Emperor's Bane

Chapter 1002 The Civilized World (22)

"how do you feel?"

"Ha ha……"

"Corax...Corax above!"

The Dark Raven Guard was panting heavily; he hadn't felt this dizzy in a long time.

It was just a few hundred meters of sprinting, but it was more exhausting than going through an entire battle.

Before he could recover from the intense physical tension, Sergeant Chris felt his helmet being ripped off without warning. When he opened his eyes, he saw it was his friend, the pharmacist.

He was looking at the sergeant with a worried expression.

"I heard the Death Guard has started releasing poison gas?"

"Yes, there are many kinds, and the quantity is also very large."

Sergeant Chris nodded solemnly.

"I don't even know many of them."

"My God... they actually dared to do that."

The pharmacist shook his head in disbelief.

"A war between brothers is one thing."

"But poison gas...that's another matter."

"Who says it isn't?"

They were both silent for a while.

"As for the situation you described: it's quite normal."

The pharmacist said somewhat forlornly as he injected antidote into Sergeant Chris's neck.

"Death Guards are all experts at using poison."

“We’ve been their neighbors for so many years, and we’ve had many private conflicts and seized complete chemical samples countless times, but even so, we have been unable to decipher their achievements in chemistry: even Primarch Kolax himself couldn’t handle the virus that Mortarion was researching.”

"So, how are you feeling, Chris: Is the power armor working?"

"I...I'm not sure...cough..."

Whether it was psychological or something else, Sergeant Kerry actually coughed uncontrollably when the pharmacist asked a question.

He smacked his lips and actually tasted a slightly different flavor between his teeth.

But his power helmet is clearly fine.

Just as the Raven Guard was feeling puzzled, the apothecary standing next to him, although also wearing a powered helmet with its protection at the highest level, could still smell the damp, rainforest-scented scent emanating from Sergeant Chris's breath.

"It looks like we need to prepare for epidemic prevention measures."

The pharmacist shook his head.

"Although theoretically, Astartes warriors should not be defeated by the virus, who can say for sure?"

"That's the Death Guard."

"I'm not surprised by anything they can do."

"Indeed... cough..."

Another cough.

This time, not only Sergeant Chris, but all the Dark Raven Guards who had escaped from outside and had passed through the pale white fog involuntarily coughed a few times. Judging from their individual behavior, it was not something they wanted to cough.

"..."

The atmosphere inside the underground fortifications instantly became oppressive.

Those present were all intelligent people: they knew what this situation most likely meant.

The news was quickly reported, and a few minutes later, the company commander in charge of the underground fortification had to issue another order.

All returning soldiers must first undergo quarantine.

Chris and the others had no complaints and willingly entered the temporary quarantine zone.

"Don't worry, brother."

The pharmacist patted him on the shoulder affectionately.

"Even if there is a problem, we will develop an antidote as quickly as possible."

“I have no doubt about that.”

Sergeant Chris nodded, looking at his brother who had saved his life three times, and then walked into the isolation room without looking back.

Only after the door was closed did the pharmacist slowly turn around. At this moment, his expression was not as confident as when he was in front of Chris.

He walked deeper into the corridor, passing his colleagues and comrades-in-arms along the way, until he encountered a figure that caught his eye at a corner.

"teacher."

The pharmacist ran over and asked in a low voice.

"What exactly is going on this time?"

"what's the situation?"

The Terran pharmacist smiled.

"Those Death Guards have gotten desperate after we beat them."

"We just received news that they have deployed at least three thousand aircraft to carry out comprehensive poisoning and virus bombing of the area under our jurisdiction: they are using the smallest type of virus bomb, which, although not enough to achieve the effect of extermination, is more than enough to level the rainforest above our heads."

"What's worse, they also dropped 23 viruses and unknown poison gas, 17 of which we had never known before."

"Compared to these things, those tens of thousands of liters of special defoliants are nothing but low-grade stuff."

