Chapter 399: Croak! Grandfather Save Me!
It was the calm before the storm.
It was the heavenly fire watched by millions.
At this moment, the world roared, and the eternally rotting garden was covered by a blinding light.
The sun seemed to have fallen to the ground, causing daemons to subconsciously close their eyes. Then, this land, piled with an unknown number of corpses, began to heave like waves. Subsequently, a sound like muffled thunder exploded in Typhon Plagueheart's ears.
BOOM!!!
In an instant, countless Nurglings exploded. Giant trees in the swamp shook their trunks madly, shaking off all life on them.
However, this was not the end.
This was just the beginning.
Artillery began to roar.
In various burning areas of the Weeping Plague Swamp, war machines and towering, hazy Titans began to pour fire on everything around them.
The swamp became smoky, diffusing from the burning skyline.
Noise and vibration made the daemons feel infinitely uncomfortable.
Thirteen missiles flew thirteen kilometers at thirteen times the speed of sound, hitting the fleeing Nurgle daemons.
All from the northeast, hitting almost simultaneously.
They hit the left side of a nameless Greater Daemon. Each missile warhead was filled with high-explosive shaped charges composed of consecrated bone ash primer and compressed angel feather explosives.
Its design purpose was to create a slender ultra-high-speed particle jet, relying on the superplasticity produced by the precursor charge to penetrate all defenses. Then the molybdenum lining arranged around the precursor charge vaporized in the contact explosion, allowing the larger main charge to penetrate the target through the wound caused by the precursor charge in an instant, and then inject the Burning Angel's sacred power capable of melting everything into it.
"Ah—"
Within a hundred meters around the Greater Daemon, various daemons fleeing together under its protection were destroyed on the spot.
That Greater Daemon survived this round of attacks but began to catch fire all over. The missiles shattered its legs. Unable to move or fight back, when the flames spread to its whole body thirteen seconds later, this fat and rotten monster began to explode.
BOOM!
Another round of bombing.
That came from those agile Eldar Titans.
Eldar. Human souls surged within them, countless soul powers providing energy, allowing them to exert their full strength even inside the warp.
Since the appearance of the God of Pleasure, they had not shown their brilliance in the material universe for ten thousand years.
Splash!
Huge blades wielded by Wraith Titans swung, sweeping across the ground piled with rotten bones, gathered colonies, and dirty wood.
The explosion caused by the psychic impact lifted the entire swamp area and flipped it aside.
Another impact landed on the cauldron cherished by Typhon Plagueheart.
The impact was sudden and complete.
A deafening roar, a violent shockwave erupting from the side along the cauldron, a sun-like flash.
The shockwave kicked up a large circle of pus and sewage around the cauldron.
The tank shook, one side deformed inward first, then burst open like a hatching egg. Behind Typhon Plagueheart, seventy percent of the daemons died on the spot.
The support frame was broken, precious slurry spilled all over the ground, and the cauldron began to collapse, flattening the daemons below.
Many of them were already dead, or dying on the ignited ground, injured by high pressure, burning gas, or explosion fragments entering this garden through the rotten world.
The fire engulfed the surroundings almost immediately. Awake surviving daemons screamed shrilly as they were swallowed by flames. The fire rushed into the distance quickly like rolling waves through the collapsed cauldron.
More daemons died before they could get up.
Humans forcibly squeezed out a position in the Grandfather's domain, then poured firepower outward endlessly.
Some daemons who got up were overwhelmed by the chasing Grey Knights before they could escape, wailing as they were chopped into pieces by their consecrated blades.
These monsters under the Cursed One were the tentacles extended by them, beginning to hunt life in the garden.
Only daemons further away had a chance to survive.
Those daemons hiding at the edge of the Weeping Plague Swamp fled in panic, scattered in the open space, several of them on fire.
Typhon Plagueheart held the wooden ladle in one hand, splitting the encroaching fire, and dragged a Nurgling out with the other hand.
He threw this Nurgling out of sight, then fell to his knees. On his eyes, the protruding honeycomb structure was charred.
The Nurgling thrown away lay on the ground but could no longer get up.
The swamp began to wither.
It was very bright outside, and the sky was covered with a dirty mist.
