Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 258 A Gift from an Old Friend

brush!
It was as relaxing as cleaning a dirty carpet that had been stained for half a century in an instant. When the golden-red flame touched the tail, the originally stubborn slime suddenly became illusory as if it were nothing.

As the flames spread upwards, the leaping Nurgles and the cultists and walkers charging at the forefront faced only the silent burning and complete annihilation of the flames.

"The Emperor's blade will sweep away all filth!"

"Long live the Emperor! Praise the Emperor!!!"

"The Emperor insulted the devil! The Emperor is invincible!!!"

Seeing that Kasgar had easily burned all of Nurgle's army to ashes, the defenders on the city wall erupted in thunderous cheers!

The Nurgle demons were notoriously difficult to deal with, even the pus left on the battlefield after the war was a challenge—but under the power of the Emperor's incarnation, not a single trace of these demons was left behind!
The Nurgle demons would never have imagined, even in death, that what they faced would not be just death, but utter annihilation from the world, leaving no trace.

"The Cursed One!"

"The Cursed Flame!!!"

"Go back immediately!"

Amidst the chaotic wailing, the Nurgle army, which had been strolling merrily like a parade, was thrown into complete disarray—aside from mindless plague zombies, no demon would be unafraid of such a power that could instantly erase its name.

Even the great unclean being, who was like a mountain of flesh, upon seeing Kasgar's psionic flames, disregarded all martial ethics and threw himself off the rotting palanquin, tumbling and scrambling to his feet.

—It even has a slightly comical quality to it.

But this only makes Kasgar want to burn all the filthy Nurgle demons to ashes.

"Deploy Titans, prepare for a counterattack!"

Immediately following Casca's command, countless mechanical cannons above his head unleashed a barrage of fire as if it were free.

The reason why Parmenion is valued by both sides and regarded as the key to the final battle is that the Titans' stronghold is the headquarters of the Mechanicus in Parmenion.

This place is home to the largest number of Titan Order troops in Altera, and with their help, the current dispersed forces are only able to delay the attack if the Ultramarines manage to hold them off.
Without the protection of Starcage and the Mechanicus's armed forces, the poorly defended world of Connor behind them will inevitably suffer annihilation under the corruption of Nurgle.

This is a situation that the Ultramarines absolutely cannot allow: they must not let their homeland, on which they depend for survival, fall into the hands of such vile demons!

As Kaska brandished his flaming longsword.

The Titans deployed in the front-line defense network were gradually activated by the chants of their pilots and mechanical monks.

Three and a half legions, one hundred and two towering war machines, encompassing all models, the flames of Casgar cleared large swaths of open ground for them to enter the battlefield, untouched by plague-ridden zombies, allowing them to advance slowly and steadily.

In addition, tens of thousands of patrons awaited at the foot of the Titan, dressed in robes belonging to several different forging worlds of the Mechanicus; red, ochre, white, black, and gray were all available.

Beside them stood three thousand war robots from the intelligent control legion, neatly positioned outside the newly poured curtain wall to cover the Titan legion's safe landing.

Logically speaking, such a cumbersome machine as the Titan should not be able to move on the soft ground that has been transformed into a putrid swamp by the Nurgle—but under the scorching heat of the Casgar flames, the corrupt land that was originally occupied by dead trees and swamps has been restored to wasteland.

Every step forward by the divine machine was like thunder shaking the earth.

Guided by the Emperor's Light, the defending troops, who had fallen into despair, regained their confidence to fight.

The vanguard consisted of tanks leading the way, along with burning and corrupted Casca, followed closely by infantry.

At the heart of the army, a large group of Otma super-heavy tanks were deployed in a formation directly commanded by the Second Company Commander (or more accurately, Loliman, who was piloting the Second Company Commander).

With their sheer weight and engine power, a large number of machines forced their way through the mud that had not yet been completely cleansed by the flames, and the huge bulldozer blades leveled the still-resisting ground.

