Chapter 359: Boom Boom Boom Boom |
The Great Rift was a catastrophe for humanity, but from another perspective, it was an absolute feast for demons and xenos.
The Garden of Nurgle.
Several gardeners strolled through the dense forest, making their unhurried way toward the demonic palace on the horizon.
Rainfather Rotigus walked at the very front of the group.
He was a Nurgle demon so bloated his body resembled a triangle. A massive mouth spanned across his entire belly, and with every step, large swathes of pus sloughed off with a squelching sound.
Rotigus turned his head slightly, glanced at the figure at the back of the group, and let out a wet sneer.
"Dicalemus, have you still not retrieved that clone of yours? A dignified confidant of the Loving Father, having a clone detained by a few greenskins. It truly is laughable."
The group became lively.
"That's right, Dicalemus. Do you need our help?"
"Haha, if you ask me, Dicalemus should learn some humility and actively beg us for help."
The crowd's mockery caused Dicalemus's expression to shift wildly.
"My affairs don't require your meddling. They're just a bunch of greenskins skulking around the Webway. Once I gather my grand army and pick the right day, I guarantee I will slaughter them to the last..."
"Save those words for the Loving Father," Rotigus sneered coldly at Dicalemus. "A few days ago, a group of uninvited guests arrived in the Loving Father's garden. Take a guess—how did they get in? Whose teleportation spell did they use?"
Dicalemus choked on his words and lowered his head.
"I... I will retrieve that clone as soon as possible, or dispel it. I promise it won't cause any trouble for the Loving Father."
Rotigus chuckled.
"Remember what you said, Dicalemus. That idiot Abaddon helped us open the feast in the real universe, so he's still of some use. If, because of your clone, we end up not having enough fun and the Loving Father fails to obtain a satisfactory masterpiece, then you'd better prepare to become fertilizer for the garden."
Dicalemus broke out in a cold sweat, mumbled a vague agreement, and said no more.
The gardeners changed the subject, no longer paying attention to the luckless Dicalemus.
They loudly discussed the planets they had scouted in the real universe, comparing notes, exchanging seeding techniques, and occasionally bringing out new inventions to show off.
About half an hour passed like this.
The demonic palace that had been far on the horizon stepped forward with heavy strides, arriving in front of the gardeners.
A corridor of vines extended from the palace's terrace, unspooling toward the ground.
The gardeners followed the corridor to the outer edge of the palace. Guided by Nurglings, they passed through a courtyard filled with toxic flowers, venomous insects, pools of pus, and gnarled thorny trees, finally arriving at the Loving Father's reception room—the Rotting Court.
Here, over a dozen cauldrons bubbled and boiled.
The cauldrons were wrapped in several coils of tree roots. Skinny, withered human figures grew out of the roots, entirely fused with the wood. Their expressions were vacuous and bewildered.
In their arms, they clutched stirring rods made of bloodwood, mechanically churning the thick, viscous liquid inside the cauldrons.
Whenever they paused, the insects writhing inside them would gnaw at their bodies, producing crisp cracking sounds.
Every time this happened, a fleeting look of agony would cross their faces before they went back to stirring the cauldrons in a daze.
"As expected of the Loving Father. Even a simple work of art is brimming with irony."
Rotigus stepped up to a cauldron, closely observing the human figures fused with the roots, and offered repeated praise.
"The Loving Father is satirizing the cogboys' servitor crafting. The cogboys weld living beings onto assembly lines, harvest their internal organs, strip away their blood vessels, and hollow out their brains, forging them into machines that merely possess human shape. Through his creation, the Loving Father is warning those cogboys that even without mechanical devices, relying purely on the power of nature, we can just as easily reconstruct humans into servitors. Oh, no, they should be called tree-servitors. Praise the Loving Father."
"Praise the Loving Father."
The crowd echoed the sentiment in a harmonious, joyous atmosphere.
A tree-servitor lifted its head to glance at the group of gardeners, then numbly returned to stirring the cauldron.
After a short wait, the rumbling sound of wheels approached from afar.
Several hundred hunched Nurgle demons appeared on the scene, hauling an opulent flatbed cart.
The one seated upon the cart was none other than the master of this realm, the Loving Father.
The gardeners bent over and touched their foreheads to the ground, their bloated bodies displaying an astonishing degree of flexibility.
The cart ground to a halt, and the flab on Nurgle's body jiggled.
"My children, I know you are impatient to head to the real dimension and partake in the feast. I don't intend to take up too much of your time. But before you depart, I want you to answer a question for me."
