How can a retired savior be considered retired if his price drops to 40,000?

Chapter 122 The Day of Wrath

Mortarion felt like he was being torn apart.

This description may not be accurate, because time in subspace runs ambiguously, and even things that happened in the past or future may be reflected in the perception of the "now" in the person's cognition.

A more correct statement might be this: Mortarion was torn apart at some point in the past, present, or future.And now he was being forced to taste that pain.

He was indeed still being seared by the Emperor's psychic energy.Those golden flames kept burning away the dirt and lesions on his body, causing more damage to his already rotten shell without restraint.

Mortarion's biological father is undoubtedly a highly skilled and ruthless bioengineer. This kind of damage was controlled at a very appropriate speed, and there was still time for the extraordinary resilience that he naturally possesses as the original body to activate, and the new born , Normal body tissue ignores his will and quickly fills in the burnt scars, prolonging this torture endlessly.

The flames brought him pain, and the process of rebirth of flesh and blood also brought him pain.The combined result of the two is enough to make any mortal lose his mind in such torture-but now Mortarion is almost unable to feel these things.

The feeling of being torn apart is thousands of times more intense and terrifying than this.

"You damn warlord, what did you do to me!" He struggled in the sea of ​​pain, seizing the opportunity that surfaced by chance and questioning the instigator in his eyes.

He only saw a hazy golden light with no specific shape.The huge and majestic posture of Saint George had dissipated not long after they passed through the curtain, and now the rumbling answer to him was just a vague human figure whose specific appearance could not be identified.

"I didn't do anything to you." This sentence seemed to be said by many different people at the same time, but it was indeed the voice of the "Emperor" that Mortarion had heard before, "You should ask It's about what you did to yourself."

Countless fragments of that moment, or that eternity, poured into Mortarion's mind.The truth that he had convinced himself to turn a blind eye to, the knowledge that he had been blinded by chaos, the memories that he had deliberately forgotten or had been stripped away, all appeared in his consciousness at the same time.The primarch's brain was overwhelmed with information, and Mortarion screamed in an uncontrolled torrent.

The Emperor seemed to say something else, but Mortarion didn't know.His senses faithfully conveyed everything going on around him to him as usual, but his overloaded brain was unable to process the content.Amidst so much torture and ravage, Mortarion's consciousness was forcibly shut down at this moment out of the self-protection mechanism that any living creature should have.

But everything that is happening still continues beyond the original body's perception.
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No doubt this was the outpouring of wrath from another god.Even the Great Unclean Ones, who have served Nurgle for a long time and are therefore closely connected to the god, are convinced of this.

This anger is rushing out of the Emperor's Dream in an almost physical way.

He is one of the most outstanding creations on Terra thousands of years ago. The Emperor used the technology passed down from the Dark Age of Technology to design and build the ship regardless of cost.Its combat effectiveness could never be compared with those of later assembly-line products, and even compared with the Glory Queen-class battleship assigned to the Primarch as its flagship, it was even better in various parameters.

The black muzzles on the keel of the huge battleship lit up one by one, and within a heartbeat, ten Nova cannonballs roared out of the barrel.On an ordinary Imperial warship, their plasma reactor can only support it to carry one such macrocannon and fire it at an extremely irregular frequency, but on the Emperor's Dream, a salvo of ten cannonballs can only It's an appetizer.

These shells, which are almost the same size as the Titan God Machine, have been accelerated to close to the speed of light before being discharged. Each one is also loaded with a delayed fusion reactor, a deflagration storm accelerator and an extreme fusion warhead.If it were a battle in the void, such a salvo could undoubtedly destroy an entire fleet within the range, and such terrifying attack power was being projected towards Nurgle's gardens and palaces.

The time and space of the warp are uncertain. As a god of chaos, Nurgle can of course control them to a certain extent - especially, this is within his own domain.Although His Garden exists now, in the past, and forever, He thinks that He can still throw these attacks elsewhere through the turbulence of time and space.He first lengthened the distance between the Emperor's Dream, which was like a dark cloud in the sky, and his own garden - this was a scene that would never appear in a world that obeyed the laws of physics: if anyone in the garden could remain conscious, If a mortal looked up, he or she could still see the majestic form of the Emperor's flagship.But the ten shells fired by the ship, which were extremely close to the speed of light, landed after a full three seconds.

Nurgle should have used the extra three seconds to move these projectiles to the desolate, unimportant, or unloved worlds in his domain.But when he really tried to do this, he found that the spiritual energy of the cursed person was like a stubborn glue that stuck the final impact point of those cannonballs in his garden.

He tried to stretch out, freeze, and lock those three seconds, trying to find some possibility that could preserve His garden.He spent an unknown amount of time in these three seconds, trying countless possible solutions, and even wanted to try throwing the ship itself out of his garden - but none of the attempts succeeded.Finally, he had to admit that he had failed.

Perhaps his old rival could do more in this desperate situation, but he couldn't.Moreover, the constant wailing of Mortarion's essence was too distracting.

So in the end, the attack that was enough to destroy an entire fleet fell on the corrupt but vibrant garden.The thunder and fire rain falling from the sky completely burned the wet and stinky ground, ruthlessly devouring any life growing on it into eternal destruction.

The scale of the Garden of the Plague God is almost endless. Just the palace standing in the center of the garden is already larger than an ordinary planet.Even if an attack that could destroy a fleet fell and destroyed trillions of creatures and the soil they relied on for survival, it would still be just a drop in the ocean when viewed as a whole - but things didn't work out that way.

To Nurgle, he loves all life under his command equally.A tree, a person, a great unclean person, an ant, or even an inconspicuous microorganism are all the same to Him.

The huge quantity overwhelmed the quality at this time, tilting the scale in Nurgle's heart - not to mention, if he did not make a statement on this, things would obviously only continue.Of course He can also start a war with the damned creations, but in this process, how many of His children will be turned into ashes and forever separated from the perfect and elegant cycle of three?
He has indeed suffered enough losses in this war.

As the Emperor's Dream's macroguns recalibrated, the Plaguefather sighed and released the Primarch's essence from his hands, allowing it to howl in agony and dissolve in golden flames.The damned wants his son back, so give it back to him.The great game must still continue. Even if Nurgle's own power will be greatly damaged by this failure, as a god who can exist forever at the same time, Nurgle believes that one day he will be able to return to the chessboard. .

He thought this matter could end like this, but it didn't.The moment Mortarion's essence disappeared from his fingers, the Nova Cannon on the Emperor's Dream's keel fired again.

—Thirteen volleys.The real war will begin at this point.

In the brief moment before the cannonball hit the ground, the Plague God suddenly felt blessed in his angry roar: the cursed one wanted more than just his son, more than just pushing Nurgle himself off the board of the great game.

He wanted Him dead.

And this is something Nurgle can never accept calmly.

　Miwu (six o'clock)

　　
　
(End of this chapter)