Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 215 My God, this is practically an emperor!

There is no concept of time and space in subspace.

When the Chaos Gods concentrate all their power on one point in time, their corresponding investment in other important points in time will be reduced to the point that it is almost non-existent and cannot penetrate the barriers of the real world.

To repay the debts incurred during the Great Rebellion ten thousand years ago, several Chaos Gods chose to lie dormant for nearly ten thousand years—during which time they never launched an attack, but quietly absorbed the emotional energy emanating from the human empire, gradually strengthening themselves.
However, under Guilliman's thousands of years of diligent governance, the entire empire has climbed from its original state of filth to gradually develop into a mature empire that is close to the five hundred worlds of Alteramar at the peak of the Great Expedition, faintly resembling the shadow of the emperors of the past who still walked among men.

The Empire is experiencing another resurgence: with a hopeful future ahead, the resources the Four Gods can obtain from the real universe will become increasingly scarce.
If this continues, the power of chaos will only weaken further.

Therefore, even the Imperial Regent Guilliman himself often felt that it seemed to have gradually disappeared over a long period of time and no longer existed in the world.

In desperation, the four Chaos Gods chose to join forces once again. During one of Guilliman's personal campaigns, they tore open the veil of the real world and teleported the Primarch Magnus, or even a intact Magnus that was not shattered into pieces as in the original story, to Guilliman.

Guilliman had intended to use this opportunity to eliminate the traitor for the Empire, but—

Never fought.

Clearly, Guilliman was no match for his opponent. After being stabbed by a dagger imbued with Tzeentch's power, Guilliman fell into a coma.

Ultimately, his body was salvaged by the Honor Guard and the Silent Sisters at the cost of near annihilation, and sealed within a static field, placed in the core area of ​​Macragge for all to admire.

Individuals need a ticket to enter; minors get a 50% discount; group tickets are available at a discount.

After Guilliman's fall, the empire's system inevitably fell into decline once again.

Just as Chaos had hoped, the despair, scheming, extravagance, and anger that had been lost in great quantities were once again being continuously and persistently transported from the decaying human empire into the Naya space, serving as sustenance to nourish and replenish them as they grew stronger.
After lying dormant for another three thousand years, the forces of chaos gradually began to bare their fangs.

The Chaos Space Marines, stinking cans, that landed on the trade ships were the vanguard of spreading Necrotic corruption.

Even though the Unborn Demons cannot be teleported to the real world, the corrupted legions of Chaos during the Great Rebellion will consistently carry out the commands of their dark master.

Although each Chaos faction suffered heavy losses in the Great Rebellion, they also gained a traitorous Space Marine legion as proof for spreading corruption in the future.

—The kobold sitting on the brass throne was in an even worse situation.

Because he wanted so many Primarchs—Angron, Sangilius, and even Rogdorn—he ended up getting none of them.

There was neither the Primarch nor the Chaos Space Marine Legion.

It couldn't get anything at all, how pitiful!

As for now, in this fortieth millennium.

"Worship Him, revere Him!"

"He will lead you out of suffering and let us meet honestly in the final paradise."

Do not fear His gifts, do not reject His bounty!

The tall, obese Nurgle Space Marine, exuding a thick, miasma-like aura, let out a deep, muffled groan.

With a mournful chime from the huge, rusty bell he held in one hand, he condescendingly placed several spore-like, yellowish-green cysts of varying sizes before the trapped workers.

"If we take it, we will be brothers in a carefree garden, singing and laughing as we please, forever."

Neurgut does not have strict requirements for believers.

Anyone who can accept and withstand the blessing from the Lord of Plague himself can become a member of Nurgle.

But this does not mean that He is the best among all the chaotic gods—chaos has no concept of "good".

The emotion represented by Nurgle is despair.

In order to gather more warp energy, the plague spread by Nurgle plunges every infected person into absolute pain and fear.

Only those who possess a pathetic Stockholm syndrome amidst such filthy despair can become a member of Nurgle's Garden.

The majority of other beings, however, would be mindless Nurgle walkers, manipulated by Chaos in endless agony, living a life worse than death.

—If this situation is considered "good," then Nurgle is probably the "happiest" of all the Chaos factions.

Of course, to the Nurgle Space Marines whose perceptions were distorted, this was indeed the best existence.

In order to encourage more people to follow the great and benevolent father and abandon the hypocritical emperor, he volunteered to come to this trading ship.

However, it seems he misjudged the situation or something else, but just now he seemed to see a bright flash, like that of a cursed being, in that ignorant crowd.

