In an instant, a surge of uncontrollable rage boiled up within Nurgle.

Back then, he had risked everything to break into Slaanesh's realm and fight for the Goddess of Life—just to rescue her.

Afterward, he had placed her carefully within his own domain, constantly watching over her, gently offering her the finest plague-broths in all the Immaterium.

The garden where she was kept was a forbidden zone, a sacred sanctuary that no being was allowed to approach.

And yet now—someone had trespassed!

"Whoever it is… whoever dares defile that sanctuary and profane the Goddess of Life… shall suffer a death most agonizing…"

Nurgle wanted to annihilate the intruder who dared overstep.

His mind quickly ran through the possibilities:

It could be Slaanesh, sending a champion or a Keeper of Secrets to reclaim the Goddess.

Or maybe it was Khorne, sending a Greater Daemon in for a slaughter.

Then again—it could be a full human invasion.

The Plague Lord trembled, his fury tinged with dread. No matter who it was, it meant danger for the garden—and for the Goddess herself.

She, after all, symbolized purity and life, and possessed little combat ability.

"Fear not, my dear Goddess of Life… under the shield of decay, none can harm you!"

Nurgle's will burned with determination.

Even while fending off enemies in battle, he summoned forth the foul energies surrounding the garden, willing forth new thorns and plague-vines to protect her.

But the area around the garden had already been scoured clean by the Godplague and the Terror Legion—almost no unclean energies remained.

As a result, the vines that sprang forth were especially fragile.

Those sickly tendrils slithered toward the garden, only to be swiftly obliterated by Grey Knights—high as hell on the "special meal" they'd just eaten—wielding sanctified relics and weapons.

Nurgle's corrupt sorceries had failed. He froze, stunned.

Because it wasn't just humanity's exorcist legions that attacked the vines—even the flora of the Life Garden itself resisted the incursion.

Perhaps it was a defense mechanism born from instinct—or maybe the Goddess sensed danger and lashed out.

Either way, it made Nurgle more anxious than ever.

Within the Black Fortress, in that realm of higher dimensions and abstract warfare, the battle still raged.

Having absorbed the Godplague, Nurgle was no longer the ragged wreck he once was—he had grown even stronger.

Khorne and Tzeentch, too, had recovered from the plague's effects, now attacking with renewed fury. The battle reached a fever pitch.

But Nurgle's attention was elsewhere.

Taking a moment between attacks, he grew a wall of rotting trees to stall his foes, and focused all his senses toward the Life Garden.

It was his first time forcefully peering into the sanctuary—he had to know what was happening, whether the Goddess had been harmed.

"The Savior?!"

What he saw stunned him.

That unexpected figure—Humanity's Hope, the Primarch Savior—was walking calmly through the winding garden path.

The one who wielded the power of cursed divinity.

More importantly, a being of the Imperium—a people who bore immense hatred for all xenos and gods, especially xenos gods.

Of course he would try to destroy the Goddess. The Primarch was practically a god himself, and armed with forbidden weapons—he could do it.

The Savior continued walking, step by step, toward the innermost grove—toward where the Goddess of Life resided.

And there she was.

Sitting on a swing, crying softly, delicate and radiant, waiting—for salvation.

Nurgle's rotting heart twisted.

He issued a command: summon all nearby Nurgle daemons! They must rescue the Goddess!

But then—the unexpected happened.

The Goddess seemed to notice the Savior.

She gasped in surprise—then smiled.

It was a smile Nurgle had never seen before.

Then—before his horrified eyes—she leapt from the swing and threw herself into the Savior's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"???"

In that moment, Nurgle felt something shatter inside.

A realization dawned.

Perhaps the Savior had known the Goddess all along. Perhaps this was all planned.

He had come not to kill her—but to take her back.

When did this happen?! Why didn't I sense any of it?!

Now, Nurgle's skin turned from green to red and back again, like a volcano ready to blow.

