Chapter 228: The Executioner
"Mortarion, what exactly happened?"
"Hades, give me your explanation."
During a lull in the war, aboard the Endurance, the two voices asked simultaneously, and then glanced awkwardly at each other.
Mortarion remained silent and brooding, reaching out to point outside the viewport—where ragged Tech-Priests were crying and shouting prayers, kneeling toward a compartment on the Endurance.
They were apparently yelling something about immediately joining the ranks of the Death Guard.
Seriously?
Fine, fine, let him speak first. Hades coughed awkwardly.
"I saved them. They may have... misinterpreted my abilities a bit."
Mortarion turned back to glance at the crying, groveling, oil-soaked mech-priests.
"A bit of a misinterpretation?"
Cough cough, don't ask him—Hades himself had no idea why the Tech-Priests liked him so much. Was it because of the Void Dragon shard he'd accidentally consumed?
"I... uh... yes, just a bit of a misinterpretation!"
"Because I have an exorcising effect on the warp. When I rescued them earlier, the scene of me purging the rust may have left quite an impression."
Hades folded his arms and nodded to himself, satisfied with that explanation. Yes, that was definitely it.
"Ahem... so Mortarion, what did you run into?"
Now it was Mortarion's turn to fall silent. The Primarch recalled the earlier events and spoke cautiously:
"Taking care of the rust. That traitor tried to interfere with us through some method, but of course he failed. Traitors are doomed to fail."
"Interfere how? What kind of interference?"
"Some warp illusion. A parlor trick not worth mentioning."
Mortarion waved his hand dismissively.
"Your troops are well trained. Their anti-psyker effect exceeded my expectations."
Just as Hades was about to flash his trademark cocky grin and proudly say "But of course!", a high-priority communication from Garro interrupted his moment of smugness.
During the previous engagement, Hades had successfully defended the main city of Rust and established a supply route between it and the Death Guard.
During that process, Hades felt like he'd provoked something, but since nothing had shown up, he still wasn't sure what exactly he'd pissed off.
Meanwhile, Mortarion—having resumed command—had pushed the xenos forces back into a corner of the star system. Combined with the gradually reclaimed Mechanicum ground defenses, the xenos' destruction was only a matter of time.
[My Lord Primarch, we have received an emergency transmission from the First Legion—The Dark Angels.]
Beneath his hood, Mortarion raised an eyebrow.
He still remembered Lion El'Jonson's irritating face.
Since he wasn't a war junkie. The Death Guard merely had to sit back and observe the Lion and his sons fighting.
The Death Guard had already arrived at the First Legion's reported position, but contrary to their transmission, it was not "secure" here—
There were still some "minor" xenos threats, and a little warp corruption.
[Very well. Open the channel, Garro. Let's see what the mighty First Legion wants to talk about this time.]
The Lion's image appeared in the feed—not as imposing as before. He looked tired and worn, yet still tried to assert his authority through sheer presence.
The glow from the command console reflected off Lion El'Jonson's armor. The Lion stood silently, gripping his sword.
Mortarion could tell the Dark Angels were bleeding. The Rangda was tearing into the First Legion. The pain of the sons would ultimately be reflected in the Primarch himself, and the so many sacrifices of his sons had made this lion tense and restless.
Mortarion said nothing about it.
[A splinter of the Rangda swarm is fleeing toward the Death Guard's position at Rust.]
[You must intercept and destroy them.]
Mortarion blinked and stayed silent.
[You will be facing them soon. The Dark Angels pursuing this xenos force will also share in the burden.]
"Ah."
Mortarion spoke dryly, cutting Lion El'Jonson off,
"So in other words—"
[Ahem.]
Hades coughed twice on the private channel and quickly whispered:
[Mortarion, we're still allies right now—no need to provoke him.]
Mortarion clicked his tongue in disappointment.
Why didn't Lion El'Jonson have a close friend to remind him to shut up?
Mortarion had to awkwardly change his tone:
[So you're saying—the Death Guard now have to face two xenos armies?]
At last, the lion—always perched within his own domain—showed a flicker of surprise. Lion El'Jonson furrowed his brow, glaring disapprovingly at Mortarion.
[Two?]
[Rust was attacked by another xenos force. The Death Guard saved them.]
[Mortarion, I hope you understand—that's a Forge World. It wouldn't fall so easily.]
[Are you doubting your brother?]
Before Hades could stop him, Mortarion spoke sharply, cutting in with pointed words.
Hades screamed silently in his mind:
Wait, wait—this is the Third Rangdan Xenocide! You can't just throw around words like "doubting your brother!" Not now!
But the words were already out there. Hades couldn't exactly jump in and say "Let's rewind that, shall we?"
So all he could do was watch the two Primarchs face off, cold sweat running down his back.
The Pale King spread his hands with pleasure. As he did so, a broad overview of the Death Guard's current battle formations was transmitted to the First Legion.
Of course, some details were omitted. But it was just a summary, there's no need for Lion El'Jonson to see everything.
Finally, the Lion fell silent for a moment. The footage of ruined cities and shattered AA systems confirmed Mortarion's claims.
The Lion's eyes locked onto Mortarion—his "brother"—with unconcealed challenge.
"Brother."
To Lion El'Jonson, that was a hollow word. One that meant little. One that held no weight.
A lion of the jungle had no need for so-called blood ties. Some might drown in such meaningless bonds—but not him. Never him.
He looked at Mortarion—this "brother."
Thin. Unremarkable. That was Mortarion's first impression in the Lion's eyes. Compared to the other Primarchs, Mortarion seemed... dim. Faded.
Did he even know what he had just said?
The timing of that jab... was far too precise.
The Lion tapped the blade of his sword in silence.
This Primarch, always operating on the fringes, couldn't possibly know the truth of the battlefield.
Blood was flowing from within—but they'd hidden it well.
According to the Lion's intelligence, this "brother" had never come into contact with the Legion That Does Not Exist.
The intentional blackout had been in place for a long time.
Which meant Mortarion's words were nothing more than deliberate provocation.
The Lion gripped his sword and spoke again—his tone solemn and unwavering:
[I hope you understand what you're saying, Mortarion.]
[Of course I understand.]
The Lion raised an eyebrow.
Foolish creature.
There's no point in continuing this conversation. The battlefield still demanded his attention.
Rumors were spreading.
And that mysterious youngest brother had brought news... of the Warmaster.
[The enemy's movements have been forwarded to the Death Guard. Hold this position. If reinforcements are needed, there's a Space Wolves garrison in a nearby system.]
The transmission was cut.
"What the hell, Mortarion! What did you just say?!!"
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