Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch

Although this was a great victory, the surviving soldiers began to clean up the battlefield and sort out the bodies of their dead comrades after a brief cheer.

Casualties were inevitable. The dead imperial soldiers piled up on the battlefield. Their bodies were dead, their wounds were eroded by the demon plague, and their souls had long been lost.

The broken tank armor was jumping with lightning, and it was completely scrapped.

The doctors saved the imperial soldiers who were eroded by the plague and whispered in pain.

The mortal guards who cleaned the battlefield picked up the double-headed eagle flags scattered in the garden and covering the corpses. These flags will be handed over to the nuns for mending.

Every battle flag is irreplaceable, and every battle flag is the belief of a team. Countless beliefs are gathered together because of the battle flag, and finally create their own culture and fighting philosophy.

Under the guidance of the battle flag, fight to the death and strive to win honor.

The act of mending the battle flag is telling everyone that the will of the predecessors will be inherited by future generations.

All the battle flags will stand forever in the inheritance of human warriors, just like the battle flag of the Sky Eagle of Destiny.

Shivara led the Crusaders composed of nuns and state priests, running on the battlefield that had gained a brief peace. They walked beside the dying,

"May your soul return to the throne."

Using sacred prayers, guiding the destination of every noble soul.

After comforting countless seriously injured soldiers, Shivara sat in a trench a little tiredly. She looked up and looked at the sky lit by flames. The flames of the sky were reflected in her black eyes, eternal and immortal.

"This is the road of salvation given by our Lord."

After a short rest, she stood up and ran again.

Dukeer stood on a tall hill in the garden. He looked into the distance, like a proud tiger, overlooking a vast land where he had just planted the flag of the empire.

He looked at the cruel battlefield that was being cleaned. To this day, there would not be too many expressions on his face.

He didn't need to blame himself. It was a great victory to plant the flag of the Empire in the Kingdom of God with such a small sacrifice.

The Doomsday Warriors stood by him, looking up at the back of the Gene Father, with admiration and worship in their eyes.

As the descendants of Dukel, the ability given to them by their genes made them tireless.

Even after nearly a month of non-stop fighting, they were still in high spirits and looked forward to the next war.

But Dukel had no plans to continue advancing for the time being.

The results of the war now satisfied him. Although the Imperial Legion still had some strength to spare, it had to conserve its strength for the next bigger war.

The Primarch looked up at the sky, waiting for the light belonging to the Emperor to break through the domain.

——"I don't know what's going on with Guilliman."

Dukel thought in his heart.

"Father, the takeaway you ordered has arrived." Suddenly Doom's voice sounded behind him.

"Here we go!"

Dukel responded quickly, and as he took steps, the Doomsday Warriors spontaneously made way.

At the same time, a fighter plane with the aroma of food landed.

The fully armed Sons of the People walked out of the fighter plane first. They carefully observed everything around them. Then, under his command, dozens of mortal servants came down carrying huge incubators.

"Your Highness, I have fulfilled my mission. Your goods have been delivered on time." The Son of the People saluted and said seriously.

"Don't be so cautious, Son of the People. They are demons, not hungry demons." The aroma of food rushed into his nose, and Duker said jokingly.

"This is a necessary move, Your Highness." The Son of the People looked around carefully and said in a low voice,

"There are hungry people among the masses."

Duker was surprised, "Is there any imperial soldier who can't eat?"

The expeditionary corps saved many worlds and accumulated a lot of resources in continuous victories. Even for mortal servants, he gave the highest standard of treatment in the empire. How could someone not have food?

The price of the food of the Son of the People is not particularly expensive. Is there corruption in the corps?

But then, Dukel denied this speculation. There are more than one million Heart Network members in the fleet. Once discovered, they will be shot directly, and there will be no soil for any corruption to grow.

But this made Dukel even more confused. He looked at the other party and waited for his answer.

"It's not hunger. All these sins are derived from the original sin of human nature, greed and gluttony." The voice under the helmet of the Son of the People seemed very dull.

"I have seen with my own eyes that the Star Army fought with close comrades in the past for a box of canned food. I have also witnessed that mortal servants were sent to the infirmary for emergency treatment because of overeating."

After hearing his answer, Dukel was stunned.

Good guy, it turned out to be greedy.

The joys and sorrows of human beings are not the same. As a Primarch, he can't understand what kind of madness those mortals who usually eat starch blocks will reveal after receiving food supplies from the Son of the People.

This is a war against hungry demons - two spots of scarlet flashed on the goggles of the People's Son's helmet, and his eyes were determined.

This is a difficult war, and there is no room for error! .

Duke's army rested on the spot and killed batches of abominable demons that invaded the Imperial Garden.

After a period of time, the plague war in the physical universe gradually came to an end.

On the battlefield, Guilliman saw the figure of his brother, Mortarion.

The Prince Regent suddenly became furious, brandishing the Emperor's Great Sword in his hand, and was about to fight to the death with the opponent.

"Father, this is not a wise move!"

Ultramarine Calgar tried his best to stop him, but was pushed away by the Regent.

"Get out of the way, I am the Emperor's vengeful son. My armor is protected by my brother. I am far better than before. I will kill Mortarion with my own hands!"

"Then please remember, Regent, make good use of your sword and armor, and rely on the strength of your father and brother, otherwise you will die."

Seeing Guilliman's persistence, the others had no choice but to get out of the way, and someone reminded him.

The regent nodded, then walked out of the gate and charged towards the enemy alone in this desolate land.

"Mortarion!"

Guilliman roared angrily, "Brother, don't you want to fight me? I'm right here!"

