My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 410: Seeing the Whole from the Small
[Orbital Ring Above Barbarus — Astartes Medical Ward]
Death Guard Apothecary Io stood before his workbench, preparing a new batch of compounds for implantation surgeries.
By order of the Primarch Mortarion, the entire Barbarus system had entered a state of war readiness and immediately began a large-scale recruitment.
At this very moment, countless worlds that had previously signed compacts with the Death Guard were dispatching ships loaded with aspirant recruits toward Barbarus.
Other planets were offering vast quantities of reserve resources to the Legion.
In the Mint Forge-Satellite, the factories roared without pause. Endless streams of weapons and ammunition poured from the production lines as far as the eye could see.
Under the Death Guard's direction, the productivity of the Barbarus system had been pushed to its absolute limit.
Moreover, after the Council of Nikaea, the Lord of Death, Mortarion, had personally returned to Barbarus to oversee its defense. In an unusual turn, he now handled numerous administrative affairs of system development each day.
Though from afar, the members of Mortarion's leadership circle appeared to be carrying even deeper resentment than usual.
But such matters were beyond Io's concern.
As one of the first recruits conscripted from Barbarus, he had now become a qualified Apothecary, responsible for aspirant surgeries and related procedures.
Previously, he had even participated in the emergency treatment and post-operative recovery of Commander Hades.
A pity that the easygoing commander was no longer within the Death Guard.
The thought made Io pause mid-preparation.
As if sensing something, he set down the test tube and turned his head slightly, his hand naturally dropping toward the bolt pistol at his waist.
"Io!" A familiar voice called out.
Almost imperceptibly, Io let out a breath of relief. He spoke, eyes filled with open disdain.
"Lerna. You shouldn't be here. Lord Mortarion is conducting emergency mobilization, you should be reporting aboard the Endurance."
Lerna approached with a grin, eyes glinting as he studied Io's workbench.
"You're not going?"
The question came abruptly.
Io sighed and picked up a different test tube than the one he had been holding before.
"I'm responsible for the next wave of aspirant surgeries on Barbarus. I can't leave."
His tone was firm.
"If you still want to joke around with the little whelps, you'd better get moving, Lerna."
It had to be said that after Mortarion banned the Death Guard's infamous dark humor competitions, Lerna, nine-time consecutive champion, had been despondent for quite a while. Eventually, he had simply redirected his efforts toward tormenting new recruits.
Lerna sighed.
Io heard the faintest sound—
And then—
Io's pupils dilated sharply, some instinct flaring in warning. In that final instant, he twisted his body and saw the blade slashing toward his throat.
Without hesitation, Io hurled the test tube in his hand at Lerna.
The glass shattered, the liquid inside hissing violently.
A shrill scream erupted.
Clutching his bleeding neck, Io opened a vox channel and shouted for reinforcements.
At the same time, he seized the combat blade at his waist and leveled it at Lerna.
"What are you doing, Lerna?" he gasped.
His only answer was silence over the vox—and Lerna's laughter.
Lerna laughed wildly, Io's reflection dancing in his eyes.
He remembered the times they had fought side by side. The camaraderie forged in countless battles. His mind trembled in agony.
But now, those memories were nothing more than obstacles preventing him from fulfilling his duty to the Imperium.
The Death Guard would betray the Emperor.
And he would be the one to stop them from falling into the abyss.
"Hydra Dominatus!!!"
. . .
"Gene-Seed Vault Under Attack?"
Beneath his hood, Mortarion's brow tightened into a deep frown.
The Lord of Death rose abruptly from behind a desk piled high with documents. He strode toward the medical ward, his massive war scythe dragging across the floor with a harsh scraping sound.
Vorx ran at a quick pace beside his father.
"First Company's Lerna attacked Apothecary Io, who was overseeing aspirant surgeries. Prior to the assault, he severed all communications within the medical sector."
Vorx continued, "Lerna killed thirteen Death Guard guarding the medical sector. He was preparing to kill Io and harvest his gene-coded implant to access the gene-seed vault when Io counterattacked and killed him."
The gloom surrounding Mortarion seemed almost tangible.
"…I remember them."
The Lord of Death spoke softly. He remembered them, the second batch of Barbarans who had become Death Guard.
Those recruits had long since grown into battle-hardened veterans. Among them were Forge Master Bast and Captain Antaeus of the Fifth Company.
And the renowned Apothecary Io.
Mortarion raised a hand, signaling Vorx to stop reporting. The Primarch lowered his head slightly and stepped into the emergency ward. The heavy scent of blood burst against his senses.
He saw Io lying upon the operating table, barely clinging to life. The blood splattered across the surface looked as though a bolt shell had detonated inside his body.
One glance was enough.
Mortarion knew there was no saving this son of his. He would soon rest, sleeping with the night of Barbarus.
Io breathed with difficulty. Under the effects of massive doses of neuro-stimulants, faint halos shimmered in his unfocused pupils.
Mortarion shook his head. The Apothecary, who had tried to speak, fell silent.
Mortarion understood better than anyone that such drugs—designed to stimulate nerves and prolong life—blurred the will and induced hallucinations.
He knelt on one knee and took Io's hand.
"Say what you wish to say."
Mortarion's voice was low and steady. Io's breath rasped painfully.
"L…Lord…"
Io struggled.
"Forgive… forgive them… they…"
"…trusted him… that's… why…"
In his fading vision, Io saw the Death Guard lying in pools of blood. Because of his friendship with Lerna, Lerna had often come to see him, and through Io's connections, had quickly grown familiar with the guards of the medical ward.
Mortarion tightened his grip on Io's hand. The warmth was already fading.
"They are all my sons. I choose to believe they were not negligent."
He watched silently as Io forced a bitter smile.
"…He… is… Hydra."
Io struggled to speak. When had the comrade who once fought at his side been replaced?
"The… enemy… is within…"
Mortarion lowered his gaze, feeling the cold seep into his palm as life slipped away.
Seven seconds later, he released the hand.
Mortarion rose.
As he prepared to leave, he searched his memory for all he knew of the "Hydra."
In the end, he recalled that Hades had once mentioned it.
"Lord Primarch, should we immediately halt the current warp translation?" Vorx asked.
A hiss escaped from beneath Mortarion's respirator.
"We need seven days. Let me try… to root out these vermin."
He would need a measure of the Hydra blood. A trace of guidance from numerology. And something more—
The bond between Primarch and son.
In moments like this, anger must be mastered. Impatience must be restrained.
Beneath the hood, Mortarion's dark eyes burned as though about to ignite.
An hour later, the first group of Death Guard was summoned to stand before their Primarch.
Within the dim chamber, Mortarion stood motionless, scythe in hand, like a statue carved of shadow.
The purge within the Death Guard began.
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