40 Thousand Reasons

I think something had indeed changed among the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Sure, I would always bring gifts of the valuable kind, like STCs and advice on how to defend and grow their Forge Worlds, plus exotic xeno specimens and technology to analyze.

That would make most techpriests happy with me, and often make them reveal their nice side with their own gifts and upgrades and free supplies.

I mean, my entire Rogue Trader Dynasty was based around this concept of tax evasion and direct barter or I wouldn't have been able to equip my ships and armies with the better tech of the Mechanicus in a single century.

But now, the Fabricator Dominus of Mordax was beyond ecstatic. Perhaps it had something to do with saving his Forge from the Green Kroosade? Maybe piloting a Titan? Killing Slaanesh?

Not sure.

Anyways, I had free hands to requisition any and every munition I could want, plus priority for armor replacements and new vehicles.

Only the lack of blackstone deposits nearby was an impediment to cladding my every trooper in this expensive material from head to toe. We mitigated that by extracting some blackstone walls from the Black Laments interior, and for an entire year a Forge World worked day and night to construct more Sentinels and attack drones, plus they provided bionic limbs and implants for my troops.

Forge Mordax had received a whole Space Hulk to mine for metal and bits of technology, and was constantly importing human resources from nearby Hive Worlds as organic parts, serfs, servitors, acolytes and auxiliary regiments.

Other Astartes Chapters were also boosting their numbers with extra vehicles and auxiliary regiments, mostly from The_Lathes Forge Worlds further away.

By the time the Eldar appeared at Mordax, I had 40 thousands new Armed Sentinels for the Catachan heavy infantry, and had replaced most of my loses in munitions, equipment and manpower.

The Ynnari weren't quite pleasant or polite with me, which probably made sense considering the trillions of their race I had burned and killed over my career. It was mostly Commorragh to be fair.

Staring Yncarne, the Avatar of Death, in the face wasn't the most pleasant day for me either. Also, the fact that a pair of Phoenix Lords, flanking the glowing Avatar, were emitting murderous vibes at me wasn't nice either.

I decided to stay silent and pretend it didn't bother me. Diplomacy wasn't my strongest trait, and I needed these xenos to take the brunt of the damage for me. Silence was golden sometimes. Lady Valeyne could take care of diplomacy just fine anyways.

After seven long minutes of deathly stares, the Solitaire at my side snorted in amusement and patted my shoulder. "Let's drink more of that expensive amasec, you lucky bastard. I was kinda hoping to see your soul crushed today, but I'm not that lucky." the Pariah Harelquin commented in a tragicomic voice, then flipped in mid-air to reach the reception's hall door in a single jump.

I just waved to the Eldar delegation and teleported outside, to keep pace with the amused Mnemorach.

"So, you're saying I was in danger right then? I didn't feel anything." I commented in a curious voice.

Sure, the Avatar of Ynnead, the Eldar Whispering God, looked impressive and all, but didn't sense malice or resentment from it. Perhaps sadness?

It would be a dour job to be the god of the dead, probably.

"... It is good you haven't spoken then. Playing dead in front of Ynnead bought you a respite." the Harlequin explained as he jumped over Vaedrax and entered my room.

I kicked the invisible Assassin in the ribs to make him move out of the way. "Want a drink, Vaedrax?" I asked while pouring into three glasses anyway.

The Culexus Assassin decloaked and rubbed his side with a scowl. "Should numb the pain at least..." he grumbled while sipping the exquisite amasec like it was a medicinal potion.

"Now, we only need..." Mnemorach proposed with a dramatic gesture towards the door.

"A real drinker!" Albesalom proclaimed from the door frame, then locked the armored door behind him.

Four Blanks in the same room, plus a wolf to snore and create atmosphere. If we were to die tomorrow, I would be in good company at least.

By the fourth bottle, only Vaedrax could still slowly lift a hand, due to his bullshit augmenting, so we called it a night and fell asleep.

So what if the universe hated us? We Blanks had to stick together. And drown ourselves in self-pity and booze.

The next morning, a massive fleet departed from Forge Mordax, keeping the schedule agreed by the Anti-Chaos Coalition.

In other sectors of the galaxy, other races and fleets moved towards the nearest Warp rift or vortex, or created one if they had the means.

