The highest peak of Barbarus was perpetually shrouded in toxic fumes.
A grey castle stood atop the peak, completely obscured by thick, poisonous mists.
The people of Barbarus launched their assault against the sorcerous Overlords who had enslaved them. This was the final battle for liberation.
Mortarion held his scythe. Behind him stood Calas Typhon and the other elite warriors he had named the Death Guard.
Unlike previous assaults, this time all the militia were mobilized.
It was because Mortarion needed every available force to storm the final stronghold, and also because the militia no longer needed to guard their villages.
All the enemies were on this mountain.
An endless tide of shamblers emerged from behind grey rocks, from behind pale trees, from within the green toxic clouds.
Mortarion wore a specially designed respirator on his face. He knew his xenos foster-father, the Pale King Necare, awaited him at the summit.
Fighting his way to the peak would consume much of his strength.
Only when he reached the area with the thickest mists would Necare reveal himself. That was where the breath-drinking Overlords could best exert their power, and where he would be at his weakest.
But he was prepared. His mission must be completed.
Mortarion gripped his scythe tightly, swinging it to bisect over a dozen shamblers.
His superhuman vision pierced through the corpse-horde, locking onto a sorcerous Overlord with ashen skin.
The sorcerous Overlord raised its staff. A green halo expanded from its form. The shamblers' sluggish steps suddenly became swift as they charged Mortarion.
Mortarion strode forward, his scythe whirling. Shamblers fell in swathes.
He advanced with cold deliberation. The scythe blade tore through rotting bodies; shattered limbs scattered like shrapnel.
Mortarion breached the shambler lines, rushing to the sorcerous Overlord before him, deftly cutting it down.
Mortarion did not shake his scythe to dislodge the ashen flesh and blood clinging to the blade. This was a battle that would last long, but he was resilient enough.
Mortarion swung his scythe relentlessly. The great blade carved wide arcs; limbs fell like rain.
After an immeasurable time, the grey fortress appeared in his sight.
Mortarion's eyes shone. His mission was nearing completion.
He crashed directly into the grey fortress. He drew a combat stimulant, and his weary body was flooded with strength once more.
His scythe moved even more swiftly. Where he passed, ashen bodies fell in heaps.
Mortarion entered the fortress. Memories from the corners of his mind grew clearer. He followed those memories, searching for Necare.
In his memories, his former xenos foster-father was most often in the palace, and the sorcery laboratories.
"You have come." The low, familiar voice echoed in Mortarion's ears. He already smelled the foul stench of sorcery.
"Cease these sorcerous tricks!" Mortarion scanned his surroundings, trying to locate Necare by the sound.
"No escape. Only retribution!"
Following the voice, Mortarion smashed through four walls in succession, finally seeing the familiar tall figure.
An ashen form, similar in height to himself, holding a gleaming, hateful staff.
"My son, it has been a long time."
As he spoke, dark green vapor spewed from his mouth.
Mortarion's voice came from within the respirator. "Die!"
He raised his scythe and charged Necare.
The blade struck a green psychic shield, producing a thunderous boom.
Necare's staff struck the ground. Green pus rapidly spread, surging towards Mortarion like tentacles, grasping for his former foster-son.
Mortarion's grey boots slammed down. His scythe swung swiftly, shredding the toxic vapor tentacles.
Shockwaves reverberated. Walls collapsed. The ashen figure was driven out of the grey fortress.
Toxic fumes churned. Green psychic lightning split the sky.
The two turned the entire mountain peak into a ruin.
A buzzing filled Necare's head. He raised a hand to block the scythe blade, saying with astonishment.
"My son, you are more capable than I imagined."
Mortarion did not reply. He knew Necare was trying to provoke a response to glean information.
[The respirator provided by Nareth is very effective. If I were using my own crude filtration device, it would have already failed from inhaling toxins, leaving me weakened.
In this mission-battle, I will be victorious!]
Mortarion swung his scythe repeatedly, striking the psychic shield.
Amidst the impacts, Necare raised his staff.
Blinding green light erupted. Countless green spikes shot towards the grey armor.
A sharp clattering sound rang from Mortarion's armor. The green spikes studded his green armor like a porcupine, the green poison coating them sizzling.
Mortarion knew that if he wore his previous crude armor, that strike would have wounded him.
The fine armor obtained through trade with Nareth had blocked the attack.
But the danger was not over. The thick toxins at the summit were something even he could not endure indefinitely.
Amidst the popping sounds of dissolving poison, palm-sized sections of grey armor rapidly dissolved, shrinking to finger-sized pieces that fell to the ground in moments.
Toxic fumes poured into the armor through the gaps.
"My son, you are still too young. Return to my side. I will continue to teach you." Necare taunted, putting distance between them. He inhaled deeply of the toxins. The buzzing in his head seemed to lessen somewhat.
Necare, his strength partially restored, gazed coldly. That his former foster-son could fight him to this extent completely exceeded his expectations.
The psychic impact laced within his taunting words was merely to break Mortarion's will.
The name meaning "Death-Son" was given by him, and now it should be he who completed its meaning.
Necare grinned viciously, raising his staff, his eyes brimming with killing intent.
Just as he was about to launch the fatal strike, he saw Mortarion struggle to draw a black vial from his waist and inject it into his body.
Mortarion injected the most precious black potion obtained from Nareth into himself.
The Primarch's body digested and absorbed the antidote concocted by Malena Skara within a single breath.
Mortarion felt the numbness within him dissolve instantly. His limbs moved smoothly according to his will.
In an instant, he closed the distance to Necare, his scythe descending.
Necare hastily raised a hand. A green psychic shield protected his pale form.
With a tremendous crack, the scythe blade shattered the fragile psychic shield and struck Necare's body.
The final Overlord of Barbarus, the Pale King, fell to the ground.
"I have liberated Barbarus." Mortarion was stunned for a moment. Hearing footsteps, he swung his scythe again, severing Necare's head.
He turned to Typhon with a smile. "Except for the Pale King's head, trade all other Overlord heads to Nareth."
"The focus of trade will no longer be weapons, but antidotes, farming tools. No one will enslave us anymore. Barbarus will usher in a new era."
.....
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