My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 479: Mutual Mental Breakdown
The candlelight abruptly died.
Thin strands of cold mist rose from the blackened candlewicks, drifting slowly upward into the dim darkness above.
Within the silent blackness, the Pale King's voice echoed like a weary sigh. The sharp edge of metal scraped across the floor, producing a harsh and discordant screech.
+What are you trying to do? Kill the "Deceased One"?+
The words emerged from the fog like the rustling whispers of insects crawling through some dark corner.
The cold, deathly tone seemed to creep directly up the listener's spine, raising goosebumps involuntarily.
Horus let out a low laugh.
As though irritated, he casually slashed his talons through the air. The white mist scattered weakly through the gaps between the blades.
"Is this all you know how to do? Smoke and mirrors?"
Mortarion chuckled softly.
+Not nearly as much as you,+ he replied.
+At least I know where my power comes from. Horus… do you know whose gifts you're accepting now?+
The Khan quickly stepped into the middle of their exchange.
The White Scars Primarch crouched cautiously within the fog, White Tiger Dao in hand. The rising mist wrapped around him like the waist-high grasslands of Chogoris, concealing his movements.
"Horus, you are no longer what you once were," the Khan said carefully.
"Surrender. You need rest."
The Khan watched.
He watched Horus's face twist violently—so violently it almost ceased to resemble a human expression at all.
Words carried power.
And those words had succeeded in enraging Horus.
"You…"
Horus breathed heavily, fury blazing within his eyes.
"You still believe I'm wrong?"
The Warmaster—the Warmaster of the First Imperium—spread his arms wide as he stared at the Khan.
"You stand alongside a traitor, Khan. You once had your own place within the Imperium."
"Are you truly willing to throw it away… for someone like…"
"Someone…"
Horus turned toward the scythe within the mist.
The endlessly eloquent Warmaster suddenly fell silent.
His words halted as he searched for a suitable description.
That brief hesitation enraged Mortarion.
Or perhaps the Pale King had already made his decision.
The scythe suddenly howled through the air, aimed directly for Horus's head!
CLANG!
A violent burst of sparks exploded outward—
Then came a dazzling second strike.
Then a third.
A storm of blades and blood erupted through the chamber, steel flashing wildly through the darkness.
Another terrible metallic screech rang out as the giant scythe was knocked aside. Ashes scattered from its surface while crimson blood sprayed from silver metal in chains of droplets, only to vanish soundlessly into the white fog.
Horus grinned savagely.
He shook his numbed hand.
A tiny cut had opened across his cheek—but he was certain he had landed a hit as well. His claw had unmistakably met resistance.
Even if no blood clung to his blades, Horus was not discouraged.
The current Mortarion no longer resembled something that still bled normally.
He stared toward the figure hidden within the fog.
For a brief instant, Horus was startled by the realization that he could not clearly see Mortarion at all.
But quickly he understood that this was simply another one of Mortarion's theatrics.
He fears him.
That is why he refuses to emerge fully from his domain.
Yes.
From beginning to end, both Horus and the Khan—whose physical bodies still remained in realspace—had realized that the ground beneath their feet was no longer entirely real.
At least in some sense, half their bodies now stood within the Pale King's domain.
The Stormseer Yesugei had summoned him.
Just like summoning a daemon.
Exactly like summoning a daemon.
And the moment that thought crossed Horus's mind, he could not stop himself from laughing.
What right did they have to condemn him?
He still fought with his fleet, his sword, his warriors.
But Mortarion?
Horus sighed.
He sighed at the Khan's terrible judgment of character.
Jaghatai had once possessed the chance to become one of Horus's greatest generals. This Primarch, long marginalized by the Imperium, could have become one of the heroes who restored mankind's empire.
Yet after witnessing Mortarion with his own eyes, he had immediately chosen to stand beside him instead.
Horus could not understand it.
Even the most deranged creature, so long as it retained the slightest shred of sanity, should never choose to trust Mortarion.
Was that truly a form humanity could accept?
"Are you angry?" Horus asked mockingly.
"Look at yourself, Mortarion. I can barely recognize you anymore."
The answer was another sweeping strike of the scythe.
Laughing, Horus dodged aside as the gigantic blade swept past his body.
+I only wanted to survive…+
Mortarion gasped painfully.
It seemed he never stopped breathing in agony. With every breath, the devouring white mist poured from his mouth and nose.
+You don't understand…+
+What it feels like to live, to truly live for the sake of your own will, Horus.+
As Mortarion spoke, he sensed Horus's blood.
The wings upon his back trembled lightly, scattering shimmering dust into the air. The substances extracted from Horus's blood were slowly yet steadily taking effect.
+I pity you,+ Mortarion said.
+Because I know what it feels like to be watched…+
+But you… you once had the chance to escape through death, didn't you?+
Horus erupted into violent coughing.
Humiliated and enraged, he tried to continue attacking—but the Khan, who had been lying in wait the entire time, struck.
Like a hunting tiger, the Great Khan's blade lunged precisely and savagely toward Horus's throat.
Even now, Khan wished to grant his friend a dignified end.
At the same moment, Mortarion's scythe descended once more—
BOOM!!!
The entire chamber suddenly shook violently.
The tremor shifted the Khan's strike ever so slightly. Horus blocked the Khan's attack and immediately turned to meet Mortarion's scythe!
Blood spilled from the corner of Horus's mouth.
He looked as though he might collapse at any second—yet somehow, he also seemed to be growing larger.
The darkness enveloping the room began spreading and swelling again.
They had silently watched the battle the entire time, reluctant to interfere directly—but they could not afford to lose Horus.
The fog churned violently.
Mortarion silently lowered his scythe.
His form began to destabilize.
The Pale King stared fixedly at Horus, as though weighing a decision.
Horus struggled desperately.
He coughed like a dying man, muttering fragmented words beneath his breath—broken phrases of resistance and madness spilling from his lips.
Mortarion watched him.
Some faint remnant of respect still lingered within him for Horus.
Perhaps this farce should have ended long ago.
They had all once possessed the chance to end it.
If only you spoke of his name…
If only you uttered it…
That familiar word possessed terrifying power. The price it demanded and the gain it offered were grotesquely disproportionate.
With a single invocation—all you needed was the resolve to perish alongside everything else.
Mortarion's lips trembled.
He could feel the pounding of his heart within his chest.
Did he even still possess a heart anymore?
But in the end, he remembered Malcador's damned words.
"You must think of the galaxy, Mortarion."
Beneath the hood, weary yet stern eyes stared at him. The old sigillite pressed his crooked staff against Mortarion's breastplate.
"You cannot afford to act recklessly anymore."
"We no longer possess the price required to indulge your recklessness."
+…It's time to leave.+
Mortarion's whisper drifted softly into the Khan's ears.
+They've realized what's happening.+
<+>
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Tn: I updated the story once every 2 days, but if you want to see more chapter of this story ahead of time, please go to my Patreon.
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