Travel through time and become a member of the Warhammer Empire

The Brass Mountains were shrouded in a strange, light green substance, so tightly that even light could hardly penetrate this thick barrier.

Windlow's boots stepped on the cracked ground, and each step was accompanied by a tiny cracking sound. Just as he had judged before, the earth was dead.

The sound was particularly clear in the silent forest, as if the ground beneath their feet would collapse at any time and swallow them into an endless abyss.

He leaned over and picked up a clod of earth. It felt heavy in his palm, yet lifeless. With a twist of his fingertips, the clod crumbled into dust, a shimmering green phosphorescence mingling with it, looking eerie in the dim light. Finally, it was slowly absorbed.

"It's not Warpstone, but it can be absorbed by me, so it's also magic."

"Sir, look over there."

The captain's voice trembled uncontrollably, and his fingers turned white from exerting force as he pointed to a withered oak forest not far away. This was once the elven forest that the people of Hawke dared not enter at all.

Those once towering ancient trees are now like charred skeletons, with twisted branches pointing towards the lead-gray sky, as if silently telling of the suffering they have endured.

The bark is covered with spider-web-like green lines, which look like some living thing wriggling under the skin, slowly and rhythmically, making people's scalps tingle.

When Wendlow walked over, he discovered that the forest was actually a wood elf outpost.

As the most land-averse race, they completely left the forest where they lived, and the forest began to die.

On the ground, the low-lying areas that should have been covered with ferns are now covered with a thick layer of light green fungal film, which seems to be preparing to start growing.

Windlow picked up a piece with his scabbard. It was sticky and starting to get moist.

What was exposed underneath was not soil, but densely packed and entangled transparent nematodes. The moment these worms were exposed to the air, they curled up into balls and then turned into green pus, leaving pools of smelly marks on the ground.

If the Chaos texts of the High Elves are correct, then Nurgle is now in a state of rebirth with three states: death, rebirth, and growth.

Wendlow stood up and looked across the dead forest, his eyes full of solemnity.

"The plague of Nurgle has seeped deep into the soil."

He remembered what he had learned at the White Tower of Hoeth. Nurgle's corruption never happened overnight. It had a strict and terrifying process, very slow but unstoppable.

First, life loses its vitality and everything falls into deathly silence; then the plague reshapes the form, twisting everything into a weird appearance; finally, new "life" is nurtured in decay.

Giving birth to a sickening life form that belongs to Nurgle.

It now appears that the land is in the second stage, and the nematodes and biofilms are the best proof.

The team continued to move forward. The footsteps of the militiamen were particularly harsh in the silent forest, breaking the dead silence, but also seemed to disturb some sleeping monster.

Suddenly, the militiaman walking in front let out a short scream, and the sound was full of fear.

When Windlow rushed over, he saw the man staring at a dead squirrel at his feet, his body trembling with fear.

The animal's body showed no signs of decay, but its skin was swollen and pale, as if it had been blistered and ready to burst. Dense green fungus grew from the joints of its limbs, spreading like a spider web.

There were only two black holes left where the eyes should be, filled with wriggling maggots. These maggots were also green, and while they were feeding on the host, they were constantly bursting into green pus, which splashed onto the surrounding dead grass, staining the dead grass with a strange green.

The people of Hawke's Territory had seen many different kinds of infections and plagues, but infections and plagues of this magnitude had only been heard of in stories and legends.

“This stuff is contagious.”

Wendlow gave the order in a deep voice, with unquestionable authority in his voice.

"Everyone should cover their mouths and noses with cloth, avoid touching any dead animals with their skin, and are prohibited from drinking water or eating any food nearby."

He took out silver powder ground from silver coins from his bag. According to the Church of Sigmar and its witch hunters, silver can have an inhibitory effect on chaotic creatures and vampires.

Carefully sprinkle silver powder on the squirrel's corpse. The green mycelium that comes into contact with the silver powder instantly makes a "sizzling" sound and emits choking black smoke.

The black smoke twisted and swirled in the air, as if it had life. The corpse shrank at a visible speed, eventually turning into a pool of foul-smelling black water, which seeped into the cracked earth, leaving a dark mark.

"It works! But it's a bit expensive."

When they arrived at the first village marked on the map, the sun had already risen to half the sky, but it could not penetrate the thick clouds. It could only cast a bleak green halo in the mist, covering the entire village with a veil of deathly silence.

The village called Lancoster is located in a valley. Dozens of wooden houses are scattered around, but there is no smoke coming out of the chimneys. There is a wooden barrel next to the well at the entrance of the village. The water in the barrel has become turbid, with some green impurities floating on it, as if the villagers have only left temporarily and will come back to continue their lives at any time.

"Prepare for war."

The captain immediately tightened his grip on the musket at his waist and stretched out his hand to stop the troops.

"It's too quiet. A village in Hawke's territory can't be this quiet."

In Hawke's Territory, you can hear all kinds of gunshots as long as you get close to the village.

For the Hawke people who love guns like their life, they will test their muskets at any time. If there is no gunfire in the village, then it means that the village has fallen.

