In Warhammer, My System is Minecraft-Chapter 170: Nurgle: About to be Filled with Milk
The interior of the plague factory was spacious and lofty, with suspended corpse-tallow lanterns illuminating the surroundings.
The sight of the factory reminded Zeke of a famous Minecraft mod: Scape and Run: Parasites.
Pulsating flesh clung to the ceiling beams, and the walls were covered in a layer of rotting, wrinkled skin. Zeke couldn’t take more than a few steps without having to be careful not to trip over the parasitic tumors on the floor.
"Quiet, my little lovelies, quiet!" a melancholic, heavy male voice echoed through the factory.
The Nurglings paid no heed to their master’s words, continuing to frolic, brawl, and bounce around.
Zeke crouched low to avoid being bumped into by the playing Nurglings and made his way toward the source of the voice.
"Ku’gath." Zeke laid eyes on the commander leading this horde of Nurglings.
It was a fat daemon with a bloated chassis and a deeply melancholic expression, even as his grey intestines hung loosely over his ruptured belly.
Ku’gath was a Great Unclean One of Nurgle, ranking third in the Plague God’s favor.
What truly excited Zeke was that Ku’gath had actually brought Nurgle’s personal cauldron with him!
The Plague Cauldron was no mortal artifact; it was a part of Nurgle himself, connected directly to the Plague God, making it a genuinely sacred creation within Nurgle’s Garden.
In Nurgle’s hands, this cauldron had brewed terrifying plagues that made the galaxy tremble, and it was the birthplace of many Great Unclean Ones.
Ku’gath himself was born from this very cauldron. At the moment of his birth, he had secretly drunk the absolute best plague brewing within it—a sin he could never forgive himself for, which was the root cause of his perpetual, depressive demeanor.
Ku’gath wore a hazmat suit fashioned from slimy human skin. Even with his constitution as a Great Unclean One, he couldn’t withstand the raw viruses simmering inside the Plague Cauldron.
Zeke had even less of a chance. The closer he got to the cauldron, the more debuff icons stacked up on his status bar.
Fortunately, he had the Bottomless Bucket. Filled to the brim with Milk, all he had to do was keep chugging it directly from the rim.
"Bring Guilliman’s blood," Ku’gath ordered his subordinates.
Another Great Unclean One, Septicus, respectfully brought forth a vial containing a single drop of Guilliman’s blood.
Guilliman is way too careless. When did he let the forces of Nurgle get their hands on his blood? Zeke stared intently at Ku’gath, highly curious about what the daemon intended to do with Guilliman’s blood.
"Quiet, my little lovelies, quiet!" Ku’gath shouted once more.
This time, his command was obeyed.
Every single daemon quieted down. From the most gossipy Mite to the most foul-tempered Plaguebearer, the gazes of all the daemons converged upon him.
The atmosphere in the room fell into a dead silence—a remarkably rare sight for the usually boisterous and jovial forces of Nurgle.
"Finally," Ku’gath whispered, keeping his volume low lest it disturb the brew. "The Godblight is almost ready. Grandfather will be so proud of me."
Everyone knew their role. Without needing a cue, Septicus lowered Guilliman’s blood into the concoction.
"Careful now," he muttered. "This is a plague capable of killing gods. Minor characters like you and me would return to the Grandfather’s embrace from just a single whiff of it."
With the addition of the blood, the cauldron rattled violently, and liquid splashed over the edges.
Frightened, Ku’gath took a step back, not daring to let even a single drop of the splashing liquid touch him.
The other Nurgle daemons also hastily retreated, leaving a wide, empty circle around the splashing liquid.
"It’s a success," Ku’gath said, though he scarcely dared to believe it himself. "It finally succeeded."
"Mortarion," he said. "We must summon him. He absolutely must come here in person."
Carrying a mix of pride and haste, Ku’gath extracted a sample of the Godblight and hurried to contact his ally.
Ku’gath failed to notice that, not far behind him, Zeke was quietly watching all of this unfold.
Zeke’s gaze swept past Ku’gath’s excited back and landed entirely on that cauldron.
The green liquid swirled sluggishly within the pot. Every stir made the air thicker with the stench of decay.
Memories from the original lore flashed rapidly through his mind. Zeke remembered that when this cauldron was blown up, Nurgle himself suffered substantial physical damage.
That was an incredibly rare event in the history of Warhammer 40k: for one of the four Chaos Gods, an ancient entity existing since the dawn of the universe, to feel pain because a physical artifact in the mortal realm was damaged.
Zeke felt that what he was about to do next was going to be thrilling.
He glanced around. The Invisibility spell was working perfectly. From where he stood, he could clearly see the Nurgle units, but not a single one was looking in his direction.
The Nurglings were crawling chaotically around the cauldron, using their stubby limbs to carry unknown filth. Occasionally, two would crash into each other, roll into a ball, and emit baby-like gurgling sounds.
Zeke wanted to pour Milk directly into this cauldron. The moment he would start pouring, it would absolutely be noticed.
But the payoff was massive. This cauldron was undeniably the core of the entire plague factory. As long as he destroyed it, Nurgle’s plagues would recede from this world.
Screw it, let’s do this! Steeling his resolve, Zeke whipped out the Bottomless Bucket and strode briskly up to the cauldron. The green light reflected on his face, coating his silhouette in a sickly halo.
Zeke aimed the rim of the Bottomless Bucket straight into the vat. Milk flowed from the bucket, plunging right into Nurgle’s Plague Cauldron.
Simultaneously, Zeke equipped a Blueprint in his left hand, instantly constructing a Nether Portal connecting straight to Guilliman.
"Guilliman, buy me some time!"
"What?!" Ku’gath spun around, his eyes bulging to their absolute limits. How did a human like that suddenly pop out from?! The sight of that human standing in front of the cauldron, actively pouring a white liquid into Nurgle’s sacred relic, violently pierced his soul.
Ku’gath felt his soul leave his body in that very instant.
That cauldron wasn’t his! He had borrowed it from the Grandfather! If it got damaged here, the Grandfather would lock him in the dark room forever!
"Wahhh! Grandfather, I didn’t mean to! Quick, notify Mortarion! Tell Mortarion to get over here right now!" Ku’gath wailed in tears as he launched an attack at Zeke.
Guilliman stepped through.
His towering figure materialized between Ku’gath and Zeke.
Behind him, the Ultramarines poured in. They charged out of the Nether Portal, bolters held firmly against their chests, muzzles uniformly aimed at the surging tide of Nurglings.
The roar of bolter fire erupted within the factory.
Zeke didn’t stop his actions. The cauldron’s reaction was far more violent than he had anticipated.
As the Milk flowed into Nurgle’s cauldron, the white liquid churned wildly within.
From bursting bubbles splashing all around with loud blub-blub sounds, it escalated until the entire massive pot was trembling, rattling violently against its three legs.
Viscous liquid overflowed from the sides, sizzling as it hit the wooden logs beneath and sending the Nurglings shrieking in terror.
The runes of the fly branded onto the sides of the cauldron glowed blindingly under the corpse-light, and the cauldron began to rattle even more fiercely.
At first, it was half white and half green. But as Zeke kept pouring, the white rapidly overtook the green, until the entire vat had become a bubbling pot of milk.
The wind began to swirl around it, wrapping the cauldron in a tight vortex that climbed higher and higher.
Amidst Ku’gath’s screeching, the Nurglings hurling themselves at Zeke with zero regard for their lives, and Guilliman desperately trying to defend him, everything reached its absolute climax.
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Goal = 500 Powerstones (Not Complete)