The surroundings were already a brownish wasteland, like the surface of those barren planets.
Sand-like dust rolled across the wide road.
Dead, really dead.
Typhon Plagueheart was terrified and bewildered.
Those artillery fires, those psychic impacts, those swinging blades.
They were all real; they truly landed on the daemons, then brought death to them.
"Get up! Get up, get up!"
Typhon Plagueheart shouted.
This Great Unclean One entrusted with heavy responsibilities by the Grandfather got up. Behind him, those assembled armored units began to roar again, spewing conical thick smoke into the pale sky.
He could hear the roar of those strange weapons, the rumble of some surviving Great Unclean Ones hitting the ground with wooden sticks or large bells. He could hear the wounded groaning, daemons trapped in fire screaming as they burned alive.
The garden fell into a kind of true stasis.
He could see the figures of some compatriots wandering blindly around the destroyed huge corpses. Daemons were scared witless.
"Move! Move!"
Relying on his authority in the 'Weeping Plague Swamp', Typhon Plagueheart shouted around.
"We must leave now, return to the Manse! Quick, my brothers!"
Nothing happened.
A column of assembled Fellblade super-heavy tanks suddenly opened fire.
The crystals used to launch Volcano Cannons had an extraordinary connection with the warp, allowing them to easily overload and penetrate Titan void shields, and also easily tear apart Greater Daemons.
Typhon Plagueheart heard the roar and saw the dust flying.
Then several columns of super-heavy vehicles began to move, trying to crush these wreckages already covered in countless flames.
Of course they heard the voice, but the distance was too far. The instinct of self-preservation drove the demons, but actual execution was another matter.
BOOM!
The falling Burning Angel crushed a Great Unclean One again. The eternal burning spear penetrated the skull from top to bottom, then lifted upward, splitting it completely from top to bottom.
Then, a bigger explosion occurred, swallowing it and the Nurgle daemons protected by it together.
"Run, run!"
Typhon Plagueheart shouted loudly, running away from the domain that had begun to wither, hugging his huge wooden ladle, footsteps heavy and clumsy.
"Where are you... where are you going?"
A pile of Nurglings noticed his movement and shouted behind him.
Typhon Plagueheart ran head down, Nurgle daemons following closely behind.
Countless daemons escaping from the burning earth also followed them, setting off a huge green tide.
The billowing black smoke raised by the flames began to be left behind by them.
Those Nurglings following behind suddenly realized where the 'Lord of Weeping Plague' was leading them.
It was so huge, almost merging into the background of the vision. A huge black cliff stood before their eyes. This was a castle almost boundless, shrouded in dense fog.
That was the Grandfather's Manse.
That magnificent building full of decay was silent and grand like a mountain range.
Hope appeared in the eyes of all daemons.
They were close at hand.
However, the port was farther than it looked, seeming not to approach with their steps.
They began to slow down, out of breath. Some daemons stopped, drilled into the bushes, hands on knees panting heavily.
Typhon Plagueheart looked back. The line of fire stretching across the horizon had been left hundreds of kilometers away.
Thick black smoke rose from it, as if echoing the pitch-black fog of the rotten castle.
Silence fell around.
Bushes, firelight, smoke, and howling wind.
Some daemons were panting.
Clatter!
Silver chains with psychic lightning lashed out.
"Squawk!"
Typhon Plagueheart turned his head sharply.
That was a Great Unclean One much smaller than him.
It was bound.
It was dragged down.
It was dragged into the forest with billowing thick smoke as the background.
"SQUAWK!!!"
It screamed miserably.
Typhon Plagueheart listened to the sound of slaughter as if it were close at hand.
That was the sound of psychic weapons cutting into rotten flesh, the tremor of the soul constituting a Greater Daemon being cut and torn apart.
This was not like the conflict in realspace interwoven with blood and fire, which could only bring infinite benefits to daemons.
More like the Great Game of the Gods, two daemon armies slaughtering, preying on, and devouring each other.
He couldn't see.
Typhon Plagueheart gripped the wooden ladle tightly, staring ahead in panic, constantly flinging out rotten tears.
Until the Great Unclean One's howling became weak and finally disappeared.
It was dead.
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