Inside the garden, the Savior and the Goddess of Life held each other tightly, lightning crashing in the background—the tension thick enough to cut.

Their lips neared…

But the Savior suddenly froze.

He turned his head—toward Nurgle's gaze.

As if they were staring right at each other.

It was a challenge.

A smug, arrogant, defiant glare.

Face-to-face cuck*lding. A naked provocation. (Nurgle just got NTR'ed!!!)

"No!!!"

Nurgle broke.

He donned the Mask of Agony.

Red and green steam fumed from his bloated body as his killing intent exploded skyward.

"Savio—"

But he couldn't even finish the curse.

BOOM—

A massive blood-drenched axe crashed down.

"You stinking pile of rot! How dare you space out during a God War?!"

Khorne was furious, cleaving through Nurgle's rotten defenses.

That monstrous axe sheared through with fury, biting deep into Nurgle's bloated flesh.

Tzeentch—the scheming bastard—followed up with a long-prepared spellstrike.

A multicolored inferno engulfed Nurgle, searing his green flesh. Barbed tendrils stabbed into weak points.

What stunned them was that Nurgle—enraged beyond reason—did nothing to stop them.

He took the full brunt of the attack.

SQUAWK!

Tzeentch's avian form twitched.

He saw a flicker of the future and a wave of dread washed over him.

He turned and tried to flee—wings flapping desperately.

Too late.

"CORRUPT! DIE!"

In a frenzy, Nurgle seized the Blue Bird and poured every ounce of rage into him.

Each blow carried raw essence of corruption—attacks that struck the very core.

SQUAWK!

Once again, the Great Schemer was slammed into the ground.

Festering wounds marred his body. His once-lustrous wings were torn, and his morphing head let out shrill, broken screams.

Even Khorne was briefly stunned.

Damn, what kind of grudge is that?

Apparently, Tzeentch had trolled Nurgle one too many times.

"Damn this fate!"

Tzeentch cursed as he was pummelled again and again, even his essence now stained and wounded.

Why always him?

This was a three-way war among Chaos Gods—Khorne fought the hardest, took the frontlines, and yet—

Only he kept getting injured!

Nurgle's every attack landed only on him.

He felt bullied. Victimized. Singled out.

"All because of that damn Savior!"

When Tzeentch realized this was all connected to that meddling Primarch, his sense of grievance deepened.

Thankfully, the storm of fists didn't last forever.

After temporarily pushing back his foes, Nurgle found an opening—and reached toward the Life Garden.

The Goddess was his!

The Savior… must die!

...

Inside the Garden of Life…

"I've kept my promise. I've come to save you."

Eden released the soft, floral-scented form from his embrace, looking down at the delicate and teary-eyed Goddess of Life—Isha.

"You're free now. No one will ever cage you again."

This was the perfect time to gain favor—and it wasn't a lie.

He had spent over half a century preparing for this—maybe even longer.

Now, he was strong enough to match her in essence.

Eden would save her.

He would protect her.

He would build her a bigger, better, safer paradise to live in—one where she could exist without fear.

Isha listened to his words, tears falling like pearls.

After countless centuries of captivity and pain… her salvation had come.

She looked up at him—handsome, resolute, brilliant—and found herself mesmerized.

"Eden…"

Her cheeks flushed red as she closed her eyes and leaned forward for a kiss.

Her lips met something cold and metallic.

???

At some point, Eden had raised a finger—his armored gauntlet, complete with hooked barbs—right in front of her face.

He wagged it solemnly.

"No time for drama. Go pack your stuff—crystal tears, relics, rare plants, whatever. We need to move!"

They were still in extreme danger.

The Lord Regent and the armies were still standing guard outside.

Now was not the time for some passionate lovers' scene straight out of a trashy romance novel.

If this turned into a tragedy, that would be a real problem.

Especially considering this Goddess of Life, who had survived through countless ages, surely had all kinds of priceless treasures. It would be a waste to leave them behind—he'd need that loot to replenish his strength.

