Chapter 128: Hades Strives to Save Souls Today

The stench of death pervaded the wastelands of Calaspia. Near the nest-city, bodies were heaped, forming grim hillocks.

A vast crater could be discerned on the bloated nest-city, from which wisps of smoke occasionally emerged.

Mortarion silently watched as his two elder brothers disembarked from the shuttle, slowly moistening his parched lips.

Traditionally, upon the return of each Primarch, they would be guided by one of their primarch brethren, taught to become a competent Legion Master, and gradually integrated into the Empire.

It should have been Horus who would guide Mortarion, but due to a twist of fate, it was Machado who undertook this step of Mortarion's assimilation into the Empire.

Mortarion thus had limited interaction with his so-called biological brothers.

However, based on Machado's descriptions of the various gene-primarchs, he recognized the two who had arrived.

The figure walking in front was shorter, donning a distinct black steel exquisitely crafted armor. This intricate power armor did not cover his hands, instead revealing silvery, steel-corded arms—these metallic limbs seemed flawlessly robust.

Mortarion seized upon this detail, deducing that this must be Ferrus. According to Machado, Ferrus, like him, hailed from a world of death, zealously pursuing logic and efficiency.

This was reassuring to Mortarion.

From prior understandings, Mortarion realized he wasn't fond of all his brothers. Amidst the vague descriptions, he discerned those brothers he might not favor.

For instance, one possessed psychic powers, and most of his brothers' pursuits of glory and splendor perplexed him.

But now, Ferrus had arrived. Mortarion hoped his brother would impartially assess the achievements of the Death Guard. After all, this would influence the Empire's subsequent stance on the Death Guard and where they might be deployed.

Following Ferrus was an incredibly towering figure.

This brother was even taller than Mortarion, appearing broader than three unarmored Mortarions combined.

Other than the Emperor, Mortarion had never seen someone taller than himself.

A momentary nervousness gripped him, but he forced himself to relax, fixating on the second arrival.

A fleeting query arose: why wasn't the taller one leading?

The thought swiftly vanished.

His armor, carved resembling dragon scales, was of a resplendent emerald hue. Despite Calaspia's dim daylight, dazzling reflections danced on his armor.

His distinctive pure black skin and the flames burning in his eyes confirmed his identity.

This must be Vulkan, Mortarion silently surmised.

Machado had mentioned that Vulkan was a compassionate Primarch.

Compassionate? Would he understand Mortarion's merciful embrace of death? Would he kindly assess the Death Guard?

Mortarion was uncertain. He merely stood silently, awaiting, greeting, the arrival of his two brothers.

Beside him, the Death Shrouds too stood in silence, but he knew one was missing from their ranks.

Being evaluated by another felt uncomfortable. Mortarion grew agitated, but the sight of two seemingly favorable brothers alleviated his unease.

However, he soon realized he was gravely mistaken.

As they drew nearer, even someone as stoic as Mortarion sensed the tension.

The newcomers remained silent. In Vulkan's flame-like eyes, Mortarion discerned a hint of moisture.

His heart skipped.

Misfortune had begun.

"Greetings, my brother. It's a pleasure to meet you," began Ferrus.

"Ferrus Manus, Lord of Medusa, Master of the Iron Hands."

Ferrus signaled his guard to stand down and extended his steel hand towards Mortarion.

"Mortarion, Lord of Barbarus, Master of the Death Guard."

"I am also pleased to meet you," Mortarion murmured from behind his respirator mask.

His voice was hoarse and rough compared to the firm and resonant tone of his brother.

They shook hands, the grip from across firm and unyielding.

Then Mortarion's gaze shifted to Vulkan, extending his hand.

Vulkan seemed to muster a reluctant smile but accepted Mortarion's gesture.

"Vulkan, of the Night People, Master of the Salamanders."

The warmth of the Dragon Lord was intense, even through the power armor, Mortarion felt the scorching heat resembling molten lava.

Their handshake was brief.

"I've reviewed the campaign and the Death Guard's data," began Ferrus, taking a deep breath, his piercing eyes fixed on Mortarion as if suppressing something.

"But I would prefer you explain the Death Guard's role in this battle."

Mortarion blinked, sensing something amiss, but resolved to narrate the Death Guard's victory.

The Lord of Death turned slightly, positioning the mountain of corpses to be more visible to his brothers.

Vulkan seemed to sway.

