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

——After Fujimaru Ritsuka's brief explanation, he had realized that Heroic Spirits were essentially a kind of sub-space creature. It was better not to think too much about sub-space creatures, as it would make the logic tangled.

The second demon titan exploded half a minute later due to a puncture in its reactor, and less than a second later, the third demon titan exploded due to a hit in its ammunition depot. Such precise and efficient killing efficiency obviously hit the morale of the fallen titan army, and some of the large bipedal machines moved more and more slowly, gradually pulling away from the other partners who were originally in a straight line with them.

Another half minute later, the fourth and fifth Demon Titans that had advanced without slowing down were also knocked down. The Titan Corps' actions became chaotic, and it seemed that they could not reach a consensus on whether to retreat or speed up.

Effective long-range fire support did slow down the speed of the battle line's collapse, but this did not reduce the intensity of the war on the real battlefield: in a battlefield of a smaller magnitude than this - the Chaos Knights and the Ultramarines' armored forces - the two sides were almost completely entangled. Various guns and artillery roared in the fog, and the looming firelight could be easily captured even by the naked eyes of mortals. Fujimaru Ritsuka tried to contact the scene, but Lanmarok's communication link was filled with a lot of battlefield noise and his own roar, so she gave up asking him questions and did not disturb his battle process.

The sixth and seventh Titans were hit. But the seventh Titan did not fall to the ground under Arjuna's arrows, but stood up tenaciously. The God-given hero frowned slightly, ready to correct this small mistake immediately, but Fujimaru Ritsuka put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"'Seven' is the holy number of the God of Plague. It is 'blessed'." She explained, "Increase the output and try to kill it with one strike. It would be best if you can burn it clean directly. Otherwise, it may cause great trouble on the battlefield ahead."

Arjuna chose to take action to show that he accepted the order. When he drew his bow and arrow again, a large amount of ether from the temple was condensed and compressed on the magnificent bow in a breath. The surrounding environment did not have the unusual phenomenon of a sharp drop in temperature that is common when using a large amount of spiritual energy. Instead, it quickly heated up with the flames wrapped around the bow and arrow.

——Through this, Digris realized that common sense about psychic energy was not applicable here. So far, all the visions caused by Arjuna were similar to the psychic energy he was familiar with. Although the energy used was very similar, the methods of absorbing and transforming energy, as well as the methods of inducing effects and projecting them into the real universe were very different from the bottom-level logic.

He tried to study it more carefully, but the opportunity was fleeting. The brief energy-accumulation phase was completed, and the arrow wrapped in flames had already aimed at the target. When everything accumulated to its peak, Arjuna himself calmly uttered the short mantra:

"Agni Gandiva."

In this arrow, Arjuna did not use a curved shot, but a flat shot; the path of the arrow was not a parabola, but a nearly straight line. This brilliant arrow, wrapped in extremely high temperature flames, left the string in an instant, and in an instant, it crossed a distance of 60 kilometers and hit the target almost immediately.

Although the arrows he shot before were almost as powerful as missiles, they were still dwarfed by this arrow. The arrow shot out with the Noble Phantasm melted a large hole in the Demon Titan's body the moment it hit, and its power made the earth tremble. The psychic flames attached to the arrow did not extinguish or leave according to the laws of physics, but firmly entangled and spread on its body, igniting the "seventh" Demon Titan into a huge torch within a breath, and then quickly melted into a pile of lifeless molten iron and residue.

"Wait a minute." Fujimaru Ritsuka turned his eyes away from the battlefield and instinctively grabbed the railing at the edge of the clock tower. "Is the ground really shaking?"

The ground was really shaking. This couldn't be the aftermath of Arjuna's Noble Phantasm falling sixty kilometers away - it was in the wrong direction.

Sevatar quickly read the readings on his power armor, then said, "The vibration is coming from behind us. From the coast of Tyros. Either Master Guilliman has decided to celebrate his landing on Parmenio with a massive artillery salute, or—"

He stared at Diglis's angry eyes and sneered:

"——We are beginning to be attacked from all sides, young lady."

