Butterflies, moths, or most lepidoptera, go through a long and painful pupal period.

The process is not as peaceful as it seems, and the caterpillars that absorb the memories will melt in the chrysalis and their bodies will turn into a thick pulp, leaving only a few organs and everything else to feed the newborn insects.

Those organs will redevelop, absorb the nutrient pulp of the caterpillar's body, and grow a new body, a new eye, and two wings......

In the end, what emerges from the chrysalis will be a very different life from the past.

Someone once asked, is the newborn butterfly still the same caterpillar it once was, or is it parasitic on it, another unique life?

It has also been hypothesized that caterpillars are not a living thing in themselves, but rather some kind of "self-moving" egg before metamorphosing into a butterfly.

Just as a fish that sets foot on land can no longer be called a "fish",

The caterpillar that escapes gravity may not be itself.

But it must learn to fly.

——————————

A long time ago, when Motarian was still unable to get used to poison gas, in the days when he was still imprisoned by his adoptive father,

Motarian would smell the peculiar stench, which grew stronger every time the alien adoptive father came out of his lab.

It wasn't a nice smell, and even the poison of Barbaros was more accustomed to Motarian than it was.

Motarian had carefully peeked through the crack in the door, and he saw the puppets haphazardly sewn from human corpses.

It was the putrid stench that comes from the decomposing bodies of human beings.

Motarian thought that he still thought so long after.

But when he knelt on the ground of Barbaros and trembled and dug up the corpses of the revolutionary army with his hands, Motarian did not smell the smell.

Yellow-black pus dripped from between his fingers, carrying a miserable white scum, and he could smell the vomit of Hades behind him, and the salty smell of the tears of the corpse's family, but there was no such smell—

The smell that had been deeply engraved into his bone marrow with the atrocities of his alien adoptive father, disgusting him and terrifying him.

The stench of corpses from high corruption is also more acceptable to Motarian than it is.

Later, when Motarian struck an alien lord with a scythe, he smelled the familiar smell again as the creature screamed,

Is that...... The smell of psionic energy.

Motarian let out a deep gasp.

After that, the smell stayed with him, wafting from the Death Guard's Think Tank, from Machado's body, from the Emperor......

No matter how many gas masks he changed, no matter how violently he stimulated his nasal passages, Motarian could always smell them - it was a spiritual sense of smell that he couldn't get rid of.

In addition to the long ordeal, it did indeed provide convenience for Motarion, and even the slightest spark of psionic energy would not go unnoticed by Motarion.

Mortarian raised his hand, pus sliding down, and beneath the scythe, the corpses of the ridiculous, clumsy imitations of the Death Guard were emitting an intolerable stench.

They thought these botched imitations would shake him, and they were wrong.

Even if it makes him miserable, it doesn't shake him.

Motarian had been prepared for this for a long time.

He was now standing in this dense forest, and the branches that had been roughly cut down, and the purple-red organs hanging on the branches, all showed the fierceness of the battle just now.

Mortarian stared at his shattered armor, hesitated, slowly raising his arm to the tip of his nose—

He smelled the smell.

From himself.

Motarian was silent, and for the sake of Hades, he meditated, trying to slow down the process.

A faint sense of powerlessness answered him, but in this sea of green pus, the pitiful, near-dry darkness could not save him.

He remembered that he had fallen into a dream called the Death Guard, and that it was the waters of the River Styx that saved him.

But now...... Motarian clenched his fist, then released it, and the crispy armor fell off his hand.

Everything here is attacking him, those too big to see, those too small to perceive, the real battlefield is in the dimension of microorganisms, where billions of living beings wither.

He could no longer rely on his old friend.

Even though Motarian was complacent with the picture of Hades taking Magnus.

He could no longer rely on the Death Guard.

Because he's alone at the moment.

It was his fate, it was Mortarien's, and the day had finally come and he faced it alone.

…… He needs to be stronger, stronger.

Strong enough to live.

Motarian took a deep breath, staggered to his feet, and began to trudge through the dense forest.

There were no visible enemies to stop him, and they left the victory to bacteria, fungi and viruses.

Time is on their other side.

For Motarian, it was a dead end.

But he needs to live,

Only by being alive can there be other possibilities.