"Moreover, the Death Guards just dumped these things on our heads, and the other companies in their respective combat zones didn't even see a single fighter jet: clearly, they intended to divide and surround us, or treat us as guinea pigs."

"..."

The pharmacist nodded solemnly.

"When will we begin research on the antidote?"

"You'll have to wait a while."

"Wait? Wait until when?"

"Wait until the shelling ends."

The Terran veteran looked at him.

"You don't think that the amount of poison gas dropped by those thousands of planes is enough for chemical warfare?"

"Let me tell you: compared to the volume of artillery fire, airplanes are always insignificant."

"And the Death Guard's artillery positions are not far from our underground fortifications."

As if to confirm his words, before the old Terran apothecary could finish speaking, a completely different rumbling sound seemed to come from the distant ground, causing every raven in the fortification to pause unconsciously: they could certainly recognize that it was thousands upon thousands of cannons unleashing their fury.

"God of War..."

The old pharmacist shook his head and then patted his still not-so-mature student on the shoulder.

"Don't just stand there, go check on the situation at the drug storage warehouse."

"With such a large-scale bombardment, we won't be able to get supplies from the rear for a while: I don't want anything to happen to our existing stockpile."

"Yes, I'll go right away."

The pharmacist nodded, turned and left, hurrying past the hundreds of figures in the corridor, his mind still replaying the words his teacher had just told him.

"A dozen or so new viruses?"

"That's strange. These Death Guards can't be so stupid as to forget that we are all Astartes, can they?"

"How could Astartes be defeated by a virus..."

"cough!"

"..."

The pharmacist was stunned.

He raised his hand and touched the powered helmet he had never taken off: Yes, the protective measures and gas filtration measures were already at their maximum.

Theoretically, these could even protect him from the extermination order of the viral bomb.

Then, he smacked his lips and quickly patted his entire power armor.

There was no unusual smell in his mouth, and there were no cracks in his power armor that could allow him to slip through; all his physical indicators were also at normal levels.

Well... it should be fine, right?
After all, his power armor was intact.

After much hesitation, the pharmacist slowly made his way deeper into the underground fortifications.

And just as he disappeared around the corner.

"Cough cough!"

Deep in the corridor, the previously low coughing sound now sounded as loud and piercing as the song of death.

It was like a low, mocking remark.

He questioned everyone in the fortification.

------

"Power armor?"

Who would believe in such a thing?

Typhon finally put down his binoculars with satisfaction when the first rank of cannons, now fully prepared, began firing special shells at the distant rainforest.

He stood on a secure high ground, with the surrounding twenty-odd kilometers completely protected: although this company commander of the Death Guard was willing to come to the front line of the war and share the hardships with his soldiers, he was not foolish enough to forget how many successful assassinations the Fists of the Empire had carried out on the surface of Taran just a month ago.

He had no interest in gambling with his luck.

Moreover, if his plan succeeds: the Death Guards will no longer have to gamble with their luck.

"indeed so."

Standing behind Typhon, Vox nodded.

He knew what Typhon meant.

According to the other legions, power armor was indeed a good solution for protecting against poison gas attacks: throughout the 150-year history of the Great Crusade, the filters in the power armor had protected the Emperor's warriors countless times.

Therefore, it's not surprising that the Raven Guards would subconsciously trust their anti-poison measures.

But for the Death Guard, that's ridiculous.

"These sons of Corax seem to have forgotten what our legions are known for."

Typhon stood with his hands behind his back, watching as the second round of artillery fire began to pour into the distant dense forest.

At the edge of his field of vision, the once lush rainforest had already shown obvious signs of decline: in less than a day, this verdant land stretching to the horizon would turn into a handful of barren soil.

The Death Guard's special defoliant is not something ordinary creatures can enjoy.

Only then will the Death Guards be able to face the Imperial Fist and the Raven Guards on equal terms: their month-long preparations will not have been in vain.

"Heavy infantry, and chemical warfare."

Typhon murmured with a sense of enjoyment.

