Mont arrived one after another.
Mont and Marquite flapped their wings, flying almost unimpeded to Hera Fortress, high above the Sevenfold Peaks.
They moved their raven eyes, cautiously observing the Ultramarines patrolling the city walls.
This was the first time they had seen the Astartes, the Emperor's Death Angels.
For Mont and Marquite, who had come from the Lower Nest as mutants, let alone the Astartes, even the Astra Militarum were legendary, people above people.
"I really don't know what Alexander's identity is, to actually live directly inside an Ultramarines' fortress."
Mont said, scratching his scalp with his bird's foot:
"And Nurgle actually entrusted us to 'invite' him to visit Nurgle's Garden."
Mont vaguely sensed that Alexander's identity might be higher than he previously knew, to the extent that even Nurgle wanted to invite him.
"He seemed to say he was some kind of Angel's Chosen, could it be true?"
"The little girl he brought with him has the power of the cursed one, perhaps she is the Emperor's Chosen?" Marquite mused.
When Nurgle gave them this task, he was very vague about Alexander's identity.
Things like 'greedy dissolution,' 'Malicious Art,' 'little Vashtorr's competitor,' 'candidate for the fifth one'—Mont and Marquite couldn't understand any of it.
They asked the nurglings they knew, but most nurglings were just Silly Joy and couldn't provide much useful information.
And Mont and Marquite only knew nurglings in Nurgle's Garden.
"Be careful, focus. They are all Ultramarines. Although not as good as the Blood Angels, they are still Death Angels of the cursed one."
Marquite said in a low voice.
They were both from Ashford. Ashford was near Calth, and there was much deification and worship of the Blood Angels there.
In reality, their understanding of the Astartes came entirely from street rumors.
"I heard that Ultramarines' brains are so big they all grow in their chests, which makes them the smartest of all Astartes."
"But they are also the most ambitious. Every Ultramarine is the king of a planet, directly ruling countless mortals."
"It's said that Chapter Master Calgar's fists are as big as two armored vehicles, and he can lift a hive city spire with one hand."
"But Ultramarines also have weaknesses. They run very slowly, which is why they couldn't reach Terra ten thousand years ago."
"It's said that Ultramarines are also very good at digging tunnels. Their planet called Calth is full of tunnels."
"But Ultramarines are also very wary of mentioning the two words 'Calth.' Perhaps they don't want others to know about the tunnels they dig."
Mont and Marquite, a dozen meters away from Hera Fortress, quietly discussed their understanding of the Ultramarines.
At the same time, they vigilantly observed the Ultramarines patrolling the walls of Hera Fortress.
Leading the patrol was an Ultramarine with a pair of heavy Power Fists and many mechanical prosthetics on his body. Next to him stood an Astartes in Terminator Power Armor, wielding a Power Sword.
Mont and Marquite guessed that this Ultramarine must have been too severely injured, disabled, and thus assigned to patrol duty.
However, such a respectable warrior's experience might be exceptionally rich, so they had to find an opportunity to evade their sight.
Just then, the Ultramarine equipped with the Power Fists turned his head and whispered to the Terminator warrior beside him.
"Opportunity!" Mont and Marquite seized this fleeting chance, swiftly glided across the sky, and flew directly into Hera Fortress.
"Two country bumpkins." First Captain Aggeman of the Ultramarines, looking at the two ravens clearly visible to his superhuman vision, couldn't help but say.
These two rustics from Nurgle's Garden, where did they crawl out from?
Did they really think that an Astartes wouldn't hear their conversation from a dozen meters away? Did they think the superhuman hearing granted by the Emperor and the automatic sensing systems on their Power Armor were just for show?
And the things they said.
Ultramarines' brains grow in their chests? Ultramarines are ambitious? Ultramarines run very slowly? Ultramarines are not as good as the Blood Angels?
And Calth! These two damned foolish birds dared to make fun of Calth!
"Sir!" Aggeman gritted his teeth, unable to resist looking at Chapter Master Calgar beside him: "Do we really not need to stop them?"
"They are mutants from Ashford and seem to be old acquaintances of Lord Alexander."
Chapter Master Calgar of the Ultramarines looked at the Power Fist on his hand, saying, as if deep in thought:
"Don't worry about them. Lord Mephiston and Tigurius are keeping an eye on them."