Are you kidding me?
Or did he misjudge?
"Shut up! You filthy beast!"

"Brothers and sisters, charge! For the great Lord of the Stars!!!"

Among them was a purple-haired bald man—well, Casca didn't have time to find out what this guy's name was or what position he held within the Genestealer family.

However, when the entire trade ship faced a life-or-death threat, the Genestealers did not hesitate for a moment. Grabbing guns and blades made from factory scraps and waste—ignoring the deadly venom of the Nurgle plague—they charged towards the hideous Chaos Space Marines.

These gene-stealing families appear to be well-prepared to launch a rebellion when the "Lord of the Stars" descends.

Even crudely made weapons from scrap metal could not penetrate the Plague Space Marines' tattered armor, and the Genestealers' relentless attacks on the Plague Space Marines never ceased for even a moment.

"For the Emperor!!!"

"Lord of the Stars, gaze upon me!"

"For His victory!!!"

They've gone all out, they've lost all sense of sanity!
Even their purple skin and protruding foreheads, symbols of mutants, were met with discrimination on the trade ship.

However, in order to survive, gene stealers can unleash working hours and output that are completely unimaginable to ordinary humans.

They could work tirelessly for twenty-four hours without eating or drinking, just to serve the four-armed emperor in their hearts; they could also become His most steadfast martyrs for the glory of the four-armed emperor.

Even with their best efforts, they couldn't harm the other party. They were even cut in half by the rusty giant butcher's knife before they could get close. The cunning of the Genestealer Cult seemed endless. Warriors were still rushing from the crowd of workers toward the plague cans.

In the end, the enormous Nurgle Space Marine was actually overwhelmed by a group of fearless and cunning individuals.

In the end, all that everyone could see was a small hill made up of purple-skinned mutants that was still wriggling.

Although they couldn't survive under the influence of Nurgle's plague cloud, they ultimately managed to suppress that almost shameless plague can that would heal itself quickly after being injured, using the most rudimentary method.

In addition, there was a constant stream of members of the cunning cult guarding the area, ready to fill any gaps in the defenses of the plague canned goods whenever they saw one.
The dawn of victory seems to be just ahead!
Seeing this, Kasga, who was hiding in the crowd and protecting everyone in front of him, secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

It seems I won't have to take action myself this time.

Even if these cunning individuals were poorly equipped, their unwavering will and the relentless, swarming army would overwhelm even the mighty Chaos Space Marines.

(A chaotic old farmer overturns a space warrior's car with a hoe, be like)

Regardless of whether the emperor had two or four arms, his dedication moved Casca deeply.

It would be even better if they weren't so cunning.

Casca never expected that, in this critical moment, even the Emperor's counterfeit money could be exchanged for real currency.

"enough!!!"

Just as the cunning men were still surging toward the Plague Space Marines, an even stronger corrupting fog instantly melted away the steel walls of the trade ship and the cunning men who were burying and beating the Chaos Space Marines together.

Accompanied by several bursts of laughter from rotting fat compressing vocal cords, and swarms of mosquitoes and poisonous mist, the figures of several Plague Space Marines emerged from the corroded opening.

Seeing this, the workers, who had just begun to see some improvement and hoped to kill the plague-ridden pig by virtue of their numbers, were plunged into despair once again.

"Third brother, you're too slow."

"Stop with the nonsense, come and get these damn bastards off here!"

"Sweet despair is nothing compared to you guys!"

Turning over the numerous decaying corpses of scoundrels, the Plague Space Marine, nearly crushed to death by the horde of scoundrels, angrily pushed aside the pile of dead bodies and stood up.

Indeed, the gene stealers left many wounds on his body, but with the blessing of Nurgle's terrifying vitality, and as the pustules squeezed out, enlarged, and ruptured again, covered with layers of pus, the plague can soon returned to its original state.

"Why refuse the grace of your benevolent father? Your pathetic emperor cannot save you, and you yourselves are even less likely to be saved!!!"

"Look out the porthole!"

As the Plague Space Marine shouted, everyone's gaze involuntarily drifted towards the dazzling ripples of warp space outside the window.

The numerous ships that had accompanied their trading vessels vanished from everyone's sight at that moment.

This essentially sealed the fate of the entire trading ship.

Clearly, their merchant ship had been abandoned by the fleet and was completely lost in the vast subspace.

A decision as drastic as cutting off one's own arm.

This is the best option for the entire fleet.

