Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 436: Phoenix Embers
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With the sound of a feverish patient's lungs wailing like a wet rales, and the creaking and teeth-grinding sound of steel bones rubbing against the bodies of the dead, some airborne drop pods that looked strangely swollen and uneven, Thunderhawks, Predators and Land Raiders, a twisted combination of steel and rotten flesh, began to emerge from the gray-green clouds that floated above the ground like a nightmare towards anyone unfortunate enough to encounter them.

Now, after the life-hating attacks of the Purifiers had cleared the front of their battle lines, the Death Guard's First Company began their full-scale offensive.

This is the First Great Company from the ancient Legion era. Even without counting the ships they brought that twisted and swollen in space, the huge number of Daemon Engines, the filthy miasma of the Warp, the various variants of Plague Drones, and some beasts bred from Chaos Eggs and other strange and deadly weapons, they still have a full complement of one thousand Death Guard warriors.

Together with the two powerful warbands they brought with them this time, the military strength and numbers of the Nurgle believers have theoretically formed a ratio of almost two to one to the Iron Hands Chapter formed under the guidance of the Codex Astartes.

According to Medusa's current intelligence, there are only seven clan companies available and the number of new recruits in training is still small, which is almost three to one.

The timing of the Death Guard and their allies' arrival on the battlefield was so coincidental, and they penetrated the galaxy's defenses so quietly. If combined with the previous betrayal of Lakuan colluding with Hammonk and Karagul, it is hard not to think that there may be a connection.

This also made some of the originally neutral Iron Hands more suspicious. But there was no time to discuss and interrogate these. The warriors and dreadnoughts of Hammonk and Karagul were required to be forcibly implanted with additional control modules and equipped with a large number of bombs, ready to be used to break up the enemy's front as needed - yes, due to the suspicious behavior of their clan commanders, these warriors were not trusted, so this treatment was considered appropriate in the simulation at this time.

Hastam Hammonk, who was still imprisoned in the Iron Council, had his cables connecting him to the fortress's Simulacrum (Note 1) and the Council's Mindset removed as soon as the attack was discovered.

The energy source of the Iron Captain's power armor reactor was also unplugged, leaving him with only a small battery that was barely enough to operate his life support system. For Hastam, whose entire body was more than 95% cybernetic, not only did he become unable to move, but he was also prevented from using his unclean voice and thoughts to disrupt the thinking of the Iron Hands commanders.

Medusa's Mortal Auxiliary Army - These unfortunate mortals suffered heavy losses in the poisonous gas attack of the Purifiers. The Iron Hands noticed the vicious weapons used by the other side and immediately readjusted their defense and attack calculations based on the situation of the First Plague Company. Little did they know that the Nurgle believers had something worse waiting for them.

The steel and ceramic steel hatches that had become unnaturally rusty due to the strange energy of the warp opened one after another, and wave after wave of huge enemies emitting a strong stench slowly walked out from the Thunderhawks and troop transports that exuded the power of decay and decay and looked like they should not even be able to move.

Flames continued to spew from the muzzles of rusted bolters, and the bullets were filled with plague or stained with infectious bile. The Nurgle warriors slowly entered the attack position along with the Daemon Engines and Plague Beasts around them, and began to advance towards the Iron Hands' regrouped defense line.

Unlike the Insurgency and the Purge, whose size has not changed noticeably, the Plague Marines of the Death Guard appear to be only a sickly and deformed afterimage of their former glory.

Black and red rotten internal organs overflowed from the bellies of the tattered power armors, hanging in an orderly manner on the edges. Fresh maggots actively and happily rolled around in their power armors, while fat plague flies flew up and down around them, playing a buzzing music.

Although each Death Guard looks like it is impossible for them to be alive or have any strength to raise a gun, they are so unclean that they constantly teach everyone around them how beautiful the blessing of the benevolent and happy Father is, but in essence, they are still Space Marines who have undergone complete surgery and training, and the skills and strength needed in war have not disappeared with the blessing of their bodies.

The Purges and the Insurgency began to move, taking their Daemon Auxiliaries with them in different directions, and now the Iron Hands were confronted by the Death Guard's First Company, which were advancing and attacking with the ruthless, tenacious efficiency that was unique to the Legion ten thousand years ago.

The Iron Hands clan commanders soon discovered that this was the most troublesome group of Death Guard they had ever encountered.

The usually invincible armored swarm fire barrages that the children of Medusa were always proud of would be prematurely detonated by the clouds of plague drones and rot insect swarms, or because the shells fell into the soft sockets formed by the overly moist and sticky flesh shells and failed to trigger.

In the past experience of fighting against Chaos, the flamethrowers that were extremely effective against Nurgle's warriors performed poorly in the thick corrosive acid mist and the thick liquid blocks that began to fall from the sky.

The Medusans, who had never seen such "rain" falling from the sky, were surprised to find that the eternal black clouds in the sky of their hometown began to show a strange yellow-green light, and poisonous plague raindrops began to fall from them.

The battlefield auspicious instruments let out desperate screams. They detected some kind of high-energy subspace warning signal. Even if they only "sense" it from a distance, these unfortunate machines began to rot and rust horribly and quickly, as if they had been stored in some abandoned doomsday place for a long time.

A huge ancient black shadow was slowly descending in orbit above their heads, pouring blessings from the kind father into the dense atmosphere and clouds of Medusa.

That was the Plague Chaos Ship Terminus Est, Father's blessed place, flying sanctuary of Nurgle, one of the most terrible legends and the most vicious terrors in the Imperium, the omen of despair to all Planetary Governors and System Lords.

In this nightmarish quagmire scene, there was a figure holding a sickle, with thick black smoke constantly coming out from behind him, appearing in the poisonous miasma in the center behind the front line.

