The Last Twilight
"No... Get her back!!"
Garo's expression changed drastically. He turned sharply and roared at Eileen and Sicarius.
*Boom!!!*
A green beam of light, tens of meters in diameter, crashed down from the clouds, precisely engulfing Typhus, who was rolling on the ground.
As the deafening sound dissipated, the green beam of light enveloping Typhus didn't disappear; instead, it seemed to be stretched open by some force, growing even larger.
The sky was torn apart, and large clumps of pus-filled "rain" slammed into the ground.
*Ding-a-ling—ding-a-ling—*
A cheerful, crisp sound, incongruous with the battlefield scene, came from the source of the beam of light.
Immediately afterwards, a gigantic foot stepped out from a rift in the subspace, slamming heavily onto the land of the real universe.
*Thump!*
With one stomp, the ground within a hundred-meter radius turned into a bubbling, poisonous swamp.
A massive, green, fleshy ball, the size of a small hill, forced its way into the real world.
It was a Great Unclean One under Nurgle's throne.
Its belly, oozing grease and pus, was so obese that it had even split open a huge gash, revealing its intestines, teeming with countless, playful, frolicking Nurgle spirits.
In one hand it carried a huge, rusty iron bell, and in the other dragged a plague flail powerful enough to shatter city walls.
A chillingly benevolent smile graced its broad face.
"Oh ho ho ho..."
This paternal demon swayed its bloated flesh, its voice booming like a drumbeat.
"Come, my little darlings. We've come to see you, and we've brought you a new plague."
With its words, the space around the pillar of light shattered like a mirror.
Seven pitch-black portals opened out of thin air.
*Click, click, click.*
A chaotic, massive sound of footsteps rang out.
Seven entire armies of Nurgle, brimming with joyous clamor, poured out of the portals like groups of elderly tourists.
At the heart of it all, Typhus roared with ecstatic jubilation.
"The power of the Father... endless plague and life!!"
He was no longer the colossal Astartes clad in armor.
Blessed by Nurgle's divine power, the contaminated core, the essence of the entire planet's plague, had been completely dismantled. Fungus-covered pipes and metal plates, as if alive, had seeped into Typhus's body.
Now, he resembled a gigantic, upright, armored fly, a hybrid of flesh and machinery.
His once-vanished right arm was now replaced by the *Manreaper* scythe, which had grown several times its original size and was covered in blinking eyeballs.
Behind them, billowing black smoke that blotted out the sky, came even more filthy flies.
"Garo! And that little bastard!"
Typhus's head, now transformed into a gigantic fly's head, swirled wildly with compound eyes, emitting overlapping demonic sounds.
"Now, who's the loser?!"
…
"Defense!! Tighten formation!!"
Sicarius roared hoarsely. He pulled the stunned Eileen behind him, slamming his shield into the ground, erecting a solid barrier.
"Garo! Take men and guard the left flank! Don't let the blasphemous contamination get close to the Holy Bearer!"
"Damn it! Too many!"
Sergeant Varo had no time for tactics; his bolter was practically overheating, the barrel glowing red-hot.
"For Macragge!"
The five remaining Ultramarines formed a circle back-to-back, desperately protecting Eileen in the center.
But against the surging tide of Nurgle's army, this small blue defensive line seemed so fragile, like a leaf about to sink in a flood.
"For the God-Emperor! For Lady Eileen!"
"Get out of my way!" Cole transformed into a golden bolt of lightning and charged forward.
This commander of the Imperial Guard displayed the terrifying combat power of the Empire's strongest individual soldier.
He ignored the ragtag soldiers and charged directly at the greatest threat—the Great Unclean One.
"No matter how filthy it may be, blasphemy against my Lord is unforgivable!"
Cole leaped high into the air, his power halberd unleashing a dazzling disruption field, aiming straight for the Great Unclean One's enormous single eye.
"Ouch, what a fierce little golden man."
The Great Unclean One chuckled, swinging its plague flail.
*Clang!!*
A deafening crash resounded.
Cole was slammed back through the air by the immense kinetic energy, his feet carving two deep furrows into the metal floor as he landed.
But he didn't stop. Using the recoil, with a simple step, he swept his halberd horizontally, slicing a large chunk of rotting fat from the Great Unclean One's enormous belly.
"Ooh ho ho! It itches! It itches so much!"
