I am the magnetic field maniac

Mortarion circled Ku'gath's plague mill, smoke billowing as he passed the Plague Wards' campfires...

Then he landed in a puff of smoke and smell, followed by a swarm of Nurglings that leapt from beneath his cloak and stumbled across the floor as if it were their chassis.

Some of them had wings, and dragged chained censers that hung from Mortarion like the hem of a skirt.

He brought his own special kind of fog, which mixed with that of the swamp.

"Ku'gath, I bring my grandfather's orders." Mortarion used his great sickle as a staff, poking into the weed-covered factory, his heels cracking the dirty glass.

He turned over a skeleton stained blue by fungus with the toe of his boot and hissed in appreciation.

"We need to attack Ultramar. Give up all the work at hand. This is my grandfather's top priority order - we need to pull my half-dead brother to join our big family!"

"As long as it is the order of the loving Father," said the Great Unclean One, lowering his huge head slightly, squeezing out his swollen thyroid gland, making it swell like a toad's throat, and speaking in an inarticulate tone.

"But my Lord Primarch, I must remind you that the question is not whether we can do this, but how we should get there."

"I know!" Mortarion said impatiently. He turned his scythe, paused, and said in a particularly disgusted tone...

"Under my orders, Typhons has gone to find that scumbag Erebus. Then I will set off to Sicarus to visit my charlatan brother. He will solve the problem that all of us have come to, and we will attack Ultramar together."

"Oh, is it like a reenactment of your Battle of Calth?" Kugath tried to put a smile on his ugly face.

"You only have to follow my orders," Mortarion said coldly, flapping his wings silently to send the Primarch into the air before disappearing into the clouds.

"That guy is so annoying!"

Kugath muttered, "You just follow my orders!" He mimed, speaking to the swamp, as if they could comfort him.

"What does he take me to be, his butler?"

He sighed. 'Forget it. Get me some water! Make a fire!' he shouted angrily. 'It's clear that my work is not yet done.'

A greasy, fat, slow tear rolled down his cheek.

His loose eye dropped with it, disappearing into his cauldron with a plop.

He thrust his hand into the liquid, searching for his eyes. Nurgle's cauldron was filled with broth, and the liquid inside was a bright green.

Its light illuminated Ku'gath's rotting face. The lightning played with the light, playfully scattering it so that Ku'gath looked like a black and white statue.

Kugath fumbled around in the pot, thrusting his arm deeper and deeper. The broth was apparently potent, even dangerous, and the flesh flakes off his arm as he swung it around in a circle.

But he strained with all his might, drawing more energy from the Warp, rapidly reshaping his flesh as it melted away. He enjoyed the pain. It burned and itched in the most thrilling way.

"Where? Where is it?" he murmured.

"I need my eyes, I have to...what is this?"

His hands grasped something hard, something was spinning underneath. He pulled at it. It didn't budge.

"What is this?" he growled.

Then he roared. "What is this?"

He pulled, he lifted;

His belly hit the cauldron, and the thick legs shook. Thick slime poured over the rim, and the smell made the Nurgling scream.

Their little stampede went unnoticed by him...even as hundreds of Nurglings died at the claws of their brothers.

The flames steamed the soup. The smell it gave off was indeed disgusting, but Kugath was too angry to enjoy it for the moment.

"There's something else in my chowder! There's something else in my pot!" he roared.

"Get out, get out, foreign elements!" He pulled violently.

Whatever it was didn't move. He pulled hard, and then it moved. It moved so hard that it pushed Kugath. He let go of the

Things, soup spilled on his back, sweeping away the ruins of the hospital, and then, his spongy back fell in the raised dust and sat down on the wet rubble.

The object rises. It emerges from the broth, first an antler. A filthy hood follows, then evil eyes, and a nose and a mouth that curves upward in a superior smile. A warty hand slaps the side of the cauldron, then pushes down, and the shoulder emerges from the cauldron.

From the potion that Kugath had carefully concocted emerged another Great Unclean One, one that Kugath knew all too well.

"Rotigus," he gasped.

Rotigus the Rainfather, Nurgle's second-favored Great Daemon, rose from the broth and splashed the precious liquid over the rim of the pot in sullen waves.

"No! No! Stop!" Kugath shouted.

But when he tried to run back to his potion, he stood up again and tripped over his own loose rolls.

His own claws tore at his insides and scratched his skin, but he was too angry to notice.

"My kind father lent me this crucible! It's mine, not yours!"

Rotigus coughed, and a drop of Kugath's precious elixir spilled from his mouth.

He tried to speak but only gurgling noises came out, then he roared, spat a cloud of maggots and slime into the soup, and cleared his throat.

The rain was getting heavier now. He coughed again and again, vomiting clumps of the mixture. Finally, all the rancid creatures in his mouth were in the soup, and he smiled more happily, and then spoke.

"It's nice to meet you, my festering relative." He held out a hand.

A glittering orb spun in his hand. "Your eye fell out."

Kugath grabbed his eye and twisted it back into place - "I'm not at all happy to see you. Now get out of my pot."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Rotigus warned.

"It is not your crucible, rotten brother, it is the crucible of the loving Father."

"He gave it to me to use!" Kugath snapped.

"Well, he also allowed me to show up in it. What do you think?" Rotigus grinned, dipped his finger into the soup, and then put it in his mouth.

"Most unclean, most contagious. What is this you have done?"

"It's none of your business, you bastard..." Kugax roared.

'It is a disease, isn't it? That is what you and that half-wit planned to use to kill Guilliman.' He took another bite.

"It's a bit too strong..." he said.

Ku'gath's rage made his brain boil so much that steam came out of his ears and mouth. 'Get out! You're ruining it!'

"You mean make it better..." Roettigs said.

