The Plague Demon was a corrupted warrior of Chaos, serving as a kind of vanguard among Nurgle’s legions.
In the fully Fractured version without divine blessing, each appearance of the bloated Plague Demon signaled the arrival of Nurgle’s armies, spreading pestilence in their wake. But in this closed-test version, the Green who had forcibly transford himself into a Plague Demon was clearly just a cut-down imitation.
Even so, he was still far beyond what the cornered Maria von Cainhurst could possibly withstand.
Green reveled in his new body, bursting forth into hymn-like praise.
“Uncleanliness is my armor!”
His exposed green skin festered with boils and sores, mottled with red pustules that erged and sank back into his flesh. Layers of bloated corruption piled upon his body, splitting in places to reveal nauseating fat beneath. Etched across his flesh were tattoo-like symbols blaspheming the gods.
This was the Plague Demon’s armor—rotted, yet nearly impenetrable.
“Hatred is my weapon!”
Stamping the ground with brutal force, Green’s left arm warped and reshaped into a massive bone cleaver. Grotesque and oversized, an eyeball rolled madly across its jagged surface while green sli dripped from the serrated edge. This weapon, born of despair and hatred, was every bit as nacing as it looked.
“Immortality is my reward!”
In the next instant, Green plunged the bone cleaver into his own distended belly—disemboweling himself!
This mad act of the Chaos worshipper made Miss Maria’s eyelids twitch. She suddenly understood what “Immortality is my reward” ant. As the gash opened, fat and ichor spilled out, only for the wound to morph into a gaping mouth. A purple tongue lashed outward, while jagged fangs sprouted from within.
Such rampant, twisted vitality truly embodied the word “immortality.”
“Praise be to my master, Father Nurgle!”
If one could ignore the revolting sight, the Plague Demon’s hymn was indeed thunderous. Yet Maria, who had witnessed the entire transformation, felt her stomach roil violently. Now she understood why, in her past life, so many players in the southern wetlands who fought against Nurgle’s legions had begged to be reassigned to other fronts.
A single Plague Demon was at least at the Iron Rank pinnacle.
Judging from its attributes, its Constitution and Strength might have surpassed a hundred points. Even without factoring in talents and skills, such a statline was enough to utterly crush Maria to death.
After completing his hymn to his beloved Father, Green’s grotesque black eye instantly locked onto the weakened Maria.
“Damn it!”
A deadly sense of peril coursed through her. Maria barely mustered the strength to drag herself a few ters to the side—and it saved her life. The cleaver slamd down where she had just been, obliterating the wall she leaned against.
It had nothing to do with sharpness—the sheer force and serrated bone edge tore the wall apart. Shards of stone lashed Maria’s skin with painful stings. She had been lucky this ti, but she knew fortune wouldn’t shield her forever.
Struggling to rise, she reeled from blood loss, her body cold and weak, ears ringing. Not even a spark of bloodforce could she summon.
Facing an overwhelming foe, with her own body in tatters…
Maria allowed herself a serene, pale smile—resigned yet radiant. She would not bow to fate. Perhaps the balance in her bloodline existed solely to be broken in a mont like this.
“Surrender, kneel, Miss Maria. Your life flickers like a dying candle!”
The Plague Demon’s tongue slathered its cleaver with green venom, its gaze leering at the desperate nun in black. She was the perfect sacrifice—far more valuable than her devout mother. To bring her into Father’s fold would surely delight Nurgle himself.
With trembling hands, Maria raised her sword toward the monster.
Her brilliant crimson eyes glead with a calm unfathomable to others—the gaze of one who had embraced death. Though it seed absurd to call upon the Chaos-tainted powers within her bloodline, she had no other choice.
Besides, this catastrophe was born of her father, Pastor Lynn. She bore the duty to end it.
“Naïve. Arrogant. Foolish.”
Mockery twisted across the Plague Demon’s hideous face. To him, Maria’s rejection of Chaos’s gifts was laughable. This fate, crushed in desperation, was only natural.
In fact, he even anticipated it—longing for her to call upon Chaos’s blessing in her despair. For once she tasted its power, she would understand its greatness and willingly offer herself to it.
He would simply push her closer to death—force her to embrace Chaos.
Grinning wide, he hefted the cleaver again, granting her a sliver of reaction ti. But Maria, unable to dodge, bit down hard and steadied her sword. Her will reached toward that enigmatic balance within.
“Steel endures! Comrades, I have not shad you!”
Prepare to hear it, you daemon—those whispers of madness from beyond.
Whoosh!
The cleaver howled through the air once more. With his monstrous attributes, even a simple throw erupted with explosive force, rending the very air. White shockwaves split before it, and in Maria’s crimson eyes, death’s glint drew near.
Splurt!
The sound of cleaver biting into flesh rang clear, blood erupting high into the air.
“What…?”
Maria stared in disbelief. What she saw defied her comprehension. In her past life, even in endless battles against Chaos, she had never witnessed such a thing.
Her father, Pastor Lynn, and mother, Ruth—corrupted into Chaos-tainted husks—had, at the final mont, stepped before her. With rotting bodies, they intercepted the cleaver. Their warped forms were nearly split in half, yet still they stood, supporting each other, shielding their daughter.
As if nothing had changed—as if they were still the parents who would always protect her.
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