The Emperor's Song seemed imperceptible, but it was actually accumulating power.
On top of the almost completely enclosed metal spire, Kellam Purion, the Head of the Astra Telepathica and one of the Twelve High Lords of Terra, gazed at the shattered sky.
This was an extremely dangerous act, as the Great Rift had opened in the sky. If the Inquisition were to discover it, they would likely try to conduct a secret, private, and irregular investigation behind Kellam Purion's back.
However, Kellam Purion had grown somewhat accustomed to it. He was never very popular among his colleagues, but now Ms. Ers, the Inquisitor representative from the daemon Inquisition, was surprisingly polite to him.
After all, Kellam Purion knew himself that he was always melancholic and often brought everyone untimely prophecies and news.
As a Star Speaker, he was bound to the Emperor's Psyker power. Even the smallest fraction of the Emperor's power far exceeded what a mortal body could withstand. The process of binding with the Emperor's Psyker power permanently altered Kellam Purion's optic nerves, making it almost impossible for him to see the world with his own eyes.
But Kellam Purion could see more because of it. Ominous, cursed visions often appeared to him.
Yet, the Emperor's power protected the purity of his mind, allowing him to gain much information without being corrupted.
It was he who, before Cadia was attacked, secretly urged Primarch Tieron to initiate the Custodes' support for Cadia, though it ultimately failed.
However, in these days since the Astronomican went out and the Blind Day dawned, Kellam Purion was surprised to find himself the most optimistic.
Perhaps it was because Kellam Purion could clearly perceive that the Emperor's Song had not dissipated; instead, it was accumulating power, awaiting the climax of its eruption.
Moreover, his gaze could see hope igniting.
The Grey Knights' prophetic abilities were at work, and they were heading to the Moon. Kellam Purion convinced Inquisitor Ers to suppress the suspicions about the Grey Knights' actions.
The Sisterhood was also in action. Although Tieron had been frightened into a heart attack, with the guarantees of Great Canoness Morwen, Ms. Ers, and Kellam Purion, he was still willing to mobilize resources to prepare for the actions of the Custodes, Sisters of Silence, and Battle Sisters, and managed to keep it a secret from most of the High Lords.
Hmm, the Grand Master of the Assassinorum, Fadix, was surely not kept in the dark. If he were to stand against hope, Kellam Purion could only hope his aging body could still contend with him.
"You two, please step away from me for a while." Kellam Purion bowed his head slightly, speaking to the two Untouchables behind him.
The two Untouchables, possessing anti-Psyker abilities, bowed slightly to Kellam Purion and then exited the room.
Kellam Purion's Psyker power was able to unrestrictedly fill the entire room. In an instant, the entire metal spire began to creak.
Cracks also appeared on his own emaciated, thin body, and immense Psyker power surged out uncontrollably.
Kellam Purion was almost the strongest mortal psyker on Terra. Even the grotesque entities within the Inquisition that no longer possessed human forms were no match for him.
However, as he aged, his Psyker power continuously increased, while his physical body became weaker and weaker, reaching a point where he could no longer restrain his own Psyker power.
If a mortal stood in the same room as him, they would be shattered by Kellam Purion's overflowing Psyker power in mere moments. Thus, he usually had to carry two Untouchables with him to suppress his overflowing Psyker power.
But this was only a temporary solution. As time passed, Kellam Purion's constantly growing Psyker power would eventually destroy him.
He often felt that his return to the Golden Throne was drawing near.
The sight of the stars was reflected in Kellam Purion's blind eyes. He saw through the light unleashed by the Great Rift and witnessed the current chaotic stars.
Since the Chaldeans invented astrology, humans have believed that the alignment of the stars is linked to destiny. The threads of fate descend through the stars, falling upon the collarbones of mortals, controlling them to follow the path of destiny.
But Kellam Purion knew that stars were merely a medium, just like all forms of divination, including the emperor tarot. These were all just mediums.
True wisdom was contained within the Warp, contained within the will of the Emperor.
"The Crimson King has begun his actions, and the Lord of Change's schemes are eroding the remnants of the Old Ones' domain."
"..The Great Despoiler's fate star shakes, almost torn in two. The plague God's seeds are sprouting in his legion."
"Abaddon is cursed by the Age Star this year!"
"Seven Killing Stars collide with the Sun? It's the Blood God, the Blood God has set his sights on Terra."
Abaddon watched the gigantic snail, imbued with the blasphemous evil power of the plague God, crawling in front of the Vengeful Spirit's bridge.
And on the snail's shell sat an unassuming, gaunt, one-eyed Nurgle daemons, holding a pair of gardening shears, staring intently at Abaddon.
