Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 880 Is this the true value of the Nurgle's Wind?
When the Pale King and Inquisitor Eisenhorn found the Flesh-Tearers chopping wood, they seemed quite pleased.

From birth to becoming flesh-tears, they have experienced unprecedented ease and joy.

Apollos, as the leader, solemnly roared out the lumberjack's chant with the powerful, penetrating voices bestowed upon him by the priests in the Astartes.

From a great distance, those searching for them could hear the sound piercing through the thick, brownish-green fog.

"...Rotten wood cracks! Green pus oozes out!"

His brothers echoed, "Ha! Ha!"

"A human-faced branch biting an iron axe!"

"Bite! Bite!"

Eisenhorn frowned upon hearing this, gripped his gun tighter, and habitually slowed his pace. Ahead lay the last tree with human-shaped faces, its bark gnarled and twisted, covered in moss and teeming with maggots and flies.

"Ten thousand trees worship the Immortal Lord together!"

"Bye-Bye!"

As the axe fell, wood chips flew everywhere, sap splattered, and the clusters of large and small human-faced tumors growing on the trees howled under the blade, oozing out pools of thick, yellowish-white broth.

About a third of the shredders were chopping down trees with three Nurgle demons, while the rest of the humans and demons were working together to remove the felled tree branches with bone weapons and rusty iron tools, and then carrying them one by one onto a large cart that had been harnessed to the side, ready to be taken back to the workshop.

—It looks like they're almost done with their workday.

A clearing had been cleared in the forest, leaving behind several stakes spewing out entrails and remains, while Scarbejasarax's massive body was at the far end of the area, vaguely visible next to a half-cut tree.

Eisenhorn was astonished to see that the cart was not pulled by cows, horses, or mules, but by a pair of enormous plague snails. Each snail's shell was the size of a small house, and its soft, corpse-green foot was covered with countless smaller foot-like appendages, making it look from a distance like a combination of a snail and a giant caterpillar. Below its eyeless face were a pair of sharp bony horns, and countless teeth rotated from its mouth like lamprey petals, opening and closing.

"They are not easy to deal with."

The judge, driven by professional instinct, expertly assessed the situation at the scene.

"Although the Great Impermanent One is terrifying, the beast furthest away is the most unpredictable opponent, especially given its enormous size. They're blocking the main exit of the logging clearing, and if they can understand some of the commands, they pose a huge threat, unless we're fast enough..."

Then he saw the young man beside him suddenly stand up, step out of the waist-high weeds, and stride towards the open space.

"Follow."

The other person didn't turn around; the strange white robe fluttering in the wind left only a glimpse of Eisenhorn.

"Wait……"

In the split second that the judge hesitated, the previously enthusiastic logging chants suddenly fell silent.

Then, forty-six pairs of human eyes, now a pale yellow glow, and all the eyes on the seven demon faces stared in the direction they had appeared.

—Now that things have come to this, I have no choice but to personally experience the power and unique identity of the person beside me!

The judge decisively rushed out of his hiding place and began running towards the young man.

"Humph."

Faced with the flesh-tearing man whose face had become ferocious and terrifying, baring his fangs, and the demons shouting that they were invading, the Pale King simply raised his left hand as he walked.

As the swarm of insects hummed softly, a giant scythe began to gradually take shape in his palm.

“MEMENTO MORI”.

Sweat trickled down the judge's forehead as he heard the person beside him whisper.

"The time for harvest has come!"

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"This place makes me feel strangely uncomfortable."

After trekking for a long time through the eerie crop fields and wheat fields, Riemann Russ spoke first.

"This place is sticky and damp, it's like the stomach of a sea monster! It's even worse than that!"

“I don’t really like this feeling of machinery rusting either,” Pallas said. “K—Adalic, are you sure you’re on the right track?”

"I've already led you all this way, why are you asking me if I'm on the right track?" Dark Raven replied, his voice sounding like the screech of the Plague Hawk circling overhead.

"..."

Gabriel Seth was also thinking about this issue.