Meow! (No more)

Weekdays are for work + updates, and weekends are for sleep + updates! No extra updates! It doesn't exist! Social animals don't have that much brains to squeeze!

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 101 Proxy War

"If our defense line in orbit has not been breached! Then where did they come from!" The angry voice of the Imperial Regent echoed like thunder in the auditorium of the City Hall. "Where are our fighter planes? Where is the anti-aircraft firepower?"

About ten minutes ago, there was a grand negotiation here, with most of the participants being local dignitaries from Parmenio. The entire planet was engulfed in flames of war, but when the Emperor's last loyal heir arrived, they still tried their best to put on the remaining gorgeous clothes, prepared the most appropriate smiles and words to come here - no matter what the reason was.

Politics. Guilliman could hardly say he liked it, but he did know how it worked. It was necessary.

The meeting was interrupted about ten minutes ago by an urgent battle report from the northern defense line of Tyros. The Plague Warriors' attack was faster than Guilliman expected, and the assembled forces were more than he expected. He urgently stopped the meeting and began to dispatch all the forces that had not yet been fully deployed to the ground of Parmenio.

He asked the Ultramarines stationed at the front to hold the defense line and immediately dispatched more armored forces to support them, but at the same time, he also formulated three contingency plans after the defense line collapsed. He actually did not believe that the battle line could withstand the ravages of the demon titan, but for the sake of the civilians in the city, he had to hold on, even if it took a minute longer.

It would take forty-three minutes for the Titans loyal to him to reach the battlefield, and he had to hold on for those forty-three minutes with the strength at hand.

The good news was that Digris reported to him that the Tyros Cathedral was providing long-range fire support to the battle line, so the northern defense line could still hold for the time being; the bad news was that before he had time to be happy about it, something went wrong on the southern coast of the city again:

Almost without any warning, the drop pods covered with fungi and mosses, carrying a special energy field, fell near the port like raindrops, hitting the ground as if they were in an empty space.

The storage area of ​​the port had been temporarily requisitioned as an airborne assembly area. There was no shortage of either defensive forces or manpower, but something almost incomprehensible occurred at this time: all anti-aircraft firepower was mysteriously unable to reach those airborne pods that appeared out of nowhere.

A few seconds later, several Thunderhawk gunboats that were on patrol missions and preparing to intercept the enemy solved the mystery—at the cost of their own lives. After approaching the drop pods whose original shapes were barely recognizable, their mechanical structures were corroded and decayed in an instant. The fragile gun barrels could not support the ammunition, and the weapons that were supposed to blow up the enemy exploded in their own ammunition bays.

The Thunder Eagle's machine soul roared and wailed as it dragged the fireball uncontrollably downwards. One of the relatively intact gunboats roared and used itself as a cannonball to crash into one of the airdrop pods, but it only shattered itself in the impact and did not even overly affect the pod's falling trajectory.

The crew fell into the sea. The terrible thing was that even after such a terrible change, which was enough to tear and burn ordinary mortals alive, they were still alive. They were dead, but they were still alive. Even after they fell into the sea, they would struggle back to land as ordered - but that was not the order of their superiors, nor the order of the regent.

It is Nurgle's order.

After a while, the rescue team will find that there are no survivors in the crashed Thunderhawk in the usual sense. When they open the rusted and fragile hatch, they will only be greeted by bloated zombies.

The inexplicable drop pods landed in this unreasonable stubbornness, their very existence was an unbearable filth. The breeze blowing directly from the Garden of Nurgle enveloped them, and the air in the city, which had been cleaned again by multiple purification measures, was polluted again, and the stench of the plague spread rapidly along the water and land again.

Then, the hatches that seemed impossible to open opened their bloody mouths like living creatures, spitting out even more filthy things:

Typhons, and the Plague Marines of the First Company of the Death Guard.

