Typhus, as the First Captain of the Death Guard, was naturally a force to be reckoned with.
During the Great Crusade, he was considered among the first tier of many Legions, on par with Abaddon, Sigismund, and others. The First Captain during the Great Crusade was usually the most trusted warrior of the Primarch. This demanded that their strategies and skills be top-notch.
Otherwise, a weak First Captain could easily lower their Legion's standing in interactions with other Legions.
A massive, filth-covered scythe sliced through the air, transforming into an unstoppable blur of a blade. The sharp, malignantly blessed scythe blade glowed with a sickly green light. The force field, blessed by the Plague God, allowed Typhus' scythe to effortlessly cleave through steel or any other creation.
After awakening in Nurgle's Garden, Typhus' strength, agility, and overall physical attributes were enhanced.
His attacks became swifter, and he could endure more damage. The giant scythe was blocked by Loken's twin swords.
Force fields collided, erupting with a terrible roar. The immense force generated a shockwave, pushing both combatants apart.
"Surrender," Typhus roared, swinging his scythe and charging again. "The victory of humanity is fleeting, destined to be swallowed by the storms of the warp. Join us, and eternal death and rebirth await. Father Nurgle is generous. You can find your place in the Garden, where you will be blessed, free from suffering harm or loss. The joyful can live forever in sacred filth."
"Don't think everyone is as muddle-headed as you," Loken retorted, swinging his twin swords and launching another fierce offensive. This body, forged with the Imperium's most advanced technology, granted him infinite strength.
Each strike made Typhus feel as if a mountain was slamming into his scythe.
Every collision sent sparks flying. Typhus' bulky and massive body was forced back step by step.
He was powerless against such a brutal confrontation. The other Death Guard, seeing Typhus at a disadvantage, sought an opportunity to intervene and provide support. The other Primaris warriors, from a distance, raised their boltguns and began firing at the Death Guard.
One Death Guard was hit by several bolt rounds in succession, his head exploding like an overripe pustule before he collapsed.
Another had a leg severed, green slime oozing from the wound.
He was then decapitated by a swift swing of Loken's sword.
"Your opponent is me!" Typhus roared, swinging his war scythe at Loken's head, only to be blocked by the other sword.
Before the next strike arrived, Typhus had to force the longsword away and retreat.
"Today is your end," Loken's words were filled with icy killing intent. "The blood debt is due."
The clash of blades and scythes was deafening. Typhus was blessed by the Plague God, and at this moment, he stood within Nurgle's domain, with a continuous flow of power supporting his battle against Loken.
Loken, on the other hand, relied on the blessings of the Heart of the Imperium and the Holy Emperor, as well as his exquisite skill, to counter.
Both their bodies contained power capable of destroying all living things.
Each collision was an outpouring of absolute power, like an avalanche or a volcanic eruption. The two had clashed during the Great Crusade. They were once the most amicable of rivals. The unfallen Horus possessed extraordinary diplomatic talent, always adept at managing his relationships with his brothers. The relationship between the Death Guard and the Luna Wolves was not bad; like other Legions, every reunion involved sparring and exchanges. The skillful exchanges of that time were completely incomparable to this deathmatch erupting deep within the forge.
Both sides were filled with killing intent, seeking only to annihilate the other.
Raw energy burned around Typhus; his scythe guided one of the most fundamental forces in the universe, each strike imbued with evil power capable of tearing through space-time. The malevolent flames in his eyes were impossible to look at directly.
Loken was fearless, showing no signs of retreat.
He had the conditions to defeat Typhus; all he needed was enough composure to wait for his opponent to reveal an opening.
Visible shockwaves emanated from their clash. The lightning released by the blades blessed by the Holy Emperor caused the warp's filth to recoil, and the disgusting warp decorations twisted.
It was said that these two swords were forged in the factories overseen by Vulkan, imbued with the power of the Spirit Realm, and possessed the ability to sever the threads of fate. These were mythical artifacts.
Loken, leveraging the various abilities granted by the Heart of the Imperium, effortlessly maintained the offensive with his twin swords. Time dilation, spatial contraction, and teleportation were used as if they cost nothing. Typhus, relying on the blessings of Father Nurgle and the augmentation of this special domain, evaded those fatal attacks.
Again and again, he blocked the blades with his monstrous scythe.
Splashing sparks ignited the tattered human skin tapestries, the artworks created with unknown liquids, and the soft, slimy faces embedded in the walls.
Flames rose in the areas affected by their battle.
Within minutes, the entire room was ablaze. Typhus looked troubled; the flames originated from Guilliman and suppressed him.
Loken, on the other hand, fought with increasing ferocity, his twin swords weaving an impenetrable defense, and seizing any opportunity to deliver a sharp, life-threatening strike.
During the Siege of Terra, Loken had already envisioned the enemies he might face.
He treated every traitor as a hypothetical enemy.
He meticulously studied their fighting styles and sought ways to break them.
As the First Captain of the Death Guard, Loken naturally could not forget him.
