Silence streaked a deadly trail through the air, and even though it was covered in pitch-black blood, it was still as sharp as ever.

Typhons' head was cut off in an instant, and he couldn't match a genetic protomorph, even if he had broken through the confines of his human form and become a complete profane.

Some lines can be blurred, others cannot. It is as if some can be corrupted, while others can only be destroyed.

The Lord of Death withdrew his scythe and watched as Typhons' head fell to the ground. The fungus blanket that spread from the bridge instantly engulfed the skull, even the headless body.

So, in the next moment of arrival, Typhons, the whole Typhons, stood up from behind Mortarion.

The horn on his head was still hideous, his armor was rotten, and the logo of the death shroud ironically remained on his shoulder armor. Motarian stared at him coldly, and Typhonse smiled back with an inexplicable smile. Extremely disgusting.

His skin was pale, greasy pale, with blue-gray veins bulging from beneath his skin and pulsing on his face, and the blood flowing within it was completely black and like a coagulated gelatin. The eyes were completely closely spaced hives in which thousands of eggs were waiting to hatch.

Looking at him, Motarian smelled a choking stench that came from the inside of Typhons' body, from his blood, and from every molecule that made up his present form.

Subspace, witchcraft, evil. Not only that, but corruption is still there, and he is all too familiar with it.

"You should know it's going to lead to nothing, Motalian." Typhonse said.

Motarian raised his scythe again.

"You've tried hundreds of times, and none of them have actually hurt me. As I said, I am immortal. What can you do if you cut off my head and cut me into pieces? This is just a small episode in the cycle of life and death, and it is destined to come. When it passes, the season of resurrection will come. ”

Typhonse smiled and stamped his feet, the mushroom blanket filling his feet with dark green juice.

"See?" He asked. "The power of a loving father has been revealed, like a seed rooted in the soil, and a bud has bloomed."

"There's never been a moment when you speak that makes me sick as much as I do now." Motarian said.

He lunged at Typhons, who only pretended to fend off twice, which evoked a deeper anger from the Primordial. The sound of the scythe slicing through the air was as violent as an explosion, and he dismembered Typhonse again.

Pools of gray-black liquid poured out of the severed limbs, insects feasted, and the bones of the dead were drenched with juice beneath the heavy blanket of fungus. Mushrooms and flowers bloomed from their eye sockets, and vine branches engulfed the remains of Typhons, causing him to stand up again.

"There's nowhere to run, and it's useless to resist, my friend." Typhonse looked at him with pity. "Your rebellion is meaningless, I'm not mocking you, I'm telling a truth. Take a good look. ”

He raised his swollen right hand, the diseased flesh filling the armor and making it look swollen and comical.

He pointed to a porthole, but Motarian didn't bother to look at it. He pulled out the lantern and melted Typhons' entire right hand with a single shot. The latter sighed, this time he didn't even bother to put on a pretentious resistance, and just bowed his head and waited for death to come.

The blade slashed, and Typhonse was reborn from under the fungus blanket.

"You really should have taken a look." He said slowly. "Then you'll understand where you're now, Motarian."

"I'll see, until I'm done with you, the pest." The Lord of Death replied with a sneer.

Silence fell, slashing Typhons in half. Motarian lifted his foot and crushed his head. The 'vermin' landed from the ceiling, and the spreading fungus blanket spat him out of it. Silence slashed at him again, but Typhonse didn't dodge, just spoke.

"I've been waiting a long time for today"

Motarian smashed his face with the handle of his scythe.

"Strictly speaking, I didn't betray you."

Motarian chopped him up.

"It's in my nature, I'm born with this talent, and my tenacity is just an out-product of it. I was born to bear the glory of a loving father, so I have not betrayed"

Motarian stabbed him in the abdomen with silence, provoking him up and turning him into pieces in the air.

"But I did plan for this day for a long time. Very long, Motarian, so long that I could barely stand it a few times. Fortunately, every day and night I endured in the past has achieved a greater reward for me today. Just one glance at that porthole and you can see how hard I've worked for you. ”

Mortarian kills Typhons, once, twice, three times, four times.

Countless times.

He melted him with a lamp, chopped him up with silence, smashed his face with his hands, and trampled him into a pulp with his iron boots. He killed him like a worm, and he was doing it faster and faster, but Typhons' words were still ongoing.

