As the wave of warp corruption neared, the air in the region turned suffocatingly humid and hot. A foul wind blew in from afar—carrying with it a ghostly dirge.

The overwhelming demonic aura made everyone's heart tighten.

"Of course, it had to be now. Should've known we celebrated too early…" muttered Eden, gazing toward the direction the wind came from, where an unnatural storm raged in full fury.

Bloated plants swayed as if cheering in the downpour.

"Lord, this one's likely a big one..." Grand Master Corwin quickly flipped through the Codex Prohibitus, trying to identify the demon based on its ominous arrival—so that the Grey Knights could be better prepared. (Liked more Corwin than Koven)

Eden frowned deeply. "Yeah, I don't like the look of this one…"

This Nurgle entity had background music and an entrance effect. That alone screamed bad news. At the very least, it had to be one of the top-ranking Great Unclean Ones.

He wasn't worried about whether they could defeat the incoming demon—he was worried about time.

If things dragged on too long and Nurgle's Plaguefather wrapped up his fight elsewhere, it might become impossible to rescue the Goddess of Life in time.

"A perpetual storm of pestilence… a dirge and laughter in the rain… a flood of filth drowning the world… and the land turning to slop…" Corwin chanted grimly.

He finally found a match in the forbidden tome.

Records stated that such blighted omens usually appeared on agri-worlds. In times of famine and despair, desperate farmers would pray for rain, for crops, for survival.

And he would answer.

Bringing storms and floodwaters, he'd arrive with his false mercy—causing livestock to birth deformed offspring, fields to bloat and scream, and eventually submerging entire planets beneath filth.

All would be reduced to bloated corpses.

"That creature calls itself Rotigus Rainmaker—Nurgle's Second Favored, the Father of Rain and the Bountiful One. He has personally destroyed over seven hundred civilized worlds… In the last few millennia, nearly a hundred Grey Knights, including a Grand Master, have perished by his hand."

Every top-tier daemon of Chaos carried a ledger of blood. And each was a sworn target of the Grey Knights, who vowed to destroy them at all costs.

Unfortunately, very few had ever succeeded—not even in banishing them. Most attempts required catastrophic sacrifice.

But now, things were different.

The Seventh Brotherhood had been armed with an arsenal of holy weapons. They had long awaited this battle. They hungered for it.

Corwin stared at the Savior with absolute resolve. "My Lord, leave this to the Grey Knights. The Emperor's sacred blades will annihilate this daemon."

He had already resolved to lead the Grey Knights in holding back the Rainfather, giving the main force time to push forward.

The knights behind him were eager—burning for a chance to face the daemon who had long plagued the Imperium.

Eden hesitated for a moment.

He knew just how terrifying Rotigus was.

But seeing the unwavering determination in the Grey Knights' eyes, he nodded. With their sacred gear, their odds weren't bad. Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn't end in tragedy.

"Corwin, I'm leaving it to you," Eden said sincerely, full of trust. "You just need to buy us time. Don't throw away lives unnecessarily."

Corwin nodded firmly. "We shall carry out your orders. Trust in the Grey Knights' craft."

In truth, he believed the Savior was underestimating them. The Seventh Brotherhood was ready to destroy Rotigus. Their sacred weapons weren't just for show.

"Seventh Brotherhood—prepare for battle!"

With a hardened expression, Corwin raised his ornate Hammer of Divine Wrath, massive and radiant. He stepped forward, placing himself between the Savior's forces and the oncoming storm.

The Grey Knights loaded holy ammunition into their launchers. Their halberds struck the ground as psychic power surged.

They formed a ritualistic exorcism formation.

"In the name of the Emperor—cleanse all that is unholy!"

Their voices were pure and fearless.

The unnatural, sickly rainstorm arrived, droplets hammering their rune-inscribed silver armor with sharp taps. But the Grey Knights didn't flinch.

Through the downpour, they saw them—legions of singing, cackling daemons, and the silhouette of a mountainous creature, bearing a staff of tumors.

Rotigus Rainmaker.

Upon hearing of the assault on the Garden of Nurgle, Rotigus had immediately returned—bringing with him the storm and a massive host.

THOOM—THOOM—THOOM!