Their original faces had been completely disfigured by filth and disease, and the armor on their bodies had long since merged with their flesh under the infiltration of the warp energy - perhaps they should be thankful for this, otherwise what kind of armor could accommodate their now huge bodies that had become pale and bloated due to the repeated torture of the disease?

The most horrible and blasphemous of all was undoubtedly Typhon himself. He was alone in the drop pod he was riding in, and when the hatch opened, the roaring cloud of flies that emerged from it explained the problem well. Typhon himself emerged from the center of the flies, his figure was larger than that of the average Plague Warrior, and he also held a larger scythe. The ancient Terminator armor also grew on his body, and from the bone growth tubes extending from his back, buzzing flies crawled out almost continuously, then spread their wings and took off, joining their kind that were already soaring in the sky.

The flies swarmed forward like a black cloud, clearing the way. These demon messengers did not encounter no resistance. The further they advanced into the city of Tyros, the stronger the golden light flickered on the edge of the flies. The golden light burned the flies at the edge, turning them directly into a golden flame, but it was a drop in the bucket. More flies always crawled out of the tubular structure behind Typhons. The speed of the flies' consumption could not keep up with the speed of increase. The messengers of the plague buzzed and flapped their wings, rushing towards the defenders of Tyros.

-

In the preaching hall of the Tyros Cathedral, the huge statue carved on the wall made a terrifying noise out of thin air. The supernatural pressure made all the furnishings in the entire space seem to vibrate, and even the Ever-Victorious Army had to lower their posture to maintain balance. The only one who was not affected was Kaelia.

"'The Lord of Plague took action himself.'" After the loud noise stopped, Kaylia repeated nervously, "'He' just said this."

"'He'." Sicarius, who stayed behind, asked doubtfully, "You mean, the loud noise just now was the Emperor speaking?"

Kaelia nodded. "Through his statue."

This answer was too beyond common sense to make Sicarius trust her. But just as he was about to ask again, a simple bracelet on Kellya's wrist, which he had never paid special attention to before, suddenly made a beeping sound.

The voice echoed in the empty preaching hall, and it seemed to startle the girl herself. She raised her wrist in a panic and poked it with her other hand. The virtual image of Fujimaru Ritsuka immediately appeared above the bracelet. The latter simply skipped all the small talk and asked directly: "What did the emperor say? I didn't hear it clearly in the clock tower."

"He said, 'The Lord of Plague has taken action himself.'" Kellya repeated hurriedly, "What should I do?"

"It's alright. You don't have to do anything. The fact that you are safely in the Temple is of the utmost help - you are a Parmenian, and your presence provides a provable connection between the Emperor's psychic energy and the ley lines of this planet. This is very important in the subsequent strategy, and you are not doing nothing."

Fujimaru Ritsuka comforted her like this. But after hanging up the call, she couldn't help but complain in a low voice: "Tsk, what on earth is Tzeentch doing? How come even the God of Plague has enough free time to spare."

"...I've always felt that, young lady, do you lack even a little respect for the Lord of Change?" Sevatar, who seemed unconcerned about the current situation, asked from a tricky angle, "I remember this isn't the first time you've called Him by His name. Won't that attract His attention?"

"It's just that I don't worry about too much debt." Fujimaru Ritsuka skipped the topic indifferently. "The Lord of Plague has taken action personally, and the nature of the battlefield in the rear has probably changed. Conventional firepower and tactics may not be effective there, as that is the realm of psychic magic. But even the Space Marine think tank may not be able to defeat the power transmitted by a Chaos God himself. Digris, you have to tell the Regent about these things immediately, otherwise I'm afraid he will rush straight to the battlefield."

"Do you need fire support?" Arjuna asked at the right time.

"No, Arjuna, you should focus on supporting the northern battlefield. I'm afraid the Demon Titan Legion is not the Plague Warrior's trump card. Lanmarok told me before that the Fire Wing Warriors observed a wooden tower-like weapon deep in the enemy's line. It is too unreasonable for that thing to appear on the battlefield of this era. I strongly suspect that it has an unusual effect - you should be aware that you may need to deal with this kind of thing at any time."