With loud screams and roars, the Nurgle vanguard was now fleeing in all directions in disarray.

Meanwhile, the army led by Kasgar was immune to all poisons under the protection of the Emperor's Fire—with a steadfast and hopeful faith, the corruption that used to rust even steel could no longer harm them in the slightest.

The demon Nurgle was no longer as composed and cheerful as before.

No matter how fierce the war before Casgar was, even if they were killed in the real world, the Nurgle demons could still return to the warp and continue to laugh and play as the little elves and their companions beside their loving father in the lush Nurgle Gardens.

Can!
This flame, possessing the power to erase names, is clearly the power of the cursed one, the stubborn false emperor in human terms.

He—has no sense of martial ethics!
It was clearly agreed that this was part of a grand game. Whether it was the Chaos Gods or the Emperor sitting on the Golden Throne, they would at most deploy some cursed troops, which would already be extremely unfair. How could they possibly intervene in the battle at this time?

Most likely, this crazy guy has jumped off the chessboard again, shouting, "I am a chess piece!"

Run!

"Hurry, let those plague zombies hold them off, hold them off!"

"Ah ...

Overwhelmed by the fear of utter annihilation, Nurgle's front lines crumbled at the first touch of Kasgar's flames, giving him the opportunity to push the front line toward Nurgle.

"Keep advancing! Under the Emperor's light, our troops will be invincible!"

Kasgar used his psychic powers to spread his voice from the front lines to every corner.

After countless days of fierce fighting without achieving satisfactory results, people desperately need a decisive victory to help them regain their confidence.

Amidst the enthusiastic cheers of the Star Guardians and Space Marines, Kasgar led his squad onward in the direction they were heading.

Even though the troops are advancing triumphantly, the real battle has not yet begun.

Kasgar understood that although his first wave of burning Nurgle was very satisfying, not a single prominent Archmage had appeared in the opposing camp.

He was not Guilliman after all, and at this time, the number of defenders on Pamenio was also slightly insufficient due to the threat of the swarm.

Under pressure, Casca must achieve sufficient results in this battle.

Nurgle excels at defense and counter-attacks.

If this drags on any longer, and they pollute the planet's environment, the longer the battle goes on, the more disadvantageous it will become.

Kasgar must seize this opportunity to kill one or two of the Nurgle Archdemons in order to shake the morale of the enemy forces.

The real enemy lies behind these screaming, retreating, rotting carcasses, deep within the dark green miasma, at that mountain-like...

The chief demon of Nurgle, the Plaguefather, Kurgas.

The great impure ones stand out among their servants.

As the Titans advanced, the Nurgle faction, with its ever-growing, bloated Mountain of Flesh, swayed toward the enemy.

Their obese, enormous bodies proudly display all forms of disease and decay.

At the center of the demon army was the chief demon's plague guard.

They are the royal guard of Kulgas, one of Nurgle's most powerful legions. Commanded by seven of the strongest archmages, the Plague Guard outnumbers any other legion by three and outguns by seven. They march through the nauseating swamp, their bands wailing and their counting bells buzzing. From their putrid throats spew out absurd and gloomy, repetitive melodies.

Kugas's palanquin led the way among the howling demons. Around it were its six lieutenants: septicemia, beggar, bad throat, famine, the Black Death, and stunted growth.

Compared to the previously nameless expendable minions, they are clearly more resistant to the flames of the Casgar—although the flames of the Casgar covering the entire battlefield are enough to make the originally lively and active Wall of Flesh listless and miserable, they are still able to maintain their rotten and smelly form in the end.

The flames that were originally burning everything like wildfire could only be locked in a stalemate with the miasma of the Plague Cauldron, a divine artifact that housed the power of the original Nagued.

We cannot make any progress.

"Haha, what an interesting experiment."

"Your power is astonishing, but it does not come from the cursed."