Seven Great Unclean Ones, acting as vanguard, stomped into view.

Rain-soaked, they brought with them cancerous plant growth and filth, glaring down at the human defenders.

Zzzzzap!

Corwin's armor crackled with psychic lightning. He was ready to strike.

The Seventh Brotherhood would obey the Savior's orders—exorcise this abomination and earn eternal glory.

ROARRRR!

One of the Great Unclean Ones lunged forward like a grotesque wrecking ball.

Corwin's face remained calm. A foe like this… didn't even warrant worry.

He raised his warhammer, priming the sacred weapon embedded within.

The weapon had been modified—it could unleash bursts of holy light with every strike. A divine hybrid of ranged and melee wrath.

But just as he was about to strike, a deafening CRASH cut through the storm.

A massive shadow slammed across the battlefield—like a freight train. It body-checked the charging daemon and sent it flying.

Aaaaaaah—!!

The Great Unclean One's scream faded into the distance.

It had been bulldozed by a charging monstrosity—a hybrid of hell-drake and brazen bull. A siege daemon-engine.

And then came the shouting.

The commander of the Terror Legion yelled from atop the engine, gleeful:

"Brothers, over here! So many juicy Nurgle daemons!"

More voices echoed in response.

"For Diablo the Destroyer—charge! Don't let them hog all the kills!"

"URAAAAAH!"

To the Grey Knights' disbelief, a tidal wave of Terror Legion warriors surged into the area.

Teleportation runes lit up behind them.

Massive Chaos Dreadnoughts and Centurion-class armor thundered into place—revving like they were racing death itself.

A flaming, winged Assault Centurion flew at a Great Unclean One—delivering a devastating shoulder slam.

The daemons had no chance.

The Terror Warriors had been suppressed for too long. Now, with permission from the Dark Prince to fight freely, they were hunting daemons like bloodthirsty predators.

Nearly 100,000 of them—fully armed, battle-starved, and deep in debt to the gods—descended like a hurricane.

Corwin didn't even have time to act. He could only watch as the Terror Warriors executed flawless team tactics, taking down multiple Great Unclean Ones.

Then, they surrounded them in a brutal, merciless melee.

One daemon tried to crawl out—only to be dragged back in.

They were getting kill-stealed.

Corwin and his men exchanged bewildered glances.

Apparently, the vanguard daemons were already taken care of.

Technically, the Terror Legion was one of the Imperium's "allies." The Imperium had even issued orders—"Avoid unnecessary conflict with the Terror Legion unless absolutely required."

You didn't mess with these lunatics unless you wanted hell.

Corwin exhaled sharply. "Then let's go for the Rainfather."

The true enemy remained.

And strike teams were the Grey Knights' specialty—surgical strikes on Chaos warlords were their bread and butter.

Demons could summon endless hordes. But take out their leaders—and the rest crumbled.

So, as Corwin's unit prepared their teleportation arrays—

Inside the storm...

"Curse that idiot Ku'gath. Letting this many enemies breach the Garden…"

Rotigus scowled, watching his vanguard's disgraceful failure.

He had always looked down on Nurgle's First Favored—the bloated fool who swallowed the Plaguefather's greatest disease. Ku'gath was soft. Weak.

He only held his rank through the Plaguefather's affection.

In truth, Ku'gath was far inferior to him.

Now, with his rival humiliated, Rotigus would be the one to turn the tide.

"These vermin… they cannot withstand my flood of filth…"

Rotigus grinned, mouth oozing worms.

Behind him, the storm surged.

More Nurgle daemons emerged—his army from the Garden. A force of 33 Great Unclean Ones and 77 Nurgle Greater Daemons.

Not even the Savior and the Terror Legion could hold that back.

He would block their advance.

And if he could slay the Savior and the Lord Regent of the Imperium? The Plaguefather's love would be his alone.

As for the Plaguefather's current state—he wasn't worried.

After absorbing the Godplague, Nurgle's power had grown. He could now stand against both Khorne and Tzeentch.

He would not fall easily.

And once they were repelled, the Garden would crush the invaders.

Until then, Rotigus would stop the Savior, the Regent, and all their allies.

He raised his branch-staff and summoned more storm. The floodwaters swelled, rushing outward.

