On the bridge, heavy with the stench of decay and sacred filth, Typhus—the Herald of Nurgle and First Plague Company Commander—listened quietly to the report.
The destroyer hives orbiting his power armor emitted a series of unsettling hums. Tens of thousands of plump plague flies formed a halo around him, rising and falling with the fluctuations of his mood.
The Death Guard, missing his right arm, knelt on one knee. Despite his mutilated body, his tone was filled with the fanatical fervor of someone who had just discovered a treasure.
He detailed the performance of those mortals: chatting and laughing amidst toxic mists capable of dissolving steel, pulling the pins on glorious frag grenades without a shred of fear in certain doom, and that bizarre mental state of seemingly having no concept of "pain."
"You're saying that when faced with the agony of their guts being spilled, their only reaction was to attack rather than scream?" Typhus's deep voice echoed beneath his helmet, like rumbling thunder rolling across a swamp.
"Yes, my lord," the Death Guard replied respectfully. "Their souls are stubbornly resilient to a terrifying, mesmerizing degree.
I believe that simple slaughter is a waste of such prime military stock."
Typhus remained silent for a moment, gazing through the fuzzy images fed back by the auspex at the mortal figures engaged in desperate combat with his spawn in the warship corridors.
Gradually, the heart within this chosen champion of Nurgle—a heart long rotted and withered—beat for the first time in an age.
Even the Death Guard had grown somewhat weary over the long stretches of time. While they took pleasure in spreading the Grandfather's gospel, clearing out those fragile Imperial Defense Forces by hand every single time was admittedly a bit like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
The Death Guard truly needed a mortal auxiliary legion that could match them—an elite force not as fragile as cultists who only knew how to shriek and run, but one capable of truly bearing the Grandfather's grace.
And the group before him right now—
This extreme tenacity, this astonishing adaptability to harsh environments, and that reckless, death-defying drive.
"This is no coincidence," Typhus muttered to himself.
In this sector, amidst an operation that was originally just a routine dissemination of plague, he had actually stumbled upon such a force.
This must be the arrangement of Grandfather Nurgle! This was a trial given to him by the Grandfather, and also a reward!
The more Typhus thought about it, the more sensible it felt. The Grandfather had seen his toil and thus sent this unpolished jade before him. Though these mortals were still fighting for the False Emperor now, that was only because they had yet to witness true eternal life. With just a slight "guidance" and the gift of immortal flesh, this legion named the Helldivers would become the sharpest plague blade in the hands of the Death Guard.
"Your suggestion is valuable, my brother."
Typhus finally spoke, abruptly swinging his massive scythe and making his decision.
"Transmit the order to the entire fleet!"
His voice exploded through the communication channels across every single plague ship.
"Cease pursuit and destructive strikes against other Imperial vessels. Let those cowardly deserters run. Even if we were to sink this entire Imperial fleet and corrupt every single mortal aboard, its value wouldn't match a single finger of this force!"
Greed flashed in Typhus's eyes, and he could already envision the legendary military achievements this legion would secure for the Grandfather in the future.
"Our objective has changed. Death Guards, board the warships carrying the Helldivers with all your might. Remember, I want them alive! Capture them alive as much as possible! Stop blowing them into pulp with heavy bolters; use paralytic toxins and bring them to me intact!
"I shall personally baptize them, and let them bathe in the glory of the Grandfather."
In Typhus's view, letting a few Imperial Navy ships slip away was of no consequence. Compared to methodically spreading viruses in this sector, if he could co-opt this mortal legion of Helldivers and deploy them as the vanguard across the galaxy, the efficiency of spreading plague and corruption would increase exponentially!
By any calculation, this trade was an absolute windfall.
And so, the Death Guard fleet—which had been poised to swallow the entire Imperial fleet—suddenly pivoted their gun barrels. Like a school of sharks that had just caught the scent of fresh meat, they ignored the small fish scattering all around them and tightly surrounded the warships where the players were located.
For those Imperial Navy commanders who had already resigned themselves to the Golden Throne, this moment felt nothing short of a divine miracle.
On the auspex screens, the Plague Fleet that had been closing in step-by-step—on the verge of releasing boarding torpedoes and broadside macro-cannon fire—suddenly altered its course without warning. Those bloated, rotting war vessels, like deep-sea leviathans attracted by a far more delicious bait, swung their bows in unison. They tightly encircled the few ships loaded with the Helldivers while leaving the rest of the Imperial fleet entirely out in the cold.
"Is—is this the Emperor's protection?"
An Imperial captain wiped the cold sweat from his forehead in disbelief as he watched the retreating Death Guard warships rapidly widening the distance. He had fully expected his bridge to be pierced by energy beams the very next second.
"Never mind if it's a miracle! All fleet units, hear this: while the heretics have lost their minds, break contact immediately! Prepare for emergency Warp jump!"
Though Admiral Quarren was similarly filled with suspicion—completely unable to understand why the enemy would abandon an imminent victory to besiege a few unremarkable light cruisers—he would never waste this chance to cheat death.
Engines roared, and void shields flickered on the verge of overload. As if granted a reprieve, the Imperial fleet rapidly adjusted its posture, turning into streaks of light that surged toward the edge of the system and vanished into the rifts of the Warp.
This ambush, which should have devolved into a one-sided slaughter, thus came to an abrupt end in an utterly absurd fashion.
Aside from those few warships stubbornly locked down by the Death Guard, the majority of the Imperial Navy's main force sustained only minor injuries and miraculously preserved its organizational structure.
However, even though the fleet retreated, terror spread like a plague—faster even than Nurgle's contagion.
The Archenemy had arrived—and it was the infamous Death Guard Legion. This news swept through the entire sector as fast as the retreating fleet.
The revelation struck like a thick whip soaked in saltwater, fiercely lashing an Imperial sector that had previously grown somewhat lazy and sluggish.
Planetary governors who had just been agonizing over their tithes felt wine glasses slip from their trembling grips the moment they heard the words "the Archenemy." Though the colossal and bloated Imperial bureaucratic machine reacted slowly, when faced with this kind of existential threat, it finally displayed its ruthless and efficient side.
War mobilization had begun.
Astropaths broadcasted psychic distress calls and warnings to surrounding sectors day and night, regardless of burning out their brains. Forge worlds ignited their furnaces upon receiving orders, working day and night to manufacture weapons and armor. Gangs and scum from the deepest levels of various hive cities were rounded up en masse and forcibly shoved into Planetary Defense Force uniforms.
Meanwhile, the lucky, escaped Imperial Navy fleet quickly rallied at a nearby safe anchorage. Because losses were not catastrophic, the damaged ships soon entered dry docks for emergency repairs, injured crewmen were replaced, and ammo depots were restocked. This fleet, which should have been crippled, began reorganizing its defensive formations in an extremely short span of time and formulated targeted tactics against the Death Guard based on the intelligence brought back.