This mysterious Raven Guardian indeed demonstrated formidable abilities, including leading them past the guard turrets, opening numerous sealed doors, navigating secret maintenance paths, and bypassing a series of barriers and guards—

And this place, so different from where they had just been, could completely verify some of his claims.

But was he really just leading the way or enticing us?

Seth glanced at the Dark Raven Guard, which seemed to be glowing with an eerie blue-green light, and then placed his hand on the handle of his weapon.

In the distance, behind the thick, impenetrable fog on the horizon, came the flash of a weapon and faint shouts.

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"What secrets are I not allowed to know?"

Ramizan Carlosini approached Peturabo BC, who sat in the fearless defiance of the contempt.

"Hey Peipei, you must know what one of the things I dislike the most is, right?"

His voice was soft but clear, and deep; those who didn't know him would think he was very kind and approachable.

But Peturabo BC knew very well that this was a harbinger of the other side's devastating rage, like a cosmic explosion.

—If it were just an ordinary Border Collie owner, it wouldn't be so bad, but Peturabo knew that the words "world-destroying" and "Big Bang" were unfortunately not exaggerated descriptions when applied to the "person" in front of him, but rather two sets of realistic terms.

He also knew very well that the deep love of the person in front of him was based on the belief that the two of them had unreserved trust in each other—a trust that had stood the test of time and events, as well as the sincere love between humans for dogs and between dogs for humans.

The thought of how many secrets he had heard from the other person while he was not in his own body made him sweat with anxiety.

"What secret?"

"..."

Peturabo BC's tongue began to sweat uncontrollably, and he swallowed hard. What to do?
Would he bravely keep one of Saint Gilles' and the pigeon's greatest secrets out of brotherhood and father-son bond?
This led to a falling out with Ramizan—the instant this hypothesis arose, the visceral, almost visceral, feeling of blood flowing as if flesh and blood were being torn apart made Peturabo realize that perhaps initially he had considered using him, achieving his goals, deceiving and fooling him, and perhaps he had been deceiving him all along, but—

He couldn't, no, he didn't want to lose this unreserved "pampering" he gave to Peturabo.

The idea of ​​losing love was so terrifying that Peturabo quickly found a reason to reveal the secret.

—Look at him, he was tricked by the Emperor of Man, then by Forgrim, and finally by Horus. It took him so long to come to his senses, yet he seems like the kind of person who would still have any affection for this family enough to keep their secret! Dorne? If Dorne's secret weren't something that absolutely had to be a secret, he would have already copied 10 billion copies of the video recording of "Dorn, Sigismund, and Lysander serving as gene seed donors for the Iron Warriors and becoming Peturabo champions" and distributed them throughout the galaxy! He would have distributed ten times that amount to those Black Templar expeditionary fleets!
So—of course, we'll expose the whole story of the former ninth brother and the old pigeon without hesitation!
And so, as the black-and-white fluffy tyrant continued his rapid, incessant narration, Ramizain's eyebrows rose higher and higher...

----------

Terrified screams echoed throughout the wooded clearing.

Eisenhorn was initially surprised that the Flesh-Tearer, after being seduced by the Great Impurity, showed such a weak will. Then he suddenly realized an even more absurd and terrifying fact:

The first to let out a terrified scream were those few Nurgle demons.

They all made fearful gestures, raising their hands or simply dropping their axes and sickles and running deeper into the forest, while the flesh-tearing creatures around them were stunned by the sudden plague screams during their charge, almost falling to the ground.

The scene suddenly became chaotic.

What was supposed to be a battle between two mortals against forty-six Flesh-Tearers and seven Nurgle demons turned out to be a complete rout when faced with this young man who called himself a "Bio-Sage."

“…Sigh, no surprise.” The young man muttered. “Oh? Wait a minute, it seems the Wind of the Scourge does have some skill after all.”

You shouldn't have come here!

The master of this demonic world roared as it stretched its smiling "lips" all the way to its ears, revealing purplish-red gums, a mouth full of rotten, foul-smelling yellow teeth, and a tongue that looked like a fat tapeworm or intestines protruding out in anger from its good-natured father, adding more foul-smelling venom to the rusty giant sword in its hand.