During warp travel, there are always a few ships that are blown away by unknown warp storms or tides; or they are affected by unknown warp factors, making the entire ship extremely strange.

In this situation, rather than rescuing ships already affected by the subspace and allowing this anomaly to spread throughout the fleet, it would be better to abandon them as soon as possible. Losing some of the ships' cargo would not affect the fact that the entire voyage would still be profitable.

However, abandoned trade ships often don't think that way.

But who cares what they're really thinking?

"That's right, hahaha, the other fleets have already abandoned you!"

"As the children of the father of the plague, you will no longer be taken seriously by the Corpse King's men. You will be forever discriminated against by them and live a life worse than death!"

“Return to the embrace of your loving father! Return to where you belong!”

"Alright, third brother, that's enough. Those who are qualified to join us don't need your preaching; they will simply become one of us."

Emerging from the breach was a larger and more repulsive Plague Space Marine.

His attitude was even more irritable than that of the previous stinky canned food: "Stop being soft-hearted towards these lackeys of the Corpse King. These ignorant fools will never understand how great and benevolent our Father is compared to that laughable Corpse King."

“I will only give you one chance to choose—either accept the Father’s grace, or rot here forever as the Corpse King’s lackeys.”

As he spoke, he threw the same plague spores that the Plague Space Marines had previously displayed into the crowd.

The entire hall was silent, except for the hissing and buzzing of the corpses of the cunning cult members, which were still turning into pus.

The workers no longer had a choice, including the foreman who had been yelling at them earlier.

The ship now seems to have been completely abandoned by the fleet—without a navigator's guidance, even if they manage to get rid of these disgusting creatures, they will still be trapped in the warp and unable to escape.

We don’t know what the rest of the ship is like—but how can unarmed workers possibly stand up to the strong and powerful Plague Space Marines?

His death was already inevitable, and what if...
What if it's really as he says, that as long as you eat this disgusting stuff and stay alive, you can join them?
Although the tattered and foul-smelling rotting matter looked nauseating, they still wanted to live; they didn't want to die here like this.
I want to live, to live.
While everyone was still hesitating, someone in the group was taking trembling steps towards the filthy and disgusting-looking cyst.
In despair, they began to seek that last chance of survival.

Even if humanity can eventually survive, we must live on—"Enough, stop."

The resounding sound instantly deterred all the survivors who wanted to rush forward and stuff the filth into their mouths.

"Son of Mortalian. Your actions will only bring shame upon your true father."

In fact, Casca really didn't want to reveal his identity at this time.

He really wanted to resolve the matter peacefully in court before things escalated.

As for Nurgle's deadly poison, just kidding, Casca has eaten things far more disgusting than that.

The plague of Nurgle could not affect him. Even though he was not using his spiritual power at all, the mosquitoes and poisonous clouds could not infect his body in any way.

but!

If these stinky cans aren't dealt with soon, the entire trading ship will be dragged into Nurgle Garden!
Now, Casca really has no choice but to take action.

At that moment, everyone looked in the direction where Casca was.

There was only one young man there, who looked somewhat dark-skinned.

And this attire, this appearance, and that look in his eyes, so godlike and pitying (actually, it was Casca who felt helpless).

At that moment, the flames and psionic energy emanating from him directly purified any filth that dared to approach him.

In the golden light and raging fire, all evil beings are swept away.

He could only be—

"The Emperor! It's the Emperor!!!"

"My God! It's the Emperor's intervention! Those lunatics of the Emperor Worship Cult were telling the truth!!!"

"That's right! The Emperor will save us! He will bring down a fiery judgment upon all the Empire's enemies!"

Casgar: "."

Casca: "I am not the Emperor"

He was not an emperor.

Even though he was radiating the same brilliance and power as an emperor, he was not an emperor.

You guys really forced me to do this!

Casca didn't want to be a charlatan here either.
But at the time, in order to board this trading ship, he could only choose someone who looked like a young and strong worker.

—If a guy with skin as white as a midnight lord, without a trace of hard labor on his body, says he wants to be a worker on a ship.
Those recruiters probably wouldn't believe it either.

In order to better complete the landing, Kasgar could only choose the most common human form in this Byzantine hive world: a young man with slightly dark skin.

but.
—This is practically an emperor!

"Emperor!!!"

"I am not an emperor"

Ah, forget it.

Who cares if it's true or not, the most important thing is to get rid of these plague-ridden pigs first.

