Beside the garden, a massive cauldron coated in grime bubbled with thick green sludge.
Nurgle looked down at the noxious stew with a hint of regret.
Pity—his favorite plagueware had been taken by Ku'gath to craft the Godblight. Otherwise, he could've brewed a truly exquisite plague broth.
But the Plague Lord wasn't bothered for long. With a wheezing chuckle, he eagerly resumed his work.
Into the cauldron went live pox-rot, rotting worms, corrosive black blood, and virulent purple heat spores. These ingredients merged in the foul broth, releasing sickly green-purple vapors.
Bathed in the fumes, Nurgle stirred the mix with a rusted iron ladle, gently adding joy and love.
The plague was thus elevated.
Rotflies swarmed toward the aroma, greedily inhaling the bubbling fumes and bloating into massive plague entities.
Nurglings crawled out from the folds and sores of Nurgle's rotting flesh, clambering up the cauldron's sides.
They danced, sang, and performed ridiculous antics along the rim.
One particularly greedy Nurgling dove in headfirst—eager to feast on the soup—but was gently plucked from the air by a massive hand.
"Oh, you gluttonous little thing…"
Papa Nurgle wasn't angry. He tenderly placed the Nurgling back where it came from. "Decay and disease need time to grow, little one. Patience."
He never minded sharing. But this broth wasn't ready just yet.
The cauldron began to boil more fiercely, and the potent plague fumes corroded the garden's sealing vines—now only a thin layer remained.
"Damn… this could be bad…"
Eden inhaled deeply, trying to suppress his aura as the merry melody echoed from outside.
He hated this kind of "joy."
To Nurgle, brewing plagues was a celebration. But for any sane, living being, it was unbearable torment.
From the medical reports brought back by the hospitaller sisters, Eden had seen what happened when plague struck a civilized world.
Entire planetary order collapsed, production ceased, and people were covered in necrotic boils—enduring ceaseless agony and itching.
It was a fate worse than death.
And yet, there was no cure.
They could do nothing but writhe on the ground, groaning, watching family members die one after another in torment.
Some couldn't bear it and ended their own lives.
Some didn't even have the strength to do that—begging others to end their suffering.
To free their souls and let them return to the Throne.
Almost the entire population of a planet would die in agony. Only a rare few survived the pain long enough to earn Papa Nurgle's "blessing."
Those survivors were twisted and corrupted, reborn as Nurgle's faithful—carrying plague and suffering to others.
They even called it a gift:
"Decay claims all. Death spares none. Spread love and eternal life! Rejoice in undeath! Hail Father Plague!"
But in truth, it was nothing but the spread of death and pain.
This was the plague—and why Eden was so desperate to reach the Goddess of Life for knowledge.
He didn't want to see more planets fall to this horror.
Didn't want to hear the cries of humans writhing in misery.
But his plan had hit a snag.
Nurgle had returned earlier than expected—and came straight to the Life Garden.
That grotesque god now loomed just outside the gate, spreading his twisted love—ready to barge in at any moment.
Eden didn't even want to imagine what would happen if he got caught. Would he be beaten into Chaos soup, or force-fed stew as part of a warm "family meal" with Nurgle?
Whatever it was—it wouldn't be good.
Few beings in the galaxy could face the Chaos Gods directly and survive.
Worse yet, if his mind was seized, even his cloned Chaos body would be doomed.
His soul would be shattered, and he'd lose the precious fragment of tangible life-knowledge he just obtained from the Goddess.
She too would be locked down more tightly than ever.
And without that knowledge, Eden would lose any edge in the coming plague wars.
There was only one hope—something to distract Nurgle long enough for him to escape.
Fortunately, Eden had planned ahead. He'd buried a massive consecrated ash bomb in the area—designed to create just such a diversion.
But Nurgle had returned too suddenly. He was too close.
Eden hadn't dared transmit a signal, lest he give himself away.
That meant the pre-set plan couldn't be activated manually.
Luckily, he had one more failsafe.
If he went too long without sending a signal, the bomb would detonate automatically.
"Let's just hope that fat bastard takes his sweet time…"
Eden thought silently.
Time crawled by.
The plague crept deeper into the garden. Rotting flesh and fungal growths oozed through the entrance, releasing a nauseating stench.
He was running out of time. The Goddess was about to be discovered.
Soon, heavy footsteps echoed again—Nurgle was returning.
He was coming in!
Eden drew a sharp breath.
He patted the Goddess of Life's back gently, silently signaling her to stay calm—and prepared to fight the Chaos God head-on.
If escape failed, he'd at least get one good punch in before going down.
Just as he braced himself—
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"
A thunderous roar split the air.
