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[Red Dragon Emperor With The Villain System!]

Nurgle's Garden.

At this moment, this filthy domain was quaking nonstop. The rotting, bloated flora grew even more twisted.

At the center of the garden, the black house stood as the source of all the chaos. Within it, Nurgle himself was locked in battle with two other Chaos Gods.

Vmmmmm—

Amid spatial tremors, a burning daemonic form descended.

Eden, in the guise of the Dark Prince, led his Chaos and xenos forces ahead of schedule into Nurgle's Garden.

As for his clone-body and the Imperial Regent, they were still en route, gathering reinforcements.

He inhaled the foul air and frowned slightly. "It's only been a short while, and this place has already turned into a complete mess…"

Now, the garden was filled with demonic howls and unrelenting warfare—its intensity ten or even a hundred times greater than the battles in Ultramar.

The daemonic hosts of Khorne and Tzeentch had launched a full assault on Nurgle's domain, seizing land and souls while slaughtering Nurgle's daemons to weaken his power.

For humanity, this was a welcome development—the fiercer the Chaos infighting, the better.

It meant more chances to fish in troubled waters.

This time, the Dark Prince had brought along the Terror Legion, Orks, and Tyranids.

The Terror Legion needed no explanation—Chaos Marines best adapted to the rot-choked environment of Nurgle's Garden and thrived within it.

Orks, those green-skinned brutes who could go toe-to-toe with daemons, had their own psychic network and were too dim-witted to even worry about corruption.

As long as they thought they could win, they would win.

Under the Dark Prince's subtle guidance, the Orks became convinced that daemons were just pushovers—making their combat prowess surge to insane levels.

And the Tyranids? They were the real surprise.

These xenos from beyond the galaxy had clashed with daemons countless times before and rarely came out worse.

The specially cultivated strain under Eden's command, led by "Old Eight," was practically the bane of Warp corruption.

They were probably the happiest army in the entire battle.

Chrrrk chrrrk chrrrk—

Old Eight and his swarm arrived almost instantly, like kids running toward a free buffet.

He stared at the Garden with drool pouring from his jaws.

To him, it was like a candyland made entirely of sweets.

Many of the smaller bugs even dove into the reeking swamps, gleefully rolling in them as if it were a luxurious milk bath.

"Well, well, look who else showed up."

Eden spotted a familiar form among the swarm—a mutated burrower serpent clad in blackstone scales.

It slithered feebly through the swamp, still recovering.

This creature had transported one of Nurgle's cauldrons before and suffered severe poison damage in the process, nearly dying.

Unwilling to let a loyal servant perish, Eden had submerged it in a pool of diluted purifying agent—and miraculously, it survived.

Though not yet fully recovered, it had shown up anyway for the feast. What spirit!

Eden was a little concerned the serpent might die here, but since it was already on the battlefield, he let it be.

Maybe munching on enough Nurgle daemons would help its recovery.

This time, the Dark Prince had brought nearly every Chaos and xenos-aligned force under his command—not just to carve a path for his real body, but also to test his Chaos "nuke"—the Godplague.

He wanted the entire galaxy and Immaterium to witness the power he possessed.

To make it in this world, one needed glorious feats and a fearsome reputation—those were the only currencies the top warriors respected.

Once the army had assembled, Eden led them in an advance toward the black house—but encountered surprisingly few Nurgle daemons along the way.

What they did find were mountains of corpses and spires made entirely of skulls.

The handiwork was unmistakable.

"It's Kha," Eden murmured. "He slaughtered everything in this direction."

A warm wave of sentiment washed over him. "Who would've thought, in this foreign land, I'd get such generous help from a brother. Truly… fate."

Over the years, the "Kha Brothers" had helped him more than anyone.

He couldn't refuse their support.

Once again, Kha-Bandha had taken care of many enemies for him, greatly reducing casualties on Eden's side.

He resolved to promote Kha-Bandha's reputation in return.

Some scattered Nurgle daemons did try to strike, but they were no match for the Dark Prince's forces.

The Terror Marines charged in with glowing eyes, eager for battle, and the Orks followed with manic roars.

The Tyranids sought out the biggest, stinkiest daemons to devour and tore through them like a gourmet feast.

They all felt immense gratitude to the Dark Prince—for delivering such wondrous warfare.

