"Advance the summoning ritual -- now!!!"
"But according to the plan, we need to tear open a gate large enough for Father, Ku'gath, the Rainfather, and five other entities to pass through simultaneously. If we release it now..."
"There's no time...."
Hearing this, Typhus gave a slow shake of his rotting skull, then glanced back over his shoulder.
The Orks' unexpected flank assault had forced him to redirect half his Titan strength to intercept them. And now the Emperor Titan was already closing within striking distance of the Plague Titan line.
He watched the Emperor Titan -- one gauntlet blazing with crackling lightning -- advancing in concert with the two Aeldari Phantom Titans flanking it.
His own Warlord Titans had been stripped of ranged firepower and rebuilt for close assault. But he did not believe for a moment they could hold against those three Titans combined. The original plan -- summoning Mortarion and seven Greater Daemons -- was no longer viable.
"Tear a small breach first, bring one Greater Daemon through. We cannot hold otherwise. Then tear a larger breach and bring Father through as well."
Typhus had no good options left, and he knew it.
Zhou Ye merely found his forces' advance sluggish. Typhus, from where he stood, found what was happening terrifying. He had committed everything he had. By any reasonable measure, a force of this intensity should have been capable of grinding through multiple Space Marine Chapters in rotating waves of assault. And yet this composite Chapter was tearing through it like it was nothing. Setting aside the Space Wolves -- who were frankly embarrassing -- everything else was operating at a level that defied comprehension.
And then there were those things that had shattered his entire understanding of the universe: those Necrons radiating holy light.
Grandfather above.
What in all creation were they? When had the Imperium gone this mad, that they could actually corrupt Necrons? This was profoundly, maliciously wrong. This was something even Nurgle's forces had always wanted to do and never managed. And those Necrons carrying Gauss Weapons -- the firepower output was genuinely obscene, and with Deathmark Snipers operating alongside them, those ones alone had already picked off several dozen Death Guard. His carefully deployed Iron Warriors -- given five to one odds in numbers, plus full Nurgle daemon support -- had somehow been shattered and scattered anyway.
Because what they were fighting was a mob of ancient veterans who had been fighting since before most existing power structures even existed.
And what disturbed him even more: who was the Chapter Master commanding these ancient creatures? The last person to direct warriors of this generation had been the Warmaster, Horus himself. But that was obviously impossible here. And more unsettling still -- the era of the Primarchs had passed too long ago to matter. Whoever was commanding them, it was not a face Typhus could place.
Typhus arrived at his decision. If they waited for the Chaos relic to reach full activation under the original plan, the ritual site would be destroyed long before that moment came. He would summon a Great Unclean One first -- a Greater Daemon of Nurgle. Even if the named, formidable Great Unclean Ones could not cross over, any Greater Daemon of Nurgle would serve well enough for now.
At his command, a dark, bile-green spatial corridor tore open.
And from within it stepped a Great Unclean One, its entire form reeking of ancient, layered rot.
---o---
"A Greater Daemon has finally shown up. Time to go devour it."
Zhou Ye looked at the massive entity and jumped down from the top of the APC.
He would not pretend he could play a saxophone. But that was all right -- he had already written the information that he was an expert saxophonist directly into the Gene-seeds submitted as the Gene-seed Tithe. If the Ultramarines got to use those, it would probably give them quite a surprise.
A Greater Daemon was on the field, and Zhou Ye had decided to consume it like a serving of chips.
This battle had already forced him to burn through nearly all of his reserves. Once it was over, he had no idea how he would replenish the energy spent. A nameless Great Unclean One was the ideal subject -- and the threat level of this thing was not something to laugh at.
"Ha ha ha...."
The moment the Great Unclean One stepped onto the field, it began flinging plague in every direction. In an eyeblink, the entire mass of Nurgle forces that had been cut down by ranged fire was lurching back upright and pressing forward again, making the entire engagement that much more grinding and intractable.
Zhou Ye did, in a certain sense, genuinely enjoy watching them produce something strange and unexpected. But for right now, he had decided to carve up a Greater Daemon first and taste something new.
So he took his Honor Guard and walked toward it.
---o---
From a distance, Typhus noticed.
"You are the Chapter Master -- a Son of Guilliman?"
Watching Zhou Ye stride forward with his Honor Guard, Typhus took one step forward himself and planted himself in the path directly ahead. He needed that Great Unclean One continuously reinforcing the Nurgle daemon host, not getting its head taken off by a single combatant striding straight toward it.
So Typhus made his move, stepping up to intercept personally. The opposing Chapter Master had the audacity to come himself rather than send his Chapter Champion. That was a staggering level of recklessness.
A Son of Guilliman -- the feel of it was immediately recognizable.
Typhus was genuinely curious about this man's actual identity. Anyone capable of commanding these kinds of warriors was not someone who could have gone entirely unrecorded. So who was he? Marius Gage? Phratus Auguston? Could it possibly be Aeonid Thiel?
But whoever he was, Typhus had already received Grandfather's most generous blessing. That he had not ascended to daemonhood was absolutely not for lack of qualification -- he had a greater mission ahead of him. So Typhus walked forward.
---o---
"Do we -- should we help?"
A cluster of Space Wolf cubs noticed the situation. They had taken losses themselves. Several battle-brothers had fallen permanently, their Gene-seeds temporarily collected by the accompanying Star of Trailblaze Apothecary. Watching their Chapter Master walk out to personally duel Nurgle's chosen Champion, the group became very anxious indeed.
They privately felt that never mind this apparent Son of Guilliman -- even the Dreadnought Ancient standing behind them would struggle to beat that opponent. Typhus, former First Captain of the Death Guard, a figure who could call Abaddon a peer -- was absolutely not someone to underestimate.
"Focus on your own situation. Everyone maintain the original plan. Move together -- strike the ritual site."
The Space Wolves' Dreadnought Ancient replied without any concern whatsoever.
And at the same moment --
"Traitors. Traitors, all of you. Every last one of you -- repent. Repent with everything you have!!!"
A furious bellow erupted from somewhere nearby. The Dark Angels Dreadnought was carving through the Nurgle masses in every direction simultaneously. The custom Contemptor Dreadnought's Power Sword -- specially modified -- drew long arcs of green fluid with every sweep it made. As the last Dreadnought Ancient Zhou Ye had fabricated, it carried the highest combat capability of any of them.