A surge of Khorne's rage exploded into Nurgle's Garden—bloodshed erupting like wildfire.
The chaos was instant. Every eye turned toward the intruder.
"Now!"
Eden seized the moment and transmitted the signal.
Moments later, a massive explosion boomed from afar.
The consecrated ash bomb had detonated.
Amid the shockwave, a golden sphere—like a holy sun—rose from the edge of Nurgle's Garden.
Its radiant heat vaporized swampland instantly, spreading across the shadowy path that led into the Garden.
The blast vaporized rotting flora and Chaos spawn alike. A bloated Great Unclean One lying nearby wailed in agony.
The weapon's destructive power rivaled that of an atomic bomb. Sadly, Nurgle's Garden was vast—almost without boundary.
Even such a massive explosion only affected a tiny portion of the edge.
But it was enough.
The sudden assault startled Nurgle—his beloved cauldron tipped, plague soup spilling. He forgot all about the invading Khorne daemon.
His gaze locked onto the rising golden sphere birthed by the blast.
The golden radiance pierced the diseased sky, burning through its yellow mists.
"CURSED ONE!"
The Plague Lord bellowed, shaking the entire Garden. The ground trembled. The corrupted flora writhed wildly.
He raised his hand.
A massive, foul, rotting palm—so large it spanned the horizon—stretched across space. Every pus blister and festering boil clearly visible.
The hand plunged into the light. Divine energy ruptured the cysts and sores. Pus fell like waterfalls.
But the damage was negligible for such a being.
Nurgle used the hand to scoop up all the Chaos entities in that part of the Garden, relocating them elsewhere.
But his wrath had not abated.
He issued new commands—dispatching more Great Unclean Ones to assist Ku'gath. He wanted the Godblight finished sooner.
As revenge, the Plague Wars would begin sooner than planned.
His beloved rot and bacteria would be unleashed across the stars—especially on the Savior Primarch's domain!
Elsewhere, at the Garden's edge—
"…Eden?"
Ka'Bandha, mid-rampage, blinked.
His bloodstained axe was frozen mid-swing, halfway through another Great Unclean One.
"Wait… that guy's here, too?!"
The Bloodthirster stared at the rising golden orb and the enormous festering hand, and for the first time in ages—
He panicked a little.
According to the unspoken pact among the Chaos Gods, they were not to directly intervene in battles between their daemonic followers.
So Eden's intrusion into Nurgle's Garden by force? That was the fault of the incompetent Great Unclean Ones. No one else could be blamed.
But the Savior… the Devourer… he was different.
He could truly hurt Ka'Bandha.
This thought made the Bloodthirster visibly uneasy. He quickly scanned his surroundings, trying to locate any trace of the Devourer.
With his battle-honed instincts, he was certain—if that bastard was anywhere nearby, he'd find him instantly.
Suddenly, Ka'Bandha turned toward a concealed area—as if guided by a premonition.
There, a figure sprinted across the terrain, monstrous and fierce.
That figure turned its head slightly and gave him a subtle nod—a look of acknowledgement… and thanks.
"…?"
Ka'Bandha blinked in confusion.
He could feel the being's power—and something strangely familiar about it.
But… that wasn't the Devourer.
Just some other powerful being.
With a dismissive snort, Ka'Bandha turned back to the fight. If it wasn't the Devourer, then it wasn't worth his attention.
CRACK—
A split second of distraction was all it took. The Great Unclean One struck, its rancid mace smashing into Ka'Bandha's head with the force to flatten a superheavy tank.
But all it left behind was a shallow bleeding gash across the Bloodthirster's forehead.
"WRETCHED COWARD—FEEL MY WRATH!"
Ka'Bandha's eyes burned with rage as he returned to the fight, the pain only fueling his fury.
Now that he was certain the Devourer wasn't nearby—he had nothing left to fear.
He was unstoppable.
With a roar, the Lord of Rage kicked the Great Unclean One down and cleaved its head off in a single, brutal swing of his axe—then mounted the severed head on the trophy rack on his back.
He lifted his bloodstained weapon and charged forward once more, leading his daemon horde deeper into the Garden.
Even as more of Nurgle's Greater Daemons arrived.
—
Nurgle's Garden, Outer Perimeter.
"Hah! That's my brother! What a perfectly timed assist!"
If Ka'Bandha hadn't gone berserk and drawn Nurgle's attention, Eden probably wouldn't have even had the chance to send his emergency signal.
Let alone escape.
Now he sprinted in a serpentine path through the ruined terrain, racing toward the edge of the Eternal Battlefield.
He'd made it out.
When the consecrated ash bomb exploded, he'd already said goodbye to the Goddess of Life, Aisha, and made his retreat. She had erased all traces of his presence.
