"One, two, three."
She scooped up a fly and counted it. Then she reached out again to push aside her hair, which was covered in a slimy green mucus.
Revealing an eye that was entirely white.
Her other eye was covered by a rotting, swollen growth. The sounds from her mucus-filled throat were unclear.
Somewhat hoarse and sticky.
But she counted very seriously, scooping up one fly and counting it, gently placing them on a nearby flower petal that emitted a yellow stench.
After carefully placing the scooped-up fly,
She then used her pus-filled hand to poke at the rotting mud, pulling out another bloated, fat fly. That fly looked as if it would burst with a pop if squeezed lightly.
"Four, five, six, seven."
When she reached seven, she smiled.
Numbers possessed a wondrous magic.
And seven was the most perfect among numbers.
Representing completion and ending, it also signified concepts and power. This number held power.
Because it was the great holy number. The woman was very happy.
She had once again done something that would please her other grandfather. That fat one, the Lord of Pleasure, Nurgle in the Mists, would surely reward her.
Nurgle was the most benevolent and universally loving.
No matter how small a life, He treated them all equally.
Never stingy with His rewards and gifts.
Nurgle was the greatest being.
He was the originator of the Threefold Path. The Threefold Path represented death, decay, and rebirth.
Representing the eternity of life.
Every life embraced by Nurgle would gain eternal longevity.
"You're doing these meaningless things again."
A man walked over.
He saw the woman pulling flies out of the bubbling mud and spoke.
As he spoke, he coughed, spitting out a large amount of green phlegm.
Many maggots wriggled in the phlegm.
"This is meaningful," the woman stood up and said, "Seven is Grandfather's holy number, and saving these lives is His will. Every tiny life should receive Grandfather's favor, this is the Threefold Path."
The woman stood up and took two steps, and a tearing pain shot through her lower body.
She tried walking a few more steps, and it became even more painful.
Her walk became a limp.
But soon, the woman adapted to the pain.
Pain was Nurgle's blessing.
Only through pain could living beings realize they were truly alive.
Nurgle bestowed pain, and then, pitying the pain of those beings, He granted them the ability to endure it. The woman didn't mind the pain she had just felt; instead, she showed a joyful expression.
She turned her head to look at her backside. The man also walked over.
He could clearly see a large gash opening up on the woman's buttocks.
A mouth, dripping with green mucus, had grown out from there.
Wafts of putrid stench emanated from the yellowed fangs.
"Look, the benevolent Grandfather has rewarded me for my good deed just now!" The woman happily stroked the fanged mouth, "With an extra mouth, I can eat faster. Look how beautiful it is, with its yellow fangs, mucus-filled tongue, and pungent aroma!"
"Grandfather truly spoils you," the man said with an envious tone, "Come on, we need to go back to the village. Something bad has happened, and the witch requires everyone to return."
"What happened?" Curiosity flickered in the woman's all-white eyes.
"The Corpse Emperor's son is coming. That bastard has sworn to destroy the Benevolent Father's garden and re-enslave every world."
Hearing the man's words, the woman, who had just been happy about receiving a gift, showed a look of terror.
"That's truly a terrible thing. Are those fellows still unwilling to let us go?"
The man shook his head, his sticky hair swaying with his movements.
"Those fanatical lunatics always believe their chosen path is the correct one, so how could they possibly let us go?"
"Alas!" the woman said sadly, "In this dark and cruel universe, only Grandfather's path can promote cosmic harmony. Other existences are too dark and cruel, and the Corpse Worshippers are the most terrifying and cruel among them. Why can't those people see this?"
When they worshipped the Corpse Emperor, they were filled with pain.
It wasn't until they met the joyful Grandfather that they learned how to draw happiness from the Threefold Path.
What a wonderful world this was.
Why did those Corpse Worshippers want to destroy it?
Just because of the Corpse Emperor's son?
Why was that guy so cruel?
How wonderful it would be if there were no wars, and all living beings believed in Grandfather's Threefold Path. Then no one would die, and everyone could live happily in the universe forever. The man and woman followed the muddy, slimy path towards the village, passing through a forest filled with mucus and flies. The tree crowns and trunks were covered in toad-like sores, also slimy and sticky, looking like a snot forest.
Giant fungi twisted their joyful bodies, faces on their mushroom caps showing expressions of delight. They watched the two pass by.
Birds covered in boils and scabs sang among the trees.
Flies buzzed around the two, going in and out of their burst pustules. Tiny maggots squirmed out of their mouths, noses, and wounds, praising the Benevolent Father's boundless embrace.
"Why can't those Corpse Emperor worshippers feel the charm of decay? The universe will eventually be destroyed, and only the eternal Benevolent Father can shelter all things in the world and maintain the balance of entropy."
The woman's soft palate was somewhat rotted, and speaking while walking made her sound clumsy, like a leaky bag. The man wiped the viscous substance from his face.
It was like glue, pulling out threads.