Once they were out of danger, well... he could "handle things" however he wanted.

"Hm… mm!"

Isha finally snapped out of her daze, nodded, then pressed her snow-white hands together in front of her chest, radiating a faint green glow.

With divine life energy, vines stretched out from the garden, gathering glimmering tear-crystals, ancient alchemical artifacts, and rare plant seeds—all of it packed into pitcher plant-like organisms for transport.

But before they could finish packing everything—

Isha suddenly whimpered in alarm and clung tightly to the Savior's hand.

Eden also felt the terrifying gaze fall upon them.

He turned with her, looking toward the source—and faintly saw the outline of the Black Fortress.

Nurgle. The Plague Father had turned his attention toward the Garden of Life.

Instantly, a wave of unshakable fear rose in Eden's chest.

No matter what, Nurgle was one of the most powerful beings in existence. Eden had no way to fight him directly.

Luckily, the Plague Lord couldn't just abandon the god-battle in progress.

As long as Eden could escape the garden in time, he'd reach a zone Nurgle couldn't easily reach.

"All right. We're leaving. Now."

Eden grasped Isha's hand tightly and rushed toward the edge of the garden.

No time for hesitation—this had to be fast.

Time in the Warp was unstable—no telling when the divine war might end. It could be centuries… or moments.

And if Nurgle really did end the battle early just to chase him down?

That would be game over.

Eden and Isha reached the garden's exit—but he suddenly stopped and shielded her with his body.

A suffocating terror fell from above.

"SAVIOR!"

Nurgle's roar thundered across the realm.

Thick yellow clouds parted as a rotting giant hand plunged from the heavens into the garden's sky. The light dimmed immediately.

"Oh f**k. Here comes the damn cuckolded demon himself."

Eden's body went numb.

He could clearly see the rotted texture of the hand, the oozing pus, the writhing maggots crawling within the flesh.

This—this was no projection.

It was a literal strike from a Chaos God.

And the most terrifying assault he had ever faced.

In an instant, the Garden of Life withered.

The lush greenery turned to muck, the ground becoming a decaying swamp.

Even outside the garden, the corruption spread.

Some Imperial psykers who had glimpsed the shadow of that rotten hand suddenly collapsed, overloaded by psychic feedback.

Even hardened Astartes were frozen in place by sheer dread.

Even the Lord Regent of the Imperium, Roboute Guilliman himself, felt the god's overwhelming presence and struggled to stay composed as he lit the Emperor's Sword.

But he knew—this was an unstoppable force.

Even worse, hordes of Nurgle's daemons were pouring in—far more numerous than their own forces.

"Seventh Brotherhood, prepare for battle—for the Emperor!"

Grand Master Corwin shouted, his tone heavy with grim resolve… but also a hint of exhilaration.

In the presence of the Emperor and the Savior himself, the Grey Knights had finally met their destined foe—vowing to destroy every last blight.

Isha looked up at the massive corrupted attack bearing down and felt a wave of despair.

Such immense power… how could she and Eden possibly survive?

Maybe she'd have to stay behind after all.

But at that moment, she was more concerned for him.

"Eden… you should go—"

"I told you I'd get you out of here."

Eden gently reassured her and looked up at the hand, eyes unshaken.

"Then I will."

He didn't come all this way to leave empty-handed.

More importantly—he had prepared for this.

The Emperor himself had nearly lost patience waiting.

Eden knew the Emperor was eager—but told him to wait a bit longer.

Until things really got dangerous, there would be no reckless reveals.

Only at the final moment would he play his trump card.

BOOM—

The rotting breath struck the ground.

Nurgle's hateful gaze locked onto Eden, voice dripping with menace:

"You have defiled a god. You shall suffer eternal death. Your soul will rot in this soil, tortured for all time."

"You picked the wrong guy to mess with, Plague Lord."