"Those were the tyrants of Calaspia," began Mortarion, "but now they lie there, each one of them."

"Oppressors who treated people as their chattel, subjugating them generation after generation."

"But now, oppression is no more."

"The Death Guard uprooted Calaspia's ruling system, sparing not even the tiniest cell."

"We dismantled Calaspia's regime in a single day."

Reaching this point, Mortarion felt a touch of pride. The Death Guard had not failed him, nor had he failed them. They had eradicated tyranny.

"Brother Mortarion, may I ask a presumptuous question?" inquired Vulkan.

Mortarion turned, his hood's shadow concealing his eyes, puzzled.

"Who... who are those figures moving on the mountain of corpses?"

Atop the dense mound of bodies, ragged figures moved sluggishly.

Initially, Vulkan assumed they were locals scavenging valuables from the dead. But upon closer observation, they hadn't taken any trinkets.

"They are counting," replied Mortarion nonchalantly.

"The oppressed need to experience the end of their subjugation; they need to stand up for themselves."

"So?"

Vulkan was perplexed.

"I let them count the number of tyrants' corpses, so they realize the weight of their oppression has ended."

Vulkan was at a loss for words.

He tried to comprehend this brother. Rumor had it that Mortarion came from a bleak world of death. Was this a custom there?

"Did you ask the locals for their consent?"

Vulkan cautiously broached the final question, but Mortarion's reaction left him devastated.

"Why would I?"

To these ragged figures, Mortarion's intentions were unfathomable. With so much on the Death Guard's plate, he had no time for such trivialities.

Engage a local in conversation? He'd rather sit in the med-bay.

Vulkan was shattered, the Dragon Lord spoke slowly but assertively, "Brother, brother Mortarion, you cannot replace one tyranny with another."

Mortarion was stunned.

Was Vulkan suggesting the Death Guard were tyrants?

They had brought liberation. Mortarion even allowed the people to witness the tyrants' executions.

Tyranny?

He hadn't done anything. Why the accusation?

Suddenly, Mortarion realized the renowned compassion of this brother. He sighed silently.

It was just that Vulkan was too compassionate, Mortarion thought.

Had Vulkan been born on a bleak world like Barbarus, he wouldn't think this way.

Yet, Ferrus spoke up. First, he turned to comfort Vulkan, who nodded in acknowledgment, indicating he was alright.

"So, brother, is this what you wanted us to see?"

"Setting aside words like 'tyranny', I believe brothers like Guilliman might be interested in such matters, but I'm not too concerned about them."

"What I'm saying is, if you've cleansed all of Calaspia's administrators, where will you find their replacements?"

Mortarion hesitated momentarily before replying, "The Empire will send administrative bodies. They've already dispatched the tax department."

Ferrus smirked, though his brow remained furrowed, "My brother, while our views on the Empire's taxation might differ slightly, I believe you're aware that for a large nest-city region like Calaspia, the Empire can't swiftly deploy ample administrators."

In fact, except for primary planets or extremity regions, most conquered planets only saw the Empire send its tax department and symbolically plant a few administrative units. The rest was left to the native inhabitants.

Mortarion fell silent. He hadn't focused on post-war administration. He only knew the factories here had ceased operations.

But isn't war always like this?

"The Death Guard can let the locals manage," Mortarion suggested.

"I hope that's a viable solution," Ferrus retorted coldly. "But in a planet with a high degree of specialized education like this, I doubt you can find a substantial administrative talent pool in the short term."

Mortarion remained silent, hiding deeper within the shadows of his hood. But he knew he wasn't defeated.

"This is my first time handling such matters. No one told me that apart from war and victory, a legion must also be concerned with mundane affairs."

"But the Death Guard's performance in this war wasn't all that commendable, my brother," Ferrus continued his verbal onslaught, attempting to tear Mortarion apart with words.

"The fleet suffered significant losses. And in this battle, the casualties of the Death Guard, even when compared to other battles, were alarmingly high."

Over ten thousand Death Guard fell in this campaign, most of whom were fresh recruits.

Ferrus looked discontentedly at his brother before him, whose figure was obscured by a haze of poison and tattered cloak, preventing him from discerning Mortarion's reactions.

Could it be that this newly returned brother has an attitude towards his legion and descendants similar to Peturabo's?

No Primarch would ever speak of their descendants in such a manner.

Mortarion in front of him shifted slightly, with poisonous gases dispersing in the air with his movement.