The Great Unclean One wasn't angry at all; instead, it laughed even more heartily. Countless maggots gushed from the wound on its intestines, and the wound healed in the blink of an eye.
"My child, let me smear some 'jam' on your armor too!"
It opened its massive maw, and a torrent of corrosive green vomit gushed towards Cole like a waterfall.
Cole had to dodge, but he was held back.
With their strongest force held back, the once perfect defensive circle instantly developed a gap.
"Here! There's a way!"
A squad of Plague Demons spotted the opening, brandishing their giant scythes, and silently charged towards Eileen.
Sicarius gritted his teeth and charged forward, but he was alone, while there were seven enormous Nurgle beasts.
*Clang! Clang!*
*Talassa Storm* barely parried two Plague Swords, but a third, whistling with death, grazed his helmet, slicing off half of his crest.
"Protect the Holy Bearer!!" Sergeant Varo dropped his empty bolt pistol, drew his chainsword, and lunged forward, but he was knocked away by a Death Guard, his ribs cracking.
Eileen stood in the middle of the crowd.
She gripped the short sword tightly in her hand, its flame flickering weakly like a match.
She looked at Varo, covered in blood; at Sicarius, his helmet shattered; at Cole, locked in fierce combat in the distance.
"Old Huang..." Eileen's hand trembled, her voice filled with anxiety, "Is there any way? Didn't you say... you still had energy?"
[Yes, there is.]
Old Huang's voice remained calm, carrying an undeniable authority.
[But I can only use it for "one last thing."]
[Trust them. And... trust Company Commander Garo.]
...
On the other side of the battlefield.
Nathaniel Garo, the Heroic Spirit Company Commander, was in dire straits.
The pale flames on the *Sword of Liberty*, suppressed by the evil power bestowed by Typhus, had dimmed to a flickering, candle-like state.
Typhus was now enormous. Having fused with the Plague Core, even a casual swing carried explosive energy.
"What's wrong, Nathaniel!"
Typhus's mutated giant claw seized Garo's spirit body.
*Sizzle—*
That was the sound of Nurgle's poison corroding the essence of the Heroic Spirit projection.
"Weren't you cursing so vehemently just now? Why are you silent now?"
Typhus's enormous fly-like head approached Garo, spewing poisonous gas from its mouthparts.
"You are merely a ghost. But I… I am eternal! I am the chosen one!"
*Bang!*
Typhus squeezed hard, and Garo let out a muffled groan as half of his spirit body shattered into specks of light.
He was slammed heavily to the ground.
"Company Commander!!"
The surrounding Twilight Raiders, fighting the Death Guard minions, witnessed this.
They stopped what they were doing.
These silent warriors, these souls who had waited for millennia, waiting only for vengeance, exchanged glances.
No words were needed.
Through ten thousand years of dark voyages, their hearts had long since become one.
An old soldier, having slain the plague warrior before him, did not pursue, but turned to look at Garo lying on the ground.
He removed the illusory Mk III helmet, revealing a blurred yet resolute face.
"Company Commander."
Though there was no sound, Garo understood his lip movements.
"Our war… is long over."
The old soldier pointed to the besieged Eileen in the distance, pointed to the little girl who had summoned them.
"But the war for that chosen child… has only just begun."
"Sailing requires guidance."
With that, the old soldier's body suddenly burst into flames.
Not the pale flames of before.
He transformed into a dazzling, pure white streak of light.
"For Terra!!"
With a final battle cry, the streak of light didn't rush towards the enemy, but instead plunged headlong into the fallen Garo.
"No…" Garo reached out, trying to stop him.
But more streaks of light shone forth.
"For the Legion's glory!!"
"For the Lord of Humanity!!"
One, two, thirty…
All the heroic spirits of the Twilight Raiders, at this moment, abandoned the fight, abandoned maintaining their physical forms.
They ignited their souls, transforming ten thousand years of obsession, loyalty, and power into fuel.
A reversed meteor shower seemed to fall upon the battlefield.
A dozen white beams of light roared and merged into Garo's body.
Garo felt the familiar and vast power surging into his body. It was the final Twilight Raider, the last of the Fourteenth Legion.
His body began to swell.
His somewhat ethereal spirit now solidified into a tangible form.
All the battle damage and rust on his ancient Mk III power armor vanished, replaced by a pristine, factory-new finish.