Eden stepped forward boldly.

If Nurgle's true form were in front of him, sure, he'd be scared.

But just a hand?

He could handle that.

He drew his power sword and lit it up, standing firm before the descending hand like an unshakable wall.

Then he slashed it forward—launching a psychic marker into the sky:

"FIRE!"

"Hmph. This is your attack?"

Nurgle sneered as the tiny psychic light touched his hand.

"Such a pitiful spark… and you think to resist a god?"

But even as he spoke, he felt it—

The aura of cursed energy.

BOOM—

The warhead Eden had been preparing for over half a century launched.

A blinding white missile, ten meters long—the Holy Ash Bomb: Tsar.

It locked onto the psychic beacon and screamed forward.

KRAKOOM!!!

The Tsar smashed through layers of Warp corruption and directly hit Nurgle's rotting hand.

A radiant divine sun exploded into existence.

It expanded outward, engulfing the corrupted appendage, searing away rot and filth.

The noxious clouds evaporated. For the first time in centuries, the Warp sky turned to daylight.

Even a faint image of the Emperor could be seen in the blazing light.

"NO! MY HAND!"

Nurgle's pupils shrank. He had no chance to dodge—the cursed energy was already consuming him.

Agonizing heat licked up his rotting fingers, dissolving pus and flesh alike. Even the bone turned to ash.

And worse—it didn't stop.

The divine light spread along the arm, racing toward the core of his essence.

Desperate to stop the cursed energy, Nurgle summoned his foulest power—pitting corruption against purity.

Pus rained down like waterfalls. The fog grew thick with foulness.

But nothing could stop the burn.

His arm was vanishing, consumed bit by bit.

He lost his hand—and half his forearm.

The wound wouldn't heal anytime soon.

And the light of that divine sun didn't stop there.

It obliterated the entire vanguard of Nurgle's daemon army—those who had charged in so proudly were vaporized on impact, reduced to shrieking cinders.

Dozens of corrupted zones were purged clean.

"…It's over already?"

Corwin blinked.

The Grey Knights and Imperial troops had just formed up—and now… it was done?

"You get what you pay for. Worth every throne. Long live the Tsar."

Eden lowered his blackened visor, surveying the now-radiant battlefield.

That was the Savior's strongest weapon to date. The others were still charging—not even ready to deploy.

But it had done its job perfectly—utterly destroying a Chaos God's physical hand!

"Savior… this isn't over!!"

Nurgle's sickened voice rasped again, even more furious than before.

But before he could act—

Khorne and Tzeentch tackled him back into the god-battle.

Another violent round of divine warfare erupted.

Weakened by the cursed weapon, Nurgle could no longer break free from their combined assault.

"Savior… Isha… I will find you…"

He stared at their retreating backs, murmuring his promise.

Corruption would follow them. Forever.

Eden ignored the threat—and casually flipped off the Black Fortress with a middle finger.

These Chaos Gods had drowned humanity in blood—they were unforgivable.

He didn't yet have the strength to destroy them.

But one day…

He would end it all.

Every last enemy of mankind would be punished.

"You'll need to disguise yourself."

With the immediate danger cleared, Eden turned to Isha.

This elven-like goddess would need to hide her form.

While Guilliman and the high command knew of her, having her prance around openly would draw too much attention.

Now was not the time.

Isha obeyed, cloaking herself in a soft green hooded robe, clinging close to Eden.

Together, they returned to the Imperial front lines.

"Eden?"

Guilliman gave him a knowing look—was that her?

Eden simply nodded.

No need to explain. Some things didn't need words.

He was feeling good.

The mission was half done.

He had rescued the Goddess of Life.

Now came the hard part—getting out of Nurgle's realm.

He still needed to light a fire or two on the way out.

It wasn't champagne time just yet.

Something told him the road back wouldn't be smooth—especially with Slaanesh lurking in the wings.

(End of Chapter)

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