The other players watched this scene unfold, their eyes brimming with absolute shock and envy.
[Can't Repay Grandfather's Love] was the first to react. "Holy crap, Boss! You just got the Second Blessing and became a Plaguebearer just like that?! Was that... did Grandfather personally descend just now???"
[Gardener of Nurgle's Garden] gulped heavily.
Another player piped up, "As expected of Grandfather, he's just that generous! Way more generous than Tzeentch! I heard over on the Tzeentch side, you have to do quests and solve riddles for a blessing, and if you get it wrong, you get cursed! Slaanesh is even more ridiculous; the benchmark for a blessing is reaching 'ultimate pleasure,' but who the hell knows what 'ultimate pleasure' even means?? Self-mutilation or getting high as a kite? Khorne is straightforward enough—just kill, kill, kill—but the kill count requirements are way too high. Nobody over there has gotten a Second Blessing yet!"
The group chattered over one another, roasting the other three Ruinous Powers.
"But honestly, the main reason the boss got the Second Blessing this time was probably because of that speech he just made, right?"
Everyone quieted down at once, looking over at [Breaching the Imperial Palace is Easier Than Passing the Exam].
[Death Guard Primarch Typhus] continued, "'Slay the False Emperor, the Grandfather Shall Rise...' Boss, you straight-up stole the iconic catchphrase of the Night Lords' First Captain."
"What iconic catchphrase?" [Gardener of Nurgle's Garden] asked blankly.
"You don't know?" [Death Guard Primarch Typhus] explained. "The First Captain of the Night Lords, Jago Sevatarion, was the first Astartes to shout 'Death to the False Emperor' during the Horus Heresy. And just now, the boss shouted it out years ahead of schedule."
"Holy shit, now that you mention it..." a player gasped. "And the boss didn't just shout 'Death to the False Emperor!' He added 'The Grandfather Shall Rise' and 'Breach the Imperial Palace?!"
[Can't Repay Grandfather's Love] slapped his thigh. "No wonder Grandfather personally descended to bless you! Boss, your words were so damn inspiring! Even Grandfather was moved!"
[Death Guard First Captain Mortarion] nodded. "Exactly, exactly! Especially that part about making the nobles who've lived in the upper spires for generations understand the fury of the common man."
He paused, then continued, "It's just a shame it's only 000.M31 right now. If Terra wasn't still shrouded by the Emperor's psychic barrier, I feel like that speech alone would've gotten you promoted straight to Nurgle Champion..."
[Breaching the Imperial Palace is Easier Than Passing the Exam] smiled as he listened, slowly raising a hand to signal for quiet.
He felt the power surging within his body. He savored the aura of disease that was now more than ten times as potent, feeling the warm pulsation from the three pustules on his forehead.
A sickly smile crept onto his lips.
"Brothers," he rasped, his voice laced with a fanatic edge. "This is Grandfather. As long as you can please Him, Grandfather is never stingy with His rewards. He loves everyone equally."
He opened his arms as if to embrace every single person in the room.
The dozen or so Nurgle players in the shanty felt a sudden wave of warmth. It was the warmth of validation. The warmth of acceptance. The warmth of... being embraced by Grandfather.
Then, someone spoke up. "The boss is right. Grandfather never mistreats His loyal children."
[Breaching the Imperial Palace is Easier Than Passing the Exam] nodded, the smile slowly fading from his face to be replaced by a look of sheer seriousness. He sat down slowly, his gaze sweeping across every face. "It's just a pity that because the sacrifice makes you ugly, our cult's numbers are still way too low. We only have a measly one hundred and forty members. Compared to the Chaos player cults in the Terran Underhive who sacrificed themselves to Tzeentch, Slaanesh, or Khorne... our little group isn't even enough to fill the gaps in their teeth. Because of this, we need to shift into rapid expansion mode."
His fingers lightly tapped his knee. "First, we persuade the Chaos players who haven't performed a sacrifice yet to join us. The ones still hesitating, the fence-sitters, the ones who don't know which Ruinous Power to pledge themselves to... Tell them Grandfather is the most forgiving. Grandfather welcomes all lost lambs. Second..."
His tone turned ice-cold. "Under the guise of Grandfather's Mercy, we start spreading Grandfather's loving plagues throughout every sector of the Underhive. We recruit massive numbers of lay believers and initiates. We're going to help them become Blessed, and maybe even Plaguebearers. Only by rapidly spreading Grandfather's plagues and affection can we earn even more powerful blessings!"
