dozen or so warships that were closing in step by step.
To combat the Chaos plague, fire is always the optimal solution.
Promethium flames, holy flames, Melta weapons—their high temperatures can burn away viruses, incinerate flesh and blood, and sever their self-healing abilities at the source.
The problem is that the Tithe Fleet's main weapon is the Macro-cannon array, and the ship's ammunition depot is mostly filled with conventional armor-piercing shells and high-explosive shells, with less than 30% of the ammunition in reserve.
Temporary ammunition reloading takes time; it will take at least an hour to complete the ammunition reloading for the capital ship.
Now, there are at most forty minutes left before the second battle group is brought face-to-face by the Nurgle Fleet.
Are we just going to stand by and watch another combat group be corrupted and devoured, trading soldiers' lives for time to re-equip with ammunition?
Dominic frowned, his gaze sweeping over the constantly fluctuating distance readings on the tactics panel, his mind racing as he weighed the pros and cons.
Retreating and shrinking the formation will allow the enemy to pursue relentlessly, while splitting forces to provide support will disrupt the overall defensive system. Either choice seems like a dead end.
Just then, the observer suddenly raised his voice, with a hint of disbelief and astonishment:
"Major General, three o'clock!"
"High-speed torpedo signals detected, thirteen in total, target is enemy left flank formation!"
Dominic abruptly turned his head to look at the secondary screen.
In the direction of Brevis's synchronous orbit, twelve torpedoes trailing pale blue flames were tearing through the vacuum at an astonishing speed.
Like twelve flaming arrows, they pierced straight into the left flank of the Nurgle Fleet.
There was no earth-shattering explosion as expected, nor were there any flying metal fragments.
The moment the torpedoes exploded amidst the plague-ridden fleet, what rose up was not a burst of light, but a towering sea of crimson flames.
The moment the Promethium fuel was ignited, flames of thousands of degrees Celsius suddenly spread out, engulfing all three plague frigates on the left flank.
The thick, sticky pus and fleshy tissue ignited upon contact with fire, emitting a sizzling sound as it burned, and thick, foul-smelling black smoke billowed up instantly.
What's even more astonishing is yet to come.
Before the first volley of torpedoes had even reached its peak, the second volley followed immediately.
Dozens of thick, Macro-cannon roared in from the direction of the planet, leaving dark red trails as they crashed into the center of the inferno.
These shells were not conventional armor-piercing or high-explosive warheads; the moment the shell casings exploded, the Promethium gel and fine powder inside were scattered everywhere.
It was poured onto the burning hull like oil.
"Boom!!"
The fire instantly flared up several times over, and a faint golden light even shone through the crimson flames.