Hearing this, Aggeman became even more indignant.
"Is the plague God looking down on us?" Aggeman said to Calgar in a low voice: "Last time the Lord of Hunger sent daemon Primarch Fulgrim. The plague God only sent two foolish birds?"
"Just a difference in strategy."
Calgar shook his head. He looked at his fist, muttering softly:
"The rumors outside are really exaggerated. Lift a hive city spire? I only lifted a Necron anti-aircraft tower."
Mont and Marquite flew cautiously in mid-air, their minds alert, evading the sight of every sentry as they searched for Alexander's whereabouts in Hera Fortress.
Finally, they noticed that in one area, the patrolling Astartes were carrying the kind of toy swords Alexander had once used, clearly indicating a connection to Alexander.
They flew straight into this area, beginning their search for Alexander's location.
"Where exactly is Alexander? We can't just fly down and ask, can we?" Mont asked, his bird feathers trembling as he landed on an unoccupied marble platform.
"We've already pushed our limits just by avoiding the gaze of all the Astartes—but it's really strange, all the other platforms are guarded, so why are so many in this area not?" Marquite said, a mix of confusion and caution in his voice.
The Astartes warrior of the Doraemon Battle Group, standing nearby and wearing a Blind Spot Star, fell silent.
If Lord Mephiston hadn't telepathically informed them to ignore the birds, they would have sent these two damned birds away with a bolter round long ago.
He silently activated his comms device, sending the birds' conversation to the battle group's internal channel.
For a moment, the battle group channel was filled with suppressed laughter.
Then Lord Mephiston's grim voice rang out: "I overestimated them. I was going to wait for them to walk into a trap, but I'll go grab them now. You all just continue with your duties."
"Hmm?" Marquite suddenly lifted his bird head, looking down from the platform.
He saw a pale Astartes in crimson Power Armor, intricately carved, walking towards them. Beside him was a girl with an Ashford appearance and a scar on her face.
"Ark Gang's Reyna?!"
As an Ashford native, Marquite naturally knew Reyna, one of the top gang leaders in the Lower Nest.
"This isn't good, we've been discovered, flee!"
Marquite let out a low growl, his wings trembling as he flew into the air, Mont hastily following.
"Get down!!!"
The Astartes clad in crimson Power Armor suddenly spoke, his cold voice piercing towards Marquite.
Marquite instantly recognized it as a Seducer's Whisper, something he had witnessed from genestealer psyker on Ashford.
But the feeling was completely different.
Marquite felt as if his entire raven body was occupied by that powerful, cold Psyker energy, covered by the will of that psyker psyker.
Then, Marquite, with trembling wings, flew down like a puppet, landing in the palm of the pale psyker psyker.
"Captain Reyna, there's another target right there. You can try to cast the Seducer's Whisper using the method I taught you earlier."
"After all, Seducer's Whisper is a Psyker ability you already knew. Theoretically, as long as you control the Psyker intensity wrapping your consciousness, you can cast it perfectly." The pale psyker psyker said to Reyna beside him.
Reyna nodded slightly, took a deep breath, and looked at Mont, who was desperately trying to escape in mid-air—
"Get down!!!!"
Bang!!!!
Marquite watched in horror as Mont's body exploded in the sky, like a blood-red firework, scattering over an area of five or six meters nearby, gradually falling to the ground.
The pale psyker, bathed in the blood rain from Mont's explosion, said in a calm tone:
"At least he came down, and you've improved. Last time that rabbit exploded like ten meters away."
Nurgle soothed Mont's soul, which seemed to have suffered immense mental trauma, and returned him to the nurglings who were worrying about him.
It was too brutal, that psyker girl, to tear Mont's body into such a state.
A deep sense of apology arose in Nurgle's heart; he had placed too much responsibility on this child, which had led him to this state.
He still remembered how the nurglings had rushed over, begging Nurgle to save the souls of the two brothers, Mont and Marquite.
Although their souls were insignificant, and although they only experienced failure, Nurgle, through the words of the nurglings, knew that they were two good children who had desperately tried to save their planet.
Nurgle chose to save their two souls, but whether they could withstand even the smallest of his blessings was entirely up to their own will.
Fortunately, they did endure and became residents of Nurgle's Garden. Nurgle had not bothered with them since.