But just as his army began its advance—

Something stirred in the swamp…

"What... is that?"

The Rainfather, Rotigus, Nurgle's Second Favored, winced as a sharp pain lanced through his bloated fingers.

He raised his hand—and saw a Tyranid worm gnawing voraciously at his flesh, nearly burrowing into his skin.

Then the waters surged violently.

BOOM—!!

A pitch-black, mutated Mawloc burst from beneath the swampy ground, devouring Plague Zombies in its path.

"Bugs! It's those damned bugs!!"

Nurgle's greater daemons bellowed in fury, swatting and vomiting bile in an attempt to drive out the Tyranids lurking in the flooded mire.

But more kept crawling up—latching onto the hulking daemons, desperately gnawing for fresh rot.

Tyranid Commander Eight had brought the swarm for a buffet.

"These filthy creatures..."

Rotigus snarled and crushed a Tyranid Ripper between his rotting fingers, before blasting a Hive Tyrant apart with waves of corrupted warp energy.

They were mere nuisances. They wouldn't change the course of this war.

Or so he thought—until a blunt object smashed into the back of his head.

WAAAGH—!!

It was a damn Ork.

The Steelfang tribe's Mekboyz had cobbled together a swarm of filthy wooden flying machines from scavenged junk inside Nurgle's Garden, launching a full airborne assault.

Bombs rained down, pounding Nurgle's army.

Then the Orks started falling from the sky like dumplings into soup—hurling themselves gleefully into melee.

And that wasn't the only problem.

From another direction came a roaring wall of blood and fire.

"Blood for the Blood God!"

That slippery Bloodthirster, Baal the Butcher, led half of Khorne's daemon legions in a brutal flank attack.

At the same time, Tzeentch's forces teleported in—flocks of Lord of Change descending, spewing prismatic warp fire that incinerated entire swarms of plague zombies.

"Plaguefather…"

Rotigus muttered, dazed as battle cries roared from all directions—Khorne and Tzeentch forces now stretched from horizon to horizon.

He was surrounded.

There were more enemies in Nurgle's Garden than he ever anticipated.

But there was no time to reflect. Powerful enemies were already bearing down on him.

Snarling, Rotigus swung his diseased branch-staff, summoning a horde of corrupted flora to retaliate.

"By the Emperor…"

A similarly exasperated cry came from Corwin.

He stared at the chaos from afar, slightly dazed.

The teleportation array still wasn't fully constructed—and yet Nurgle's forces were already falling into disarray under the onslaught.

It didn't look like there was much left for them to do.

"What should we do now?" asked the Inquisitor beside him, warp energy already flaring for the teleportation.

Corwin hesitated, pondering whether to still engage in combat. Just as he was about to make a decision, the Savior's voice rang out through the vox.

"Pull the Grey Knights back."

Eden's voice was firm: "The battle here no longer requires you. Rejoin the main force."

Corwin sighed heavily, then followed the Savior's orders. "Full retreat!"

The Grey Knights dissolved their formation and began moving out.

Corwin looked regretful.

After all the effort it took to enter this daemon realm, the Seventh Brotherhood had done nothing but pose dramatically.

It was frustrating.

Soon, he and the Grey Knights followed the Savior on a long, quiet march—like a rather grim sightseeing tour.

…

Some time later.

The Savior and Lord Regent of the Imperium finally reached their destination—the Garden of Life.

"Good thing the corruption hasn't spread too deep here yet…"

Eden gazed at the distant grove—still verdant, if slightly wilted.

Thanks to the perimeter being relatively untouched by daemons or corrupted flora—and with the Terror Legion having recently swept through—it had functioned like a natural firewall.

That significantly lessened the influence of the Godplague.

Moreover, life energies inherently counteracted pestilence.

Even the plague mists, seemingly intelligent, had avoided the Garden—opting instead for areas teeming with more chaotic life.

The virus, in its primal hunger to multiply, had deemed this place not worth the energy to corrupt.

Thus, the Garden had only suffered mild contamination.

"Old Gil, stay here and keep watch. I'll go in alone," Eden said after confirming no visible threats inside.

He worried that bringing a large force might alarm the Goddess of Life.

