Chapter 644 Doomsday Storm: Lord of Plague

The Eastern Frontier of the Empire—Ultimate Starfield—Macragge Sector—Vons Silva Domain

The Endurance is suspended in the void. As one of the current twin flagships of the Death Guard Legion, it has many missions and responsibilities. One of them is as the Son of Plague, the Primarch of the Death Legion, and the Emperor's former son Mo Talion's flagship.

No one had ever asked, or dared to ask Mortarion, if the Emperor was still his father today, no, no one, and he still kept the statue of the Emperor in the flagship hall.

The entire Endurance was wrapped in sarcoma and living tissue. The once magnificent structure was replaced by teeth, wriggling pieces of flesh, and tentacles swinging around in the universe. It was suspended at the edge of the galaxy's light belt, like a living star plane. Like a beast, a filthy beast.

Around it, more living battleships surrounded him, guarding it in the center from the rebel navy, the Death Guard, and twisted giant ships born directly from the warp.

But inside the giant ship, the Endurance is filled with living tissue, filled with fungal stench, and poisonous fog, but there is a complete cabin that is almost a miracle here. There are no living things here. The steel walls, tables, chairs, and tapestries are still stored here.

It was very simple here, with an iron chair, a bed, and a table, and nothing else. The walls were bare, and it looked no different from a prison cell.

But this is a restricted area on the entire battleship. No one dares to approach here without authorization, not even the Astartes of the Death Guard, because this is the private cabin of the owner of this giant ship, Mortarion.

Ironically, although Mortarion's legions are insulated from the word "hygiene", he himself is very close to the word "hygiene". There are no bloated pieces of flesh on his armor, no pustules or bugs lying on it. The dark green armor was carefully decorated.

Just like this cabin, the few furniture here are placed almost accurately. If you had been here ten thousand years ago, you would be surprised to find that nothing here has changed. Everything is the same ten thousand years ago. It hasn't changed over the years, and neither does the music box.

Mortarion sat on the iron chair. He sat in front of the only window here. Unlike in the past, there was no pair of wings behind the Plague Lord. The huge moth-like wings shrank behind him and were retracted by psychic energy. stand up.

In front of him, the huge floor-to-ceiling window was filled with stars, but Mortarion didn't look at them. His attention was on the music box.

A soul was imprisoned in the crystal. He was shrouded in a sickly fog. His face was twisted and painful. He screamed, and his voice was torn apart by the lightning in the fog, along with his face.

He was constantly being shattered and then put back together again, each time bringing varying degrees of pain. The cycle never stopped, and it had been this way for ten thousand years.

"Ah, Father, my true Father, you taught me many things, but the one I am most proud of is pain."

"How is it? My dear father, do you feel the results of my study? You will be proud of me, because I studied very well."

Mortarion smiled, his smile a little ferocious, that was his father, I mean, a real father.

Many Primarchs never thought of the Emperor as a father. Yes, he created them, but that was all. Their true fathers were those who raised them.

Some primarchs are lucky. They have a good native family and a truly good father, such as Guilliman. Every time he thinks of this, Mortarion feels an uncontrollable anger. Is this jealousy? Is this what mortals call jealousy?

No, he wasn't jealous, it was painful, as he had learned since childhood.

Mortarion tightened his grip on the music box, and the soul inside howled in agony. The louder his screams made Mortarion feel calmer and, more importantly, smile.

"Oh, my dear father, my dear warlord, you are better than the fathers of those incompetent people. You have taught me so much, let me think about it, ruthlessness, suffering, torture and forbearance, ah, there are too many, I Too many to count.”

“But the proudest thing of all is the pain.”

Mortarion touched the scars on his face. The horrifying scars on his pale skin were still unhealed wounds even after becoming a transcendent being. No one knew that they were really unhealed. Or is it a memorial left by Mortarion Ancient?

