Dark Realm.

The Worm Clan's cave is nicknamed the Hive by the Nezumi of other clans. Few of them understand how apt the name is. The earthen walls of the honeycomb field were obscured by a swarm of crawling insects, and the muddy ground became a swamp of wriggling creatures, and huge cobwebs dripping from the low ceiling. The air was hot and smelly, and it smelled of unclean life and the filth on which we depended. Every inch of the fortress seems to be used to feed all sorts of pests.

The Plague Priest shivered as he wandered the dark tunnels, thankfully the blessing of the Cursed God had killed most of the insects, as they had only recently taken an interest in him. The lower classes of life are always the first to succumb to corruption. Still, there is something that proves to be terrifyingly resistant to the Plague Priest's sacred cloak of disease. The most stubborn is a small, transparent gnat that emits an annoying high-pitched buzzing sound and is pervertedly obsessed with crawling into its nose.

Gnats have a lot in common with their creators. The dastardly villains of the Worm Clan are obsessed with their disgusting livelihoods. It goes far beyond the simple requirements of business and arrogance. They don't see insects as a means to an end, but as an end in themselves. In order to breed stronger, more tenacious beetles and spiders, in order to create new colors of fleas or larger species of ticks, these kinds of things became the focus of Zerg fanaticism.

These crazed rabble are too crazy to appreciate the divinity of disease as the plague clans. They will never understand the divine truth of corruption. People like them will never accept the only true side of the cursed god.

But they can also be useful tools of God. For now, it doesn't matter if the bunch believes it or not. It is enough for them to obey.

The Plague Priest walked around a pool of stagnant water, the water was full of mosquitoes, and a huge yellow spider swung down from the top of the tunnel, and the Plague Priest subconsciously lowered his head. With a powerful word, and a simple gesture from the Plague Priest, the spider shrank into a shell.

Before him, the plague priest smelled a comforting smell of plague and decay. It was only the most humble echo of the Plague Abbey, but it was enough to relax his glands. After a few days of hard work, he had turned the cave that the Worm Lord had made available to him into a small piece of sickly decay, suitable for the Plague Lord.

Dozens of insect oil lamps were lit in the cave, and the lights were bright, but the stench of insect oil was muffled by the pungent smoke coming from several bronze incense pots. Even the crazed Worm Clan knows the wisdom of keeping lice and beetles away from the Plague Priest's lab.

The Plague Priest chirped maliciously as he walked past the heavily armed nezumi flanking the entrance to his lair. They were all large men with black fur, their bodies tucked into armor that looked like they were made of chitin plates of giant bugs - perhaps from the conquered Deadwalker or its offspring.

As the Plague Priest passed, the guards bowed their heads and bared their throats in obedience. Pastors are curious to know how much of their servility is visceral and how much of it is pretentious. There is a fine line between the roles of bodyguard and jailer.

The Plague Priest will not raise this issue for the time being. He stared at his laboratory with a glint of joy in his eyes. Dozens of low tables were set up, each with a shallow tray made of skulls.

In each tray was a small piece of rotting flesh floating in a poisonous cocktail of ointment and poison, the knowledge that only the most honorable plague priests had been granted - any creature of lower status would be infected with crimson shivers just by reading the formula.

And the Plague Priest is one of them. He boiled the solution out of a kettle that had been cursed three times, stirring and uttering secret words. Now, the festering islands of meat on each small tray provide a breeding ground for the bacilli he cultivated. The invisible vapors of the Black Death would collect around the meat, forming moldy patches on the surface of the meat.

The Plague Priest stared at the table with hundreds of trays, his heart pounding with delicious fear. Here, in this room, there are enough plague bacteria to kill all the humans on the surface of the earth! If there was a way to distribute it evenly and quickly, the nezumi would be able to wipe out humans overnight.

Unfortunately, it's not that simple. The god of curses needed the ingenuity of his disciples, so he added a flaw to this most sacred of calamities. The Black Death itself was not transmissible, it needed a host, a living organism as its carrier.

The Plague Priest turned from the table and walked past a series of cages embedded in alcoves in the wall. Swarms of rats glared at him with their big eyes. However, rats were not vectors of plague. They are simply hosts that carry plague creatures. The fur of each rat is crawled with the most tenacious and prolific fleas bred by the "Zerg".

In his first experiment, the Plague Priest was careful to use only human hosts. Fleas that live on humans have no appetite for rodent blood, which eliminates the danger of the disease spreading to rat people.