Deep within the Garden—

Flames and pestilence filled every corner of the battlefield. An endless tide of daemons tore each other apart.

"You stinking maggot, your skull is mine!"

Kha-Bandha, the Supreme Bloodthirster, roared as he tore off a Great Unclean One's wings and beheaded it amid agonized screams.

But he didn't mount the skull on his trophy rack.

He crushed it.

It was too pathetic, too unworthy to be honored among his prized kills.

Sneaky Bloodletter Baal ran over to report, panting with excitement:

"My Lord, the Dark Prince has arrived with his army and begun culling Nurgle's forces. Looks like he's trying to fulfill our wager—to fight for victory."

The spy daemon made sure to highlight the competition between them.

"I sensed his disgusting stench long ago. Too bad he's late."

Kha-Bandha's eyes gleamed with icy disdain.

"The Dark Prince may know how to dazzle the crowd, but in the domain of war, he is no match for me.

He will lose this gamble and be forced to admit defeat before the Supreme Bloodthirster!"

But a flicker of anxiety passed through Kha-Bandha.

He fixed Baal with a glare. "Take half the army and rampage through the outskirts. Rack up more kills."

He was genuinely worried he might lose.

Losing wasn't necessarily costly—but admitting it to that bastard?

Worse than death.

If he lost, he wouldn't just lose face before the Dark Prince… he'd never be able to face the Savior again.

He couldn't afford that.

So he doubled down.

Kha-Bandha redirected his army, attacking with renewed frenzy, absorbing more slaughter-energy.

He grew even stronger.

Crucially, he now advanced ahead of the Dark Prince—forcing Eden's army to trail behind and get fewer kills.

Kha-Bandha congratulated himself for his brilliant tactics. Perhaps he was the wisest of Khorne's Greater Daemons.

He vowed to exterminate every last Nurgle daemon in the path—leave nothing for the Dark Prince.

Meanwhile, the spy daemon Bal'ip intercepted all enemy forces headed toward Eden's army, following his master's orders to the letter.

He ensured the Dark Prince's forces would gain no glory whatsoever.

This bold initiative earned him Kha-Bandha's personal praise.

The Blood God's favored champion would claim the juiciest victories!

...

Back on Eden's side—

He led his army deeper into the Garden, growing increasingly alarmed.

"…Damn, just how much does Kha-Bandha hate Nurgle's daemons?"

The deeper they went, the fewer daemons they saw. Not a single living creature remained—only scorched remains and shattered insect swarms.

Even massive living plants had been ripped up, and the earth burned with bloodflame.

Total annihilation. Not even rats would survive. The land itself had been turned inside out.

Eden couldn't help but feel respect.

Kha-Bandha was going all in.

Maybe this obsessive drive to win was what fueled his growth—that Supreme Bloodthirster really wanted to improve.

Of course, Eden saw some advantage in this too.

But his own forces weren't so pleased.

"Damn it, where are the daemons!?" the commanders of the Terror Legion growled.

Those kills could've earned them favor and growth—they were starved for more fear and slaughter.

Chrrrk…

Old Eight wasn't thrilled either.

They'd barely found anything alive to eat—just charred corpses.

His swarm yearned for more fresh meat.

The Orks, now utterly bored, had started bashing each other for fun.

"My lord…" came a respectful voice.

The Terror Legion's commander Kryon bowed. "Perhaps we should change direction."

"Not yet," Eden replied, shaking his head.

He needed to reach the center quickly and deploy the Godplague—before anything unexpected happened.

Still, he reassured them: once the strategic objective was complete, there would be plenty of fighting.

With Nurgle losing control of his own Garden, and Khorne and Tzeentch sowing chaos, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

The Garden was vast—there'd be more than enough killing to go around.

And that benefited his darker persona as well.

After what felt like ages…

Eden finally reached the Garden's inner sanctum. The tremors intensified.

This perilous zone was nearly devoid of daemons. Even Kha-Bandha's army had vanished—likely detouring around the area.

He looked up.

On a distant mound of rot stood a massive black fortress, covered in fungus and crawling with maggots.

That was Grandfather Nurgle's seat.

Now, the area around the black fortress had become a battleground for three Chaos Gods.

