Dark Realm.

The Plague Priest stared down at the trembling nezumi, indifferent to the creature's pain. The Plague Priest poked the scrawny nezumi with a long copper rod, raised his arm, and turned his head. A satisfying hiss passed past the priest's rotten teeth. Ugly black adenomas clustered around the slave's throat and armpits, swollen sores oozing thick pulp. The slave's breathing was choppy and uneven, and blood stained his nostrils and beard red.

"Good," said the Plague Priest. He retrieved the copper rod that had been stuffed into the slave's cage. The Plague Priest tiptoed over to a brazier burning on either side of the lab's entrance, and shoved one end of the instrument into the fire. He left it there until the tip glowed and all traces of disease were removed.

"God bless me." The Plague Priest announced. "New, better fleas. Pestilence! Pestilence! Pestilence! Fast! Fast! Hurry!"

The ratmen who had assisted the Plague Priest in this horrific ritual looked at each other anxiously. Under their protective leather cloaks, glands were taut, and the air was filled with the musky smell of fear. The Bug Lord had warned them of their fate if the Plague Priest's experiment failed. Now they wonder if success is even more terrible.

The priest glared at the frightened jailer. A bunch of untrustworthy! Hedonistic heretics! Being infected by the holy plague of the cursed god is a fate to rejoice in! Only in the flames of disease can the soul of a nezumi be judged! The inferior ones have been destroyed, the superior ones have appeared, and after that you will only be stronger than before, and the divinity and cruelty of the god of the curse will remain in your body.

The Plague Priest walked past his trembling assistants, staring at them with his horrified eyes. Soon, there will only be two characters left in the world. True believers and their slaves. The Plague Clans will help bring about this change. Willing or not, they are now tools designed by the god of spells.

The sound of clash of armor alerts the Plague Priest that he has a guest coming. He turned from the table and faced the entrance to the lab. A group of burly warriors marched past the doorway. Behind them, the twisted insect lord was lazily lying on a velvet palanquin. The smell of food wafted from the curtains, with goat's cheese and blood wine being the strongest. Judging by the lingering smell of the insect lord and the vicious expression on his posture, it seemed that some pleasant episode had been disrupted.

"I've heard that your work has been a success." The insect lord roared, baring his fangs.

The Plague Priest gestured to the cage where the infected slave struggled to breathe into his lungs. "It's coming soon, and now it looks and smells good." ”

The Wormmaster's deformed body twisted into a strange angle, his claws wrapped around a lead goblet. He angrily threw the cup at the cage, spilling the slaves inside with blood. "No—it's not this!" The insect lord snapped. "What about the others? The ones out there?"

The priest's heavy body wilted under the angry gaze of the insect lord, and he assumed a posture of inferiority and horror. "No—no." He screamed, pointing to the cage again. "This one comes first! Swear to the God of Curses!"

"Arrest the traitor!" The insect lord roared. Before the Plague Priest could act, heavily armed rat-men lunged at him, grabbing his flabby arm with their powerful claws. The Plague Priest's assistants watched with excitement as their terrible master was dragged into the dark hive.

The priest is taken to a huge cavern beneath the Dark Realm. The air was damp and moldy, with a musty smell and the smell of pond scum. His keen ears could hear the water dripping from the roof overhead, each drop falling on the fertile ground with a soft clanging sound.

The cave was so dark that even the nezumi couldn't see clearly. With a roar from the insect master, a green light suddenly lit up in front of him, and the priest could hear the crackling of electricity and the labored panting of the rat-people. The first thing he saw was the Technocra's curved bronze pillar and crystal cage, and a pile of cables on the ground that led to a giant treadmill.

If the use of crystal lamps becomes widespread, the Zerg will lose a lot of money in the business of selling insect oil. As a result, the Bug Lords have gone out of their way to criticize these upstart technomagicians and oppose the safety of their erratic inventions. Realizing that they were using a tactic they had tried so hard to discredit, an uncontrollable laugh crossed his fangs.

"Blind worms don't like oil that smells bad." The insect lord explained, his face a little embarrassed, and his tone a little embarrassed. His lips pursed as he remembered who he was talking to and why, revealing a vicious smile. The insect master pointed arbitrarily across the hole.

