No wonder he felt an inexplicable danger when he entered this command room, even more dangerous than facing Nurgle directly.
"Imperialis Codex" replacing "Codex Astartes"?!
Roboute Guilliman, with just one "Codex Astartes," destroyed nine Astartes Legions, achieving what Horus and all of Chaos could not.
If he were to truly write an "Imperialis Codex," wouldn't the entire galaxy simply burn?
Even more terrifying, Alexander glanced at Guilliman's completed outline, which depicted the political structure Guilliman envisioned for the entire Imperium.
He planned a rational administrative system where every human was a screw and gear on an administrative assembly line; individual likes, dislikes, fatigue, or even sudden death could not affect the system's problems.
This administrative system, this administrative assembly line, even included Guilliman, Sanguinius, and Alexander himself.
Alexander looked around, up and down, and finally read between the lines, seeing two words written throughout: "Overtime"!
If Guilliman truly completed this system, both Alexander and Sanguinius would have to work overtime.
Close call! Close call! Good thing it was discovered in time!
Without hesitation, Alexander directly tore the document into pieces and casually stuffed them into his pocket.
"I just found the corpse of this document, which happens to be one of the things I need."
Guilliman's mouth slightly opened, and his Hand of Dominion, extended in mid-air, froze.
His expression made Alexander feel a little sympathetic.
After all, wearing the Fate Armor, Guilliman found reading and writing extremely difficult, and usually relied on the assistance of Chapter serfs for office work.
These drafts were clearly written by Guilliman with considerable effort, overcoming numerous difficulties.
But Alexander thought for a moment, if it weren't for the Fate Armor, given Guilliman's efficiency, he might have already completed this "Imperialis Codex."
Suddenly, Alexander couldn't help but feel a sincere admiration for Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, who designed this power armor.
It was Archmagos who did not design auxiliary mechanical arms for this power armor, thus curbing Guilliman's dangerous behavior.
Archmagos is virtuous! Archmagos should indeed be named doraemon!
Guilliman sighed, quickly adjusting his demeanor.
"Tigurius told me that you went to the Warp, to the realm of the plague God?"
Guilliman quickly adopted a professional posture and asked Alexander.
"Yes, I need some things now. If successful, it should make Nurgle side with us," Alexander nodded and said.
Although he had some reservations about cooperating with a Warp God, Guilliman still nodded.
"What do you need?"
Guilliman was even prepared for Alexander to ask for something blasphemous, dangerous, or terrifying.
"I need minced meat, pickled radish, salted fish, jam, dried fish, mochi, instant coffee, cicada exuviae, and geta."
Alexander said to Guilliman with a serious expression.
"…" Guilliman first paused, then tightened his face and nodded: "Welcome to Roboute's convenience store, happy to serve you."
In Nurgle's Garden, Nurgle looked curiously at Alexander, who emerged from a reddish-pink wooden door, holding a pile of groceries from the material world.
Alexander kicked the iron pot from the material universe into the Warp, and under Nurgle's intrigued gaze, watched Alexander set up the iron pot in Nurgle's Garden.
To cooperate with Alexander, Nurgle specifically controlled the power of Nurgle's Garden to prevent interference with Alexander's brewing of a good soup.
"What is this?" Nurgle watched Alexander stuff some papers under the pot.
"This is a roll of dangerous toilet paper."
Alexander pulled out Greater Daemon's club to light the papers, while saying seriously:
"Its predecessor destroyed nine Astartes Legions, and this roll has the potential to make the entire galaxy burn."
"Using it as fuel for the soup pot is just right."
After using the "Rukhnamah"—oh no, the Imperialis Codex, painstakingly created by Guilliman, as fuel, Alexander placed the ingredients in his hand next to the iron pot and looked at Nurgle, saying:
"Now, I will demonstrate the framework of the numerology system."
"Minced meat, pickled radish, salted fish, jam, dried fish, mochi, instant coffee, cicada exuviae, and geta—these nine things from the material universe form the foundation."
"Nine is the sacred number of the Lord of Change, a symbol of all possibilities, capable of bringing us new changes."
Although hearing Tzeentch's sacred number made Nurgle a little uneasy, Nurgle still nodded gently, allowing Alexander to proceed.
Tzeentch, who was secretly peeking at this scene, couldn't help but cackle.
This fatty was actually fooled by such a small trick. His sacred number is nine, but the premise for its effect is that he is willing to exert power.
What numerology? Believing in this stuff is worse than believing in him—hmm?
Tzeentch blinked in confusion. He noticed that after Alexander successively placed the nine ingredients into the pot, it seemed to genuinely produce some ineffable effect, stirring slight ripples in the Warp.