He leaned against the cauldron and sighed contentedly. "I have to admit, this is pretty refreshing."

"Yes, we all received the order from our loving father to kill a Primarch." Rotigus scratched his skin full of growths and sighed in disgust...

"But why should we listen to that pompous idiot? The Cursed One?" he scoffed. 'Oh, shut up. What is he? A human? A fake demigod?'

"This is an order from our loving father, we cannot refuse it!!"

"Of course, of course, we can't refuse the Father," Rotigus sneered - "but we obviously can't get the Father's love in Mortarion's own little plan... and do you really think that arrogant idiot will succeed?"

"Should we remedy Mortarion's plan?" Kugath pondered for a moment and asked innocently...

"Remedy? Of course, but only after that arrogant idiot messes everything up himself." Rotigus laughed wildly.

"I will help you, Kugath, and add a new color to your poison." He said, and took out a strange glass bottle with a drop of scarlet blood in it.

"This is the blood of the new god who challenged Khorne and now stays with Slaanesh." Rotigus said in a sinister tone.

"Very interesting. Guess what we can do with it? Make your plague more interesting, deadly, and latent."

"Why do you want to come with me?" Kugax said depressedly

Rotigus rested his head on the cauldron's iron ring. "Ku'gath, let me be frank with you. I understand why Father Nurgle loves you more than any of us. It's because your complaints are charming.

He likes you. I like you too! You probably don’t know that because you are an old sad joke and always think everyone hates you because you are so self-centered. Heck yeah, everyone thinks about me and everyone hates me. ”

Rotigus imitated Kugax's voice and rolled his eyes dramatically. "But no one actually cares. They don't miss you, and when they do, you're ridiculous."

He clapped his hand, wet and large as a man, to his chest.

"However, you are a little naive. You really believe that arrogant idiot will share the credit with you. No, he will only tell his father that everything is his credit, and you are just a cook hiding in the background and making soup."

Kugath's teeth were chattering. He hated Rotigus and Mortarion, but now if you ask him who he hated the most, it would definitely be Mortarion!

"We are different from that idiot. We are a family." Rotigers laughed.

"We will not fight each other, including tripping up that idiot! We don't need to do that. We just need to see him fall again because of his recklessness and stupidity."

"And when he falls, it will be our time."

After saying this, Rotiges sank beneath the water. Huge bubbles emerged from the cauldron and burst.

Kugath reached into the mixture and looked around for his opponent, but Rotigus was gone.

"Flattery..." Kugath said.

"Indeed!" His mood worsened as he licked his hand experimentally, discovering that Rotigus was right: the soup was working much better.

Ku'gath the Plaguefather complained about the evils of life, picked up the oars and began to stir once more.

75. Crowned the Eternal...Queen?!

When the waves of destruction seep through the cracks in the sky...

When the terrifying glow completely obscured the light emitted by the black sun in the sky, the entire Comoros was suffocating.

I wonder if the Custodians had similar thoughts when Magnus blew up the Emperor's Webway with a psychic phone call.

Or in other words, the elves who are about to be blown apart by the psychic energy erupting from the Supreme Sky are thinking of the scene of the Great Fall.

Destruction is coming, and there is no stopping it.

The grinning Lord of Change used all the variables to create a result that directly destroyed Commoros... and this was not even his goal that he had successfully achieved.

Of course, not every Eldar is so panicked.

Inside the Viper Palace, Marles, who had dressed herself up very nicely, returned to her residence at some point. She looked at herself in the mirror and complained...

"Is this all you're going to prepare? A joke that insults all of us Aida?"

"Hee hee hee!"

"Stop laughing and tell me the answer!"

"Hehehe, isn't this interesting?!"

The reflection of Marles in the mirror covered her face with a knife fan...but the smile that emerged from the gap was so chilling that it made people's backs cold.

"A racist joke hahahahaha, this kind of joke never gets old!!"

Marlas in the mirror is extremely crazy. Even though the smile on her face is not clearly visible, one can still feel the overflowing madness.

Marlas had a rare expressionless face, because although profit was her top priority, she was also a racist like other noble elves.

Just because she can appoint people based on their merits doesn't mean she can accept such a weird situation so calmly.

She knew that the gods in the mirror didn't care about race at all... What difference did they, the Aida and humans, make to these gods?

They may be the gods worshipped by the Eldar, but they have absolutely nothing to do with the Eldar elves.

If you must mention a god who can distinguish, then we have to mention Slaanesh, the one who opposes the Emperor of Mankind...

But Malus still couldn't accept what was about to happen...

Because what's going to happen is just like the Brits finding out in 1901 that their next king and queen are going to be two niggers...

It was difficult for Malès to accept it psychologically, but she was smart enough not to cause any trouble.

Because maybe next, they really need to rely on the race they despise to help them through the difficult times.

"I sincerely hope that your joke won't fail." Marlas sighed, took two steps back, and walked into the mirror behind her...

"The big clown..."

Commorragh was shaking, and the colors of the warp in the sky became colorful... and that represented the scene of the completely disordered Chaos Wind!

At this time, almost all the demons that were wreaking havoc in Comoros disappeared.

But this is not a good thing, as it means that those demons who still have some sense of order think this place is too chaotic.

A large amount of disordered subspace energy poured into Comoros like backflowing sea water!

Ahriman's psychic call did create a breach in the Webway... but it was too powerful, and the returning Warp torrent completely destroyed Khaine's Gate.

The original goal of sealing off Comoros had not been achieved, but now they no longer had to worry about the minor problem of demon invasion—after all, they were about to be crushed by the countless influx of spiritual energy!

His face was pale under the Thousand-Faced Scarlet Helmet. He tightly grasped the Howling Sword in his hand and cast his gaze towards Evelyne behind him. What would his apprentice, the Chosen One of the God of Death, do at this moment?