Chapter 336: Today, the Warp remains as vibrant as ever

Boom!!!

The lust-fire of the God of Thirst burns fiercely at the border of the Plague God's realm. Dazzling purple-red flames reach up toward the dark green clouds. The Plaguebearers hang their heads in sloth, the laughter in the mouths of the Nurglings turns into obscene songs, and the Beasts of Nurgle are stirred by the urge to mate.

The horse-faced steed of the Pleasure Demon extends its tongue to strike at the Plague Blade in the hand of a Plaguebearer. Daemonettes dance a beautiful dance of pleasure as they clash with the Death Guard. The music of the Infernal Enrapturess punctuates the moment with songs of wailing and malice.

"Lackeys of the Lord of Thirst."

The buzzing of the Destroyer Hive drowns out the songs of Slaanesh. Corroded scythes tear through the lust-fire of Slaanesh.

Clad in heavy, shroud-pattern Terminator power armor, Typhus stands like a giant, bloated fly, unmoved amidst the lust-fire of Slaanesh.

Psyker energy, overflowing from a bloodline mixed with xenos and human, roars out, repelling the Slaaneshi daemons attempting to approach him. The profane Destroyer Plague, mingled within the psyker energy, erodes the bodies of the servants of the Lord of Thirst.

Meanwhile, the Blightlord Terminators following Typhus march forward, intercepting the space between Nurgle's Garden and the invading Slaaneshi Daemonettes like an iron wall.

Mortarion has visited the Garden at the invitation of the Grandfather, and the Slaaneshi daemons have launched a sudden, inexplicable attack. These two matters leave Typhus feeling vexed.

The Manreaper in his hand swings continuously, carving arcs of stench into the air, reaping the heads of those attempting to approach the Chosen of Nurgle.

But Typhus is not invincible; he soon encounters an opponent.

A whip and a battle-axe strike at Typhus from above and below. Typhus hurriedly swings his scythe to block them.

A Slaaneshi Daemon Prince and a Slaaneshi daemon stand before Typhus.

A slender, elegant Slaaneshi daemon with a female appearance stands on the shoulders of the male Slaaneshi Daemon Prince; the two are as one.

"Syll'Esske!"

Typhus whispers the names of these two Slaaneshi vanguards.

The Slaaneshi daemon Syll'Esske and the Daemon Prince Esske are partners serving the Lord of Thirst.

It is said that Syll'Esske, as a daemon, fell in love with Esske, who was a mortal. The two became a symbiotic entity, jointly receiving the gifts of Slaanesh and becoming the blades of the Lord of Thirst.

Axes, whips, and the Manreaper in Typhus's hand interweave.

Relying on the experience accumulated over ten thousand years, Typhus battles both daemon vanguards simultaneously.

"Why do you invade the Grandfather's realm? What is the purpose of the Lord of Thirst?!"

The low roar transmits through the vox-grille on Typhus's armor. Typhus is the mouthpiece of Nurgle, and his voice carries the Grandfather's gifts.

Signs of disease appear on both Syll'Esske and Esske, and their movements slow slightly.

"Naturally, to satisfy our Lord's desire." Syll'Esske giggles.

Behind them, the lust-fire burns fiercely, and more Slaaneshi daemons surge out from the border.

Typhus's expression is dark and ugly.

Although Jaghatai Khan once mocked Mortarion during the Great Crusade by claiming he was the true master of the Fourteenth Legion,

very few Death Guard truly follow Typhus.

Mortarion is, regardless of anything else, the liberator of Barbarus. That pale figure can make ninety-nine percent of the Barbaran-descended Death Guard follow him to the ends of the galaxy and time.

The vast majority of the Death Guard around Typhus were cultivated by him after the Horus Heresy; they are not only fewer in number but also of relatively poorer quality.

They simply cannot stop an invasion of Slaaneshi daemons on such a massive scale.

Watching his subordinates die in the lust-fire of Slaanesh, Typhus grinds his teeth, his heart bleeding.

He can only pray to the Grandfather, praying that reinforcements arrive sooner.

Typhus glances at the Great Unclean Ones at the garden's border, and he immediately grinds his teeth.

To the stunned gaze of Syll'Esske, Typhus abandons them, raises his Manreaper high, and swings it down at the Great Unclean One.

This is the fastest way Typhus can think of to summon aid.

"Calas Typhon?!"

The roar of the Head Gardener, Horticulous Slimux, erupts from the depths of Nurgle's Garden. It shouts out the name Typhus had as a child:

"You dare cut my tree?!"

In Typhus's gaze, filled with both terror and joy, the giant snail Horticulous Slimux instantly appears on the battlefield.

In the blink of an eye, the Head Gardener Horticulous Slimux shears off the limbs and heads of seventy-seven Slaaneshi daemons, leaving only their torsos on the ground.

Then, the shears in its hand point at Typhus.

"Hahahahahaha!!!!"

Shalaxi Helbane sprints through the woods of Nurgle's Garden, unable to stop from laughing aloud.

Its plan is still so perfect, its actions still so elegant; it will soon regain the favor of Slaanesh.

Because of its poor performance during the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang, Nurgle, Tzeentch, and Khorne's raid on the Six Circles of Slaanesh, Shalaxi Helbane had its head smashed in by a hammer thrown by the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang's Iron General, slept through the entire war, and was consequently punished by Slaanesh, locked away in the most boring penal palace, and left out in the cold.