"Then, we will pour in water seven times. This is your sacred number, most suitable for use when boiling soup."
Alexander continued, then began to pour water into the soup pot seven times.
The water quickly began to boil and bubble in the pot, and the nine ingredients constantly tumbled in the soup pot.
Nurgle vaguely smelled something emanating from the soup pot, constantly flowing and changing, disturbing the Warp structure that constituted Nurgle's Garden.
He blinked in confusion. Although Alexander used his sacred number, Nurgle knew he had not participated in Alexander's soup-making process.
And the ingredients in Alexander's soup pot… undoubtedly, these were pure material world products, almost like groceries or even trash, yet they truly stirred the fluctuations of the Empyrean.
"Next, I will stir twenty-two times. This is my sacred number, symbolizing the power I obtain from the three aspects of Malicious Art, Corrosive Destruction, and Voracious Dissolution."
Alexander carefully stirred the soup pot twenty-two times with a ladle, making the contents of the pot almost melt into a single mass.
Then Alexander covered the soup pot, letting it simmer.
"Do you want to compete for the fifth position?"
While the soup was cooking, Nurgle leaned down and asked Alexander:
"I'm not too keen on seeing a fifth one emerge. The fifth position is already cursed. I don't want to become a horned rat..."
"All that's accumulated there are emotions of self-destruction. Whoever takes it will not end well."
"But if you want to compete with little Vashtorr for the sixth, I'd like to support you. Vashtorr is too indifferent to life."
Hearing this, Alexander showed a slightly curious expression.
"Can one skip the fifth and directly give birth to the sixth Warp God?"
As he understood more about the Warp and awakened his own essence, Alexander roughly knew that the divine positions in the Warp had a specific order.
The four domains of Corrupt Decay, Hellish Storm, Mindless Slaughter, and Ecstatic Perception each had their masters in order.
And Corrosive Destruction, also known as the domain of the Dark King, was mostly occupied by the Emperor, but was stuck on the eve of ascension.
After Corrosive Destruction came Malicious Art, the domain of Vashtorr and Alexander.
After that, Voracious Dissolution and Undefined Distortion, it was unknown which was the seventh and which was the eighth.
"Little Vashtorr always believes it's possible," Nurgle said, shifting his body.
"Even if not, at least one can become similar to the current state of the cursed one, infinitely close to ascension but not yet ascended."
"In a way, the Great Devourer also approaches this state, so I don't recommend you compete with the Great Devourer in this domain, unless he actively abandons everything, otherwise you will find it very difficult to succeed."
"But you have an advantage for the sixth position. Vashtorr, representing curiosity and innovation, has gained Tzeentch's support. He himself was born from intense arms races and can promote the intensity of war, thus gaining Khorne's support."
Nurgle, like an eager mentor and elder, told Alexander about the situation in the Warp:
"But I said I don't like him, and little Slaanesh probably doesn't want to see your downfall. Emperor, I guess he's on your side too, right?"
"Even if Emperor is restricted, it's at least two against two. I can hold Tzeentch, little Slaanesh can hold Khorne, and you and Vashtorr can fairly decide the winner."
Alexander pondered, not answering Nurgle rashly.
People often think Nurgle is simple, but Nurgle is actually also skilled in schemes and temptation.
It's just that unlike Tzeentch, Nurgle is better at planting seeds and then waiting for them to sprout.
Alexander could not judge the intention of Nurgle's words. Even if he intended to believe them, he would at least have to decide again after a judgment by the truth-falsehood discriminator.
"It's fine, it's fine, patience is a good thing," Nurgle said, laughing with his belly. "The throne of the Empyrean will naturally have its master. As long as one waits patiently, someone will eventually sit on it."
"But the fifth is bad, absolutely do not try to sit on the fifth. No matter how little Slaanesh tempts you, do not sit on it. Even if Emperor tempts you, do not. That position is cursed!"
Alexander nodded slightly, just about to speak, when he saw the soup he was cooking begin to bubble.
Bang!!!
A powerful explosion sounded, and a burst of dark steam violently overturned the pot lid.
Thick, dark soup churned in the pot, with geta, salted fish, and dried radish floating in the soup in a suicidal manner; the other ingredients had disappeared.
Then, several bubbles burst on the soup, and instantly, a suspicious smell filled Nurgle's Garden, aggressively rushing towards Alexander, Nurgle, and the Nurgle daemons watching from all sides.
"Drink it all, or I'll beat you up!!!!"
They all seemed to hear this violent declaration.