In the next instant, endless golden-red flames began to engulf the entire cabin—flying mosquitoes were reduced to ashes amidst screams, and the poisonous fog and miasma that the Plague Space Marines were so proud of were all reduced to nothingness under the all-purifying golden-red flames.

In just a moment, the Nurgle Space Marines, who had been high above and thought they controlled everything, were instantly reversed.

The thick, writhing pus on the ground turned into clear, pure water in the flames, and forced by the firelight, they were squeezed into a corner of the cabin.

"Anything else you'd like to say, Death Guard?"

The young man, transformed from Kaska, walked through the air, his eyes gleaming with an irrepressible golden light as he swept over the still unchanging, smelly cans.

It seems the latter are unaware of the cruel methods Casca, now in a state of extreme rage due to his exposed identity, will use to deal with them.

"The Cursed."

Actually, even the stinky canned food vendors weren't quite sure whether this guy was truly an emperor.

Because those who actually witnessed the emperor's power are all dead.

But they don't regret it.

The price the Corpse King would have to pay to kill them would far outweigh the significance of them capturing a trading ship.

Even the Nurgle Space Marine commander, who was leading the group, didn't understand why He would use His divine power in such a place.

"You chuckle, you've won, but this world, this extreme star field, is doomed!"

"What does this mean? Will the plague war start ahead of schedule?"

"You actually knew? You actually knew our plan?" The leader of the smelly canned food was somewhat surprised, but quickly came to his senses.

"But you cannot stop us, you pathetic Corpse King! Your Limit Starfield, and that stubborn Guilliman, will all be reborn under the blessing of our Father!"

Upon hearing this, Casca frowned slightly.

Chaos has only weakened; they are not dead.

Nurgle lurked in the shadows for countless years, all in preparation for a decisive victory in the upcoming plague war, aiming to completely infect the Five Hundred Worlds and Guilliman, thereby greatly increasing his power.

The Zerg invasion is not over yet, and the plague war is about to begin, but Guilliman is still asleep.

Kaska is pressed for time and must contact his old unit as soon as possible during the Badab War.

“I smell fear on you, the Corpse King’s lackey.”

Immediately, a burst of laughter erupted from the group of smelly cans.

Casgar: "."

His anger meter is about to explode.

He had barely gotten out of bed when he had to clean up messes all over the entire empire.

You'd be angry too if you were in that situation.

"Very well, let me offer you this gift at this last moment."

"Casgar said."

"What? The Corpse King's lackeys are trying to play tricks? What exactly can you give us?"

"I can bring you—the truth."

"Casgar said."

Bear.

Golden-red flames covered the stinking cans.

What Casca burned was not their bodies, but—

Their cognitive filters have been clouded by filth for countless years.

What is this? Why did I become like this?

My body!

Ugh—

Only at this moment did they realize that they had been eating history all along.

This was Kasgar's final punishment for all Nurgle Space Marines.

Even though he felt disgusted and nauseous, he couldn't even vomit at this moment: the Nurgle Space Marine's original physiological functions had been completely rotten and damaged by the corruption, and he could only feel everything rotting on his body.

"Kill me! Corpse King, no, Emperor, I beg you! Kill me!!!"

"No! This isn't me! An illusion, this is his damned illusion!!!"

"Aaaaaah!!! Help me! Get this thing out of here!"

Having been shielded from the power of filth, these stinking canned goods will witness their own decay in the final moments of their lives.

Bear.

As it all came to an end, the flames of Casca burned their rotting bodies to ashes in an instant.

Then he turned to look at the large group of workers who were kneeling and bowing in worship.

—Oh no, the national religion might get a big score again.

Although Casgar doesn't have much of an opinion about the Imperial State Religion—unfortunately, the State Religion is now in the hands of [Vandil].

Moreover, simply killing the invading Nurgle cans does not mean the crisis is over.

The entire trade ship has now been abandoned by the fleet and is drifting aimlessly in the warp.

Moreover, judging from the fact that those stinky canned goods had all finished dealing with their own areas and gathered together, it seems that the situation in other areas of the trading ship must also be extremely bad.

Now, how can they escape this warp voyage?

"Get out of the way! Get your filthy hands off me!!"

The foreman roughly pushed away the workers who wanted to kneel and embrace the "emperor," and as he stepped forward, he revealed an extremely fawning smile.

"The Great Emperor"

"No need to say more."

Kasga shook his head helplessly.

It seems I'll have to use some of my special skills.

That was a mysterious incantation that had been dormant in the universe for tens of thousands of years—

Centaur, gold ring

(End of this chapter)