"clear."

"Enemy shadows have been confirmed in the port area," Digris reported after intervening in the Ultramarines' public channel. "They are Death Guard Plague Warriors, led by First Captain Typhons."

"No wonder..." Fujimaru Ritsuka understood something. "The Lord of Plague has really invested a lot this time. They are probably expecting a battle between the God's Chosen. The Regent must not be allowed to go to the battlefield. He has the corresponding qualifications!"

"I seem to have heard some not-so-good descriptions. Have you finally abandoned your reason and taken the risk yourself, Miss 'God's Chosen'?" Sevatar asked with a hint of sarcasm, which made Fujimaru Ritsuka turn his gaze to him.

"...I suddenly have an idea." Her attitude was normal, but Sevatar suddenly felt a chill on his back. And the next moment, he found that this premonition came true:

"How about you go to the port and wrestle Typhons?" Fujimaru Ritsuka said with a bit of gloating, "I'm not sure whether you have fought in the past, but - he shouldn't have been able to beat you at that time, right?"

-

"Sister Cecilia."

Amid the deafening alarm of the makeshift infirmary, Asclepius stuffed a large bundle of parchment into the arms of the medical nun who was passing by randomly. Then, ignoring the nun's confusion and questions, he continued to speak:

"This is a brief summary I made over the past two days on how to deal with subspace psychic diseases in an emergency. It also includes all the cases we have encountered so far and the corresponding treatment methods. The actual effects of some treatments still need to be observed continuously. We will add more after they recover."

"...I'll keep these for you," Sister Cecilia responded instinctively, confused. "When will you need them again?"

"I don't need them. You do," said Asclepius. "Collect them, organize them, make them public, and then correct the mistakes and complete the unreasonable parts that have not been adapted to local conditions. The progress of medicine requires not only individual efforts, but also collective exploration."

"——However, this is a rather large and complicated subject. As the initiator, are you not going to continue to coordinate it?"

"No, I'm afraid there's no chance." Asclepius picked up his staff and turned to leave. "The work these past two days has been very fulfilling, and you are all very capable assistants. There are not many assistants whose names I am willing to spend the time to remember. It's a pity that we probably won't see each other again - even if we do, it won't be the same 'me' anymore."

Sister Cecilia was at a loss for words because of this vague statement: "I don't understand - Doctor Asclepius, where are you going?"

But Asclepius ignored her confusion and walked out of the clinic with his staff. His figure turned into golden sand and disappeared into the air like light.

"On house call." This was the only word he threw out at the end.

Meow (six o'clock)

Tzeentch: Playing with the Smoky Mirror, don't cue.

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 102: The Anger of the Grandmaster

Asclepius knew that, in fact, at the beginning, Fujimaru Ritsuka had not wanted to take him to Parmenio - it was he who heard that "this trip might involve a battle with the god of plague", and shouted something like "In that case, how can you not bring a doctor", and insisted on following.

He also understood why the Master hesitated.

The God of Plague. The God of Medicine. You don’t need any professional knowledge to see that there is a clear opposition between the two. But just as water can extinguish fire, but fire can also evaporate water, the final outcome between the two opposing forces is always determined by size.

Asclepius knew very well that as a human god, he could never be compared with the galactic god in terms of size. He also knew what a bad character he had. Once he saw a strange disease, he would move forward uncontrollably and fall into the trap too easily. In order to really follow, he made many promises to Fujimaru Ritsuka before he reluctantly got her to agree.

After actually stepping onto this battlefield and actually coming into contact with the diseases spread by the "God of Plague", he became even more aware that the Master's concerns were not limited to this.

These diseases, which are essentially derived from the contamination of the warp, can even directly distort people's cognition. If this happens to him, the filth will reverse his knowledge into the technology of spreading the plague, and the consequences will be disastrous.

But he still came, because Fujimaru Ritsuka brought him along. The Master of Chaldea might have some concerns, but she was willing to take the possible risk. She even said, "If your research goes astray again this time, as your sponsor, I will be the first to punch you in the face."