Horrifying Warp rifts spread outward. Scarlet flames and multicolored lightning arcs consumed the pestilent mists.

The Blood God and the Changer of Ways were assaulting the core of Nurgle's power—desperately trying to weaken him.

The battle of gods twisted reality itself. Concepts clashed and sprayed lethal aftershocks.

Eden watched as a Great Unclean One brushed against the bloodflame and was instantly incinerated.

Others, overcome by Khorne's influence, fell into a frenzy of infighting.

In the confusion, some Nurgle daemons staggered into Tzeentch's realm of distortion and were swallowed by dimensional calamities.

Everything in that space reeked of disorder—utterly devoid of pattern or reason.

"This is too dangerous. None of you can go any further."

Eden turned to his commanders. "But you do have a new task. Have all forces regroup in the Garden of the Goddess of Life. Exterminate any Nurgle daemons in the area."

"Preferably, clear out a safe retreat route."

The battlefield of the Chaos Gods was no place for armies. They'd only get slaughtered.

So, Eden ordered his forces to the Life Goddess's domain—both to secure the area and to open a path for his true body to enter.

And also, to prepare an escape route.

If he freed the Goddess only to get trapped by Nurgle's minions, it'd be disastrous.

With his orders given, Eden, still in his Dark Prince guise, ventured alone toward the black fortress—Nurgle's seat of power.

To his surprise, the fortress kept shifting.

It wasn't just a castle—it also resembled a pitch-black cottage, or a hut made of bones sinking into a festering mire.

He didn't waste time on details.

All of his focus went into dodging the collateral damage from the ongoing divine war.

Even a stray shockwave could seriously injure him—or worse, toss him into some unknown pocket dimension.

As he got close enough, Eden finally witnessed the explosive clash between the Chaos Gods.

In truth, their battle wasn't a clash of fists and blades, but a high-dimensional conflict of concepts.

Ordinary beings couldn't even perceive it.

But Eden wasn't ordinary. In fact, the only thing separating him from being a Chaos God himself was an official divine seat—his power hadn't quite caught up yet.

More importantly, the strength of a Chaos God stemmed more from faith and conceptual resonance than brute strength.

Take the Emperor of Mankind, for example.

Though not officially a god, the massive tide of human belief, paired with the nature of his anti-Chaos conceptual essence, allowed him to grievously wound even the strongest of the Ruinous Powers.

Eden's positive aspect was tied to auxiliary and supportive powers—not much direct combat capability.

His dark aspect was still developing—currently more about brute force and a "take-all" approach.

Neither side of his power was particularly defined or specialized.

Someday, when the nature of his conceptual authority became clearer, he could make a qualitative leap.

But for now, Eden remained wary of pursuing any formal godhood.

To him, divine ascension inevitably led to madness.

He'd seen what it did to the Chaos Gods—their thoughts twisted by their thrones.

He wasn't interested in joining them.

Not until he found a better way.

So, for now, he remained deliberately ambiguous, without alignment or commitment to any path of apotheosis.

The last thing he wanted was to end up like them—enslaved by their own domain.

That was madness.

Eden refocused his thoughts, narrowing his psyker senses on the dark fortress, extracting tangible imagery from the conceptual battle.

What he "saw" was:

The Plague Lord in direct combat with the Blood God, using rotten tree limbs to block the swings of a blood-soaked axe, while the Changer of Ways lurked behind—striking sneak attacks with trickery and spells.

A sucker punch here. A kidney stab there.

Nurgle, assaulted from both sides, suffered numerous wounds—rivers of pus pouring from gaping lesions, and maggots larger than trucks spilled across the battlefield.

And yet, he withstood it all.

Despite being double-teamed by Khorne and Tzeentch, the Plague Lord held his ground.

A testament to just how powerful Nurgle had become.

Had it been one-on-one, even Khorne might not defeat him—let alone Tzeentch.

Every gain in belief or conceptual strength translated to immense power for the Chaos Gods.

Which is why Khorne and Tzeentch were now allied—striking before Nurgle's plague war boosted him any further.

Because if they didn't act now, they might never get another chance.

The Emperor was strong, yes—but more like an invincible prisoner. As long as you didn't poke him, he wouldn't lash out.

Nurgle, though? Different story.

If the Plague Lord completed his grand war, amassing belief and warp-corruption, he could tip the scales.