Survival, this is the law of Barbarus, the law that is supreme and can never be shaken.

Only the strong can survive.

And if lives are gone, it proves that they are not resilient enough.

Motarian trekked, weeds with abundant sarcoma on the branches hitting his legs, sarcomas sticking to his legnails and giving off a foul smell.

Even heavy rain can't wash them away.

Motarian didn't have the heart to take them off,

He felt tired, but for him, who was good at fighting for a long time, tiredness was just the simplest feeling.

Buzzing, black-headed flies covered in flesh surrounded him, and they happily played around Motarian, perched on his shoulder armor, tilting their heads and rubbing their heads.

Motarian ignored them, and the rain poured down, and the cloudy raindrops slipped down his neck and poured into the gap between his body and the armor, and the armor's circulatory and power systems had long since been destroyed.

He is like a chicken in soup, walking in the dense forest.

The planet is alive.

It occurred to Mortarian that it was a huge, living incubator that was catalyzing him, catalyzing the Primordial to become another being.

Everything here, every grass and tree, every living being, is prepared for him and applauded by him.

It's a dead end.

Motarian thought again, and the sense of despair came over him again, like a maggot that eats at bones.

"Bang!"

There was a loud crash to the ground, slamming the ground with a heavy weight, splashing the foul-smelling liquid from the rain pit.

Motarian vomited, spitting out the dirty water mixed with the viscera and blood, and he struggled to prop himself up so that his exposed face did not come into contact with the ground.

In a trance, Motarian returns to that rainy night of his childhood, when his adoptive father throws him off a cliff and orders him to climb back to the top of the mountain before dawn.

He fell down—

Motarian let out a sharp breath, coughing violently, and began to climb forward.

He needs to live......

He needs to live......

He can't die yet......

Those unfulfilled wishes, those previous vows, those fond memories - he couldn't lose them, he couldn't just give up.

Motarian ...... Come to think of it......

He remembered the prophecy of seeing that on that strange elven planet, Motarian saw himself.

That's not him, but that's him, too.

Is that...... The original he is also ...... Some kind of monster that broke out of Motarian's body in the past-

A monster that cannot be guarded by death, cannot be taken into account by Hades, cannot be considered for Typhon, and cannot be accepted by humans.

It stinks.

Everything here is for Motarian, and it's a dead end—but for the other him, it's not.

But how did he get to that other side, and how much should he sacrifice? What should he do?

Mortarian climbed,

Seeing the giants fall, the green sarcoma-like creatures chirped out of the grass, like bloated potatoes, small, huddled in a mess, and screamed softly.

They shoved and shoved to the prostrate Motarian and followed him, as if marveling at his tenacity and embarrassment.

Motarian's deep eyes were fixed on the beings, but they didn't try to attack him, but followed him closely.

…… Motarian, what else have you forgotten?

Motarian took a deep breath, he needed to live...... He needed to remember that......

The truth before life was born—

He needs ...... Accept Himself.

Motarian gasped in pain, the stench intensified, tearing at his soul and making him dizzy, and he couldn't help but scream,

As Motarian struggled, a faint layer of smoke rose around him.

Macurag CalamityDay of CalamityCulling BarbarusProsperoBurning of NikaiaJudgment CelebrationBattle of OuranoBattle of IbsenConrad CozAtrocitiesHorusskyLiman's BanquetRandanBarbarusBetrayal of KarastiphonMarsTerra MacadoVisionSpace MarineThe Last Alien LordDeath GuardHadescarascarastiphonMotarianAlien Adoptive FatherNacre BarbarusAirborne WarehouseSubspace Laboratory——

It floats in the vast ocean.

It's been silent, it's always there.

It's been hating, it's been devouring, it's been withering.

It's a cloud—

He's a wizard!!

Motarian jerked back to reality, struggling to scream in the muddy water.

The deafening screams of the original startled the noisy Nurgle spirits around him, and they ran back in circles, hiding themselves under the leaves.

The screams of despair tore through the sky, almost tearing open the curtain of rain, and could not be stopped for a long time.

After some time, the screaming giants fell back into a stupor, poking their heads out and looking curiously at their new masters.

After seven raindrops fell, the Nurgle spirits tried to gather around Motarion again.

They poked the giant's pale and emaciated face curiously, tried to raise his feeble hand, and wrote and drew on his armor with pus.

