Chapter 276: The Blue Man + Interlude: Video Game
Hades decided to place the Ultramarines at the very top of the list of "Legions he hopes to cooperate with."
Not only Roboute Guilliman, but most of the Ultramarines radiated a strong sense of normalcy. They could interact and communicate like ordinary people, without bizarre boundaries or sudden emotional outbursts.
They said what needed to be said, without lapsing into inexplicable silence, without forcing Hades to drag answers out bit by bit, terrified of missing some crucial piece of information.
And when it came to matters within their capacity, they would do their best to lend a hand.
For instance, at this very moment, Hades had already copied several Ultramarine daily report formats and taken a fair number of Guilliman's written works.
He had to admit, Guilliman wrote a lot. And when one is in negotiations with the Ultramarines, sooner or later they would end up quoting passages from Guilliman's books.
This gave Hades a much more direct impression of the so-called "blue sons and grandsons" in the original lore who loved to cite scripture.
But that didn't stop him from continuing his frenzied copying spree in the Ultramarines' archives.
Meanwhile, within a bright and spacious library filled with the fragrance of books and knowledge, Guilliman was reviewing the materials Hades had provided.
"A breathtaking masterpiece."
Guilliman carefully examined the three-dimensional map of Barbarus again and again, unable to stop himself from sighing in admiration.
To transform a death world into what now functioned as a semi-hub for fleet traffic across the surrounding star systems—this was an idea far beyond the imagination of ordinary men, and an achievement nearly impossible to realize.
Deep down, Guilliman had always carried a faint regret. His brothers were all extraordinary, but when it came to rebuilding and developing their homeworlds, their philosophies were… different from his own.
Few placed importance on postwar reconstruction. Horus only cared about securing more glory for himself. Dorn was obsessively fixated on fortifications. Perturabo's tendencies were extreme. And the rest hardly even paid the matter any attention.
But here, within a Legion so vastly different from the Ultramarines, Guilliman glimpsed a shining possibility—someone whose philosophy resonated with his own.
"Hades, within the Death Guard, who proposed the Barbarus Redevelopment Plan, and ultimately oversaw its implementation?"
Guilliman's voice carried urgency as he awaited the answer. But already, in his mind, he had begun sketching the silhouette of that warrior.
"Ah," Hades looked up, still scanning the Ultramarines' shelves, trying to decide which books to take. He answered absentmindedly, "that was me."
In that instant, Hades felt a chill run down his spine. He whipped around, only to see a massive blue figure blocking the way behind him.
Startled out of his wits, Hades nearly shoved his bolter into Guilliman's face.
He almost let out a curse word—Guilliman had just teleported there! No sound, no warning, just appeared out of thin air!
Forcing out a shaky smile, Hades stammered,"Lo-Lord Guilliman?"
The blue giant's expression blossomed into the brightest smile Hades had seen yet.
"Hades, commander of the Death Guard, I think you can simply mark the scope of the materials you wish to find. The Ultramarines will help you locate them."
"But for now, I want to ask you some questions—about Barbarus, and about you."
Cold sweat trickled down Hades' back. Emperor save him, for a moment he thought Guilliman was about to drop some earth-shattering question.
"Of course, absolutely," Hades replied quickly.
. . . . .
"—I believe war is not the end, but a means. Development, and the eventual livelihood of humanity—that is the true goal. So, since the Legion has both strength and breathing room, it can choose a region to develop."
Guilliman nodded with a smile.
"Yes. Everything now is for the sake of ultimate peace. When the Great Crusade ends, Legions forged for war can then devote themselves to building humanity's future. And Astartes, with their high qualities, can serve as guides to lead human civilization forward."
Lost in visions of a radiant future, Guilliman failed to notice the flicker of something strange that passed through Hades' eyes after those words.
Hades chuckled.
"Given the cohesion and influence of a Legion, we can achieve miracles that others would deem utterly impossible. A Legion is a tool, and its role goes far beyond mere war."
"Forgive my curiosity, Hades. I believe you're someone who thinks seriously about the future. So in your vision, after the Great Crusade, where would the Death Guard go from there?"
Hades' inner expression twisted into the mask of suffering.
No. That was impossible.
In this galaxy, nothing remained but war.
"Perhaps you should ask our Primarch, Lord Mortarion. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to answer such a question."
Hades brushed it off with a laugh. Guilliman sensed Hades' reluctance and, in mutual understanding, they quickly changed the subject.
They spoke of how to deal with mortal bureaucrats—how the Legion's overwhelming presence turned their interactions with common men into an art form.