The balance among the Ruinous Powers would collapse. The others could even have their domains devoured.

Nothing is eternal. Even gods can fall.

Just ask the ancient Aeldari pantheon.

Then Eden winced. "Damn… Father Nurgle's not doing so great."

The visual representation now looked something like this:

The Plague Lord's hulking form toppled over. Khorne stomped him mercilessly. Tzeentch stabbed him in the side, over and over, aiming right for the kidneys.

Brutal. Precise.

Obviously symbolic—these weren't literal events—but Eden could interpret the flow of power behind the imagery.

Still, it worried him.

His presence had clearly altered the timeline. Nurgle had lost too much strength due to Eden's interference in the plague war.

The battle was ending far sooner than it was supposed to.

That could be… very bad.

Because his clone and the Imperial Regent had already arrived.

If Khorne and Tzeentch finished off Nurgle and turned on him next?

Even with the Emperor's possession, Eden wasn't sure they could hold.

Which is why he brought the Godplague.

That monstrous creation of concentrated corruption could kill daemons—but to the avatar of corruption itself, it would be a miraculous elixir.

And as a bonus—it would poison Khorne and Tzeentch.

If Nurgle regained strength from it, the battle might tip back into balance.

Maybe all three would tear each other apart.

That was the best-case scenario for humanity.

"Let's hope this works…"

Eden carefully pulled out a blackstone vial. Inside, the Godplague churned—its viscous green and purple hues reflecting on his face.

But just as he prepared to act—

A chill ran down his spine.

A terrible gaze had locked onto him.

Worse still—it came from the black fortress!

"I've been spotted?!"

Eden froze. He didn't dare move.

A Chaos God could obliterate his avatar with ease.

Slowly, he looked up—and saw one of Tzeentch's many faces staring directly at him… and at the vial.

"He figured out what I'm trying to do…"

Eden hesitated. Should he run? Or risk it all and release the Godplague?

Then the face… smiled.

And turned away.

"???"

"…Does this mean Tzeentch isn't going to interfere?"

Eden frowned in thought.

Maybe the Changer of Ways wanted him to do it.

After all, Tzeentch thrived on chaos, reversals, and dramatic irony. He often engineered these kinds of outcomes.

Even if it sometimes backfired on him.

Maybe he didn't want to win too easily—if Khorne kept most of his strength, he'd become the dominant god, which wouldn't help Tzeentch at all.

"Doesn't matter. I've got a shot—I'm taking it."

Eden didn't hesitate. He channeled warp energy and hurled the blackstone vial.

"Father Nurgle, I'm here to help!"

The Godplague, encased in blackstone, shot through the air toward the fortress.

Sure enough—

Tzeentch began to withdraw, raising warp defenses.

Clearly, the Godplague could hurt him.

CRACK—

The vial smashed against Nurgle's massive head. The Godplague exploded, splashing all over his face.

Turning it a deep, sickly green.

Some of the plague splattered onto Khorne's face as well.

BLEAARGH—

The Blood God recoiled in disgust, retching as if he'd been smeared with filth—pure, concentrated rot.

Among the three Chaos Gods, only Tzeentch escaped relatively unharmed, thanks to his earlier precautions.

Deep green vapors boiled out of Nurgle's mouth, collapsing nearby matter into clumps of foul sludge.

The Nurgling choir on his shoulders began coughing violently—then screamed—and died.

But Nurgle himself absorbed the rot, swelling with power. His wounds, even those burned by the Emperor's light, healed instantly.

His aura surged—back to peak condition.

He hurled Khorne aside and launched a ferocious counterattack. The air trembled with divine roars.

"…Damn. That worked even better than I expected."

Mission complete.

Eden turned and ran like hell—his Dark Prince form tearing across the battlefield at top speed.

Then he heard a scream.

He looked back, briefly.

The Plague Lord, now fully recovered, ignored Khorne, shouldering his blows—

—and lunged at Tzeentch.

And beat the ever-loving Warp out of him.

He'd unlocked the final secret of melee combat.

"Now that's satisfying…"

Eden exhaled while sprinting. "The right ending."

The great blue bird shrieked in agony, feathers flying everywhere, while new plague boils burst across Nurgle's body—spreading contagion throughout the garden...

(End of Chapter)

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