You need to...... Re-accept yourself.

All this ...... Armor, weapons, body, language, customs, likes and dislikes...... It's all about shackling and imprisoning your existence.

Motarian, the name given to him by his alien adoptive father, is the Barbaros word for "son of death".

The emperor once told him that he would have had a name with a better meaning.

He refused.

Motarian refused.

Collapsed in the torrential rain, Motarian's hands twitched twice,

The Nurgle at his hand screamed, but when the giant didn't react otherwise, he boldly approached again.

…… This is the planet He has in store for you, Motarian.

…… He......

…… Who is He?

Motarian breathed slightly, the final difference between him and the corpse, Motarian ...... Come to think of it......

In a comatose vision, he began to run—no, spread, he ran towards that place, and he saw a corner of the garden.

Motarian staggered to his feet, but there was no sparkle in his eyes, and his soul seemed to be in another world.

An ominous gray smoke drifted from the cracks in his armor, and Motarian gasped with his head down, smoke coming out of his mouth.

There was a scream in his hand, and a Nurgle spirit playing with his palm was caught, waving its short arms in an attempt to break Motarian's hand open.

Motarian saw the garden, which was not as lush as it had been.

A few new shoots sprouted on the barren earth, and the freshly plowed soil was soft, and in it slumbered breathing seeds.

At the edge of the garden, the darkness slumbered.

This is Nurgle's garden,

Parts of it withered, lost—the being was trying to reassemble them, and it made him vulnerable.

And that's what Motarian wants.

In his last sanity, Motarian could even tell who had done it.

He chuckled at the end, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

This is the god they are going to face, the god they are going to fight.

Humans can't defeat the gods...... Unless......

Come to think of it...... Motarian ......

Motarian unconsciously raised his hand, the Nurgle Spirit in his hand struggling, and the cloudy advocate opened his mouth—

Around the giant, all the Nurgle spirits stopped in shock, looking at the monster in disbelief, pus spilling from its mouth and juice bursting.

…… He remembered.

【Nurgle】

+Nurgle !! +

Motarian roared, and his body in the dense forest began to crumble like a skeleton,

If you want to regain what you used to have, you have to leave behind what you have now.

Even if it anchors you to this beautiful world, to the physical world where your comrades, your legions, your laboratories exist.

The gray mist rose layer by layer, engulfing everything in an instant, spreading out in all directions, devouring everything.

Motarian roared as the corners of his mouth cracked, revealing the white bones,

+ - You're not the only one!! +

It was the planet Nurgle had given him—it was his planet, even if it was tainted with Nurgle's psionic powers, even if they wanted to pull him into the garden—but he had it.

A cloud rose from a corner of the garden, and he heard the roar of rage—and now Motarian knew why he had chosen him, and they were in perfect harmony indeed.

The clouds greedily devoured a corner of the garden that had just been plundered, and he came—Motarian felt himself rot, but then—

He cried out to the being that made him tremble, and the clouds rolled and rolled to lead him to the existence that he would feel deep fear at the slightest glance,

It was a greedy black monster, tumbling and wriggling, it followed the gray clouds of Motarian like a beast driven by hunger.

Ha......

He needed to sacrifice a part of himself, but he still needed strength, and Motarian threw away the part he had accumulated in his life—the only part he had left to keep.

Throw it out, throw it into the garden.

The darkness and life were entangled, but the tide of darkness was rapidly receding, and Motarian had obtained what he wanted, and the fog began to dissipate.

The little corner of the garden finally disappeared, and the soil where the seeds were buried faded away with the mist, as if it had shrouded itself in the mist.

Under the clouds, the barren earth was silent.

Motarian snapped his hand away.

The remnants of the Nurgle Spirit in his hand snapped and burst on the ground like ripe fruit.

He began to crumble, the body no longer able to hold him, clouds pouring out, armor creaking and falling.

Father Rain screamed, but the gray clouds had risen and greedily devoured its clouds.

This planet belongs to Motarian.

Dark clouds hung over everything.

Everything that was once alive was dumbfounded, billions of living beings were silent in the fog, they still existed, but ...... But......

Nothing knows what's going on.

Except for the steady sound of breathing.

No, yes!

(End of chapter)