"Throughout the Great Expedition, the Fourteenth Army was known for these two things."

"However, our enemies never thought of that."

“Fundamentally, power armor is not a particularly advanced technology. During the Great Expedition, many of the powerful enemies we encountered possessed protective measures that were no less effective than, or even far superior to, power armor. These enemies' protective measures naturally included protection against poison gas and chemical warfare.”

"Even so, the Death Guard Legion is still renowned for our chemical warfare, and has never tried to change that during the Great Crusade: this shows that our chemical warfare has ways to break through such sophisticated defenses."

"So, here's the problem."

"Since we can break through these people's defenses."

"So where did they get the confidence that we would be helpless against the Empire's power armor?"

"Besides: it's just power armor, isn't it? We have plenty of power armor on hand as well."

"If that's the case, can't we develop a virus specifically targeting power armor?"

“You see, they seem to have never thought about this.”

"I think this is easy to understand."

Vox replied softly.

"After all, in the past, no one would seriously consider the methods of fighting in Astartes."

“I’ve heard that in more classical legions, like Guilliman’s Ultramarines, even suggesting the possibility of fighting other Astartes is considered a great disrespect to the Empire and the Primarch: any fool who dares to say such a thing will be made to wear a red helmet, a common way of punishing wrongdoers in the Three Kingdoms of the Far East.”

"I really don't understand why they do this."

Typhon gave a sarcastic laugh.

"Yeah, it's really baffling..."

Vox glanced at him discreetly.

"Just like me, I don't understand why, judging from the latest operational deployment, your first company seems to be getting further and further away from the front line."

"..."

If a rooster is choked, the laughter in its chest will instantly disappear.

He remained silent for a moment before giving an unquestionable answer.

“Since you were able to discover this, Master of Assault, you should also have discovered that in the first few days, the First Company was always at the forefront of the war: we suffered the most losses in the three bloody days. According to the rotation principle, what was wrong with me asking them to withdraw and rest?”

"That's certainly true."

Vox's voice remained as ethereal as ever, as if he had only casually mentioned the issue and had no intention of delving deeper into it.

"I'm just curious: when do you plan to send the First Company back to the front lines?"

"That's not your concern, Master of Problem Solving."

Typhon responded coldly.

"Soon, I will entrust the task of capturing Sapphire City to you and your battle group. You should be concerned about this."

"Do a good job. If you can take it down, I guarantee your name will resonate in the Primarch's ears."

"It's a promise that's hard to refuse."

Vox's voice was devoid of emotion, but he did not dwell on the issue any further.

Then, there was a few minutes of silence between the two of them.

The company commander shook his head and decided to pick up the topic that had just been cut off.

"In short..." "If they think that power armor alone can stop the virus we release: then I'd love to see the corpses of the Raven Guards flood the underground fortifications."

"I believe that day is not far away."

Vox agreed sullenly.

"After all, that was a targeted virus that we researched specifically for the Raven Guard decades ago."

"It is almost entirely harmless to any legion, especially to our Death Guard."

"But to the Ravenguards, it is deadly poison."

"It is an incurable poison."

“No Raven Guard infected with this targeted virus can survive more than ten days.”

"After all, we've done human experiments: capturing those Dark Raven Guards isn't easy."

Vox paused for a moment.

"However, I never imagined that we would actually have the day when we would activate these viruses."

"This is where you fall short of the Primarch."

Typhon raised his head arrogantly, as if he were truly proud of Mortarion.

"When he first arrived in his fiefdom, Lord Mortarion disliked the neighbors the Emperor had assigned him. Therefore, in absolute secrecy, he sent people to study this virus that was only effective against the Raven Guards, so that it might come in handy one day: otherwise, we wouldn't have accumulated such a large stockpile."

"The sums are enough to support us in winning the Battle of Taran."

"Is it?"

Vox countered with a hint of denial.

"But I still find it incredible: after all, such behavior would have been unimaginable even a few years ago."

“I know, and the Primarch knows.”