"It's not the right time yet! This is not a place for you!"

It howled, "Oh! Let me hug you, and then you can go back to where you came from!"

At the same time, it began to run toward the pale young man with its arms outstretched, as if to embrace him.

As the mountain of flesh, resembling the corpse of a rotting giant, raced at high speed—or perhaps the planet sensed the wrath of its master—the ground beneath their feet trembled, transforming into an ominous, soft, wave-like texture.

Black, putrid sludge began to erupt from the ground like a mud volcano. The fermentation process produced a mixture of marsh gas and rotten egg smells, along with the ammonia and indole odor of the old dry toilet, which made everyone present, who still had a sense of smell, stagger.

"Guests from afar! Feel the warmth of this Nugget wind!"

No one responded to its welcoming remarks.

Even the judge's brain, which could withstand torture, was temporarily shut down by the smell transmitted through his olfactory nerves.

Eisenhorn felt as if he were experiencing a revolving lantern of his life before death. His mind had never been so blank, so close to being wiped clean. The overwhelming smell was enough to bring tears to one's eyes, even without the plague.

Then, a gust of foul-smelling wind swept over him, and Eisenhorn's vision went black as the urge to vomit overwhelmed all his senses and his ability to think.

He lunged to the side and leaned against a tree stump that was also spewing out its internal organs, vomiting profusely.

And the flesh-tearers?

Unfortunately, the Astartes procedure gave them a more sensitive sense of smell and the ability to distinguish the contents of odor molecules than ordinary people. Most of the time, these organs would give them an advantage, but at this moment, it suddenly became an extremely bad disadvantage.

Judging from the widespread collapse and vomiting, the flesh-tearing men's fighting ability has been temporarily and safely (?).

The only ones still standing on the field are Nurgle himself and Pale King.

The demon planet trembled like a living lump of flesh, responding to its master's call, but the mud volcanoes spewing terrible stench could not even get within the range of the scythe's swing. Any planetary matter that dared to cross the line would be completely destroyed in an instant.

Clearly, odor molecules are no exception.

Thus, the Pale King remained unaffected, merely staring at Scarabras, whose running pace gradually slowed as he watched him, who symbolically brandished the Tetanus Blade and grew increasingly uneasy.

"Alright, uninvited guest! What do you want here?! Get out of here! It's not your time to come! Go home! Don't let the next guest come looking for you!"

"I'll leave you with these little guests and then I'll go."

"The Pale King said, then suddenly paused."

"what did you just say?"

"Uh, it's nothing, you can take them all with you! I don't want anything back! Get out of here! Get out of here!"

The Great Impure One waved its thick, enormous hands with great generosity, from which pieces of rotting skin were falling off.

"Who is the guest behind us?"

His newly grown, leaf-colored eyes narrowed behind his gray bangs.

"Uh. How about this!"

The Great Impure One's double chin jiggled like green red bean jelly. "Old Man Gap is bleeding money today! Factory clearance sale! Free tickets for you to pack up and leave here, and free tickets for the guests too!"

"Wait for you..."

As the world's master, whose territory is being ravaged by a mysterious force beside the Pale King, this hospitable old man clearly doesn't want to keep his unwelcome guests with him for another second.

The demon world emitted a deafening gurgling sound.

After a series of loud, rapid, and spectacular explosions of gas release.

A large group of people, along with a strange, unidentified substance and slime, were "smeared" on the clean, empty floor of the Destiny Steel Ship—right in a corner of the kitchen where no one had ever entered before.

As part of the sewer waste disposal system, the Rotten Pit Demon World naturally "sent" them back to the other end of the system.

A low, frustrated, and helpless curse rang out.

Amidst the disoriented and murky vision of the flesh-tearers, an extremely tall, golden figure vanished into thin air before anyone could react.

------

At the same time, Mephisto, who was meditating in Baal, suddenly opened his eyes.

He glanced at the alchemical sphere, then looked in the direction of the captured star with a puzzled expression.

Idalia still radiated a burning light from within the chest of the angel statue.

(End of this chapter)