Chapter 139: Only Ascent

On the dimly lit mountain path, thick noxious fumes enveloped the climbers. Damp droplets from the fog clung to their hair, clothes, and breathing tubes.

Antai wiped his breathing tube for what felt like the hundredth time. The resilient tube had become brittle and soft from the toxic air's corrosion. His experience on Barbarus told him that his mask was nearing its limit. If he went any further, there would be no turning back.

From the start, the number of climbers had been dwindling. Not because the toxic air had felled them; at lower altitudes, the masks held strong. But the continual weakening of their masks, and the creaking sound with every breath, weighed heavily on their hearts. Many, realizing the inevitable failure of their masks, had chosen to turn back early. Yet, a majority pressed on, whether out of hope, desperation, or a burning desire to become a Death Guard.

But now, most of them realized they were at a crossroads.

Death seemed to be watching them, silent and remorseless.

Turning back at this point would mean they could just make it before their masks gave way. Going forward would mean facing the thick, toxic air at higher altitudes, unprotected.

A tear-streaked boy rushed past Antai, his determined steps cutting through Antai's indecision. As they brushed shoulders, the boy gave him a fleeting smile.

Antai hesitated. Was he truly climbing for his siblings, so they wouldn't have to toil like their parents? Or was he using them as an excuse to mask his own desires? Deep down, he yearned for something different from his drab life.

Climbing further seemed foolish. He could die, leaving the responsibility of their family on his younger siblings. But he was tired of his gray life. Tired of merely existing. For once, he wanted to make a choice for himself. To prove himself. To escape.

With renewed determination, Antai continued his ascent.

A chuckle resonated in Hades' ear, followed by Mortarian's raspy voice over the comm channel, "I knew it would be like this. You didn't need to place alchemists."

Hades watched the live feed in his helmet, showing the massive crowd turning back. Mortarian was clearly mocking him.

"But doesn't this defeat the purpose of the selection?" Hades whispered, careful to keep his tone from reaching Mortarian.

Silence from the other end.

Hades sighed internally and focused on the remaining climbers. Mortarian had only told them the mountain's peak was the final goal. But in reality, reaching a certain height would deem them qualified.

Hades doubted anyone could truly reach the peak. He had consulted the legion's alchemists, and physiologically, it was impossible. The toxicity at the peak would suffocate even a space marine.

Yet, Mortarian believed otherwise. From the start, the Primarch had eagerly climbed to the peak, waiting for his champions. Hades chose not to follow. Instead, he went to the Blackstone Monolith's location, ready for any contingency.

Now, as he watched the dwindling climbers, a voice chimed in, "Who catches your eye?"

"Don't change the subject, Mortarian."

Yet, it seemed Mortarian was rather leisurely and in high spirits. The Primarch had stayed up all night, completing his administrative duties, just so he could focus solely on the selection today. In Hades' mind, Mortarian probably stood at the mountain's peak, waiting, with a hint of boredom.

Hades hoped someone would make it to the top; otherwise, Mortarian would wear that same sulking expression he had whenever he felt shortchanged.

Hades deftly sidestepped Mortarian's jest, switching the live feed on his helmet. "This boy seems promising," he remarked, highlighting a scrawny figure. The boy had started slow but quickened his pace significantly when the toxic fog grew thicker, showing clear intent.

"He's from a northern village. Antai is his name," Mortarian chimed in, having memorized all the participants' details. "You always had a soft spot for this type, Hades."

"If it were you, you'd probably do the same," Hades responded, amused by Mortarian's playful tone.

And indeed, Mortarian's observation wasn't wrong. The boy was clever. Starting slow, conserving energy, then accelerating when the toxicity increased to minimize damage. While Mortarian was scouting for sheer resilience, Hades believed strategy and wisdom were equally crucial.

The boy, Antai, might not be the toughest, but he was undoubtedly maximizing his potential.

"So, which ones caught your eye?" Hades redirected the conversation, genuinely curious.

Mortarian highlighted a few promising candidates. As the two of them discussed, their focus remained on the climbers.

Onward, onward, onward. Desperation, regret, and fear clutched Antai. His vision blurred, the toxic fog biting into him. His exposed skin began to deteriorate, easily scraped away. Holding onto his disintegrating mask, Antai's hands bled, with the toxic air quickly coagulating the blood.

He could feel his lungs convulsing, every breath a stab of pain. He was on the brink of collapsing, but his determination kept him moving.

A loud thud echoed as a fellow climber fell before him. Antai, too numb to react, continued forward. Fewer bodies lay ahead than he expected; they must have pressed on, just like him.

Despite the excruciating pain, his will to ascend, to escape, to change his destiny, drove him forward. Until, finally, his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold ground. Darkness threatened to consume him, but a sudden, sharp pain – biting his tongue – brought him a moment of clarity.

Barely conscious, he buried his face into the ground, trying to find a pocket of breathable air. His nails cracked and bled as he clawed his way forward, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

Upward, always upward.

Suddenly, a large, cold hand gently lifted him, covering his face with a piece of cloth. Struggling to focus, Antai looked up into a pair of eyes that sparkled like the cosmos.

"My child, your tenacity is commendable," the voice whispered.

With that, darkness overtook Antai.

Mortarian, pleased, began emergency treatment on the first aspirant to reach the peak. It was a routine he'd perfected during his time establishing the insurrection. Now, he could patiently await the second brave soul to summit.