But Shalaxi Helbane is always adept at seizing opportunities—opportunities to regain favor. It has heard the whispers of the Lord of Thirst these past days:

"Is this soup for Nurgle alone, or do other sisters have some too?"

"I so want to taste the flavor of that pot of thick soup."

"You know I am the finest gourmet, yet you are unwilling to offer the thick soup to me?"

"Not offering it to me is one thing, but giving it to that green fatty?"

Shalaxi Helbane senses the emotions of the Lord of Thirst.

The Lord of Thirst desires to mate with the existence named Zhou Yun, because it desires to devour everything of His.

At the same time, as the Sovereign of Pleasure, Slaanesh always craves gourmet food that can bring extreme stimulation. It thirsts to taste that pot of soup that seems so delicious.

Furthermore, there is the intense jealousy of the Lord of Thirst; it does not allow others to have what it does not have itself.

Shalaxi Helbane thus knows its opportunity has arrived. As long as it obtains that pot of soup brewed by Zhou Yun, it can regain the favor of the Lord of Thirst.

For this, Shalaxi Helbane has paid a not-insignificant price, colluding with a host of Slaaneshi Daemonette armies to launch a raid on Nurgle's Garden.

It certainly did not expect to truly invade the Garden; what it counted on was that the other side would be able to hold off Typhus and the Head Gardener Horticulous Slimux.

And as for the rest, Ku'gath is obsessed with brewing its plagues and rarely moves about in Nurgle's Garden.

Other Great Unclean Ones—even the Rain Father—are no match for it. If it were only one of them, even if they encountered Shalaxi Helbane, it could resolve the situation quickly.

As for Mortarion, that gloomy, boring Primarch is always holed up on the Plague Planet studying his numerology and planning how to cause trouble for Guilliman; he hardly ever comes to the Plague Garden.

Shalaxi Helbane soon sees the six Great Unclean Ones sealing Zhou Yun's thick soup.

Originally there were seven; the Plague God drank one, and now five remain.

This just goes to show that one will belong to the Lord of Thirst!

Shalaxi Helbane cannot help but be excited, extending its blade to cut down these six Great Unclean Ones.

"Slaanesh's Keeper of Secrets, Shalaxi Helbane."

A cold, withered voice rings out behind Shalaxi Helbane. The voice asks flatly:

"What are you trying to do here?"

"I want to————hm?" Shalaxi Helbane turns its head in confusion, looking behind itself.

Pale scales fall like rain, and gray moth wings unfold beneath the corrupt firmament, covering the earth like dark clouds.

Cold eyes beneath a hood stare at Shalaxi Helbane, and a scythe like that of a Death God hangs low in mid-air, as if waiting to reap Shalaxi Helbane's life.

"Unwilling to speak? No matter, numerology has already shown me your purpose and your concealment."

"Mo-Mortarion." Shalaxi Helbane is dumbfounded.

"Trash!!!"

"All of you are fucking trash!!!"

Angry sulfur fire howls in the realm of the Blood God.

He roars, slapping the Huang Tong Throne, looking at the eighty-seven Bloodthirsters he has solidified from the waves of the Warp before him.

Creating a daemon is a complex matter.

Khorne needs to sacrifice a bit of his own power, wrapping it in the surging tides of the Warp, shaping a series of senses, existences, thoughts, and purposes that fit himself, giving it a personality and consciousness that allows it to exist and act within the Warp, shaping it into an independent existence.

This is the birth of a daemon.

The amount of power Khorne discards in this process determines how many senses, thoughts, emotions, and purposes the daemon he shapes contains. Generally speaking, the more power wrapped, the more powerful the daemon; the top tier are the Greater Daemons.

But the tides of the Warp are unpredictable; even the gods cannot clearly explain what emotions, thoughts, and purposes they contain.

Therefore, the Greater Daemons shaped are often random, and even they are strong or weak because of this. Only the Greater Daemons condensed from the most excellent emotions, thoughts, and senses can be worthy of the name of Chief.

Before rebelling against the Blood God, Skarbrand was always a tool that satisfied Khorne, but he betrayed him in the end, and it was a ridiculous betrayal like a coward.

Anggrath was passable; although he could be defeated by Lorgar, he was at least at the level of a Chief Greater Daemon. Khorne was always very careful when using him.

But Anggrath is gone! Anggrath has inexplicably disappeared from this universe!

The Blood God has no choice but to continue trying to find a suitable, new Chief Greater Daemon.

His luck seems to have been consistently bad since banishing Skarbrand. The Blood God's realm has millions of Bloodthirsters he has shaped over the years, but most are not very good.

Not to mention being able to serve as a Chief Greater Daemon, helping him bring enough slaughter, or even taking the skull of a Primarch.

The Blood God has no choice but to continue trying to shape new Greater Daemons, but after sacrificing a lot of power, Khorne still has not obtained one that satisfies him.

Not to mention one that can rival that two-headed bird of Tzeentch, there isn't even one that can rival that little bitch Shalaxi Helbane.

After trying eighty-seven times, the Blood God finally decides to give up.

"Get Skarbrand back for me!!!!!"

The roar resounds through the Huang Tong Realm.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 337 =====