"All these sacrifices were necessary to liberate this region."

His voice rasped out, and Ferrus noticed the hoarseness, reminiscent of a pebble eroded in acid. Given their physique, sustaining permanent injuries should have been unlikely.

"Did you truly liberate this place?"

Ferrus inquired, genuinely puzzled by his brother's enigmatic approach. The data and the reality were clear for all to see.

Was Mortarion turning a blind eye to the immense sacrifices?

So far, based on Mortarion's actions, Ferrus deduced that he placed significant emphasis on certain "values" in his thinking.

However, it wasn't the typical pursuit of glory, nor did he specifically choose Galaspia for the sake of that glory.

After all, no matter how one views this campaign, "glory" isn't a term one would use.

Ferrus was well aware that friends like Fulgrim would seek perfection and honor on the battlefield, striving to win every conflict magnificently.

Yet, he felt it inappropriate to compare their previous campaigns to the ongoing battle in Galaspia.

A meaningless campaign, Ferrus mused.

The vast sacrifices and losses, all to conquer a system that couldn't immediately provide for the Imperium and, in fact, required additional support from it.

The scales were unbalanced.

Why didn't his brother simply abandon this place, allowing the Imperium to encircle this star system? Then, when the Imperium needed it, they could launch a joint invasion with other legions.

Before this assessment, to obtain a comprehensive understanding of his brother's achievements, Ferrus had thoroughly examined all the available data and information.

It was evident that not far from this system, there were at least three pocket kingdoms suitable for the Death Guard to strike. Mortarion could have delivered the Death Guard's inaugural battle speech atop their picturesque primary planets.

"My brother, based on current circumstances and the post-battle data assessment, I don't believe this campaign should be recorded in the annals of the Imperium."

As per the traditions of the Imperium, after a legion's combat, their victorious achievements would be documented by the historiographers and then disseminated throughout the Imperium.

Those legions that triumphed against the odds and showcased superior battle records would receive commendations, sometimes even directly from the Emperor.

However, not every campaign was so honored.

Those that were inglorious or where the legion suffered heavy losses would be glossed over, lost in the vast river of the Imperium's history.

Clearly, this campaign, as the first for the Death Guard and one that left an impression on the other legions, wasn't suitable for such promotion.

Ferrus was considering Mortarion's welfare, as some of their other brothers weren't as forgiving.

He turned his gaze to Mortarion, who had remained silent and stationary, the poisonous gases slowly dispersing around him.

"You—"

"You cannot belittle the victory of me and my legion. You only aim to steal the fruits of the Death Guard's triumph, measuring this war by your so-called standards."

"The only measure of war is victory or defeat. Don't confine and rob us of our win using your tedious standards."

Mortarion knew the ugly faces of these individuals. In his weaker days, his foster father would always assign him various tasks. Every time Mortarion completed them, his father would present completely opposite evaluation criteria.

Just like now.

They had claimed victory, yet they were to be judged on whether there were enough mortal officials after the war?

Mortarion's venomous words, defending both his honor and that of the Death Guard, were about to spill forth like the poisonous gases—

Suddenly, behind him, there was a rustling of his Death Shroud.

Before him, Ferrus and Vulkan looked puzzled, their eyes fixed on something behind Mortarion. He paused and turned around.

Fully armed and clad in the Terminator armor of the Death Shroud, Hades stood in line. The emblem of the Death Guard adorned his left shoulder, while the badge of the Mechanicum was prominently displayed on his right.

With a step forward, Hades looked as exhausted as if he had just climbed a mountain.

Placing his fists together on his chest, he gave the Salute of the Aquila.

"My apologies for the interruption, Lord. The data you requested has been collected."

What data?

Though Mortarion was delighted to see Hades awake and felt remorse for not visiting him, his emotions, including his earlier anger, were now enveloped in inexplicable confusion.

Mortarion's face was a mask of bewilderment. Fortunately, his rebreather concealed his expression from Ferrus and Vulkan.

However, without giving Mortarion time to react, Hades quickly continued. And since Mortarion didn't seem angry or chastise the interrupting Death Shroud, Ferrus and Vulkan assumed it was Mortarion's arrangement and remained silent.

"The secondary survey report on Galaspia's hive distribution and production capability is complete. An initial assessment of the population structure and original hierarchy of tasks has also been conducted."

"The Tech-Priests have also analyzed it."