As the priest imagined, the floor of the cave was covered with a layer of fertile soil, and a cloud of moss floated on a large pool of filthy water. He could see things gliding through the mud, just below the water's surface. Scrawny slaves waded through the mud, chasing what swam around them. Sometimes, they plunge headlong into the swamp, clutching a writhing mass of white gooey flesh in their paws.

The Plague Priest knew that these snake-like things were blind worms, and his observations were confirmed when he saw the slaves dragging their prey onto a floating workstation. Other slaves carrying evil metal probes crawl underneath the hanging worm and extract milk from the soft tissue between the worm's various parts of the body. The stinking ooze is collected in a variety of barrels and bowls.

The Plague Priest only had a few minutes to observe the whole process. When the Worm Lord's guards pushed him into the pool, his attention was distracted. The priest continued to sink in the mud, and soon half of his body was submerged in the mud, and he rolled wildly until he realized that he could not sink any further.

"Explain."

In front of him, two corpses floated at some distance from the platform. They were ragged, and their thin bodies were draped in tattered leather cloaks. There is no doubt that they are the pastor's assistants. There is no doubt about the way they died. They have ugly black adenomas clustered around their throats.

The priest looked at the corpse for a long time, then turned around and pointed at the worm lord with trembling paws. "You treacherous fellow!" He coughed and spat into the pool. "Spies, traitors, eavesdroppers!"

The insect lord scratched his beard, surprised at the violence and anger he saw. The Plague Priest plays the role of the wounded with impressive enthusiasm. So much so that the Bug Master waved his guards away, intending to hear a few more words before they could chop the Plague Priest into bloody pulp.

"Who dares to sneak into the hive?" The Worm Lord asked.

When it comes to infiltrators and spies, assassins are always the obvious choice. But perhaps they're too obvious, and the Plague Priest bares his fangs when he mentions another possibility. "Sneaky." He said.

The worm master's ears curled back, clinging to his skull, and his tail flapped the nose of the slave who carried his palanquin. A low, hateful hiss crossed his fangs. The Slier clan is not as skilled in killing as the Assassin Court, but they are close allies of the Beast Lord. Among all the other clans, the hatred between the Bug Lord and the Beast Lord is especially strong. Both clans pride themselves on their ability to breed new alien creatures to serve the lower empire, but when the power of the Worm Lord begins to wane, the power of the other increases.

"The spy tried to steal the plague fleas," the plague priest explained. "Kill the traitor! Fast! Hurry!" The Plague Priest's fat body trembled and let out a giggle.

The Worm Lord bobbed his head from side to side as he considered the Plague Priest's proposal. It did fit all the facts, but he believed that the reason might be true was that the Plague Priest himself was still in the hive, within reach of him. If the priest had any conspiracy, he wouldn't have been stupid enough to wander around here.

Despite this, the Bug Lord decided that the priest could not easily get through this crisis. "Maybe it's stealing the carrion maggots," the insect lord mused. "Maybe they're spies for the Plague Lord. Bring this guy back to the Plague Monastery!" Seeing a trace of fear pass through the priest's spine, a cruel smile appeared on the Worm Lord's face. The Plague Priest isn't the only one who can come up with disturbing theories.

"You need my protection," the Wormmaster reminded. "Archpriest, if you leave the hive, you will be left with nothing but death."

The Plague Priest lowered his horned head, antlers brushing the foul waters of the pool. He turned and pointed his paw at the floating corpses. "Hide these people," he warned. "Don't let any other spies know this has been discovered!"

"Let them know," the Wormmaster scoffed. "Thanks to you, soon the Worm Clan will have the ultimate weapon." He clenched his claws into a fist and shook them against the dark ceiling. "Soon, soon, all enemies are groveling before the Great Worm Lord!"

"We all have to keep it a secret until we succeed."

The insect lord narrowed his eyes slyly. The abominable Plague Priest is right, letting the other clans know about the Zerg too soon could have disastrous consequences. If the other tribes are the first to attack before they have enough bacilli and fleas to carry it......

"Burn them all!" The insect lord shouted a sharp order to his guard, pointing his claws at the floating corpses. When they hesitated, he leaned out from behind the curtain of the palanquin and said with a smile on his face. "Go burn it, or I'll burn you!"

The threat frightened his guards into the pool with a thud, and there was even a hilarious scene of tripping over each other in the rush to grab the corpses.

The priest watched as they waded out of the water with the corpses in their arms, an imperceptible sly glint flashing in the depths of their yellow eyes.........