Sitting in the plague-stricken, stench-filled sedan chair, the father of plague, Kugas, swayed his obese body in the seat, his small eyes beneath the rotting flesh slyly observing Kasgar and the flames enveloping him.

What is most remarkable is the enormous plague cauldron he holds in his hand—in the swirling mist of thick green liquid, the phantom of Nurgle Garden seems to seep into the real world.

As a gift from the merciful Father Nurgle, this cauldron was once used to boil forty-nine layers of deadly plagues. Each layer of plague was composed of forty-nine superimposed diseases. Even the strongest infected person would develop forty-nine lesions at the same time when facing the merciful Father's plague, making their life worse than death.

The most unclean ones reek of decay, yet their pockmarked faces hold eyes brimming with wicked wisdom. Decay and plague strengthen the offspring of the filthy.

The same cunning thoughts dwell in their corrupt and decadent brains.

"He has flames! He's terrifying!"

"He will burn us, he will annihilate us!"

"Save us, Father! Save us!!!"

Screaming and bouncing like a pinball, Nurgle bounced back and forth on the bottles and jars on Plaguefather's shoulder.

"Hahaha! Little one, don't be afraid, don't be afraid."

Kugas burst into laughter from both his upper and lower jaws: "I have no intention of making you pistachios disappear completely, my darlings."

In ordinary battles, the Plague Father would occasionally grab any Nurgle spirits that came near him and throw them into the crowd of people nearby.

These screaming bastards will smash themselves to pieces and then cover a large area of ​​enemies with their filthy bodily fluids.

At that time, Kugas would patiently observe the infectious effects of Nurgle's death.

Whenever the plagues met Kugas's expectations, he would laugh like a proud father.

Of course, when faced with Kasgar's aggressive flames, he would no longer throw his beloved little Nurgles out like that.

After all, he himself had once been a little Nurgle spirit before the benevolent father Nurgle. "Prepare for utter annihilation, demon."

"My people, unleash the full force of our artillery fire!"

Although Kasgar now possesses psionic flames that are specifically designed to counter chaos, he disperses the flames to cleanse the surrounding Nurgle from corruption.

Now, the flames are concentrated in front of Nakugas, burning scorchingly in front of the giant green cauldron that emits a thick miasma.

As if seizing this moment of weakened firepower, the numerous Death Guard Chaos Space Marines following behind the obese body of the Great Impurity also emerged from the gaps in the Nurgle demons at the same time, firing cannons infused with the Corruption Virus at the Titan Legion.

The Death Guards' ranged attacks sent ripples of pale blue light across the Titan's Void Shield.

The battle between the two sides officially began at this moment, as their psionic flames and poisonous cauldrons collided.

Seeing this, the flames grew even more intense, spreading from Casca's arm toward the plague cauldron.

Despite being Nurgle's chief archduke, Kugas's strength remains formidable, and with the added power of his Chaos-specific psionic flames, even those with such abilities cannot rival him.
Casca must act swiftly.

A stalemate is the last thing he wants to see right now.

When facing the Nagle's army, a stalemate means defeat.

The other party can drag you into the cesspool they know best, and then defeat you by rolling around in the cesspool, which they are best at.

Just as Kasgar led the Ultramarines and Titan Order to launch a counterattack against Nurgle outside the city.

The city of Pamenio was filled with an atmosphere of piety and unease.

On the one hand, people believed in the power of the emperor and that under the guidance of the emperor's light, the human empire would be invincible.

"May the Emperor bless the souls that are faithful to him, so that they may return to the Golden Throne after death."

"Praise the Emperor, praise His glory and virtue."

Since the Emperor's recent apparition, the Imperial Church has been packed with people eager to join the faith—they gather in front of the church chanting the Emperor's name and reciting the words they learned from the priests to praise him.

In this church packed with people, there seemed to be a missing pastor, who should have been there in the first place.

Mathieu.

"Who exactly are you? What do you want from me?"