He had only one request, he wanted the Lord of Death to stare out the window. Motarian could probably guess some of the reasons, but he was reluctant to do so.

He had to fight, he had to resist – admittedly, it may sound silly to fight against an enemy who could not be killed, but resistance itself was meaningful.

He stands here, fighting for humanity and empire, and that's the meaning.

Not everything has to find a suitable reason, some things just have to be done and must be done. For example, humanity must rise, for example, Motarian must resist, for example, Typhonse must die.

Yes.

Motarian told himself that Typhonse had to die.

"I've secretly set up ritual circles on every ship." Typhonse said, being cut in half, black blood dripping from his eyes.

"The time has come, I told them. And your numerology adds even more power to my rituals, and you're obsessed with the number seven, aren't you, Motarian? ”

Typhons' head smiled in the sky.

"Seven, everywhere. Even the number of your fleet should be multiples of seven. Seventy-seven warships, what a magnificence. Coupled with this subspace storm that started from Cowes and was about to sweep half the galaxy, the power of the loving father was finally revealed. Take a look out the window. ”

There was a burst of laughter from the fungus blanket, and for a moment, it seemed as if a thousand Typhons were talking. His voice was pervasive and pervasive, coming from the ceiling, from the portholes, and from the feet of Motarian.

The original looked down and saw a pair of dark eyes looking up at him. A crew member coughed up blood and looked at him pleadingly from under the blanket. The face was rotten, and the features of insects spread and writhed on his distorted face.

The Lord of Death drew his gun and laid him to rest.

"Look out the window." The intact Typhonse came from the other end of the bridge. "Just one glance, my friend, and then you will understand why your resistance is pointless."

Motarian held his lantern and finally did as he was told. Typhons' ecstasy was palpable to the naked eye, and he even trembled with excitement.

Could it be that the Lord of Death has finally decided to give in?

Outside the porthole, a huge vine is born among the stars.

They spread from one ship to another, like a jungle. The stars were obscured, and the vines and foliage were covered with a dark green mist visible to the naked eye, enveloping all the ships firmly. Such a supernatural scene, so evil, that it sends chills all over people's bodies.

And the right flank and even half of the central area of the entire combined fleet have been swallowed up by this strange cosmic jungle.

The source is the flagship of Taifengs, the Termination. The back half of its exposed hull had turned a downright dim yellow, and the sickly glow shone in what had once been an engine.

and the Iron Blood.

It was like a poor worm caught in a spider's web, firmly bound, and Motarian gazed at Perturabo's flagship, and suddenly saw three large, rotten eyes, at the top of the vine's web, overlooking everyone.

Motarian withdrew his gaze.

"See?" Typhonse looked at him expectantly. "There is no hope of victory, my friend, accept your fate."

"Fate?" The Lord of Death scoffed. "I have two brothers who can see what fate calls it, and they both scoff at it. Destiny? Ha. ”

He sneered and raised the lantern in his hand and aimed at the porthole. The entire bridge had been completely covered in a fungus blanket, and the only gap left was there. Typhons took great pains to get him to see what might have made him despairing, but he also left a loophole.

The only vulnerability. It's ridiculous. 100 dense and one sparse.

The lantern is the Emperor's private collection, originating from a craftsman from an industrial world. Cast from bronze, brass and steel, it fits perfectly into Motarien's hand. Over the years, it has achieved great success.

It is deadly, for anyone, for anything.

Motarian pulled the trigger, and the lantern buzzed in his hand.

"This is not the end." He warned coldly. "One day, I'll kill you completely."

The lantern pierced the porthole, with ease. In the midst of Typhons' howl, Motarian sneered and fired a final shot at him, melting his head.

The forces of the universe came into play, and through that pierced porthole, it began to greedily devour everything on the bridge of the Stoic. Fungus blankets, corpses, flies. and Typhonse.

The Lord of Death raised his right hand and secured himself to the deck with the silent grip as he activated the Magnetic Boots. He watched as the dark green carpet swirled out of the window, returned to the command podium, began to inspect the ship's interior in manual mode, and immediately returned to the communication channel.

"Peturabo." He was no longer cold, and began to call out in a hurry. "Talk back, brother."

Also, yards.

(End of chapter)