They spoke of negotiations, of how to placate the Imperium's tax offices, how to reasonably avoid levies, and how to keep the Legion's supply lines both discreet and efficient.
They spoke of how to approach the Mechanicum—since construction and development inevitably entailed entanglement with the priesthood of Mars.
Hades marveled that even the Primarch's aura of charisma could work on the machine-oil zealots, while Guilliman was surprised at how well-versed Hades was in Mechanicum slang and underground jargon.
"Ah, I remember now. My sons in the Armoury once mentioned you."
Guilliman said suddenly.
"Your signature is 'H', isn't it? Remarkably innovative and generous in spirit."
Hades waved a hand dismissively.
"My years of study on Mars were dull. That was just a little amusement I made for myself, nothing worth mentioning."
But Guilliman thought otherwise. He regarded Hades with a thoughtful expression.
Such talent… yet he was a commander of the Death Guard. a position the Legion wouldn't normally allow for diplomatic training.
So, Guilliman gently steered the conversation toward Macragge.
He began by asking about the scenery of Barbarus, and Hades painted for him a picture of broad plains and farmland, an empty but fertile land, where corn stalks rustled in the wind.
"That reminds me of Macragge's outer reaches."
Verdant forests, towering ancient castles within those woods, bustling markets, azure skies, and spotless white streets.
"If you wish to truly understand and experience comprehensive governance, then you must visit Macragge. She will not disappoint you."
"Though Macragge does lack mineral resources…"
Guilliman unconsciously added details, but Hades' eyes were already practically sparkling.
No. Hades thought. Absolutely not.
Macragge was in Ultramar, an impossibly vast distance away. And in the future, the Death Guard's campaign route would never bend toward there.
If he went to Macragge, catching up to the Death Guard fleet afterward would be nearly impossible.
And yet, that vision of tranquil days…
Hades took a deep breath.
"Thank you for the invitation. If the war ever calms down, I will visit Macragge. Truly, she is a radiant jewel among human civilizations."
In the end, he still refused. Hades' heart bled as he did so.
To blend into Macragge as a Techmarine—that seemed like the perfect choice, ideal for retirement. All he'd have to worry about would be the Battle of Calth.
Seeing Hades decline, Guilliman did not press further. But in his heart, he remembered this Death Guard commander—just as he had once remembered Dantioch of the Iron Warriors.
What followed was a deep exchange between Guilliman and Hades on the topic of star system development. Both sides freely shared their views, and their discussion achieved significant breakthroughs.
Even at the very end, Guilliman was still trying to persuade the Death Guard to stay with the Ultramarines a little longer.
Without exception, all of his attempts were politely declined—though Guilliman could see the pain and inner conflict in Hades' refusal.
. . . . .
Interlude [Video Game, but Live Combat]
(Mortarion avatar is buffed.)
It was well known that Guilliman owned a machine capable of simulating virtual battles. Today, he had invited Mortarion to spar with him.
Normally, Mortarion would have scoffed at such a thing, loudly mocking it. But because Hades wanted to watch some fun—no, to observe Primarch combat—he struck a deal with Guilliman.
"Mortarion, I lost a bet with Guilliman. I have to go spend a few years on Macragge, studying alongside the Ultramarines."
With heavy tone and feigned sorrow, Hades delivered this "happy news"—no, this calamity—to Mortarion.
He added a few words, fanning the flames just a bit.
Naturally, Mortarion grabbed his scythe and went to thrash Guilliman.
Guilliman's condition was simple: three matches, best of three. If Mortarion won, Guilliman would retract the bet with Hades.
And so, Mortarion was now lying inside the simulator pod, wearing a ridiculously oversized headset, looking like he wanted to murder someone.
[Match: Guilliman vs. Mortarion | Commentator: Hades]
[Alright! The first round begins! We see both Primarchs clearly aiming to close in for melee combat! Guilliman and Mortarion both skip unit deployment and charge each other with blades drawn!]
[Guilliman strikes ferociously! His Gladius Incandor and the Hand of Dominion are pouring out damage! Mortarion is stuck on the defensive—will Mortarion really lose the first round right off the bat?!]
[No! Everyone knows Mortarion is a defensive counter-fighter! The longer the battle drags on, the stronger he becomes! Mortarion is deliberately extending the fight, and Guilliman is already showing signs of fatigue!]
Guilliman took a deep breath. Though Mortarion's eyes blazed with fury, he never initiated the attack. The Lord of Death struck only during the gaps after Guilliman's blows.
He was even deliberately trading blow for blow.