His deep red right arm was burning brightly.
The *Sword of Liberty* in his hand erupted with a towering white beam of light, piercing through the thick cloud of poison overhead.
Typhus's enormous fly-like head whirled around, its countless compound eyes revealing genuine terror.
"This... what kind of power is this?!"
Garo slowly rose from the ground.
He was now the same height as the mutated Typhus. He no longer possessed the bloated flesh of Nurgle; only a pure, sharp sense of judgment remained.
"Typhus."
Garo's voice was no longer ethereal, but booming like a great bell, causing the surrounding Nurgle army to explode.
"Since you have borrowed the power of the evil god, transforming your body into a monster."
"Then..."
Garo gripped the greatsword with both hands, raising it high above his head.
"We sacrifice our souls to forge this... sword that slays the oathbreakers!"
"Twilight—The End!!"
Garo roared, transforming into a streak of white aurora, slashing down at Typhus's massive form.
This sword defied time and space.
It ignored the swarm of destroyers surrounding Typhus, ignored his thick armor and blessed body, and ignored the regenerative field granted by Nurgle.
*Pfft—!!*
There was no earth-shattering explosion.
Only a soft sound, like a hot knife cutting through butter.
The white aurora flashed past.
Garo's figure appeared behind Typhus, still in the downward slashing stance.
Time seemed to freeze for a second.
Then.
*Crack.*
A thin white line appeared down the center of Typhus's terrifying, ten-meter-tall body, fused with the plague reactor.
The white line rapidly expanded, transforming into a blinding streak of light.
"Ah... ah..."
Typhus let out two guttural sounds.
Then.
*Boom!!!*
His massive body, along that central line, neatly split open to both sides.
The enormous plague core fused within him was conceptually dissolved by this single strike.
Countless wisps of green energy erupted from the wound like a runaway flood, instantly melting the Death Guard who hadn't yet had time to escape.
The Great Unclean One let out a scream; it felt the anchor of reality that had summoned it crumble.
And at the end of the light.
Garo remained in that pose, his body beginning to become transparent.
A devastating sword strike exhausted the power of all the Heroic Spirits, and with it, his own existence.
He slowly turned his head.
A smile appeared on his now-ethereal face.
He looked at Eileen, who still stood there blankly in the distance, and said nothing.
He simply raised his now-transparent, crimson right arm and gestured for Eileen to join him.
Then, he pointed to the writhing remains of Typhus, cleaved in two, yet still struggling to reassemble themselves with a sickening life force.
With this gesture, Nathaniel Garo, the loyal Seventh Company Commander, vanished completely into countless white specks of light, dissipating in the wind.
"Uncle Garo..." Eileen murmured.
Typhus wasn't completely dead.
Although the monster was cleaved in two, its core destroyed, the twisted life force bestowed by the Father was still at work.
His two halves, shrunk to their original size, were writhing wildly on the ground, countless buds of flesh trying to reconnect.
"I... I won't die... I am eternal... The Father has blessed me."
The halved fly head was still emitting faint noises.
The surrounding defenses had collapsed. Sicarius and Cole, both thrown back by the energy burst, were struggling to their feet.
Eileen was unprotected.
Several surviving Nurgles rushed towards her, wanting to "make friends" with the girl.
Just then.
Eileen felt a blur before her eyes.
Everything suddenly slowed down.
[Don't blink, Eileen.]
Old Huang's voice, filled with a strange excitement, exploded in her mind.
[Commander Garo's sword strike just now shattered the spatial structure of this place. The Warp barrier is now riddled with holes.]
[This is our chance!]
[All that remaining energy was for this!]
[It's our turn... to steal the kill!]
*Buzz—*
Eileen felt like she'd been thrown into a vortex.
The next second.
When her vision refocused.
She was surprised to find herself no longer standing on the outer edge of the battlefield.
Holding her was a short sword still burning with embers.
And beneath her feet was a pile of writhing, smoking, rotting flesh.
Before her.
Was Typhus's huge, ugly fly-like head, still trying to heal.
And his still-intact compound eye.
At this moment, that compound eye was filled with bewilderment and fear.
He looked at the mortal girl who had suddenly "flashed" onto his face.
Eileen looked at him.
She raised the short sword in her hand.
She let out a mocking laugh.
"Hello, you fatso."
"Time to pay the bill."