2nd Primarch

Nurgle wants to use open conspiracy to force himself so that you can step into the trap they have prepared in advance.

Dukel didn't know the exact nature of these traps. But he could easily guess they would most likely lead to his downfall, corruption, and depravity.

Killing a Primarch was no small feat; it required Chaos to send a vast army to encircle and suppress him. All they could do was employ dirty tricks to manipulate people's hearts and sow disgust.

Had it been the previous No. 2 original body, with his predecessor's impulsive mindset, he would have rushed into the epidemic area without hesitation. But now, with the help of various derived technologies, Dukel could solve this plague perfectly without even having to intervene directly.

The essence of the Nurgle plague was more a negative energy curse of the Warp than a physical disease.

When Dukel approached the infected individual, it appeared they had temporarily recovered. Yet, he could guarantee that as soon as he left, the condition would relapse—the curse lingering, unseen and unbroken.

Projecting his mind outward, Dukel condensed a sphere of spiritual energy in his palm, tangible and radiant. The Primarch stretched out his hand and gently stroked the infected's head.

"Aaaaaaaaah! —"

In an instant, a shrill scream echoed from the void. It seemed a monster hiding in a secret place was suffering great pain. Black smoke, invisible to mortals, rose from the infected's head. This time, the curse would be completely lifted.

"Send this soldier to the hospital to rest," Dukel ordered.

Several Battle Sisters stepped forward and took the infected away.

"Your Highness, do you have any other instructions?" Efilar, standing by with admiration in her eyes, asked.

Although it was not the first time she had witnessed this, she still revered the greatness of the Primarch.

"The claws of Chaos are reaching out again. Efilar, go. Bring the Sisters of Battle and the Ecclesiarchy, and cut off their claws one by one."

Dukel issued the order without hesitation. This plague had spread across many nearby worlds and required significant manpower.

Since the Chaos Gods resorted to such means, he might as well establish a state religion.

"But how do we treat the infected? We don't know how to cure the plague."

Hearing Efilar's question, Dukel smiled.

"You don't need to treat the plague. Simply organize quarantines in the infected areas, bestow blessings, and clear out any Chaos forces that appear."

"As for treating the infected, I will send others."

The others, naturally, were members of the Heart Network. Using psychic energy, they could dispel the negative energy curse of the Warp. For them, curing this plague was no challenge.

The Sisters of Battle and the Ecclesiastic Legion were to calm the people's fears and confront the hidden traps: lurking demons and cultists.

Hearing the Primarch's answer, Efilar nodded and asked no more questions.

"It is as you will, Your Highness."

After Efilar left, Dukel's consciousness entered the Heart Network. He began issuing tasks.

Ophelia VII and many surrounding worlds lay in the shadow of the Great Rift. Chaos had never been far, its influence ever-present over these lands.

For several months, Dukel had been calculating technologies and building strength for his expedition. Meanwhile, the Heart Network's members had replaced him in the task of repelling and purging Chaos forces. Even without his direct involvement, their successes were astounding.

With technological support, the Heart Network's members were invincible against Chaos' forces. Even Dukel's personal participation could scarcely improve their effectiveness.

Though the Nurgle Legion still secretly released plagues, for the people of these worlds, it was a rare moment of stability in the Dark Ages.

A few days later, the Council invited Dukel to attend a meeting. When it began, a planetary councillor proposed:

"In this peaceful time, we should promote the Primarch's greatness and praise the light he has brought. This will consolidate faith and give the citizens of the Empire hope for the future."

The proposal was met with overwhelming approval. Humanity had endured thousands of years of darkness and despair. To proclaim the Primarch's return would inspire renewed hope among the many worlds.

Having seen through the essence of such manipulations, Dukel no longer lost control in the face of the people's extreme emotions. Fanatical faith and hope for the future were potent weapons against the darkness.

Still, Dukel's instincts told him things were not that simple. His spiritual realm—at the fetal breathing level—granted him an extraordinarily accurate sixth sense. More reliable than even glimpses of the future, it seldom failed him.

Despite his reservations, Dukel nodded in agreement.

"Just ensure the celebrations are not overly extravagant," he cautioned.

The planetary councillor's laughter was jubilant, as if genuinely pleased by the approval. Dukel watched him meaningfully, silently contemplating who would reveal their claws this time.

Deep in the chaotic Warp, a world consumed by madness twisted in on itself. Laughter echoed from the fleshy halls of a grotesque castle. Fulgrim, once a Primarch and now a Daemon Prince, smiled coyly as he admired two items before him.

On the table lay a laurel wreath and a finely crafted rapier, each exquisite in design. These gifts were vessels for Chaos' power, tools to corrupt a resurrected Primarch. Fulgrim's smile widened.

"My poor brothers," he murmured. "Your noble veils will soon be torn away. Kneel and embrace the gods of the Warp."

After the meeting, the planetary councillor descended into a hidden chamber to pray. As he knelt, everything around him became twisted and confused. The bizarre energies of the Warp, driven by a malevolent will, delivered their cursed "gift"—the rapier.

The councillor's hands trembled as he lifted the weapon. His laughter turned ecstatic, his surroundings melding into an indistinguishable mass of joy and horror. Tables fused with walls; the floor bled into the ceiling, the room an expression of chaotic harmony.

But within this grotesque euphoria, the councillor's heart darkened further, festering with resentment.

The Primarch who should have been lost forever had awakened! Worse, this upstart—this second Primarch—had dared seize power and enact massacres, all in the name of the "untouchables."

"Ridiculous," he muttered. "Arrogance and folly! This gift will bring him to his knees."

Calming himself, the councillor emerged from the twisted chamber, clutching the rapier with resolve. Chaos would have its due.