It was Isha's suggestion that he entrusted them with the task of visiting Alexander.
Now it seemed this task was a bit too heavy for them.
Nurgle, full of apologies, intended to give them both some compensation as much as possible.
Of course, there would also be rewards, because although Mont had failed, Marquite...
Marquite stood curled up on the table, looking at Alexander in front of him.
"I never thought it would be so difficult to see you," Marquite whispered.
"I also didn't expect to see you two brothers again. Well, Mont doesn't seem to be here."
Alexander's mouth twitched a few times:
"And is there a possibility that it's not that seeing me is too difficult, but that you two have fallen out of the meta too severely?"
Alexander observed the small crow that had landed in front of him.
The crow's entire body was covered in signs of decay; maggots wriggled under its greasy feathers, fungal colonies grew in layers on its skin, and numerous boils, polyps, and inflamed swellings covered it, even its eyes were a cloudy, indistinct mess.
It was hard not to suspect that this crow was simply a reanimated corpse, but Alexander knew that the soul of an old acquaintance resided within it.
Marquite, along with Mont, was a leader of the Bottom Nest mutants in Ashford, and a follower of Nurgle.
Alexander honestly hadn't expected to encounter him all the way in Macragge.
To be frank, Marquite and Mont, the two brothers, were severely out of their element; as soon as they appeared, Tigurius set his sights on them, followed by Mephiston and patrolling Ultramarines, essentially being tracked the entire way.
Alexander naturally became aware of their conversation and their objective.
Originally, Alexander had planned to let them walk into his trap, but he hadn't expected the two brothers to be out of their element for so long that they couldn't even manage the simple task of finding him, forcing Mephiston and Reyna to go and capture them.
As a result, Mont was instantly killed by Reyna, though Reyna's absurdly inflated stats played a role.
"Nurgle invites you to visit his Garden," Marquite said, standing on the table in front of Alexander, opening his black-green mouth.
He deliberately blurted out the reason for his visit and then intentionally lowered his voice to create an atmosphere, hoping to unsettle Alexander.
"Hmm, and then?" Alexander calmly retorted, as if not at all surprised.
"Aren't you surprised? This is an invitation from Nurgle, one of the greatest existences in the entire Warp!" Alexander's attitude, on the contrary, astonished Marquite; he even wondered if Alexander hadn't heard clearly who was inviting him.
"What's so special about that? Not long ago, Slaanesh even invited me to copulate with him," Alexander said, waving his hand.
"..Are you kidding me?!" Marquite recoiled two steps in horror.
"I just mentioned his name directly, and you see, nothing happened, right?" Alexander said casually.
In fact, to prevent Mont and Marquite from carrying Nurgle's viruses, he had already used an Adaptive Lamp on himself beforehand.
Corruption transmitted through his name, for Alexander, had already been adapted to.
Actually, when uttering Slaanesh's name, Alexander only felt a gentle gaze and didn't perceive the existence of corruption at all.
"So, what then? What is Nurgle's purpose? Why is he inviting me to Nurgle's Garden as a guest?"
Alexander raised an eyebrow, looking at Marquite in front of him and asking.
Nurgle was inviting him to visit his Garden.
He was a bit puzzled; Alexander had already been selecting tools to deal with the upcoming plague.
After all, the lamp that eliminates useless bacteria could only deal with bacteria and was useless against Nurgle's other specialties like parasites, viruses, and fungi.
"Nurgle seems to consider you an excellent bacterial artist and is very interested in your skill in cultivating bacteria."
"He seems to have taken the recent events in the material universe as a competition with you in the field of bacterial cultivation."
Bacterial artist?
Alexander was slightly taken aback at first, then realized that Nurgle must have discovered the useless bacteria Alexander had cultivated with the Unplanned Bacteria Production Machine.
He couldn't help but twitch his mouth a few times; how did those meaningless bacteria manage to pique Nurgle's interest?
Did Nurgle want long hair?
"Nurgle's mark remains within my body, you only need to —"
"Shine this mirror." Before Marquite could finish speaking, Alexander pulled out a Tracking Image Mirror from his four-dimensional pocket and scanned Marquite with it.
"What?" Marquite asked in confusion.
Alexander didn't speak, he just gently pointed at Marquite.
A faint, pale aura of death seeped from his fingertip.