Then Asclepius decided that he should never betray her trust.

He left the temporary medical clinic in an invisible spirit form, and passed through the city as quickly as the breeze. He passed the broken walls and ruins that had not yet been repaired, passed the civilians who were at a loss at the sound of the alarm, passed the officials waving their arms and shouting loudly, passed the logistics team that was urgently mobilized under military orders, passed the various armored vehicles that were crowded together and the drivers who were trying to solve the problem, passed the mortal soldiers who were nervously building fortifications and roadblocks, passed the corpses that died in an instant due to damaged protective clothing, passed the Space Marines who were still lingering under the pollution of the warp and were plagued by diseases, and came to the front of the fierce exchange of fire.

Under the buzzing swarm of flies, the stench of the plague suffocated. Under the roar of bombs and the roar of promethium engines, the Plague Marines, who had become huge due to swelling, were fighting with their ultramarine-painted cousins. Although in fairy tales, the ending of similar stories is always good triumphs over evil, but in reality it is not always the case: the Ultramarines are obviously more in number, but under the strange psychic power, the Death Guard is unstoppable, and the Empire has already shown a decline in the melee.

The powerful and filthy psychic energy has infiltrated every inch of the land, turning it into a battlefield that mortals cannot set foot on - literally. Even if their protective suits are of the highest level and intact, physical defenses are meaningless against the pollution of the warp. As long as they dare to come near the battlefield, even if they only look at the center, the so-called blessing from the garden will immediately wrap around them, and take away their body, mind, and spirit, unless someone nearby is willing to use a bomb to help them maintain their last loyalty before that.

The Space Marines may be able to resist this corruption temporarily, but it is not permanent. The Ultramarines who continued to resist in the melee and whose movements became slower and slower as time went on silently explained this. Among them, those Primaris brothers were in better condition than the Firstborn, and they also supported this line of defense more, but it seemed that it would not last long.

Under the buzzing filthy air, the Plague Marines were clearly more powerful. Many of them were even taller than the Primaris Space Marines, which was almost impossible. Such a huge body did not slow down their speed, and the huge body contained incredible vitality under the blessing of Nurgle. Here, the firepower required to kill a Plague Marine was enough to kill a Primaris brother three times, and a Plague Marine wanted to completely disable his cousin, often just by letting their rusty, glittering sickly scythe penetrate the opponent's power armor and touch the opponent's flesh.

But more often than not, they were cut directly into two pieces.

Ordinary people may not understand, but Asclepius can see clearly what kind of sinister breeze is wrapped around the plague warriors. This is certainly an unfair battle, but how can there be absolute fairness in war?

Among all the Plague Warriors, the most outstanding and brave one was naturally the one who planned and commanded all of this. Typhons' body was larger than his guards, but his movements were strangely more graceful and swift. Under the cover of flies, he wielded his huge scythe smoothly, and quickly harvested the lives of the Ultramarines who dared to approach him at a tricky angle. The other two Terminator guards beside him also moved forward in unison with him, quickly clearing a small temporary safe area.

"I am Typhons, the forerunner of Nurgle in the mortal world, the lord of disease and flies—" He shouted towards the center of the city. His voice, as if muffled by phlegm, echoed hoarsely and cracked on the battlefield. Invisible psychic energy waves spread out from him. "The running dog of the Corpse King, the puppet of the Cursed! I feel your gaze, come out and face me like a warrior!"

——I can’t bear to watch it anymore.

Asclepius knew that his presence here might be a bad decision, a strategic mistake. The enemy was more closely connected to the gods they served than he had expected, and on the outskirts of the city, so far away from the temple, his spiritual base could not be fully protected - but he could not bear it.

"——a seriously ill patient." In the golden light, the spiritual form of Asclepius appeared at the edge of the battlefield. "Fourteen fungal infections, twenty-one parasites, and hundreds of other symptoms that I am too lazy to count. There is no doubt that the lesions have penetrated deep into the brain. The advice from the authoritative doctors is to remove them as soon as possible."