Just like the music box in his hand, Mortarion tightened his grip on it again, and lightning shattered the soul inside, tearing his arms apart and tearing off his legs, leaving him screaming in agony for mercy, but Mortarion's There is only a smile on the face.

"My good father, my good father, your voice is so beautiful. I just took you with me. Throughout the universe, there will be no one more beautiful than you."

"Lord Mortarion."

The hatch was opened, and a Death Guard Astartes stood at the door. Mortarion did not look back at him, but raised the music box, and then Starlight examined the soul he called his father more carefully.

"You disturbed my leisure, Nero Hughes. This is my favorite moment."

"I'm sorry, my lord, but I have something to report."

Nelosius did not enter the room. He did not dare to step into it. Unlike Mortarion, his armor was covered with pus. Although he was one of the few people in the legion who did not want to expose his inner self, he cleaned and took care of himself, but Nurgle's grace was still difficult to imprison.

The loving father let them sing and spread true love to all directions. This was not something that Nelosius could decide. He was the container of Nurgle, the incarnation of his will, and he could only practice this.

So he did not dare to step into the door, as if he was afraid of defiled this clean place. No one knew what the consequences would be, because no one dared to do it. This was Mortarion's sanctuary, his private territory.

Since joining Nurgle's arms, Nelosius has forgotten a lot of things. He did not remember Mortarion's anger, but he did not want to know even more.

"Speak."

Mortarion said, and the soul in his hand screamed again. Nelosius listened, but did not remain silent. He thought for a moment and then slowly spoke.

"Gushan Bruce failed. It did not defeat Guilliman."

"What a pity."

Mortarion said as he clenched the music box in his hand. The scream of the soul did not end quickly this time, but turned into a long roar, long and profound like a never-ending symphony.

"But it is not surprising, my brother, although he is one of the least good fighters among all people, he is my brother after all, you know? Narakus, we were brothers, we were."

"I know, sir."

Narakus nodded silently, he did not say a word, this is the iron law of the legion, even if ten thousand years have passed, the Death Guard is no longer what it used to be, but discipline, only discipline has been preserved in these ten thousand years, and is deeply engraved in everyone's corrupt heart.

His master, after admiring the torn soul for a while, slowly spoke, "Did it get Guilliman's blood? Just one drop will do, just as I ordered."

"No, sir, he didn't, his soul was...destroyed."

Nerakus was replaced by screams before he finished speaking. The soul in the music box was completely shattered this time. He bid farewell with an unprecedented painful scream, and then disappeared in the mist.

"He failed. Tell me, Narakus, what is the price of failure?"

"Death, sir."

Nerakus answered in a low voice. Obviously, he was not talking about himself, but he was still shocked in his heart. He lowered his head and dared not look directly at the pale figure. He was angry.

"Ah, he is lucky. His soul has completely dissipated and cannot be found. Otherwise, I will let him experience the results of my learning."

Motarion said and restored the soul in the music box. It reappeared in the box, but it was not good luck, because what awaited him was only a longer journey of screams.

Mortarion put down the music box, he slowly stood up and looked at the Milky Way outside the window, his thick and dark green eyes had no pupils, it was a pure eye, but it made people feel extremely scared.

"He got the stele."

Mortarion said after a moment, he exhaled a long breath, and between his breaths, a layer of fungal spores formed on the glass in front of him, they quickly disintegrated, and then all died with the touch of Mortarion's fingers.

"I hate my territory being invaded, but, I think my brother will like guests, he has always liked banquets, always" Mortarion said in a low voice, his turbid eyes were filled with smoke, and under his fingers pressing on the glass, the glass cracked in an instant.

"The banquet was packed. He always had many friends, too many. Now, let me help him select them."

"Go down, Narakus, and wait for my call."

"Yes, sir."

Nerakus withdrew, leaving Mortarion standing in front of the French window in the room. He looked at Macragge shining in the night sky, "You never invited me to your banquet, brother, never."