Of course, the timing of the bomb made it pretty clear that the Savior was involved—and he would likely suffer the consequences.
But there was no helping that.
Whether he attacked or not, he would always be a primary target of Nurgle's forces—especially once the Plague Wars began in full.
"…Why the hell is Ka'Bandha in the Garden anyway? Shouldn't he be off reporting to Khorne and getting punished?"
Eden's mind drifted to his old blood-soaked comrade.
After the disaster at Baal, Ka'Bandha had disappeared—until recently, when he suddenly showed up in the Mists Region and obliterated one of Abaddon's Chaos fleets.
And now he was here.
It almost felt like he was tailing Eden. Was he plotting something? Preparing some kind of scheme?
More importantly… he had clearly grown stronger.
Eden narrowed his eyes slightly. He'd have to look into that when he got back.
Couldn't afford to let that one slip through the cracks.
Soon, the edge of the Eternal Battlefield came into view.
A sweeping, boundless plain teeming with Chaos warbands—stretching into eternity like a swarm of ants.
Eden was stunned.
He couldn't even begin to guess the scale of this battlefield. Was it the size of a sector? A sub-sector? A segmentum?
Or something even larger?
Because this wasn't a flat plane. It was layered—multiple dimensions stacked atop one another, all hosting simultaneous conflicts.
This was the eternal, never-ending war of the Chaos Gods.
A war that had raged for countless millennia without end.
Even if the entire Imperium of Man threw all its forces into this pit, it would be nothing but a drop in the ocean—a testament to the power of the Ruinous Powers.
Still, it was also the perfect place to disappear.
The endless chaos of battle masked everything. No one would notice anything in the noise.
It was even said that some human champions had fought here against infinite daemons for centuries, never surrendering.
Feeling the pressure building behind him, Eden pushed harder—racing into the heart of the battlefield.
He could feel Nurgle's gaze closing in.
The Plague Lord was searching for whoever had dared attack his Garden. That gaze tore through layers of reality, sweeping across space.
If Eden lingered even a moment longer, he'd be found.
Thankfully, the moment Nurgle's sight reached the battlefield—it stopped.
Apparently, even the Chaos Gods hesitated to interfere directly in the Eternal Battlefield.
Should one of them fully descend here, it would herald the End Times—a war from which there would be no retreat.
A final reckoning.
But the Chaos Gods were immortal—and cowards. Without certainty of victory, none of them would risk it.
Until then, they would continue to raid the galaxy, steal faith and territory, and grow ever stronger.
As soon as Eden stepped into the Eternal Battlefield, he felt himself crossing multiple dimensional thresholds—entering a whole new region.
His daemon-forged feet struck solid ground again.
He looked up.
The land here was a twisted violet hue, and across it raged a battle between corrupted beastmen.
He could make out Slaaneshi beastmen with claws and barbed tongues, and Tzeentchian ones covered in eyes.
They spotted him immediately.
And charged.
Eden didn't linger. He sprinted toward another rift deeper in the battlefield.
But against hundreds of thousands of corrupted beastmen, forward momentum was slow—and the bloodshed inevitable…
—
The Eye of Terror.
Before the obsidian throne of the orbital fortress, a space-rift cracked open.
"Finally…"
Eden's Chaos-forged body stepped through, covered in blood of every color, marked with countless wounds.
He slumped onto the black throne and didn't move.
That alone told the tale of the battles he had just endured.
To find a way out of the Eternal Battlefield, he had fought through multiple layers—slaughtering uncountable daemonkind.
But it wasn't for nothing.
He'd escaped.
And he'd gained a tremendous wealth of combat experience—perhaps more than some Primarchs experienced in a lifetime.
He now understood the horrors of the Eternal Battlefield.
Thankfully, he'd only wandered its outskirts. Had he ventured into the core…
Who knew how many centuries it would've taken to escape?
Or if he'd ever made it out at all.
Not even the strongest of beings could endure an endless onslaught from such numbers.
The Chaos horde was like a crawling tide of ants—endless, ravenous, and filled with terrible champions.
After recovering a bit, Eden summoned the bio-sages from his clone laboratory to repair and restore his Chaos body.
Then, he withdrew his consciousness back into his true self.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the Savior's Sanctuary, lying in the miniature garden under the warm rays of the artificial sun.
Stretching slightly, he stood up—and immediately summoned Tarko and the others.
A new crisis was upon them.
This war would be more dangerous than any before.
The battlefields would be broader. The stakes, higher.
And all of humanity's fate hung in the balance.
Thus, Eden would issue the fourth total war directive since the founding of his domain.
(End of Chapter)
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