Entering the Warp wasn't all that difficult, anyways. A minute afterwards, that was a completely different problem.

Leading our fleet was a Necron warship of a special design, looking like two Scythe ships glued to a silver sphere the size of a small moon. Also, it was piloted by a Necron Pariah, a sad soul who had at one time been a Blank Princeps of a Psi-Titan, only he was now encased in necrodermis and much less alive than before. Then again, the guy would be long dead if Trazyn hadn't extracted him from his damaged Titan, some ten millennia ago.

Whatever the new ship was, it dragged our combined fleet after it a hundred times faster than our best warpless engines could provide, and thus it took only hours to plunge into the Screaming Vortex and cross into the Immaterium.

Waves of trillions of demons and thousands of Plague_Marines waited at the exit, only for the Necron ship to unleash a green glowing C'tan chained to the tips of the ship, and millions of Tyranid bioships in our wake.

A lightning storm erupted from the captured C'tan, forming a passage through the Nurglings defenders, and thus we passed nearly intact through the first layer.

Behind us, the Tyranids battled the defense lines in a frenzy of teeth and claw, but we didn't have time to halt and shoot.

Space itself shifted and turned inside out, and now we had a green sky above with pillars of flesh and tentacled plants growing taller than any mountains.

We have reached the Garden_of_Nurgle, or at least the outer layers of it.

I leaned in my command chair and stroked Canis on his head, while I began deploying expendable troops as far as possible. The tesseract struggled to create a mental picture of the lay of the land, as distances were changing at random every minute.

Nonetheless, a billion Orks chopping at the corrupted flora and feasting on the blighted animals did provoke a response, and more demons emerged to combat the ecological threat.

Our guns and batteries kept firing at any possible target, setting fires and blowing up lesser demons and carnivorous plants.

The assault worked great for an hour, reminding me of the Dark Eldar caverns I once visited. Giant fleet, burning everything in sight, that part.

And then larger demons began to appear, right as we reached the second layer, kinda like a door made of poison gas and clouds of filthy flies.

Weapons would be mostly ineffective against those things, although the Singularity managed to crush a couple into paste. It didn't stick, and the Unclean Ones just reformed, intact and amused.

Then a blue glowing Yncarne flashed into being beside them, and simply sliced once with its Crone Sword. The Greater Demons did not reform again.

"Get to your Titan, Albesalom. The easy part is over." I called to my side, and the Blank Princeps saluted with a fist to his chestplate. "The Emperor protects!" the man declared proudly, then vanished.

My Black Lament climbed above the fleet and I fired the Immaterium beam in a short burst, needing five seconds to obliterate the obstruction in our way.

The third layer was open, and the Necron ship took the lead again, this time releasing a hundred Hive Fleets behind us.

Trillions of Tyranids warforms emerged from their troops transports to battle in the Death Beds, trying to devour the apparent biomass in enormous hunger.

But that was less important. Such a giant agglomeration of Tyranids created a huge Shadow in the Warp, and the entire Garden layer shook and collapsed in our wake.

"That is Horticulous Slimux" Chyron provided helpfully as we entered the third layer.

The Transcendent C'tan fired his star devouring spells at the chief gardener to minimal effect, and so did the Singularity.

Even among demons, some were stronger than others. And this thing was incredibly durable. Impossibly so, in fact. No known material could withstand a blackhole to the face like this demon just did.

I frowned and began searching in the tesseract for a counter, settling on using Sister Ordela as a last resort. She was my ace and I didn't want to reveal her so soon, or at all if possible.

Luckily, those two Phoenix Lords decided to take this enemy down by themselves, and beamed themselves into close combat with the Nurgle demon, slicing at the jolly demon with glowing boomerangs and a bayonet rifle of some kind.

I almost doubted their sanity and mine, when the Greater Daemon lost a hand and then another to those feeble weapons.

Anyways, we couldn't stop right now, nor could I do much to help.

The battling trio was left behind, although I created a field of Tarantula turrets and deployed a dozen Ork Bosses to deal with Chaos reinforcements.

And then, the green C'tan plowed straight into the next layer, called the Blighted Mansion. Space-time flared and buckled and the C'tan was thrown back, ripped in two by an enormous creature with poked green skin and a beer belly.

"Welcome to my mansion!" Nurgle exclaimed in a cheerful voice, and time began to slow down.