He launched a series of fierce blows; his flying blades were incredibly light, tearing through the fabric of space-time and causing brief annihilations. Typhus used his war scythe to block.
He was clumsy and corpulent.
But sheer brute force could overcome a myriad of techniques, and his savage strength was enough to compensate for these shortcomings.
Whenever he was at a disadvantage, unable to block the relentless sword forms, Typhus would swing his scythe, forcing Loken back.
As he swung his scythe once more, Loken seized Typhus' opening.
One of his swords plunged with full force into Typhus' body, and a powerful shockwave erupted. The power imbued in the sword and the blessings Typhus received exploded.
Making the flames even more ferocious. Typhus tried to swing his scythe to force Loken back, but it was blocked by the other sword. The sword embedded in his body was also slowly driven deeper into his power armor by Loken's unyielding hand.
It pierced through the swollen armor and into the flesh blessed by Father Nurgle. Typhus lowered his head, staring in disbelief at the weapon impaled in his abdomen.
Foul pus gushed from the wound, staining his already filthy power armor.
"It seems I've won," Loken said gravely, heaving with force to push Typhus' scythe away and plunging the other sword into his opponent's body. Typhus let out a scream of agony and retreated.
Loken pressed forward, driving his swords deeper.
In his pain, Typhus suddenly erupted, swinging a fist at Loken's head, while his scythe also moved, intending to cleave Loken in half. To avoid injury, Loken had to abandon the two swords impaled in Typhus, abruptly retreating to dodge the attack, and simultaneously drew the boltgun magnetically locked to his waist.
"No pain is unbearable for the Death Guard; we are more resilient than other Legions," Typhus declared. The twin swords remained impaled in his body, causing him endless torment, yet making his strength even greater. The blessings of the Plague God inherently included the ability to endure suffering.
Blessed Death Guard could withstand several times more damage than warriors of other Legions.
What would be a fatal wound for other traitors, Typhus still endured, demonstrating his incredible resilience.
"I had intended to send you back to Terra alive, but it seems that won't be possible now," Loken said, raising the boltgun in his hand, its dark muzzle aimed at Typhus' head. Typhus gripped his scythe tightly. "At this close range, do you think a bolt round is faster than my scythe?"
"You can try," Loken replied. Typhus moved, the aura caused by the Plague God's blessing unable to keep up with his speed.
His scythe became a blur, moving at extreme velocity.
With a bang, his head exploded like a watermelon.
His massive body crashed to the ground, vaporizing with a sizzling sound like a corpse rotten for years exposed to air.
Wisps of white steam detached from his skeleton.
Finally, even the skeleton turned to ash, scattering in the air.
"Kill confirmed," Loken murmured, watching Typhus turn to dust. He walked over and bent down to retrieve the two swords.
However, the next second, a warning sign rang in his heart.
He hadn't realized what it was yet.
A giant scythe swung out from behind him, directly piercing through his body. Typhus, who should have died just now, stood behind him, completely unharmed.
A strange green glow enveloped his body.
"This is the domain of the Grandfather," Typhus whispered. "Did you think you could kill me in this domain? I can be reborn in a few breaths."
Loken looked at the wound that pierced his chest, blood spurting from the grilles of his faceplate.
He had underestimated these damned traitors. This was Nurgle's domain.
How could he so confidently believe he had killed Typhus?
Typhus exerted force, and the sharp scythe sliced Loken's body in half.
Crimson blood gushed out, staining the floor.
"I'm the one who won!" Typhus roared, his terrifying voice echoing through the room, making the warriors' ears rumble.
Seeing Loken's defeat, the Primaris Marines tried to break free from their enemies to save their new Chapter Master.
Would the Shadow Wolves, who had just reformed, welcome their second Chapter Master so soon?
The Death Guard, however, fought desperately, doing their utmost to stop them.
Leaving the Shadow Wolves unable to rescue Loken.
"Let me see who you are." Typhus bent down and removed the helmet of Loken, who lay on the ground, revealing his face. "So it's Gavriel Loken. Didn't you learn enough during the Siege of Terra? Do you think you can change anything?"
Loken spat a mouthful of blood at him.
"The failure of the Plague God is already destined, Typhus. You can't change anything."
"Hahaha, you're terribly mistaken. Do you think Guilliman can win? You're underestimating a Chaos God too much." Typhus lifted his foot, a cruel smile on his face. "Remember who killed you, Loken. If you can revive, run far away when you see me."
As his voice fell, the swollen steel boot stomped down fiercely.
Loken's head was directly crushed into a bloody mess.
"This is the consequence of opposing the Plague God," Typhus whispered.
Loken's shattered body transformed into specks of light, scattering into the air and disappearing.
A few seconds later, a ball of light appeared in the murky air, then exploded violently, the intense radiance making Typhus instinctively blink.
Loken, who had been crushed and dismembered, rushed out from the light.
His twin swords crackled with deadly arcs, and with one slash, he directly cut off Typhus' hand, which had instinctively raised his scythe. The swollen arm and the scythe covered in filth fell to the ground together, and sickly green pus gushed out.