Nurgle sat upon his throne, his fat spilling out from beneath the armrests.
"Tell me, what is the true essence of life?"
Rotigus was the first to speak up.
"Loving Father, the true essence of life is the cycle. We must embrace new life, just as we must tolerate decay."
"Well said, Rotigus. You are always so astute. However, that is not the answer I wish to hear today."
If Nurgle wasn't satisfied with the standardized answer, it meant today's question carried a deeper meaning.
Rotigus's heart trembled. He stopped trying to show off and lowered his head.
Another gardener riding a snail stepped forward and spoke.
"Loving Father, the true essence of life is progress. Take my snails, for instance. When they were born, they were weak and sluggish, but now they are as mighty as warlords and as swift as lightning."
"Wrong," Nurgle said indifferently.
The gardener's expression froze, and he steered his snail back into line.
No one else on the scene dared to utter a sound.
"Oh, my children, it seems my usual discipline has been too harsh, rendering you incapable of flexibility."
Nurgle shifted his weight and leaned forward, causing the throne beneath him to creak.
"Let me give you the answer. The true essence of life lies in sowing seeds. The feast has begun. The brutal devour their prey, the wise manipulate from behind the scenes, and those swollen with desire indulge in endless venting. But we—we are the sowers of life, the guardians of the cycle, the eternal gardeners. Before the myriad living beings in the real realm are torn apart by the brutal, before they are schemed against by the wise, and before they are drowned by desire, we must teach them how to pursue the true essence of life."
Nurgle paused.
"Do you understand? My children, for mortals, the true essence of life is the cycle. But for you, the true essence of life is sowing."
The gardeners kowtowed in unison.
"Yes, Loving Father."
"Your teachings ring in our ears like a grand bell, awakening the deaf and enlightening the blind!"
"Great Loving Father, every word you speak is absolute truth."
"Hehehe—" Nurgle let out a gratified laugh. "Alright, children, drink the soup in the cauldrons, then go and sow life for me. I will open a door to the real universe for you. The fungal broth in the cauldrons will point the way."
The gardeners each selected a cauldron, hoisted it up, and chugged the contents down in massive gulps, not daring to leave behind even the slightest trace of pus.
The fungal broth fermented inside the gardeners. The byproducts acted upon their bodies and souls through both physical and psionic means.
The crowd unanimously received the Loving Father's revelation.
They sensed specific planets in the real universe; these were the seeding grounds the Loving Father had meticulously selected for each of them.
"Go, my children. Go and spread the correct faith."
Nurgle lifted his staff, pointed it at the open space, and fired a green beam of light.
A teleportation portal over ten meters tall tore open.
The gardeners proceeded to step through the portal in their true forms, setting out for their assigned seeding grounds.
At that moment, the portal twisted and deformed. It shifted from a green, oval gateway into the visage of an Ork with its gaping maw wide open.
The scene looked like a practical joke, but everyone present was shaken to their core.
The gardeners were dumbfounded. This was the first time they had ever seen anyone capable of twisting the Loving Father's psionic spells.
Nurgle stared in stunned disbelief. He could clearly feel that the portal had slipped from his control, its dominion snatched away by some unknown entity.
While the crowd stood frozen in shock, the portal—now shaped like a massive Ork face—opened its mouth and spoke.
"Holy shit, I succeeded! Wakaka! Hahaha! I did it! I'm the first to lock onto the psionic signal and hack in! I'm Brother Li's coolest lad! Hahahaha—!"
Brother Li?
Could it be that transmigrator who had recently become a True Ork God?
Was the Ork right in front of them a subordinate of Brother Li?
This was bad!
Nurgle's body shuddered, his immense flab quivering uncontrollably.
He remembered something absolutely disastrous and whipped his head around to glare at Dicalemus.
"You still haven't retrieved your clone?! Answer me! Dicalemus! Look me in the eye and answer me! Have you taken your clone back or not?!"
"L-L-L-L-Loving Father... my clone... I-I-I..." Dicalemus was so terrified he couldn't even string a sentence together, stumbling backward uncontrollably.
Explanations were merely cover-ups, and cover-ups could not solve the problem.
In those mere seconds, the portal shaped like an Ork's head violently exploded.
The spatial torrent caused by the dimensional tear sent the gardeners swaying, the pus and branches on their bodies violently whipping about.
When the spatial torrent dissipated, a horrifying scene was revealed.
In the exact spot where the portal had been, a spherical green screen of light had appeared.
The light screen constantly expanded, rapidly devouring everything in its surroundings.