"No one knows why? They don't understand the secret of how this world operates, thinking they can change everything. The Corpse Emperor, the Skull daemon, the Pleasure daemon, and the Cunning Devil are all equally disgusting; they know nothing of the truth and will be destroyed with the universe. Only the benevolent Grandfather, who controls the Threefold Path, can continue to exist. No matter how many times those ignorant humans come, it will be the same; we will defeat them, just as we defeated the minions of the Skull daemon, the Pleasure daemon, and the Cunning Devil. The Benevolent Father's followers will always win."
They passed through the forest, trudged through the muddy swamp, and finally returned to their village.
A village of rotting, moss-covered, slippery houses.
People who had received the Benevolent Father's blessings gathered around an elder, shouting to fight for the Benevolent Father.
"We will not yield to the Corpse Worshippers; the Benevolent Father will surely triumph."
"Defend our homeland; we must not let the Corpse Worshippers enter our world."
"We will resist to the last person; we will never give up."
The villagers were all very excited. The news that the Corpse Worshippers were about to launch an attack made them furious, and they resolved to unite and resist to the last moment.
"Quiet," a divine orator, who could hear Nurgle's whispers, ascended the slippery, liquid-covered platform. The villagers quieted down, and the man and woman also became silent. They looked at the divine orator with their seeing eyes, awaiting instructions.
"I have received a divine oracle!" the divine orator shouted, her head wobbling like jelly with her voice.
"The Benevolent Father needs every one of His children, including us. The enemy's chosen breakthrough point is likely our world, so we must be prepared to hold back the Corpse Worshippers and prevent them from entering the Garden."
"Furthermore," the divine orator clapped her hands, and several guards in armor with rusty weapons dragged up something that was beaten beyond recognition.
"We also need to execute some damned traitors who still yearn to return to the embrace of the Corpse Worshippers. This fellow was caught red-handed performing a ritual to worship the Corpse Emperor's son. This is the most shameless betrayal of the Benevolent Father and absolutely cannot be tolerated."
"Lies!" The thing, almost beaten into a pulp, let out a painful sound, "It's deceiving you; the Imperium is our true home; don't be fooled by them."
"Blasphemy!" the divine orator roared in a strange voice, "This is blasphemy! Execute him, chop this traitor into pieces, and throw him to the flies, let those great messengers feast!"
"Kill him!"
"Kill him!"
"Those who betray the Benevolent Father must die!"
The villagers' throats, filled with viscous phlegm, emitted hoarse sounds. Their excited emotions made the rotting flesh on their faces wobble like jelly.
Several figures approached, hacking the disfigured creature to pieces with their rusted weapons, sending viscous fluids splattering.
With a final agonizing shriek, the traitor fell silent.
"This is the price of betraying the Benevolent Father!" the Godspeaker roared, "Even death at the hands of the Corpse Worshippers is infinitely better than betrayal!"
The villagers cheered. The Godspeaker nodded in satisfaction, about to say something more to boost morale.
A rumbling sound echoed.
A rift opened in the bizarre sky, which glowed with an eerie light.
A deafening roar vibrated through the air.
Wondrous songs drifted from beyond the rift.
People looked up at the sky in astonishment. The dark, star-studded night sky appeared before their eyes.
Giant battleships, emblazoned with the terrifying insignia of the Corpse Worshippers, emerged from the rift.
Smaller vessels swarmed out of the battleships. They were not beautiful; they were not rotten, bloated, or covered in slick mucus.
Moreover, they bore the emblem of the Corpse Worshippers.
"The enemy is here, for the Benevolent Father!" the Godspeaker shouted, "Take up our weapons and drive the Corpse Worshippers from our homes!"
A torpedo descended from the sky, its booming explosion igniting mountain-like flames, and the massive shockwave utterly annihilated the mucus-covered houses. The villagers were flung into the air, some even blasted into smithereens.
Screams erupted from the villagers who had not been killed by the blast.
A woman was dragged by a man, taking refuge in a sturdy cellar. The cellar below was covered in sewage and mucus.
And writhing fungi. They hid inside, their bodies trembling. The Corpse Worshippers were too terrifying. The ground continued to shake. The agonizing screams of villagers before they were killed, and the frenzied sounds of the Corpse Worshippers, echoed.
The man and woman dared not even make a sound. Their bodies, covered in festering sores and growths, trembled. They dared not move a step, fearing discovery by the Corpse Worshippers.
Yet, the Great Benevolent Father did not favor them.
Heavy footsteps sounded, and the cellar door was opened.
A Corpse Worshipper, clad in heavy armor and wielding a gun, appeared at the doorway.
He saw the man and woman.
"No!" the desperate man shrieked, lunging at the Corpse Worshipper. The woman followed behind; in the name of the Benevolent Father, they had to kill this Corpse Worshipper to survive.
"This place is f*cking disgusting."
Loken, who had just emerged from the teleportation beam, offered a crude but accurate assessment of his landing spot.
Boundless, desolate wilderness stretched to the horizon.
