How to save the souls of these people before him?
Nix looked upon the human souls, filled with the resolve to die—willing to give their lives for him, to help him defeat Ku'gath.
But this was not what Nix wanted. He turned out to be the most unnecessary idealist in the Warhammer universe, insisting on averting every tragic outcome that loomed before him.
Even now, he might not be able to do it.
He did not want sacrifice. Since he already possessed power, he should be the one to stand firm, not these ordinary people.
The golden current, symbolizing ultimate power, transformed into sacred flame, and Nix prepared to forcibly reclaim these souls from Ku'gath.
His fingertips almost touched these wandering souls, but fate never goes as one wishes.
Dark green patches of mold suddenly appeared on the surface of the souls, as if smeared by an invisible hand. The radiance of hope was corrupted and crumbled in a thousandth of a second, transforming into howling entities. Those faces twisted and dissolved in intense pain, turning into pus emitting a desperate stench, dripping onto the scorched earth.
Nix's pupils suddenly constricted. In that final moment, he clearly saw the star-like trust in the eyes of the youngest soul—the child believed he could bring salvation.
Answer me... Why... Why this?!"
His roar shook the atmosphere, wrapped in the aftermath of thunder. Ku'gath stood amidst the corrupted spiritual bones, his bloated body trembling with pleasure, countless pustules bursting and spraying yellow-green ichor.
"Nix, I just wanted to see you make that expression!"
The Great Unclean One's voice was like countless writhing maggots: "Don't you understand? In the loving father's realm, hope is merely the sweetest prelude to despair... It was you who let them taste hope, which makes this moment's ending so sweet!"
"Before the child breathed his last, his eyes were still on you——"
BOOM——!!!
The ground beneath Nix's feet instantly turned into crystallized craters. The pure white flames were no longer fluid, but condensed into countless sharp spears of light, tracing thousands of molten paths through the air as he charged forward. This strike was enough to vaporize mountains and completely erase Ku'gath's filthy existence.
But a giant hand blocked the spears of light.
It was a limb forcibly inserted from outside the fabric of reality. Dark green, swollen, covered in a carpet of furuncles and bacteria that continued to grow and fester. The moment it appeared, the air across the entire battlefield became sticky and sweet; the ground spontaneously oozed pus; the sky rained a warm, corrupting downpour. The loving father, Nurgle, had extended a portion of his divine form into the material universe.
The rules here were perverted. Decay was no longer a process, but the absolute truth within this space.
"Goodbye, Nix. Next time, I'll prepare a cauldron of exclusive soup for all of Barbarus!"
Ku'gath laughed, mocking Nix's powerlessness.
"I... When did I say you could leave?!"
The golden current and pure white flame intertwined and covered his entire body, leaving only a pair of eyes, seething with killing intent, fixed on Ku'gath.
The loving father also seemed to sense this killing intent, and the speed at which he withdrew his hand suddenly accelerated. And Nix spread his wings, soared into the sky, and gave chase.
The pursuit unfolded in stellar space. He continued to swing his fists, each concentrated force capable of shattering asteroids: intertwined platinum fists carved into the giant's carrion hand, spraying not blood but plague spores that exploded into nebulae; thunder transformed into a long whip, tearing off a large piece of divine flesh that continuously writhed and regenerated. Nurgle's hand was wounded, but its recovery speed did not slow.
The rift leading to the Plague Garden was clearly visible—a wound in the material universe, filled with endless disease and despair.
A feeling of powerlessness, like cold tentacles, coiled around Nix's heart.
"Can we only watch as he flees back into the Empyrean...?"
Nix hated this feeling of powerlessness. He would never let this happen.
[Accept my blessings.]
[Killing is enough. Why hesitate?]
A familiar voice sounded in his ears. It was his longest-watching, most "devoted" fan leader—Horn.
He understood that Nix was now in desperate need of power, and this blessing was no longer given directly as last time, but required Nix's personal consent.
Agreed. Nix knew that by agreeing with Horn, he would gain strength and lose something—even if it was only the beginning of temptation.
But he still chose to refuse.
"No need... I personally—"
"Shoot him!"
How to judge a strong man? In the Warhammer universe, it is often measured by psychic power or personal combat prowess; In the world of Sea Tigers, it depends on the number of horses spinning the magnetic field, the full realm, and one's own lumen output.
These, Nix already had. What he lacked was a trick unique to him.
Nix closed his eyes. All light collapsed inward.
When he opened his eyes again, gold and white were already entwining around his hands like living creatures. It did not cover, but intertwined—thunder and lightning transformed into complex neural networks, flame condensed into flowing molten bone. He used his own existence as a mold, creating something that had never existed in the world.
Ku'gath sensed the mortal threat: "You... What are you preparing?!"
"You see..."
Nix whispered, his fists colliding before his chest.
There was no sound.
But with him at the center, an invisible realm suddenly expanded. Within the field, colors faded, movement solidified, and even the pus dripping from Nurgle's hand hung suspended in the air. All particle vibrations, energy transmissions, the cloud map of probabilities—everything was presented within Nix's consciousness and allowed him to rewrite.
"Omnipotence."
He named this second's domain.
Nurgle's hand still moved—a divine stubbornness transcending the physical. But Nix shattered this second infinitely: 0.1 seconds, 0.01 seconds, 0.000001 seconds... In the depths of the temporal gap, he finally captured the stagnation of that billionth of an instant.
Enough.
He raised his hand. A sword stroke, gathering all concepts of "existence" and "motion" within the entire field into his palm, and then—
Released.
A thin, extremely thin beam of light crossed the universe.
No loud sounds, no explosions. Wherever the light passed, Ku'gath's smile, his bloated body, and the plague power bound to him silently vanished, like erased handwriting. One of the fingers on Nurgle's giant hand was also destroyed, and at the break, there was no regeneration, only absolute "void" remained, as if reality itself had been excised.
From the depths of the rift came a roar of pain that shook the entire galaxy. But the time was up; the giant hand quickly retreated, the rift healed, leaving Nix floating in the void, and the planet finally freed from the plague.
This battle in the material universe had come to an end.
This time, it all ended in humanity's victory.