Strangely, the volume of this passage was not loud, and it should have been drowned out by the noisy battlefield noise, but it was heard clearly by everyone present. Typhons obviously noticed this doctor who appeared nearby in a mortal form and even spoke nonsense to him, but he did not intend to pay too much attention to him at first. He just pointed in his direction casually and sent out an invisible psychic wave containing a lot of blessings.

This spell could even kill a Space Marine. No matter how this mortal appeared so close to him, Typhons felt that it was enough. He thought his challenge had no effect and was ready to continue his fight, but at this moment, he saw from the corner of his eye that a mechanical snake jumped out of the staff beside the man, opened its mouth at the right time, and swallowed the invisible spell he had cast - and then continued to move freely in the air like a living thing, circling around its owner.

Typhon vaguely sensed some strange psychic fluctuations, and felt vaguely threatened by them.

For a moment, he wanted to retreat, but then he remembered that this was a task given to him directly by his loving father, and that the great grandfather god was watching his every move in the garden. He drew some false courage from this thought, and turned back to the mortal he had failed to kill with one blow, and asked loudly in the center of the battlefield: "Who are you? Are you the mortal forerunner chosen by the corpse on the throne?"

"You won't see her. Your corpse is beyond the level she is allowed to see." Asclepius said coldly, "Although it is a bit wrong for a doctor like me who swore to cure all patients to say this, I still sincerely think that the best destination for you is the incinerator."

"Ah, foolish mortal, you cannot understand how beautiful these blessings are." Typhons' tone was somewhat regretful. "If I had more time, I might patiently teach you all this - but not now. If you know where the puppet chosen by the corpse is, tell me about it, and perhaps you can still survive."

"This is not a battlefield for mortals to intervene!" Beside Asclepius, an Ultramarines who had fallen out of the battle circle due to leg injuries shouted at him while the enemy was speaking, hoping to make his voice drown out the various loud noises on the battlefield, "Aren't you a doctor in the temporary infirmary? Go back to your post!"

As usual, Asclepius chose to respond to those closer to him first for efficiency: "My post is right here. Doesn't battlefield first aid require a doctor?"

"What--"

"—Then, to answer your original question: Who am I?"

Asclepius turned to the battlefield, ignoring everyone. Driven by magic, the long snake took off, seemingly extending and growing in the air. Then, he raised the staff of the snake, which was only the staff left, and under the flow of the ether he summoned, he announced loudly:

"I'm Ophiuchus."

The immortal snake, symbolizing "shedding skin and rebirth", swam in the air, and the filthy and rancid air seemed to be purified out of thin air. A faint breeze blew by, and the Ultramarines who were plagued by supernatural diseases suddenly felt lighter, as if their bodies had recovered health in an instant.

"I am the 'God of Medicine'."

As he continued to declare, a soft light flashed from Asclepius's short staff. Similar lights shone on the bodies of the Ultramarines who had fallen to the ground due to serious injuries but were still alive, and their previous wounds began to heal at a speed beyond common sense - even the profound think tanks who were proficient in the corresponding schools often could not heal the different wounds on so many warriors at the same time with such precision.

"I am 'Son of Apollo'."

He never liked his identity, but he did inherit half of the blood of the sun god. Asclepius hated the stupid gods and rejected his half of the blood, but if it was the only way to solve the problem, he would never refuse it as a thorough pragmatist.

As this name was sung, the golden light on the short staff became as bright as sunlight, and the flies flying in the air seemed to sense something and suddenly became panicked - then countless flies and insects fell to the ground while burning under the golden light, as if a rain of fire had fallen from the sky.

Typhons began to panic. But another voice, a voice that came from the garden of the High Heaven, sounded in his ears, allowing him to muster up his courage again and hold the scythe in his hand. At the same time, the words of the black-clothed mortal in the distance had not yet ended:

"I am the Argonaut's ship doctor and the founder of medicine. I am a doctor who abandons gods and upholds human dignity. I am 'Asclepius'."