The air was dead silent. The daemon possessing Khârn let out a soft gasp.
A flicker of disdain, however, crossed Abaddon's eyes.
The Nurgle daemons standing before him was clearly not a Great Unclean One, but an ordinary Nurgle daemons.
Before Abaddon was heavily wounded, he wouldn't have feared even Ku'gath. Now that he was heavily wounded, did the plague God really think an ordinary Nurgle daemons could stop him?
He was heavily wounded now, his strength greatly diminished, but he was by no means to be humiliated by a common Nurgle daemons.
"Damn, Damn, I seem to remember this old daemon. I heard other daemons talk about him... What was his name again?"
The daemon possessing Khârn said, pondering:
"Don't charge yet, brother, don't charge yet."
Abaddon snorted, ignoring the daemon's advice, and rose from the command throne, drawing the Demon Sword Drach'nyen.
The enemy had come to the front lines; what reason did Abaddon have to retreat?
Scorching, blasphemous Psyker flames blazed from Drach'nyen. The daemon born from humanity's first murder awoke and let out a low roar.
Abaddon then leaped high, swinging his sword at the ordinary Nurgle daemons sitting on the snail's back.
The twisted face on the Demon Sword also cast its gaze towards where its blade was pointed.
"Holy crap! Gar— — — —" Drach'nyen let out a startled cry.
Before he could finish his words, the gigantic gardening shears collided with Drach'nyen with extremely exquisite skill.
The clang of metal resonated ceaselessly, echoing throughout the entire Vengeful Spirit.
As if summoned by the sound, Abaddon felt a sudden sharp pain in the wound on his body, extending from Sanguinius' form. The part of the power belonging to Nurgle seemed to awaken, and a strong sense of exhaustion swept over Abaddon's entire body.
The scissors slammed down. Abaddon felt a sharp pain in his arm; his power armor was actually cut open by the seemingly rusty scissors. Ceramite was torn, and Abaddon's arm hurt.
He roared, hastily putting distance between himself and the seemingly ordinary Nurgle daemons.
"I remember now! This is Slyth Slithmuks, the Chief Gardener of Nurgle's Garden, one of the oldest daemons in the entire Warp, the first daemon created by Nurgle."
The daemon possessing Khârn said, as if just remembering:
"Most things in Nurgle's Garden were cultivated by him bit by bit. He holds a unique position in the plague God's domain. The reason he isn't a Great Unclean One is purely because he is so ancient that the concept of 'Great Unclean One' didn't exist when he was born, and his unique title is 'Great Cultivator'."
"But it's strange. Normally, this one never leaves Nurgle's Garden. Nurgle actually allowed him to appear."
"It seems that 'that' Lord has a lot of influence, Khârn, let's surrender!"
Abaddon gasped for breath, clutching the wound on his shoulder. His face, split in two by Sanguinius' sword, showed a hint of ferocity.
But before he could speak, the entire Vengeful Spirit began to shake violently.
The plague zombies, Nurgle daemons, and the smallest fungi, bacteria, and viruses hidden in the gloomy corners of the Vengeful Spirit suddenly became active. They twisted their bodies, and skull roses, witch thorn bushes, layers of rotten meadows, and giant-mouthed trees grew from their bodies. These plants, born in Nurgle's Garden, began to rampage from every corner of the Vengeful Spirit.
It was as if seeds sown by the wind over countless years had begun to blossom and bear fruit.
And everything centered around Slyth Slithmuks began to shake. The flora and fauna from Nurgle's Garden began to grow, as if that space had been replaced by a part of Nurgle's Garden.
In the distance, at the apex of Tizca's Revenge's pyramid, Sanguinius gazed at the distant Vengeful Spirit, watching as gigantic trees and flowers from Nurgle's Garden grew inside the Vengeful Spirit, as if it had become moldy.
Magnus sat on an Egyptian-style lounge chair, reading an ancient tome.
He glanced at Abaddon's situation.
"Chief Gardener Slyth Slithmuks? What price did your new master pay the plague God to receive such strong assistance?"
"My new master claims it was all due to sincere emotional communication." Sanguinius' lips curved into a smile, and he said softly, "If you can drink a pot of thick soup in one go, the plague God will surely favor you as well."
Magnus snorted, placing the ancient tome on the table beside him. His crimson body slowly rose from the lounge chair, and his brilliant wings suddenly spread, with strange runes floating upon them.
"Sanguinius, returning from death is already difficult, why do you seek death again?"
Magnus said coldly:
"But it doesn't matter. I will prove that everything is as the Lord of Change said: I am the strongest Primarch."
"Ah? Pfft!" The Archangel burst into laughter.