He looked up, unshakable resolve in his murky green eyes. "Don't worry about any roadblocks. The Emperor is currently completely tied down by the Webway Project. He won't intervene personally. Don't fear death, either. The Adeptus Custodes and the Astartes might be absurdly strong, but we aren't afraid of them. The Underhive is filled with countless unexplored ruins; as long as we get strong enough, we'll never be short on Imperial Coins. We are players, and we are Grandfather's favorites. Out of everyone, us Nurgle players are arguably the least afraid of dying. All we need to do is expand like crazy and hoard enough power."
He suddenly clenched his right fist. "Before the Great Heresy that burns the galaxy even kicks off, I want to give Terra a taste of... an Underhive uprising that breaches the Imperial Palace!"
The players in the shanty all stood up in unison. Over a dozen gazes locked onto [Breaching the Imperial Palace is Easier Than Passing the Exam].
Then, a dozen voices roared out as one. "Understood!"
The shout echoed through the cramped shack, carrying a terrifying, heart-palpitating fanaticism.
--
Meanwhile,
In three other shanties within this same refugee zone, similar scenes were playing out.
In the southeast corner, inside a structure slightly larger than the rest, nearly seven hundred players were crammed into a makeshift temple.
They lacked the bloated, sickly appearance of Nurgle's followers. Their bodies were robust and powerful, muscles bulging with vitality. But their eyes... were as crimson as fresh blood.
A faint, blood-drop-shaped mark was branded onto each of their foreheads. It was the Mark of Khorne. The gaze of the Blood God. The promise of slaughter and skulls.
"Skulls for the Skull Throne!" A heavily muscled player standing two meters tall roared from the very front, his voice like a rampaging beast. "Blood for the Blood God!"
Nearly seven hundred people screamed in unison, the sheer volume shaking the entire shelter to its core.
"Skulls for the Skull Throne! Blood for the Blood God!!"
--
In the southwest corner, inside a garishly decorated shack draped in colorful plastic tarps, over four hundred players were lounging in various postures.
Their bodies were symmetrical and graceful, every inch of muscle sculpted to absolute perfection. Their faces were devastatingly handsome or alluringly beautiful, each stunning in their own right. But their eyes... they were hazy and intoxicated, as if forever savoring some unseen ecstasy.
Those were Slaanesh's eyes, the gaze of the Prince of Pleasure. The temptation of ultimate sensory overload.
"My darling brothers," a player draped in stolen finery purred, leaning languidly against a throne. His voice was bone-meltingly seductive. "The Dark Prince is watching us... As long as we can make more souls experience this ultimate ecstasy... His blessings will be more sublime than any mere show of force. How is the training going for the new recruits we picked up?"
"To answer your grace, Slaaneshi Priest," a native Underhive man kneeling on the floor replied obediently. "They have grasped the basics of sensory resonance. Give it a week at most, and they'll be ready for the formal Slaaneshi blessing ritual."
"Excellent." The player on the throne curled his lips into a smile potent enough to make anyone's heart race. "Let these lost lambs get a taste of... true pleasure."
"Ugh, Bro, can you stop talking like that? Ever since you did the Slaanesh sacrifice, you've been using that tone. I mean, it's not awful, but I remember you being completely straight! You acting like this is freaking me out! I won't even dare crash at your place for late-night snacks next time." A player lounging off to the side chimed in out of sheer boredom. Despite having his pinky finger elegantly raised in a delicate pose, he spoke with utter self-righteousness.
--
In the northwest corner, deep within a highly inconspicuous little shack, over three hundred players sat in utter silence.
The leading player, bearing the ID [I Am Not Good At Any Plans], was currently murmuring in a faint voice. "Brothers, there's no need to rush..."
His voice was low, like the hiss of a venomous snake. "Let those Khorne maniacs go on their killing sprees. Let those Slaanesh degenerates screw around. Let those Nurgle sicklings spread their bugs..."
A barely perceptible smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Let them make a scene first. Once they've had their fun... we'll be the ones to clean up the mess."
The surrounding players still didn't speak. Yet, a flash of shared understanding glinted in their eyes simultaneously.
Within this refugee shantytown of the Terran Underhive, the Chaos faction players had already fractured into four distinct cults. They were nowhere near as united as the Chaos players within the Emperor's Children legion.
One hundred and forty chose to become Nurgle cultists. Nearly seven hundred for Khorne, over four hundred for Slaanesh, and over three hundred for Tzeentch.
There were also nearly a thousand unaligned Chaos players observing silently from the shadows.
Of course, compared to the massive scale of the refugee camps, compared to the boundless expanse of the Terran Underhive... their numbers were still just a drop in the ocean.
But within this single drop in the ocean.
Conspiracies were spreading.
Slaughter was underway.
Lust was seducing.
And a rotting affection was showing mercy.
--
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