"Wait!!" Marquite cried out in terror.
But before he could finish speaking, his crow body instantly died, turning into pale sand that piled into a small mound on the table.
This was the power Alexander gained after devouring Ynnead, the power to bestow death upon things.
However, this power had to be transmitted through Alexander's physical body and the old crone sword, and the more powerful the existence, the more it could resist this power.
So, in Alexander's opinion, this thing was actually useless, at most for dealing with nearby small fry.
On the other hand, another ability, the power to revive individuals whose souls had not yet returned to the Warp—meaning those who had died but not long ago, or those who had died but not completely—Alexander found more useful.
Hmm, especially when dealing with the Thousand Sons...
"My Lord, do you not intend to keep the appointment?" Mephiston asked softly.
Alexander merely adjusted the mirror in his hand; the scene in the mirror shifted, focusing on Marquite in Nurgle's Garden.
"Father God, I have failed," Marquite said apologetically, his head bowed, not daring to look at Nurgle's magnificent form.
That figure was like a mountain made of layers of flesh, and in Marquite's downcast eyes, he could only see a sliver of its shadow cast upon the humus-covered ground.
The sound of a cauldron stirring arose, and a gentle, benevolent voice, mixed with the buzzing of flies, spoke.
"Failed? No, no, my dear child, you have done very well."
"Do you remember? My task for you was to convey my invitation to him, and you did that very well."
"It's just that he might not like me very much, so he refused my invitation; that is my fault, not yours."
Saying this, Nurgle hummed a tune, and the sound of the cauldron stirring became clearer and clearer. He continued to speak to Marquite in a grandfatherly voice:
"I will give you two brothers a reward, you deserve it!"
"I will brew a new soup, and when I am finished, you and your brother can have some."
Marquite bowed to Nurgle with gratitude.
Not because Nurgle would bestow blessings upon him and his brother, but simply because of Nurgle's love.
It was out of a desire to repay this love that Marquite mustered the courage to ask, "Why exactly did you invite Alexander as a guest?"
"Because I am very conflicted; I don't know whether I should stop Guilliman from returning to Terra."
Nurgle sighed softly, his voice tinged with a hint of distress.
"Is it too cruel to stop a newly recovered child from seeing his father?"
"But little Mortarion always pleads with me, begs me to delay Guilliman's steps."
"Alas, so I wanted to chat with Alexander, this excellent colleague, to discuss the art of making bacteria, and also to discuss the matters of my two children, Guilliman and Mortarion."
"Marquite, my child, if it were you, how would you decide?"
Nurgle gently posed the question to Marquite.
"Perhaps I would let Guilliman return; if he is as the legends say, he will surely save more lives from the hands of those other four gods who do not cherish life."
Marquite was referring to Tzeentch, Slaanesh, Khorne, and the Emperor.
"I'm not so sure," Nurgle said somewhat melancholically. "Perhaps he can save many humans, but besides humans, there are many, many lives that he doesn't care about."
Hearing the melancholy in Nurgle's words, Marquite instantly became anxious; he quickly racked his brain, wanting to help Nurgle resolve his worries.
"Why not see what the Lord of Change is doing?"
Mont, who had been sitting by, healing his soul wounds, suddenly spoke with a bewildered expression.
Nurgle, Marquite, and the nurglings playing nearby all looked in unison at the suddenly speaking Mont.
"My point is, as long as we see what the Lord of Change does, we'll know how to act, won't we?"
Mont gestured as he spoke:
"As long as it's supported by the Lord of Change, we'll oppose it!"
"As long as it's opposed by the Lord of Change, we'll support it!"
"Anyway, those blue-furred guys won't do anything good, so doing the opposite of them must be a good thing!"
The foul air in Nurgle's Garden was first silent, then the nurglings playing nearby spontaneously applauded.
Marquite gasped at his brother's world-shaking wisdom, and Nurgle also fell into a moment of thought.
Alexander, who was peeking at this scene through the Tracking Image Mirror in the material universe, couldn't help but applaud Mont.
Mont had essentially grasped the underlying logic of the Chaos Gods.
Tzeentch and Nurgle happened to occupy two opposing parts of the Warp.
One stagnant, one changing; one dwelling on the past, one yearning for the future; one harmonious and loving, one ambitious.