"The conclusion is that Galaspia is suitable as a recruiting world for the Death Guard. Your previous doubts can now be laid to rest."

He had never considered using Galaspia as a recruitment world—

"Is that so?"

Ferrus's words interrupted Mortarion's thoughts.

Ferrus's gaze landed on Hades, and he noticed the Mechanicum badge on his pauldron, deep in thought.

If he was one of the initial members sent to Mars when the Death Guard was first established, he shouldn't have received the Mars certification badge by now, right?

However, Ferrus quickly focused on the words Hades had just spoken.

If his eccentric brother intended to use Galaspia as a recruitment world, then his actions made more sense.

Certainly more than "liberation."

After all, as a gigantic hive world, Galaspia could produce vast amounts of weapons and ammunition. It had a large population and abundant resources.

Typically, the Imperium wouldn't allocate such a wealthy world to a legion because of its affluence.

But the difficulty of conquering this star system meant the Imperium would likely avoid it.

By disregarding the blockade and stubbornly conquering this system despite heavy losses, the Death Guard could appeal to the Imperium to claim this system as a recruiting world.

Could it be...

Ferrus cast a meaningful glance at Mortarion.

Could it be he deliberately eliminated all administrative staff to increase the challenges for the Imperium's administrative bodies, aiming to claim the resources here more effectively?

Such foresight, unexpected.

Generally speaking, the newly returned Primarchs, other than Guilliman, rarely started planning for their legion's recruitment and supply so early.

Ferrus also knew that Mortarion's homeworld, Barbarus, couldn't support a large population.

So, were Mortarion's earlier actions designed to keep them in the dark and later report to the Imperium's administrative bodies?

That's it.

No, that couldn't be it, Ferrus thought. The Primarchs weren't particularly fond of the Imperium's institutions.

"I see, I misunderstood, my brother," said Ferrus.

"We are all brothers. Rest assured."

"May I ask a few more questions about your intentions for using Galaspia as a recruiting world?"

The Mortarion before him remained silent.

Hades's voice rang out, hoarse like Mortarion's but resolute, "Lord, given his commitments to the legion's affairs, Lord Mortarion delegated this task to me. Allow me to clarify your doubts."

"Very well."

Ferrus, not one to dwell on such matters, straightforwardly presented his queries about the structure of Galaspia and the composition of its star system.

Much to his delight, the technical officer, true to his title, provided concise summaries and abundant data in response to each query.

"Excellent, truly excellent."

"I'm pleased to meet such an outstanding technical officer of the Death Guard. What's your name?"

"I am Hades of the Death Guard."

Mortarion silently watched his two brothers board a distant shuttle. As it roared away, the judges departed.

Throughout the conversation, Hades answered all of Ferrus and Vulkan's questions.

At first, Mortarion was confused, even slightly irritated. However, he quickly realized that the demeanor of the two brothers towards him had changed.

Especially Vulkan. When Hades "unintentionally" mentioned a rescue mission for children to facilitate the Death Guard's future education, the usually somber Vulkan seemed to light up.

Despite the fact that, aside from using Galaspia as a recruiting world, everything else remained unchanged, why was their transformation so profound?

Regardless, Mortarion didn't care about having another recruiting world, so he remained silent, listening to Hades's answers.

Mortarion blinked, turning to look at the still-standing Hades.

Hades surely grasped some unspoken evaluation standards, learning the rules of the game.

Do they teach this on Mars?

He was about to ask—

However, on the other side, a dizzy Hades noticed his nosebleed. The massive calculations and data input earlier had left his brain burning.

His chest ached, the second heart feeling as if it was bleeding out.

God knows that upon hearing of Mortarion's meeting with Ferrus and Vulkan, Hades had been scared out of his wits.

He even wondered if Vulkan would end up fighting Mortarion.

Without hesitation, and upon learning from the Apothecaries that a few steps, or even a small fight, wouldn't put him in a Dreadnought, Hades made a swift escape move and rushed over.

At the same time, he directly contacted Garro, Vox, other former squad leaders, and Enrique, instructing them to send all data on Galaspia to him.

Without hesitation, Hades also ordered Vox to conduct a real-time search.

The good news was that Galaspia truly was an ideal recruiting point, and he had successfully bluffed his way through.

Hades looked at Mortarion, who still appeared baffled and even seemed to have a question.

Mortarion, you goddamn—

"Thud!"

Unable to hold on any longer, Hades collapsed to the ground.