The first to be swallowed up were a few tree-servitors and their cauldrons.
The tree-servitors were reduced to ash amid agonizing wails, while the sturdy cauldrons lasted barely half a second longer before being crushed to pieces by the green light screen.
Nurgle slammed a heavy hand on his armrest, squeezed his body out of his throne, and leveled his staff to fire a beam of light, bombarding the green light screen.
But to his shock, his full-powered strike elicited no reaction, like a stone vanishing into the sea. The green light screen continued to expand.
"Dammit! This is the collective manifestation of those Palu Orks' Psionic Field! Hurry, give me your power! I must harness every ounce of power in the Garden to suppress the Palu Orks' Psionic Field!"
Nurgle waved his staff and frantically bellowed.
Green mist materialized from all directions, converging on the gemstone at the tip of his staff.
Over a dozen green tethers were extracted from the gardeners, channeling directly into the gemstone on the staff as well.
The gardeners realized in horror that their psionic energy was draining away at a terrifying speed.
Their Loving Father, their sovereign, was frantically siphoning their power to combat the Psionic Field that the Palu Orks had carved open inside the demonic palace.
"Boom!"
Nurgle hurled his staff forward. The sharp hilt plunged directly into the green light screen, resulting in an earth-shattering, deafening explosion.
The staff successfully suppressed the light screen!
Mingling rage with joy, Nurgle threw his head back and laughed.
"Hahaha! Palu Orks, this is my territory! Don't even think about running wild here!"
The words had barely left his mouth.
Dicalemus convulsed, launching himself like a cannonball toward the light screen.
Before anyone could figure out what was happening, Dicalemus slammed into the staff and boldly self-destructed.
"BOOM!"
The staff remained completely unscathed, but the self-destruction blasted it away.
The green light screen abruptly expanded more than tenfold.
Nurgle exclaimed in shock.
"Dammit! It's soul manipulation! Dicalemus was controlled by the Palu Orks! His damned clone is going to bring absolute ruin upon us!"
Shrill screams echoed through the demonic palace as over a dozen burly figures violently burst out of the green light screen, trailed by an endless army of greenskins.
It had always been the evil gods of chaos invading others. For the tables to be turned today was simply an absolute humiliation!
"Kill them all!" Nurgle roared. The staff returned to his hand and was sent flying out once more.
A wave of light shot out from the staff. As it swept across the floor and walls of the demonic palace, they sprang to life, rapidly spawning Nurgle demons.
The gardeners realized the direness of the situation. Casting aside their dreams of conquering the real universe, they drew their weapons and clashed with the invading greenskins.
But unexpectedly...
After charging in, this bunch of greenskins had absolutely no intention of engaging in shootouts or melee combat.
They charged right up to the Nurgle demons and detonated the explosive backpacks strapped to them!
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The shockwaves shook the heavens and flames rolled endlessly as the single-soldier Extermination Weapons mercilessly swept through the demonic palace.
These greenskins were insane!
Weren't they supposed to hack and slash at our demons with Bolters and massive choppers?
Weren't they supposed to scream their battle cries while charging at us?
Why weren't they playing by the rules?
Why were they opening with Extermination Weapons right off the bat?
This was the Loving Father's garden! It housed countless, immeasurable treasures!
Did they really not want any priceless loot?
"Haha!"
"You rubbish things!"
"Listen up, all of ya!"
"Brother Li said so! Nurgle and the loot ain't important to him! Making sure there ain't no Nurgle is what's most important!"
"Grab yer mini big-boomers, follow me, and let's blow Nurgle's garden to the high heavens!"
"Only idiots would try to fight these rubbish things the normal way!"
"KILL!"
The greenskin army poured in endlessly, bringing out an unending stream of single-soldier Extermination Weapons.
It started with suicide bomb backpacks, then shifted to grenade launchers firing extermination grenades.
The thunderous explosions spread from the Rotting Court to the Rancid Corridors, and from the Rancid Corridors to the Vomit Terrace.
Wherever Nurgle fled, the fire from the Extermination Weapons followed.
A demon army?
A demon army wasn't worth a fart in the face of Extermination Weapons.
Besides, these weren't ordinary Extermination Weapons.
They had been laced with bizarre Monocrystal powder. They exploded and sterilized at the same time. Any demon killed by the explosion would be "degraded" by the anti-psionic medium, turning into lifeless slag that could never resurrect.
Forget about ordinary Nurgle demons—even Nurgle himself, facing such a fatal threat, inevitably felt the chill of fear!
