To be a madman who eats no beef but can overturn the entire world, or to be a snow-eater?
Ordinary people would most likely choose only the first... What, you say you chose the second?!
Then you're no ordinary heretic—you need a good beating!
"Don't try to run!"
"Didn't you just call me brother? How can you refuse your family's enthusiasm?!"
Typhon smiled wildly, his eyes flashing with pure light. Every step he took was like a catapult launch across the filthy, sticky ground of Nurgle's Garden.
The next second, the humus soil beneath his feet exploded, and pus mixed with pulp, along with screaming Nurgle stumps, scattered around like a fountain.
His sword swings were chaotic in form, but used for precise, accurate strikes. The Fiery Greatsword dragged white tails of plague-burning flame, shattering one Nurgle daemon after another with each swing. The Nurgle daemon that barely escaped the scythe's blade was thrown against a low hill composed of writhing intestines, like a fly against a giant flyswatter.
A sticky crackling sound exploded, and the Great Unclean One's bloated body instantly burst, yellow-green visceral juice splattering radially, sending chills through the frightened Nurglings nearby.
In Typhon's right hand, the Death Scythe became a precise, cold silver gust, tearing apart all who tried to escape from the most cunning angles.
A Plaguebearer trying to spit plague from behind—just as it inflated its poisonous sac, the scythe's tip had already struck like a phantom.
With a soft "pop," the poisonous sac deflated like a leaking balloon, and the deadly poison rapidly returned down its throat before it could erupt.
Typhon didn't even look back; his wrist trembled, and the crescent blade directly tore the monster into eight pieces, like the most skilled butcher dismantling an animal, in an instant reducing it to several chunks of rotting meat of different sizes, still twitching slightly.
"Come on! Smile more!"
Typhon roared, his voice piercing the entire garden.
Typhon held the long scythe and the Fiery Greatsword, his body spinning at high speed like a rotating top. Psychic energy and the magnetic field were forcibly excited by this turbulent rotation, forming a tornado of destruction shrouded in blazing white flame and the silver light of the blade.
Where the tornado passed, giant toadstools were twisted into clouds of pollen scattering across the sky; streams of flowing sewage and bile were cut off and vaporized; those bloated, staggering daemons, big or small, burst like rotten fruit thrown into a shredder with crushing teeth the moment they grazed its edge.
Typhus watched from a corner of the garden he knew so well, so full of 'life', as it was turned into empty space in a few breaths. Those corrupt creations he considered 'the father's gifts' were as fragile as hair in the face of Typhon's pure, indiscriminate destruction.
"What... Why? Wasn't everything supposed to go like this?!"
Typhus never thought he could go mad in this timeline. If not for Typhon's appearance and the essence of his soul being exactly the same as in the past, he would have almost thought the other party had already been chosen by Horn as a divine champion.
This should be a mortal, and this...
...this amount?
Typhus stared blankly at Nix, his mind suddenly stuck, as if some important piece of his life had been erased.
"He is my poor brother, his existence erased by the false Emperor!"
A deep voice sounded from behind Typhus—it was Mortarion, who had become a daemon in his timeline. At this moment, this fallen Primarch was about to forcibly cross over here. He knew that no matter how arrogant he was, someone would always inevitably come for him.
Moreover, the current situation was gradually deviating from Nurgle's script.
Originally, Nurgle planned to let the 'viral seed' within Typhon explode in the future, returning Mortarion to the father's embrace. Even if the material universe lost the battle at Barbarus, he had a winning counterstroke. But now, He needed to intervene more.
The only ones who could rush into the past from the future were Typhus and the fallen Mortarion—their isotopes at this moment could open the door to the past for them.
Nurgle had done everything possible to open a portal to the past for his two chosen ones. He could no longer afford to lose; if he lost even Typhon, he would become a laughingstock among the Four Gods.
[Typhus, Mortarion!]
[Complete Typhon's transformation at any cost!]
The loving father's roar shook Nurgle's Garden. Immediately after, the Pale Tyrant and Nurgle's first champion stepped forth from the filthy, waterfall-like mirror.
The first thing Mortarion saw was his past 'self' and his erased brother, who was wreaking havoc in the garden alongside Typhon.
"Heh heh... Don't be afraid!"
Typhon stood before the wooden door of a twisted treehouse with a mad smile. The house was filled with Nurglings and a Great Unclean One.
The Death Scythe smashed down, and the wooden door let out a piercing crack. Typhon thrust his face through the door—
"Typhon is here!"
The screams inside the house reached their peak.
AAAAHHHH!!!!
The Nurglings and the Great Unclean One inside simultaneously let out piercing shrieks. Typhon didn't care; he staggered forward and superimposed Nix's Fiery Greatsword onto his own Death Scythe. The next moment, Nix's magnetic field power and his own psychic energy began to merge violently.
"250,000 horses + 250,000 horses... Heh heh, catch my 500,000 God-Shattering Lightning!!"
With his astonishing wisdom, Typhon had already independently studied the mathematics of magnetic fields; and the forced fusion of psychic energy and magnetic field actually simulated the power of an antimatter world.
Typhon, your astonishing wisdom that I cannot suppress—teeth bared!
There was no sound. In other words, at the onset of the attack, all sound was absorbed by the power that annihilated everything.
At the intersection of the crossed blades, a ball of light erupted—extremely dark at its core, but with blazing pale flames at its edges, spreading silently. The treehouse, the ground, the spores and viruses in the air, and even the faint light itself instantly decomposed into the simplest particles, then turned into nothing.
This was not burning, not cutting, but erasure from the concept of existence. Suddenly, on the ground of Nurgle's Garden, an absolutely smooth hemispherical crater several kilometers in diameter appeared, and within the crater was an absolute vacuum—all matter had vanished, and the Nurgle daemons that had been screaming moments before could not find a single shadow.
Gulp—
Watching the entire process, Typhus and the fallen Mortarion only felt a chill down their spines.
It was enough to make a Nurgle daemon stop its nightly screaming, enough to make Typhus and the fallen Mortarion deeply inhale and swallow their saliva.
Typhon, that gangster, had forcibly destroyed Nurgle's Garden.
I'm going to fight this madman?!