Even Typhon had to admit this.

Are they secretly researching a targeted virus specifically for another Astartes Legion?

If this matter were to be exposed, Mortarion's fate would not be good: even if it wasn't as bad as Magnus's during the Nikkarian Cataclysm, the Lord of Death would at least have a large portion of his fiefdom stripped of his honor, and might even be taken back to Holy Terra to suffer the Emperor's punishment.

Even worse, if this charge of betraying one's brothers were proven, then even a Warmaster or Morgan would be unable to save Mortalian: not to mention the Fourteenth Legion would almost permanently lose its honor and status among the legions.

"The Primarch was certainly aware of all of this."

Typhon explained patiently.

"So, in the beginning, he only regarded this virus as a backup plan."

"Even more so: a pastime to pass the time: a pastime very much in the Barbarossa style."

"In that case..."

Vox stroked his chin.

"So what are Lord Motari's thoughts on the other neighbors the Emperor assigned to him?"

"..."

Typhon glanced at Vox.

"You've asked another very dangerous question."

"And you know that dangerous answer, don't you?"

"..."

"I can only tell you that Lord Mortalian has no ill intentions toward Lords Angron and Vulcan."

"He sympathized deeply with the former’s experience, believing that they were both people who had suffered at the hands of the emperor."

"As for the latter: no one would be hostile to Lord Vulcan."

"As for Lord Dorne: I don't know."

"After all, although we and the Imperial Fist are also neighbors with a cold relationship, there is actually not much conflict between us because Rogdorn and his legions never pay attention to their fiefdoms."

"And what about those who cherish words?"

Vox pressed on.

"Does the Primarch also have... methods against them?"

"..."

Typhon did not answer this question.

This is an answer in itself.

"ok, I get it."

Vox nodded.

"But I still want to say: I don't think we can conquer Taran's lands just by poisoning these Raven Guards."

"I know."

Typhon nodded.

"At the very least, besides the Raven Guards, we also need to make sure the locals don't side with the Imperial Fist."

"Or rather: ensure the safety of a portion of the local population."

"Do you have any good ideas, Company Commander?"

"Vox asked."

"A simple way."

Typhon, with his back to Vox, extended one finger.

"That is, to offer these Taran locals a condition they cannot refuse."

"Do you see that?"

Vox looked in the direction indicated: the thick orange fog had already enveloped the forest in front of him.

Catalyzed by them, these forests, some millions of years old, are dying rapidly within hours.

"Defoliants: I originally thought you just intended to use them to clear the rainforest."

"That serves one purpose."

Typhon explained patiently.

"And its other function is that it can completely disrupt the entire ecological structure of Taran."

"Not destroy it."

Typhon's hand slowly clenched into a fist.

Rather: transform it.

"Renovate! How do we renovate?"

"Of course, we'll transform it into the shape of Barbaros."

Typhon opened his arms.

"These orange smogs you see will permanently alter the ecological structure of Taran. In a few months to a few years, the areas shrouded in this smog will transform Taran into another Barbalus: a place that our Primarchs find incredibly welcoming."

"Oh……"

Vox nodded as if he suddenly understood.

"I'm asking you, aren't you afraid of the Primarch questioning you about your arbitrary gas attack on Taran?"

"of course."

Typhon laughed heartily.

“If I had simply thrown poison gas at Taran, Lord Mortarion would surely have condemned me.”

"After all, he still wants to rule this place."

"But if I used chemical means to transform Taran into another Barbalus."

"Then the Primarch will only have praise for you."

Vox nodded.

"In his view, this elevates the Taran people to a place where they can develop true resilience."

"It is a step forward in civilization, not destruction."

"exactly."

Typhon watched with satisfaction as the towering trees closest to him fell with dying groans, as if they were the embodiment of the raven's guard.

“You know that, Vox.”

“Taran is such a unique and wonderful world.”