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The Rakuan Clan's Chamber of Conquest shut down all non-essential power sources, silently flying over the now silent Watch Stations and Mechanicus Research Worlds.

These once powerful air stations and planets are now silent.

Their exact fate is unknown, but the dense, cloud-like subspace reaction signals may indicate something.

Under the orders of Ferrus Manus, they now used an uncommon route to head straight for Medusa, attempting to cut off the attackers' retreat and reduce the pressure on the front battlefield.

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"What?!" shouted the young Fulgrim. Although he was allowed by the noble Primarch to sit in on the meeting, his disrespectful behavior in front of the throne of Ferrus, who was now praised as "the Great", still attracted the rude lock of the Iron Hands' bionic implants' sights.

"You decided to prioritize sending new recruits to the ground to occupy a landing site?! But that's behind the Death Guard! It's filled with high concentrations of corrosive gas and plague! You're not sure if their power armor can defend against the chemical gas that can melt flesh and blood! The concentration of the plague virus obviously exceeds the defense limit of ordinary designs! And why are the new recruits of Clan Dovk included in it?"

He pointed angrily at the three-dimensional war zone star map in the center and zoomed in on one of the scenes. It showed that the originally desolate and silent ground of the planet - well - you couldn't say it hadn't become full of vitality, the green-brown swamp was bubbling, and the corpses of the defenders were rolling, as if to give birth to some "strange" "life".

"At this time, calculations show that this can reduce the losses of the war group by 2% to 3%, while the success rate is still high." An Iron Father responded indifferently, "Our forces will be invested later, so that the greatest strength can be used where it is most needed."

"Why? Just for that 2% loss rate?! Aren't those your new recruits? Aren't fresh blood the future of a legion... a chapter?"

Then another iron father stood up to answer his question.

"It is true that people who do not understand often say that we are cruel. But we have truly evaluated the military and resource value of all those who seek help. We despise those who are too weak to expect to survive on their own. We will also be cursed by countless sympathetic people. But people do not understand. We can choose to save only those who can make us or them stronger, so as to save and accumulate the greatest strength and make full use of it where it is needed. Of course, we can also choose to waste our strength on self-inflated benevolent missions, but be powerless when preparing to stop the enemy's final blow. In this case, who is more cruel in terms of the result? In the end, we came to the conclusion that we should leave everything to our mechanical calculations to get a logical solution."

"You..." Fulgrim bit his mother-of-pearl-like teeth, his face flushed, "Then let me go and support them!"

"what?"

"I'll take my men down to support them! If we fail, I know what your plan B is. You can drop a bomb and turn me into dust." He sneered, "Isn't this just what you want?"

The silver giant sitting on the mechanical throne frowned his thick straight eyebrows, "You brought people with you? Where did you get the warriors?"

The cloned Phoenix pursed his lips, but finally suggested, "My Phoenix Guard. They are in the cell, I can command them, and the equipment is ready."

He looked around; the expressions of the Iron Hands commanders were all hidden behind implants and steel, but it was clear that the atmosphere of suspicion and distrust was growing thicker.

The communication data between the Silver Giant and the Golden Garuda flew back and forth at a rapid speed.
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My old friend, were you so impulsive when you were young?
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I'm not sure. But I envy him, Gorgon. If, I mean if, all of us brothers were on Terra, as the original trajectory might have been, we grew up together, went to the sea of ​​stars together, and fought together. Perhaps many of us would be more impulsive like children than him before we grew up.
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That sounds... happy.
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...Yes. But that's just a possibility.
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So, are you going to advise me to reject his offer of battle? There's a good chance he'll die.
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I would suggest you agree.
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I thought you were going to say "no".
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"No." Gorgon, this is his chance, and he saw it right. I'm going to give him that chance.
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I understand.

"as you wish."

The Iron Hands' fierce protests were suppressed by their Gene-Father.

"Go and make your preparations. A group of airdrop pods consisting of new recruits and heavy servitors will attack with you on the airdrop deck."

The young cloned phoenix exhaled and nodded.

Fulgrim hesitated before he walked out of the hall.

He turned around.

The new mechanical eye that Lavus had just replaced was shrinking its aperture behind his equally brand new eyepiece. He sneered unconsciously, and his muscles ached slightly as he pulled this expression: You see, the Fallen are weak, and a traitor is a traitor. He must be looking for an excuse...

"sorry."

The bright, burning vision of Fulgrim, who had moved everyone in the Chemos Wilds, suddenly spoke rapidly but brightly and clearly.

His lavender eyes looked at everyone in the hall with sincerity and regret.

"I still don't think I was wrong and should apologize for it, but maybe this is my last chance. The battle stories I've read about the old days tell me that if you have something to say, you should speak up in time, because you don't know if you'll still be here next time."

"So, my apology is only for my ambiguous speech that led the topic to a heated part, and for my need to clarify. I said that to you at the time, I just wanted to point out that we are all pursuing the path of making our material existence perfect, but perhaps we have all begun to deviate to the opposite extreme. I don't want to question the loyalty deep in your soul. But even if your heart is as hard as iron, you must be careful that the quantitative change of the flesh will bring about confusing qualitative changes. The measure to prevent abuse is to be vigilant and strictly restrained from this from the beginning. Maybe I am not qualified to say this, but..."

The Embers of the Purple Phoenix shook his head as he spoke, he laughed at himself, stopped talking, then turned and left, heading to the prison on the lower deck to gather his remaining ancient Sons of the Phoenix to make final preparations for the war.

The Iron Hands watched the young Phoenix leave in silence, and no one responded.

(End of this chapter)