Guilliman's eyes glimmered; he was calculating Mortarion's every move.
[Yes! Once the fight drags long enough, Roboute Guilliman activates his passive skill: Observation! In this state, Guilliman studies and analyzes his enemy, formulating counters to their tactics!]
[Oh no! Guilliman seems to have deciphered Mortarion's strategy! His assault is getting fiercer—he's even trading wounds himself! He wants to end this quickly!]
[Is Mortarion about to lose the first round?! If so, how will the Lord of Death stand a chance in the later Legion-vs-Legion command battles against the Primarch most famed for "command"?]
[Let's check the health bars: Guilliman has one-quarter of his HP left. Mortarion—Mortarion is down to just a sliver!]
[Guilliman realizes it! He ignores Mortarion's incoming scythe strike, and swings the decisive blow—]
[Ohhhhhhh! Mortarion—Mortarion has revealed a second health bar!]
[Guilliman lets out a startled sound, but Mortarion gives him no time to react! Mortarion has triggered his passive skill: Last Stand! In this state, for every point of health he loses, his defense, attack, and critical hit rate all increase!]
From beneath his mask, Mortarion let out a cold laugh. Guilliman had failed to evade the scythe's swing. The Lord of Death tore open Guilliman's defenses with his great scythe, then pinned him down and poured some of his homemade toxins straight into Guilliman's mouth.
[Guilliman is poisoned! Guilliman is at critical health! Guilliman's last sliver of HP is gone! Winner of the first round: Mortarion!!!]
Mortarion let out a satisfied laugh, then casually helped the fallen Guilliman back onto his feet.
Guilliman wore a puzzled expression, though he seemed to have grasped the nature of Mortarion's abilities. He signaled for the second round to begin.
[Second round begins! After the brutal beating in the first match, Guilliman has decided to summon the Ultramarines! This time, he wants to pit his skill in command and coordination against Mortarion's!]
[Guilliman activates his passive "Master of Strategy"! Compared to other Legions, when Guilliman is present, the Ultramarines gain: +15% combat effectiveness, +100% cohesion, +15% recovery rate, and +20% manpower!]
[What a ridiculously overpowered ability!]
[Meanwhile, Mortarion's Death Guard look a little weaker in comparison…]
After some time, Mortarion's position was encircled by Ultramarines. Guilliman, with his passive Observation active, carefully directed his warriors, tearing open the Death Guard's defenses bit by bit.
As expected of Guilliman!
But Mortarion was no pushover. Even as the Ultramarines pressed their advantage, they were being chewed apart by the Death Guard's grim resilience.
At last, Guilliman and Mortarion once again faced each other—this time surrounded by mountains of fallen Astartes corpses.
Guilliman was at half health, while Mortarion, after burning through six and a half health bars, now stood on his final half bar.
Guilliman's analysis concluded: there was no way Mortarion could possibly reveal yet another hidden health bar.
[Guilliman charges forward with the Gladius Incandor once more! Mortarion swings his heavy scythe in response!]
[Having studied Mortarion's patterns in the first fight, Guilliman is now much more efficient in combat! He abandons wide, sweeping strikes in favor of speed and thrusts!]
[Because of the difference in weapon length and effective range, Guilliman clings tightly to Mortarion, forcing him to rely on the scythe's haft in close quarters while desperately trying to create distance.]
[But Guilliman gives him no chance! His attacks are relentless! Mortarion's health bar is on the brink—]
[Ohhhhhhh! Mortarion activates his passive "Bloodlock"! You can never touch the final seven hit points of the Lord of Death's life bar! Unless struck by decapitation, heart-piercing, or other true killing blows, all other damage registers as null!]
Guilliman stared in disbelief at Mortarion. The Lord of Death was in shambles, like a scarecrow battered by a storm, looking as though the next gust of wind would make him collapse entirely.
It created the illusion that even without striking, Mortarion might simply fall apart under his own weight.
But—what did it mean that non-lethal strikes cause no real damage?!
[Guilliman tries to adjust his tactics, but clearly Mortarion won't give him the time to find an answer! Taking advantage of Guilliman's fatigue from prolonged combat, the Lord of Death launches the assault himself!]
[Second round, victory goes to Mortarion!]
Guilliman suddenly sat up from the simulation pod. He turned his head, looking at Mortarion with an indescribable expression of shock and dread.
Mortarion rose calmly, and the first thing he did was remove the ridiculous oversized headset.
"You have failed, my brother," he said evenly.
Then, without a trace of hesitation, he stood, and with his commander in tow, departed from the Macragge's Honour.
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