Unless an event that threatened all of Chaos occurred, most of Tzeentch and Nurgle's desires would conflict.
Moreover, most of the daemons in Nurgle's Garden agreed with Mont's statement; they just hadn't found the right words to express it before.
"I need to think about it," Nurgle nodded heavily. "I need to think about it."
Looking at the scene displayed in the mirror, Alexander stroked his chin and adjusted the Deduction Hat he always wore on his head.
"My Lord?" Mephiston asked again about Alexander's plans.
"I plan to visit the plague God's Garden; after all, it's a famous Warp attraction."
Alexander smiled and said:
"But not through his gate, and not with this body."
Mephiston raised an eyebrow slightly and asked, "You mean?"
"Do you remember that I have a corrupted Warp Engine in my pocket?"
"I brought it from Ashford, and you modified it to lead to the Blood God's domain to deal with Ka'Bandha."
"Now I need you to change it back, to redirect the Warp rift on it towards Nurgle's Garden again."
"My Lord, you seem to have once again mistaken me for some blasphemous sorcerer who can casually open portals to the domains of the Chaos Gods."
Mephiston said with some helplessness:
"However, your request is very simple, I think I can easily do it."
In Nurgle's Garden, Horticulous Slimux was strolling beside a lake of pus. He moved his plump body, shaking the boxwood branch in his hand, constantly summoning rotten yet lush rain to fall, making the fungal carpet meadows around the lake even more luxuriant.
He is the generous one, he is the priest of rain, he is the messenger of abundance, he is the embodiment of the great Nurgle's generosity, prosperity, and fecundity.
Whether in the Warp or the real universe, he would respond to all who prayed for life, bringing them abundance.
Hornbeams spread their leaves, fungal carpets exuded mucus, and putrid maggots burrowed beneath Horticulous Slimux's feet, making him laugh heartily.
What a beautiful day in Nurgle's Garden!
No disturbances from the cursed one's skeleton legions, no cackling bird-men from the Lord of Change, no strange men in silver power armor setting fires, no demon-eating pockets lying on the border between the real and material universe.
What a beautiful day, what a beautiful Nurgle's Garden! Praise Nurgle!
But suddenly, Horticulous Slimux stopped smiling, looking somewhat confused at a spot not far from him.
The Warp there trembled, revealing the veil between the Warp and the material universe.
Then, after a slight tremor, the veil tore, opening a passage connecting the real and material universe.
Horticulous Slimux curiously leaned forward, looking into the passage.
Had some poor people on a planet encountered famine and needed his help?
Then Horticulous Slimux saw a strong human, holding a club, step out of the rift and onto the soft, sticky fungal lawn of Nurgle's Garden.
His steps were so forceful that they crushed the maggots parasitic in the roots of the mycelium, causing thick yellow plasma to seep from the ground.
But these plasmas seemed to be separated from this human by an invisible, tiny membrane, causing him no harm.
Horticulous Slimux curiously observed him; he always felt that this human in front of him was somewhat familiar.
Not familiar in appearance, but in scent, somewhat like... somewhat like...
Like hollow and desolate death.
Horticulous Slimux's gaze fell on the white pocket on his stomach —
"Run!!!!"
"The demon-eating pocket is here!!!! Everyone, run!!!!"
Horticulous Slimux shrieked in terror and scrambled towards the black demon mansion where Nurgle resided.
Alexander, controlling Greater Daemon, looked at the fleeing Great Unclean One with a bewildered expression.
By its appearance... Oh, that was Horticulous Slimux.
As a Chaos and Xenos enthusiast in his previous life, Alexander quickly identified the Nurgle Greater Daemon, then scratched his head somewhat strangely.
He hadn't entered Nurgle's Garden with his main body, but had used Greater Daemon for caution.
However, since Nurgle had invited Alexander, to show politeness and avoid misunderstandings, he had shaped Greater Daemon's appearance to be similar to his own body, even replicating the pocket on its stomach, just on a much larger scale.
Did he look scary in some way? Alexander strangely examined himself, shaking his head involuntarily.
What a pity, Horticulous Slimux was one of his favorite Greater Daemons in his previous life; its design was very good. If he had the chance, Alexander would have liked to invite him to sit in his pocket, to be a collection.
Never mind, business first.
Alexander's gaze turned towards the black demon mansion deeper within Nurgle's Garden.