The wooden door was ajar. He pushed it gently with his scabbard, and the door hinge made a harsh creaking sound. The sound echoed in the silent village, as if it was some kind of ominous omen.

A strong stench hit me in the face, it was the smell of rotting human flesh mixed with fermented grains, so strong that it made me feel nauseous.

Windlo suppressed the churning in his stomach, used his sword to push aside the weeds blocking the door, and walked in. Now he had to find out what happened in the village before continuing on his way. If he left now, he might be ambushed.

The scene in the house made Wendlow, who was used to seeing life and death, gasp.

There was a pot of solidified porridge on the stove, and the surface was covered with a layer of dark green mold. These mold spots were actually slowly wriggling and expanding and contracting like some kind of living thing.

In the cradle in the corner, a baby was curled up, with green lines all over its body, and those lines were flowing slowly as if they had life.

The body under the swaddling clothes was already translucent green, and was filled with green powder, which would tremble slightly from time to time.

On the bed in the bedroom, a couple was lying in each other's arms, having been dead for many days.

No, they were not dead yet. Their skin was a strange gray-green color, and their abdomens were swollen like big stomachs, but their skin was so tight and shiny that one could vaguely see something wriggling inside. The rhythm of the wriggling was exactly the same as the green lines on the bark outside.

"My lord, look at this."

A militiaman exclaimed in the storage room, his voice filled with fear.

When Windlow walked over, he saw that the sacks in the corner were filled with black grains. The grains were covered with thick green mycelium, which was entangled with each other like a huge net.

A few mice were gnawing at the grain, their movements appearing frantic.

During the gnawing process, the mouse's body kept twitching, its skin quickly turned green, and its hair fell off in clumps, revealing the festering skin underneath.

Finally, they exploded into a ball of green pus, splashing onto the sacks and staining more grains with strange colors. The contaminated grains seemed to become more active, and the growth rate of mycelium was significantly accelerated.

It seems that mice are not pests in the full sense of the word. At least at this moment, they used their lives to prove that the village's grain was completely contaminated.

Just then, there was a rustling sound coming from the bedroom. The sound was subtle but clear, as if something was turning over.

Windlow and the captain looked at each other, a hint of vigilance flashed in their eyes, and they gripped their weapons tightly and slowly approached.

The man's fingers suddenly moved, a small movement that was enough to make a person's heart stop. Then, his eyes suddenly opened, but they were no longer human eyes.

The eyeballs turned a turbid green, and inside the eye sockets were the insect's accessory eyes, countless of which were wriggling like maggots.

Fear! Horror! But Windlow and the captain remained steadfast. They were both experienced and wouldn't be frightened into running away just because of this thing.

The male corpse slowly sat up, his movements as stiff as a rusty machine, and every joint made a "cracking" sound.

His throat made a hoarse sound, as if there was phlegm stuck there that he couldn't spit out. Green saliva flowed from the corners of his mouth, and wherever the saliva passed, the skin was corroded and white smoke rose.

His stomach suddenly heaved violently, and with a "pop" sound, his skin was torn apart, and an arm covered with green hair stretched out from his abdominal cavity. The hair on the arm stood up like steel needles.

Then came the second and third, and countless twisted arms drilled out from the corpse, breaking the entire corpse into pieces, and finally turning it into a constantly wriggling green mouth composed of arms and internal organs.

There were still some torn clothes and skin tissues remaining on the meat ball, which looked disgusting and terrifying.

"Use fire!"

Windlow certainly knew how to suppress plague and corruption, and Chaos creatures and vampires were completely afraid of fire.

He ordered the militiamen to light the torches they carried and throw them at the man's corpse.

The flesh ball that came into contact with the flames instantly ignited with green flames. In the flames, there seemed to be countless human faces twisting and struggling in pain, making shrill screams, as if countless people were screaming at the same time. The sound penetrated the eardrums and made people feel dazed.

The flames did not completely destroy them. There were still green spots of light flickering in the ashes and slowly converging, as if waiting for the opportunity to recombine.

But there is no doubt that fire can cause fatal damage to this thing!

"The whole village must be burned down!"

Windlow acted decisively, knowing that if the source of the plague here was not completely eradicated, the consequences would be disastrous.

"Captain, take half of the men and gather all the combustibles. The more the better, especially dry wood and cloth. The rest of you, follow me to search for survivors... and then burn them too."

There was a barely perceptible heaviness in his voice, and Wendlow knew in his heart that there was no way there would be any survivors under such circumstances.

They searched the village carefully, leaving no house untouched, and discovered an even more horrific scene.

In the granary in the center of the village, the mountains of grain have been completely covered by green mycelium, with some bone fragments mixed in between the mycelium.

The bodies of more than a dozen villagers were tied to wooden stakes and hung upside down from the beams of the house. Their stomachs were cut open and stuffed with green grains.

It seems that these were the first infected people, who were executed by local residents but not burned with fire.

The corpses were slowly "growing", with green vines emerging from their seven orifices. The vines intertwined with each other, connecting the corpses together to form a strange whole.

In the corner of the granary, there are some skeletons of villagers who have not been completely infected. The skeletons are covered with bite marks, and it is obvious that they suffered inhuman torture during their lifetime.