"How is this possible!" Typhus' face was filled with unconcealed astonishment, but Loken didn't waste any more words with him. His sword struck out again, cutting off his other hand, then he bent his leg and cut off both of Typhus' legs. Typhus fell down, wailing.
Within seconds, he was dismembered by Loken and lay on the ground. The swiftness of the turn of events left the expression of astonishment on Typhus' face lingering for a long time.
"Don't think that only the Chaos Gods can bring life back," Loken said, walking in front of Typhus with scorn and mockery in his eyes. Typhus.
"Since you can revive, I won't kill you. Instead, I'll take you back to Terra as planned. Mortarion is waiting for you there, Typhus."
The other Primaris Marines also charged forward at this moment. The legendary Grand Master Kaldor Draigo, who had taken another path, also emerged from another corridor. The fallen Typhus lost all ability to resist, like a dead dog, he was thrown into the Grey Knights' specialized daemon cage. This cage could even hold a Primarch. Typhus was naturally no exception.
Realizing what was about to happen, Typhus roared powerlessly in the cage.
"No! Loken, you can't do that."
His fury made the Shadow Wolves and Grey Knights laugh, and they continued to advance towards their next objective. The Imperial forces had already taken control of the forge complex. The resistance of daemons and traitors was weakening.
Imperial firepower systematically cleared out the plague artillery and plague drones, dismantling the virus engine batteries one by one.
Screams of daemons and traitors echoed everywhere.
In the deepest part, a Great Unclean One was leading the last daemon army in resistance. Typhus watched as the Great Unclean One was surrounded, becoming a plaything for those damned corpse-worshippers. They seized the opportunity to hack at the Great Unclean One's bloated body with their blades.
When the Great Unclean One tried to attack, they all ran away.
When the Great Unclean One shifted its gaze, they all rushed back, continuing to hack.
Utterly shameless.
"Look how tenacious it is, fighting to the death for its god," Loken said mockingly, standing beside Typhus' cage. "I can't help but shed a tear for it, what a noble warrior, just a bit disgusting looking."
The other Shadow Wolves all chuckled. They didn't like bullying captives, but traitors and daemons were another matter. Typhus' eyes were bloodshot, on the verge of madness. The besieged Great Unclean One let out a cry of pain.
Under the Imperial assault, it was riddled with wounds and finally couldn't hold on, collapsing.
Kaldor Draigo walked over to it, looking down at the massive daemon.
His sword ignited with holy flames.
One strike would be enough to utterly end it.
"The head of a Great daemon will be the best gift to our Emperor. You are permitted to speak your last words, daemon."
"You can destroy my forces, take everything from me, but humanity can never defeat the Grandfather," the Great Unclean One said. "You will ultimately fail, and you will suffer endless torment in the Grandfather's garden."
"Are daemons so pathetic now? I even suspect you've heard too much from dying mortals, and when it's your turn, you instinctively say these things," Kaldor Draigo said. "Your master is destined to be obliterated. The other Chaos Gods have already smelled its weakness, and soon, you will be attacked from both sides."
"You will never succeed!" the Great Unclean One roared with its rotting throat.
Kaldor Draigo chanted an incantation, then plunged his sword into its body.
Holy flames appeared on its form, causing it to burn fiercely. The daemon's soul essence shrieked within the flames.
But soon, it was burned to ashes in the fire.
Its massive body, like fuel for a torch, was reduced to dust in the surging flames. Typhus watched as these damned humans slaughtered a favored servant of the Grandfather.
Even its soul was burned to ashes. To revive, it would require a much greater cost and time.
"You will always face retribution," Typhus said. "Don't think the Lord of Plagues is easy to provoke."
"Then let it come, Typhus. When your god falls, your expression will surely be priceless," Loken said mockingly.
"Delusional, you can't possibly do that. Gods are immortal."
"Then let's wait and see," Loken chuckled. "You'll witness it."
The light had faded.
Zero and many Ultramen, their bodies covered in wounds, fled into the depths of the universe.
Accompanying them was a group of survivors unwilling to succumb to darkness.
Failure after failure.
Companions falling one after another.
What hope was there left in such a struggle?
One after another, the Ultra Stars in the universe were conquered by Belial's powerful army.
An unprecedented wave of darkness swept over everything.
Father of Ultra had fallen in battle, the previous Space Garrison suffered heavy casualties, and many garrison branches were now barely holding on; their complete destruction was only a matter of time. There was no hope left in this universe.
Zero looked at the miniaturized Plasma Spark Tower in his hand; this Ultraman artifact, capable of wielding the power of light, still shone brightly, transmitting infinite power to him.
But such power seemed so meager against the vast and endless dark army.
"Where is the path forward?" Zero recalled the instructions of his father and several senior members of the Space Garrison; his never-wavering heart also became lost in confusion. The Land of Light had fallen, and for other Ultra Stars to resist the dark army led by Belial, Emperor of the Universe, and Super Dimensional daemon God, it would be nothing more than a mantis trying to stop a chariot, seeking their own demise.