Rolling yellow mist clinging to the ground and thick humidity suspended in mid-air severely obstructed visibility, affecting the accuracy of orbital bombardments.
Loken sampled the local air through his helmet's external sensors. The pungent smell of filth and putrid flesh made him nauseous. The atmosphere was thoroughly contaminated with corrupting substances, and the ground beneath their feet was slowly decaying.
"Nurgle's Garden is like this," Torgadon stood beside Loken; his armor was already covered in mud and mucus shortly after landing.
Behind them was a returning Shadowmoon Wolf squad. The Warp is idealistic, a world of will.
It cannot be won by mere reality-based technology. The fact that the Returners could return already indirectly demonstrated their perseverance and resilience. This kind of invasion into a semi-illusory, semi-real domain was best left to them. They advanced, striking down screaming, rotting corpses one after another.
Bolter rounds, specifically designed to counter these Warp-infused creatures, easily tore them apart.
Loken showed no mercy to these monsters.
One could say no Returner would.
After all they had endured, their disgust for the gods was evident.
Where this squad passed, mostly dismembered remains were left behind.
Nurgle's followers possessed incredible vitality.
Even when blown into several pieces, some Nurgle followers still crawled with difficulty, oozing pus.
Numerous Returners, like Loken, were gathering and pressing deeper into the area. They moved swiftly, rapidly harvesting enemies and clearing a zone for subsequent forces to deploy.
Amidst the flash of teleportation, a statue of the Holy Emperor was placed on the now-secured open ground. The Ecclesiarchy choir sang, led by high priests or War Apostles. Their voices held a magical quality, causing the decaying creatures to shriek in agony.
A faint aura flowed from the Holy Emperor's statue and the lighthouse facility, healing the planet's wounds. The rotten ground turned into yellow sand, and Nurgle's power was expelled. The rules of the universe filled the void left by Nurgle's receding power, transforming the decaying ground into yellow sand.
Loken walked through a decaying village; after the previous battles, he had realized that these rotting corpses were actually very weak. They were merely the breeding stock for nascent Nurgle daemons, possessing little strength. There was no need to waste precious bolter rounds on them.
He simply carried a sword to harvest the rotting corpses.
Loken and his companions easily dealt with all the rotting corpses in the village, and he found a cellar.
When Loken kicked open the mold-covered door, a foul stench wafted out.
Inside were viscous green liquids, concealing two rotting corpses, a male and a female. They shrieked and charged when they saw Loken. The putrid liquid splattered and churned with their movements, emitting an even more horrifying odor.
Loken easily lopped off their heads. The two rotting corpses lay dismembered, floating in the mucus.
Loken also saw a mouth on the female rotting corpse's backside, filled with fangs and emitting visible yellow stench.
He decisively pulled the trigger, blasting the creature's body to pieces.
It was utterly disgusting.
Having dealt with the rotting corpses in the cellar, Loken returned to the surface.
After confirming safety, the choir priests approached. They carried the statue of the Holy Emperor and the lighthouse facility, their expressions devout and full of faith.
As they chanted, the foul mucus turned into clear water, and the rotting trees and houses burned in holy flames, eventually turning to ash. The thick, putrid air became fresh, and clean breezes swept through.
Mechanicus thralls began constructing various facilities on the sandy ground, enhancing the Warp barrier in this area and establishing an expeditionary outpost. They installed protective nets around the outpost, with dense laser beams interwoven.
Dense swarms of flies fell with crackling sounds, accumulating in just a few minutes, requiring flamethrowers to burn them directly into ash.
Flies were Nurgle's best messengers, carrying the most terrifying plagues and bacteria.
If a normal person were bitten, the consequences would be unimaginable, possibly even becoming a breeding ground for flies. The Imperium had extensive experience. They possessed methods to counter Nurgle's fly swarms.
If they gathered in large numbers, airburst rounds would be deployed to shatter them alive.
Sparse numbers were handled by the nano-laser net.
Ensuring no flies or disease-spreading insects could enter the outpost. The first transport ship detached from the fleet in the sky and descended to the ground.
Large numbers of soldiers and heavy vehicles disembarked from the ramp. They shouted their homeworld's battle cries and prayers to the Holy Emperor.
Gigantic Titans were also unleashed, striding across this decaying world.
Pilots steered the Titan's massive cannons. The great cannons glowed.
Destroying the rotting, writhing eyeballs, tentacles, and various unspeakable abominations.
Nurgle's domain was vast, without end.
It was home to countless daemons and followers of the Plague God.
Every world shaped into Nurgle's Garden was drawn into Nurgle's domain.
By venturing deeper into this world, one could find the Plague God's Garden.
More and more Corpse Worshippers poured into Nurgle's outer worlds.
War was ignited among the Plague God's followers.
Massacres erupted in every corner. Their arrival quickly attracted powerful daemons.
In the Warp, daemons possessed power far exceeding their maximum capabilities in the material universe, and their regeneration speed was astonishing.