However, the Worm Master is asking for something completely different. He wanted to change the Black Death so it could be used against other nezumi. The Worm Lord also intends to do what the Plague Lord did to humans to his rival clan. It's a thrilling display of the most ferocious and uninhibited ambitions!

Of course, the Plague Priest had no illusions that he could trust the Bug Lord to abide by their agreement. The legions of assistants that the cunning guy provided him with have been trying to find out the secret of creating the plague. If the worms can get their hands on this secret, their need for the Plague Clan will disappear. But the deception doesn't stop there, as the Plague Priest realizes that his so-called subordinates are constantly smuggling insects into the lab and secretly testing them to see which strains survive around here. It didn't take much effort for him to guess what the purpose of such an experiment was.

The Plague Priest bared his fangs at the leather-clad jailer running around the table. None of them responded to his gestures. Even on his own, the Plague Priest is terrible for such a groveling coward.

The priest was sorry that he couldn't make it to the hive with a small group of Plague Spellers, but as the Worm Lord had told him, a secret was best kept by one person. If the Plague Priest's companions were by his side, his position would be in jeopardy. This may give the Bug Lord a bad impression of his new ally.

The scent of the worm lord hit his face, and the plague priest's nose twitched. He looked towards the doorway and watched the twisted insect master and his retinue walk into the lab in droves. The Worm Lord wrapped his bent body around a fluffy robe, which he claimed was woven by worms. It holds a small gold ball in its claws with narrow openings on either side. As he approached, the insect owner shook the ball, alarming the beetle trapped inside, causing it to emit a sulfurous musk.

"What's new?" The Worm Lord asked, his beard trembling with anticipation

The Plague Priest gestured to the cage across from the lab. "There is many, many more work," he replied. "The plague created by Germ No. 1 can be used to kill people."

A low roar came from the worm master's throat. "But you can change it at any time, you promised me that the plague can kill the nezumi!"

"It will take time," the pastor confessed. He turned to a small wooden box and held it so the owner could see the pile of fleas huddled inside. "Fleas need to be found alive to carry the Black Death."

"We'll find the fleas," the worm owner hissed. "If we have to close worm farms and turn them into flea farms, the worm clan will find what you need." A sly look slipped into the old fox's eyes, his fangs clashing together. "You'll have to change your face," he said to the Plague Priest, "or the Zerg won't help you deal with the traitors." ”

The insect master's reaction after saying this was to burst out laughing. It waved its claws, motioning for some of its followers to come forward. First, an armored sword rat shoved a trembling slave in front of him. Then, a vicious white rat approached with a large iron box in his hand. Finally, a pair of lean and sturdy nezumi came, both of whom held a long-handled insect oil torch in their hands.

"What is this going to show me?" , the Plague Priest asked, confused. As he spoke, the sword rat slashed the slave's hind leg with its blade, crippleing the poor fellow. When the injured rat-man falls, the white rat-man places his box on the floor. A heavy stone was placed in front of the chest, and a metal door was pulled up.

At first, the Plague Priest felt that the motion was pointless. The white-skinned nezumi opened the box, but the stone still blocked the contents. Then, the Plague Priest's nose smelled a strong, acidic smell.

As he watched, smoke began to rise from the stone, and a muffled sound reached his ears, like the sizzle of grease dripping on an open fire. Before his eyes, the center of the stone began to melt. Soon, a black hole appeared in the middle of the stone, followed by a mass of shaggy black legs in the light.

It was a spider, a giant tarantula, the size of a priest's fist. The terrifying monster ran out of a hole in the stone corroded by its venom, its hind legs standing upright, its front legs and whiskers trembling in the air. The slave who collapsed to the ground screamed in horror, but when he tried to stand up, his lame leg was crushed. Before the rat-man could crawl away, the spider pounced on him. The effects of the spider's acidic venom on the flesh are enough to make the plague priest sick.

While the tarantula was still sucking the melted flesh of the whipped slave, the rat-man with the torch went into action. Agility honed after long hours of practice and deadly need, these acrobatic nezumi run around the spider and constantly poke it with torches.

At first, the mindless spider simply stood up towards its tormentors, waving its front legs to intimidate the nezumi, but soon it succumbed and flinched in the heat of the torches. After the spider flinched, the two nezumi used the oil lamp as a stimulus to drive the spider back from its food and back into the metal box. As soon as the tarantula entered, the rat-man slammed the door shut.

"We have a lot of these monsters," the Worm Lord boasted, savoring the shock his performance had given the priest. "They will take out your enemies, burrow in his chambers, and eat him to the bone, and then you will become the greatest lord of the Plague Clan."