Warhammer: In the Name of Ashes

The battle outside the cathedral continues, but after losing its supreme commander, Nurgle's army is no longer able to organize a new offensive, and naturally there is no more threat.

The surrounding Gray Knights were still following the established rhythm, seemingly slowly but quickly launching attacks against the rebels and Death Guards in the center.

Calvin walked through the large ruins and charred vegetation he had created, and explored forward with heavy steps.

The corpses along the way had long been wiped out by the aftermath of the recent battle, with only one or two Death Guard survivors standing in front of Calvin to make a last stand.

The war hammer and lightning claws in the hands of the silver giant once again shimmered with light. The seemingly simple swings concealed terrifying power and a sporadic rhythm.

None of the Death Guard could block a blow.

Under the lightning claws swung more than a dozen times a second, everyone was shattered with swords, which was a relatively decent ending;

The most tragic end would be to be touched by the psychic crystal on the Warhammer's "Mission" and turn into dust that disintegrates under the huge inertial potential energy.

Oh, don't worry about contamination, even dust is dust after spiritual energy burning.

Just like his widely sung title of "Bringer of Ashes," wherever Calvin passes on the battlefield today, it is true that only ashes can be left behind.

Stepping over the corpses of the remaining enemies, Calvin walked forward. At the bottom of a deep pit dozens of meters away, he saw the results of his battle - the remnants of Typhons - from the soil that had been charred into a glassy shape.

A huge golden hand bone was broken up to the wrist, and the remaining flesh and blood on it was burning in the white golden flame.

The body clenched in the huge palm, like the palm, had been squeezed and deformed by the previous thunder hammer, and had been burned by the flames.

The green on the twisted power armor was burned through, revealing the color of the lowest layer of ceramic steel;

There was not much flesh and blood left, only deep inside the chest. When the climax of the flame passed, the remaining parts of it began to slowly try to grow again...

"A sad remnant, a respectable vitality..."

Calvin stepped forward, kicked the palm that was the same height as himself into pieces, and then swung his war hammer to purify the remaining remains.

Deep in the distant subspace, under the big tree of Nurgle Garden, the Great Demon once again howled sadly. The melancholy fat man looked at his right hand that had just formed and turned into thick water. He knew that the price he paid this time could not be taken away for the time being. came back.

"I'm so stupid...really. I just knew he was in trouble, so I didn't think about getting myself involved..."

The demon grabbed a wooden spoon with his remaining left arm and stirred it randomly in the huge crucible;

The unskilled stirring rhythm made the nutrient reaction in the crucible even more chaotic. The Nurglings jumping up and down around him all quietly put their hands on their chests, nervously watching the edge of the huge crucible, where the thick layer of scale accumulated by the disease was , all started to dry out and fall off.

"Failed again..."

The demon simply threw the wooden spoon aside in the open space and collapsed under the big tree planted by his grandfather.

The price he paid for this failed rescue was far more than expected. The loss of part of the essence was not only a matter of time recovery, but even some long-term plans would be affected.

It does not feel sad about its own loss, but when it thinks about not being able to create a better disease for Father God, tears filled with maggots and bacteria can't stop streaming down its cheeks.

The Nurglings couldn't quite understand the emotions of this big guy, but the newly born Great Demonic Tears were definitely delicious food, so the Nurglings swarmed onto its head and were shaken away by him.

This farce lasted for a long time, until Mortarion appeared, and it came to an end.

"Typhonse, dead?"

Mortarion's messenger, like himself, is a large moth. Its compound eyes took up most of its head and its narrow mouthparts buzzed Mortarion's questions back to Qu'gas.

"Dead... so completely that even my grandfather can't save him..."

When the fat man, who was overwhelmed by melancholy, thought of Typhons, he thought of his lost hand. When he thought of his lost hand, he thought of his delayed career. When he thought of his delayed career, he thought of the destruction of his father's masterpiece...

The feeling of guilt once again occupied its brain, and the sky in the garden began to respond to its emotions, preparing for another green rain of disease...

"Stop it! Stop it!"

Mortarion has been with it for too long, and knows that once this guy falls into emo, there will be no end.

His messenger tried his best to give Kugas a blow with the pincer on his tail.

The latter woke up from the severe pain and the abscess festering on his scalp, happily covering his head and enjoying the experience of the disease;

The former was infected by the disease on Kugas, so he could only finish Mortarion's words as quickly as possible before it completely fester:

"Who did it? Tell me! I don't know what big moves the Black Legion has made near the Eye of Terror recently? Whose hands did he die in? I will avenge him!"

"It's not the Eye of Terror..." Ku'gas twitched his nose as he answered Mortarion's question.

"Where is that?" Mortarion suddenly had an ominous premonition.

He has recently been preparing for a plan, and the seeds that were scattered throughout the Human Empire centuries ago have begun to revive for this operation.

A large number of cultists who believe in the Lord of Life, the God of Agriculture, the God of Rain and other ignorant beliefs have begun to operate in remote areas of the Storm Star Territory.

Small-scale memorial ceremonies were held secretly, and the Inquisition was following their footsteps and wiping them out one by one.

This is all Mortarion's handiwork. He does not feel sorry for the sacrifices of these believers. In his eyes, as long as these mortals can achieve his goals, they are honored enough.

On the other side of the subspace of the Storm Star Territory, a large number of tributes dedicated to the loving father have been accumulated at this time.

These souls and emotions were what he prepared for the subsequent subspace storm and the emergence of the great fleet. A gift to a loving father.

Although his rebellious son had always been at odds with him, Mortarion had never really held a grudge against Typhons. Even after hearing the news that he had died in battle, Mortarion was sad for at least two seconds!

He didn't really want revenge when he asked Kugas, but when he heard that Typhons didn't die in the Eye of Terror, a premonition that his hometown had been stolen crept up his back...

"Stormstar Realm." Kugas said, but did not wait for Mortarion's answer for a long time.

It looked at the moth that was not rotten in confusion, wondering why Mortarion hung up the communication unilaterally.

"Obstacle!!!"

When Mortaraan heard the word Stormstar, he felt something bad; he instantly turned his consciousness to the passage in the mortal world where he offered sacrifices to his loving father, and the mountains of souls there disappeared.

He recalled Kugas's expression just now, and it seemed that he was not at all heartbroken about losing his arm; after calculating the two accounts, all the puzzle pieces were placed back in their places.

"You traitor! I'll kill you!!"

In the realm of Nurgle, in the orbit of the corrupt garden world, there is the roar of Mortaraan, which echoes over and over again in the former "Endurance"...

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