Mortarion also slowly appeared, with the sound of huge armored footsteps, the wings of the demon primarch were shaking, and he stared at the opponent with a pair of blind white eyes.

"Hello, brother."

The demon primarch spoke, and the eerie voice echoed across the burning land.

"Don't run away from me, brother!" Guilliman sneered. "I'd hate to see you run away a second time."

In response, Mortarion smiled strangely and said, "Fulgrim killed you once. Now it's my turn. I love this job so much."

The duel between the two brothers is about to begin.

The moment their eyes met, the two people who had fought side by side thousands of years ago were left with only the pure desire to kill each other.

Mortarion waved the scythe weapon in his hand, using his length advantage to strike first. Guilliman used the Emperor's Sword to block the attack, which seemed to shatter everything.

With the roar of weapons clashing, flames and smoke collided with each other, and the highly toxic substances were burned away.

"You relied too much on unholy sorcery, Mortarion. You were never a good enough warrior."

"Your boast is too far off." The Lord of Death retorted, "You have always been an unappetizing little role model."

Mortarion spread his wings, sprinted down with the Silent Scythe in his hand, and opened a horrific wound in Guilliman's chest.

This was an ugly gash of poison, and the body of the regent was instantly thrown away.

"Idiot." Mortarion roared,

"Show me, see my power that is far superior to you. Your nature is humble and lowly compared to mine, but I am..."

Before Mortarion could finish his words, he was hit in the head by a bomb erupted from Guilliman's commanding hand. Bolts covered half of the Daemon Primarch's body, and he raised his hands to protect his eyes before turning around in agony.

The Prince Regent took advantage of the situation and launched a fierce attack.

Blinded, Mortarion cleared his wet eyes and tried to fend off his brother's furious attacks.

"I thought you would use this sword to engage in sword duels, to embellish your status like the glory it symbolizes."

"There is no honor in a duel between the two of us, Mortarion!"

"Ah, you are right," said the Daemon Primarch.

Mortarion pretended to dodge the attack, then kicked out.

Guilliman was unprepared and was kicked several meters away. He fell heavily to the ground, sparks flashing from a broken power line.

"This competition is really boring. Brother, try to challenge me, but you are still not qualified after all."

Guilliman tried to stand up, but was hit by a burst of warp energy and was knocked to the ground again.

"It will be disappointing to defeat you," Mortarion said.

"No matter how perfect your plan is, when it comes to this part, you will never be able to face and defeat me, ever."

Mortarion reached out and grabbed one of the many pendants—a small, dirty bottle.

"This is a gift I carefully prepared for you, a gift from Nurgle. Accept it happily, and then witness His glory."

"You will never corrupt me!" Guilliman roared.

"Then it'll kill you."

Mortarion pressed the unholy liquid into the green syringe. He bent down and injected the needle into Guilliman's neck, where Fulgrim had traumatized him, and then let out a sigh of satisfaction.

In an instant, Guilliman was breathing heavily, and a wave of filth surged through his veins.

"Yeah, that's it, brother."

Mortarion laughed, and poisonous gas erupted from Guilliman's mouth. When the poisonous gas came into contact with the dead bodies on the ground, it instantly collapsed into disgusting clots, and the steel was corroded into unrecognizable shapes. Remaining traces.

"Korgath told me this plague was deadly to us all," Mortarion said. "Now I fully believe it, brother, and look what it's doing to you."

Guilliman's skin was rapidly darkening, and many parts of his body were deliquescing. The lack of flesh and blood caused the original head's head to reveal its white, glowing skull before it completely rotted.

"Stop struggling pointlessly." Mortarion looked down at him,

"Your pain is just the beginning. If I were you, it would save time and effort. Otherwise, how should you taste it?"

"This disease is a creation of the Sea of ​​Souls. When it succeeds in killing you, your soul will be taken to Nurgle's Garden. Then it will be used as an opportunity to pull all of Ultramar into the Warp."

As Mortarion recounted this to Guilliman.

Alarms sounded on the bridge of Macragge's Glory, followed by panicked shouts.

"The Primarch has fallen!!!"

The news quickly exploded on the command deck.

"Do you feel it, brother." Mortarion's voice came out from the silence, with a sense of schadenfreude, "Do you feel the subspace?"

Guilliman roared in pain, his skin seemed to be on fire, his bones seemed to be soaked in glacial water, and his organs seemed to have been stabbed in a hundred places. He kept falling, as if falling into an endless darkness.

The pain attacked him on every level, causing every cell in his body to suffer.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Mortarion's voice murmured.

Guilliman tried to dig deep into his body, searching for the little corners that were not yet affected by pain.

Suddenly, he saw the golden double-headed eagle on his shoulder burning with flames,

"Come here, brother, come here, don't go the wrong way."

In this voice the fire guided him.

"Dulkle, brother? Where is this? I feel pain all over my body." Guilliman cried out in pain.

"I know, I know, brother, if you bear with it a little longer, you will pay back ten thousand times."

"Okay, I am the son of revenge!"

Guilliman growled in pain, and under the guidance of the fire, he came straight to a gate.

This is the door to the throne room.

"Interesting." Mortarion chuckled. He seemed to have seen this scene, "Dukele, you took him to see his father? Do you want his father to protect him now? How touching."

Still enduring the pain, Guilliman saw the door, and a voice reminded him to open it. He did so, and then his movements were distorted by terrifying golden shadows.

When the door opened, light flooded in, pure light.

Mortarion, who had been watching this scene, was breathing heavily at this moment.