2nd Primarch

Although during these days, the Primarch did not personally go out to comfort the surviving people of the Imperium, the tall and burly Space Marines and the spirited Battle Sisters walking through this world were welcomed with tearful gratitude by most of the Imperium's people.

"The Emperor's angels come to you, and all suffering will be gone."

The devout faith of the masses converged on Dukel, becoming his never-ending source of strength.

In the Warp, when Nurgle learned of the defeat of Lymbas and the Withered Legion and felt the loss of his own fragments, the Lord of Life fell into a rare silence. He expelled all the children from his garden and sat alone in the swamp, silently cooking his noxious soup. Even the elven goddess of life did not see him during this period.

This was an unprecedented failure for the great being. He was weakened because of it, even if only slightly.

But, as a beast in the forest cannot expose any weakness to its rivals, neither could He.

This did not mean, however, that He had given up.

On the contrary, the loving father now paid even more attention to the original body, like a predator lurking in the shadows, licking its wounds and waiting for the right moment to strike.

This was His weakest—and most dangerous—moment.

On a lost world deep in the Warp, Mortarion, one of the few beings aware of the complete demise of Lymbas, let out a low, eerie laugh. The destruction of his fellow being seemed to bring him an odd satisfaction.

Corrupt daemon flies buzzed happily around the toxic skies of the planet. Thick, green plague miasma spread indiscriminately, and Nurglings cavorted in the poisonous fog.

"My brother," Mortarion murmured in the gloom, his low voice almost drowned in the foul air. "You always shine in silence."

Since the end of the Horus Heresy, Mortarion, now fully ascended as the Lord of Death, had largely withdrawn from the real universe, finding it contemptible and dull. Instead, he immersed himself in the intricate games of the Chaos Gods, which he found far more engaging.

However, the return of his Primarch brothers had rekindled his interest in the material realm. Yet, before he could act on this renewed ambition, something far more intriguing occurred.

Number Two had truly surprised him. Mortarion tilted his head slightly, speaking as if to himself—or perhaps to an unseen presence.

"I am not like you," he said. "I never allow myself to be consumed by corruption. I use it. I control it. Corruption is my servant, not my master."

"My brother, keep winning. Savor the joy of endless victory. Perhaps, at the end, in your pride, you will see who the true victor is."

Nurgle's silence regarding Lymbas' defeat was unexpected, but to Dukel, it made sense.

The Plague God was not known for seeking direct revenge.

Long ago, Gork and Mork, the gods of the Orks, had brazenly challenged Nurgle. After being ambushed and beaten in Nurgle's garden, they escaped, and the event became a humorous tale among the greenskins. Even now, Nurgle had taken no significant revenge on the two mischievous gods.

In the days that followed, Dukel met with the Great Sage of Forging, Gris, to discuss potential technological breakthroughs.

When the Primarch suggested capturing Orks for research, the poor Great Sage was alarmed. Studying xenos technology was a cardinal taboo for both the Ecclesiarchy and the Adeptus Mechanicus. Typically, such a project would have to endure the scrutiny of the Inquisition, years of deliberation, and countless votes before proceeding.

But Dukel's detailed explanation of the potential technological advancements achievable through greenskin genetic study left Gris intrigued despite his fear. Driven by intellectual curiosity, the Great Sage finally agreed to take the risk and cooperate with Dukel.

Half a month later, the Nanlis Galaxy's Chaos forces had been eradicated. After a brief respite, the expeditionary fleet ventured back into the Warp, heading toward the coordinates provided by Political Commissar Kane.

Orks were a peculiar race—part plant, part animal. Their physiology allowed them to photosynthesize while remaining mobile and aggressive. They could even grow new Orks from mere fragments of themselves.

These green-skinned brutes had been created by the ancient Old Ones as weapons of war, their genetic coding imbued with advanced technology. This allowed Orks to quickly leap from primitive to advanced civilizations, particularly in the presence of war, which served as a catalyst.

Central to this ability was the Waaagh! field, a psychic force field generated by Orks' collective belief. This field could alter reality itself, enabling Orks to construct functioning machines from mere scrap or make their vehicles faster simply by painting them red.

Guided by Kane's coordinates, the expeditionary force arrived at Euro, an agricultural world overrun by Orks.

The plains were crowded with greenskin warriors, ramshackle vehicles, and crude war machines. Dust clouds rose as countless trucks and bikes roared forward, their riders chanting Waaagh! in guttural unison.

The Orks eyed the planet's settlements hungrily, ready to plunder and devastate.

Then, with a thunderous "Boom!" the orbital cannons fired.

The expeditionary fleet opened fire on the greenskins from orbit, unleashing the fury of macro cannons, lance batteries, and other devastating weapons. Ork ships in the planet's orbit were obliterated, their shattered remnants drifting lifelessly in the void.