coobybook Chapter 364 The Power of the Primarch
Chapter 364 The Power of the Primarch
The explosion of the Blackrock ripped reality apart, and the corruption of the Warp gushed out like pus from a burst dam.
The **Death Shroud Legion** emerged from the rift with heavy steps, their decaying power armor crawling with maggots, each breath spewing out a yellowish-green plague mist. Hundreds of elite Death Guards wielding giant scythes surged forward like a tide, the ground beneath their feet rotting and turning into mud.
Behind them, an even more horrifying sight unfolded—**Nurgles** rolled and laughed in the filthy mud, **pusboros** dragged their bloated bodies over the ruins, and **plague drones** blotted out the sky like swarms of rotting bees.
"For the grace of the Father!" The voice of the Lord of the Death Shroud was like the muffled sound of a festering wound being torn open. Seven still-beating hearts were embedded in his four-meter-tall, decaying body, each one belonging to a champion warrior of a different race.
The **Salamander**'s flamethrower roared first, and the plasma flames burned the front-line Plague Warriors into twisted charcoal—but the next second, those charred bodies rose again under the blessing of Nurgle, and the festering muscles writhed and healed like worms.
The Silver Knights' volley of bullets shattered the heads of several people in their death shrouds, but the headless bodies continued to advance, spurting not blood from their severed necks, but thousands upon thousands of buzzing flies.
Only the **Super Angel's** psionic weapons could inflict effective damage. Carrion's silver wings fully unfurled, and his twin swords slashed out a holy cross of light, cleaving the three shrouded bodies in two at the waist—the severed bodies sprouted centipede-like limbs before hitting the ground, continuing to crawl and attack.
"Purify them!" With Carion's roar, fifty angel warriors simultaneously activated the holy runes on their wings, and a silvery-white psionic storm swept across the battlefield, temporarily halting the spread of the plague.
The Lord of Death Shrouds has set his sights on Carleon.
The bloated demon prince wielded the rusty giant scythe "Kiss of Rot," each strike leaving a putrid green trail in the air. Carrion's psionic blade easily sliced through the opponent's breastplate, revealing maggot-infested entrails—but instantly, a tar-like sap gushed from the wound, and new flesh began to writhe and regenerate at a visible speed.
"You can't kill me... Angel..." The lord's voice came from another mouth in his abdomen, "The love of a loving father is eternal..."
Carrion's six fatal strikes severed its left arm, right leg, and even half its head, yet the monster continued to laugh maniacally. When the seventh strike finally cleaved open its chest cavity, which contained seven hearts, those hearts began to beat simultaneously, pumping out corrosive pus and blood!
"Russell!" Carrion cried out in the psionic communicator, "These impurities require a higher level of purification!"
On the other side of the battlefield, Russell was being besieged by twenty men in death shrouds. His entrenching tool, "Blood Drinker," underwent a bizarre transformation—the dark red patterns in the blood groove pulsated like veins, and each slash seemed to actively tear at the enemy's soul as if it were a living thing.
When the shovel blade pierced the body of the fifth person in the burial shroud, the festering flesh was instantly drained, turning into grayish-white dust. The absorbed corrupting energy formed plague runes on the shovel's surface, which were then forcibly crushed by Russell's golden psionic energy.
"Arya!" he shouted, turning around, only to see the girl kneeling in the filthy mud, her hands pressed tightly to her temples. Her silver hair was visibly turning dark green, and the chaotic mark of Nurgle appeared in the silver pupil of her left eye.
"It...planted spores in my brain..." Arya's scream was a double-toned cry. "Russell...kill me..."
The Lord of the Death Shroud was finally cleaved into pieces by Carrion—though the pieces still writhed, trying to reassemble. The Superangels' psionic reserves were more than half depleted, and the Salamanders' flamethrowers were running out of fuel.
The subspace fissure is still expanding.
A huge shadow is appearing!
Russell stood between Arya and the rift, the blood groove on his entrenching tool turning a boiling golden-red.
…………
The curtain of the subspace was ripped apart, and a mountain-like figure stepped out from the decaying fog.
**Mortalian**—the Primarch of the Death Guard, the darling of the Plague God—his body is shrouded in eternal decay, and with each flap of his decaying wings, a deadly rain of spores falls. The giant scythe in his hand, "Silence," hums thirstily, its blade still bearing the skull of a saint beheaded a thousand years ago.
“Russell,” the Primarch’s voice sounded like a million rotting corpses speaking at once, “you killed quite a few of my toys.”
Russell's golden psionic energy flickered under the oppressive force as he stared intently at Arya behind Mortalian—the girl was entangled in plague vines, and her left eye had become a festering sore.
"Release her." The entrenching tool "Blood Drinker" erupted with an unprecedented red light. "Your opponent is me."
Mortarion let out a wet laugh and suddenly swung his giant scythe.
**First Strike:** The scythe clashed with the entrenching tool, and Russell's legs sank directly into the ground. Corruption energy spread along the weapon, and mold began to grow on his gauntlets.
**Second Blow:** Mortarion kicked Russell in the chest, shattering his terracotta armor like rotten wood. The sound of three ribs breaking was clearly audible.
**The Third Strike:** The giant scythe swept across, and Russell barely managed to roll away, but a deep, bone-revealing wound was still slashed across his left arm. The blood that flowed out immediately turned dark green.
"Is this all the power you have?" Mortarian shook his head in disappointment. "You can't even satisfy me."
Arya suddenly struggled: "Russell...run..."
The Primarch turned and grabbed her by the neck: "So noisy."
"No!!" Russell unleashed his final psionic charge.
Too late.
Mortarian's fingers gently closed.
**Click**.
The girl's neck snapped like a withered branch, and her body instantly withered and decayed, turning into a skeleton draped in tattered rags. In her final moments, her right eye was still gazing in Russell's direction, and her lips moved in a silent farewell.
Russell's roar turned into a monstrous howl, his golden psionic energy going completely berserk—before being cleaved apart by Mortarion's scythe. The giant scythe pierced through his abdomen, pinning him to the ground.
“Don’t rush,” the Primarch leaned closer, “you will watch her rise again… as my new plague messenger.”
Twenty super angels rushed at once.
Wings ablaze, power swords snapped, and they tore at the Primarch with the purest physical attacks—Kalion's two-handed sword "Redemption" pierced Mortalian's spine, while another angel, clutching a molten bomb, leaped into the Primarch's wound.
The explosion devastated the entire battlefield.
As the thick fog of the plague dissipated, Mortarion's lower body disappeared, but he was still grinning maliciously: "Fool... I am..."
Carleon seized the opportunity to pull out Russell, and the remaining angels formed a human wall. One by one, they self-destructed their power packs, using holy psionic flames to temporarily block the Primarch.
The last evacuating warrior watched his comrade turn to ashes in the green flames, then, carrying the unconscious Russell, leaped into the Thunderhawk gunship. The moment the hatch closed, Mortarion's regenerated giant claw shattered the hatch's outer shell.
The gunboat was tossed about in the subspace storm.
Russell lay in the medical pod, black blood seeping from the wound in his abdomen. His left hand clutched tightly half a silver hairpin—the only thing Arya had left behind.
Carleon's wings were reduced to charred skeletons as he stared at the star map and muttered to himself: Where are we going?