In a secluded corner behind the church, he finally saw the unusually tall, thin, and pale man again.

The other person was wearing a linen hood and seemed to have been waiting for him there all along.

"You came."

He nodded slightly to Mathieu.

"Who I am is not important—or rather, the moment you choose to keep the appointment, in your eyes I am the messenger sent by the Emperor to guide you; but if you decide to break the appointment, I am the demon sent by Chaos to tempt you—it is all up to you, isn't it?"

“No. But you are the Emperor’s envoy, I know that, and I have seen you before.”

Mathieu answered with unwavering certainty.

"Oh? Where?"

“In my dreams. He often appears in my dreams and uses this to tell me prophecies.”

"Then what do you think?"

“His words contained wisdom I cannot comprehend,” Mathieu said, his expression still devout. “My inability to understand them only proves that I need more ascetic practice.”

As he spoke, Mathieu prepared to tighten the whip mechanism bindings on his body once more.

Ascetics like him often draw inspiration from the suffering of emperors, which is close to but far less intense than the emperor's.

"."

The tall, thin man fell silent, as if he wanted to say something, but he only sighed.

"Friend, what exactly do you want to tell me by calling me here?"

Even with his portable, small atonement machine operating at full power, Mathieu calmly looked at the other person.

"You are strong."

“That’s right, and I believe it’s a gift from the Emperor—he arranged the right places for us from the very beginning.”

Mathieu, an ordinary pastor, was born with unimaginable, superhuman strength.

Mathieu chose to attribute it to the Emperor's blessing—only the Emperor possessed such power to bless him and make him understand his worth.

"Yet you still choose to pray in church. Why?"

"Your power could have been used on the front lines, fighting alongside others under the so-called Emperor's Light."

"This is the Emperor's decree."

“But if I am, as you believe, an emissary from the Emperor, then what if I tell you—that the Emperor denies being a god, just as Guilliman has always proclaimed.”

How do you face this reality?

“I will try to understand His will and use the rest of my life to understand His wisdom.”

But he doesn't need your understanding.

"Ok?"

"He is dead. He died completely ten thousand years ago and will never come back."

The tall, thin man slightly raised his mask, as if looking at the gray sky, which had never seen a good view since the invasion of Nurgle.

"You! No, this can't be true! You can't sway my heart with your words!"

"So what if it's real? So what if it's fake?"

“Mathieu, have you ever considered that he might never want you to pin your future on dreamlike prophecies, meaningless suffering and prayers?”

"you--"

"Don't argue with me. I'm not here to convince you, you charlatan."

"What's that for?"

"It's my own will. I calculated it myself."

The tall, thin man patted Mathieu on the shoulder.

"This is not your fault. Some things require a great setback, and a long period of reflection and self-evaluation under the pressure of that setback before you can understand them."

"As for now, I have an even more important task for you—to destroy the Plague Cauldron."

Cauldron of Plague.

The artifact from the Chaos God is also the greatest nightmare of many extreme starfield defenders.

Ordinary people like him will be corrupted as soon as they get close to him.

But Mathieu believed in the power of the emperor.

"The Emperor's avatar has set out. With His might, He will surely sweep away this filth—"

"No, he's not ready yet, at least not right now."

"No, I know there's another substance that can destroy it—"

"I need someone, she, who can destroy all the plague."

“We can make a bet: if I bet right and the Plague Cauldron is not destroyed by the Emperor’s divine power as you say, you will give it to the Emperor’s avatar.”

"—A gift from an old friend."

As he spoke, he pulled out an extremely small parchment scroll.

A faint smile appeared on the chapped corners of his mouth beneath the respirator.

"and many more--"

Before Mathieu could ask any questions, the tall, thin figure vanished into the crowd again, just like before, without a trace.

Finally, with some skepticism, Mathieu unfolded the crumpled parchment in his hand.

A name he seemed to have heard somewhere before was clearly written on it.

Aqua Duna

(End of this chapter)