"With just the most primitive agricultural methods, it can feed hundreds of millions of people on this planet. Therefore, agriculture here is extremely lacking in industrialization: they are content with using large machinery to harvest and artificial rainmaking to bring them more abundant rainfall, but nothing else. In the face of blockades caused by war, they also do not have enough time and means to change the local industrial structure."

"In other words, once our defoliant enters the local ecological cycle of Taran and spreads to every corner of the world through rain and wind, transforming Taran's ecology into a different environment, making the crops that originally grew here unable to adapt to the new harsh challenges, then the people of Taran will have to face a choice."

"A choice between life and death."

“I understand that.”

Vox nodded.

"But in my understanding, such a drastic change will only make them hate you more, not love you."

"I don't need adoration, I need submission."

Typhon's voice was resolute, making it clear that the object of his desire for submission was not Taran, but someone else.

"Surrender?"

Vox smiled.

"What do you intend to use to make them submit?"

"use this."

Typhon turned around and placed something so tiny in the palm of Vox's hand.

Vox paused for a moment.

"This is... a seed?"

"Yes."

Typhon nodded smugly.

"A seed, a seed that can bring crops and food."

"At the same time, it is also the only seed that can grow enough food to survive on the altered land after the existing ecological environment of Taran has been permanently changed: this is a good thing that I brought from Barbaros."

"Is it?"

Vox frowned.

“It felt familiar, but I’ve never seen this kind of seed in the land of Barbaros.”

"That's normal, because it was born in Barbarossa's most cutting-edge biological research lab."

Typhon was fiddling with another seed in his hand.

"It combines the essence of many herbs and agricultural crops in Barbalus, and after being modified, it will become the most terrifying invasive species you can imagine: once these seeds are planted on a large scale in the land of Taran, it will forever change the land itself, and the changes it brings to the land will be even more terrible than defoliants."

"After the first harvest, this land can only be used to grow Barbarosian crops."

"The rest will die."

"And the Tarans, because of the war and the blockade imposed by our fleet, cannot develop new crops that can change our environmental tactics and feed the hundreds of millions of people in this world before their meager food reserves are exhausted."

"They have no choice but to plant these seeds and then face the irreversible change."

"..."

Vox paused for a moment, processing what he had to say.

"and then?"

"Then there are some gentle, subtle methods."

Typhon waved his hand dismissively.

"We will starve to death some people, probably several million or tens of millions, to make them suffer a little."

“Then, we will provide seeds to those cities that are willing to submit to us.”

"Of course, there will be some additional conditions."

“These seeds have been modified so that they will automatically burn after one round of cultivation and will not produce new seeds: if they don’t want to starve, they can only beg for seeds for a second round of cultivation in front of us.”

"At the same time, for these seeds to grow, they can only be used with the fertilizers we specify. Other fertilizers will kill these seeds instantly, and our fertilizers will further refine the soil, making it so that it can only grow these seeds and Barbaros crops."

"Finally, as long as the war continues, we will not stop dropping defoliants and small viral bombs, which will reduce the arable land on the Taran: if those who are willing to resist still want to keep shouting, let them watch their parents, wives, and children starve to death in front of them because of their nobility."

“Indeed, millions of people will hate me.”

“But tens of millions will fear me and eventually submit to me.”

"Don't assume that courage is a universal, common trait among ordinary people, a master of overcoming challenges."

"The vast majority of people are ordinary and cowardly, but as long as they can breathe and have a way to live, they won't mind kneeling up and licking their dirty boots: our war will ensure that those noble fools die cleanly, and only these fragile mortals will remain on this land, and they will hand the reins around their necks to us."

"all in all."

"Whether it's these seeds or this land."

Typhon slowly released his strength, his iron-like fingers closing together to crush the seeds, just as he had crushed the earth beneath his feet.

"In the end, we will hold them firmly in our hands."

……

"If I let it live, it will live."

“And if I let it die, they will die.”

"..."

"What's this, Typhon?"

"This is civilization, Vox."

The company commander smiled broadly.

"This is what is called: the civilized world."

(End of this chapter)