"If anything happens, call for us immediately."

Guilliman nodded, though he issued a warning: "Remain cautious. You're approaching an alien god of the Aeldari. Do not place blind trust in such entities."

"I understand."

Eden didn't bother explaining further.

He knew the Regent held deep mistrust for all xenos—especially those that called themselves gods.

But regardless...

The Imperium needed to form a relationship with this deity. The potential benefits were too great.

And so, the Savior stepped alone into the mysterious grove.

He'd already visited it secretly several times before.

Meanwhile, the Savior and Lord Regent's army received orders.

They were to hold position, guarding against ambushes while cycling rest and resupply rotations to maintain peak performance.

The warp corruption here was strong—if they didn't rest, it could corrode their minds.

"Guard duty? There's nothing left to guard…"

Corwin grumbled. They hadn't encountered a single enemy in ages.

No signs of Chaos lifeforms on the green grasslands… or the charred, empty wastes in the distance.

Everything had already been devoured by some kind of pestilence.

There wasn't even a trace of leftovers. Just death.

…??

Suddenly, Corwin caught a whiff of something… savory.

He turned—and saw warriors from the Son of Man Legion setting up campfires and pulling out ingredients.

Others laid out picnic cloths.

This unique regiment always carried full meal kits and dining equipment wherever they went.

"By the Emperor… Are they seriously picnicking? In the domain of a Chaos god?!"

Corwin was screaming inside.

This wasn't what he'd envisioned at all.

When Eden invited the Grey Knights to battle in Nurgle's Garden, he'd felt honored—he had agreed without hesitation, even prepared to die gloriously!

Because that was the Grey Knight creed: Faith is armor. Sacrifice is duty.

The Seventh Brotherhood came to this hellish realm to die gloriously in the Emperor's name.

Not to go sightseeing!!

Something inside Corwin shattered.

The sacred, terrifying aura of the Chaos God's realm had been... cheapened.

Just then, one of the Son of Man—Brother Barrel—noticed Corwin's stare and waved him over cheerfully:

"Grand Master! Bring your lads over for some chow. Gotta eat if you want to fight well!

These rations pack a punch!"

Corwin hesitated.

But… Brother Barrel wasn't wrong. After such a long march, the Grey Knights needed fuel.

They consumed energy faster in this hellscape than in realspace.

Because their armor was so bulky, they couldn't sit. They stood and ate the food offered by the Son of Man.

It was delicious. Rich, savory, high in calories—they devoured it, praising every bite.

Corwin swallowed another juicy sausage—the softness, the grease… it was addictive.

"Brother Barrel, what meat is this? I don't recognize the flavor."

"Oh, it's one of my prized trophies. Even the Savior himself loves it!"

Barrel beamed and handed Corwin another.

"That's the choicest cut from a mutated Nurgle Beast—a Great Unclean One. Took me hours to process, but it's some of the finest meat I've ever handled!"

The feasting Grey Knights froze.

"By the Emperor…"

Corwin stared at the half-bitten sausage in his hand, trembling.

His soul screamed behind his stoic face.

The Grey Knights… were tainted.

…

Inside the Garden of Life.

Eden followed the path deeper into the grove.

The plants here were wilted—and seemed to radiate emotions: fear, hope, anticipation.

The chaos in Nurgle's Garden had clearly affected this place—and its goddess.

She was known for being weepy and sensitive…

"Eden!!"

A fragrant blur launched into him, arms wrapping tight.

"Uuuu… you finally came!"

Isha, Goddess of Life, sobbed as she embraced him.

She had clung to the hope that Eden would come to rescue her ever since hearing of his plan to infiltrate Nurgle's Garden.

But the chaos that followed had erased all traces of him—no contact, no signal, nothing.

Fearing the worst, Isha had considered leaving her sanctuary to search for him.

Then the Godplague erupted.

Its presence—pure, festering malice against life—terrified her. It was nearly beyond redemption.

But now… her savior had arrived at last.

"Who dares!?"

Meanwhile, within the Black Bastion, Nurgle the Plaguefather stirred mid-battle—his attention suddenly snapped toward the Garden of Life.

Someone had set foot in his forbidden sanctuary.

(End of Chapter)

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