My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 525: The Erasure
Mortarion was going to kill Horus.
He was going to kill Horus!
Within the shattered window, the three were locked in a desperate brawl. Konrad let out a shrill, piercing laugh. Chains, manifesting from the Warp, had already materialized, binding the Night King's neck and violently dragging him backward, attempting to pull him into the shadows.
Outside the window, ripples from the Empyrean spread in concentric circles, its eerily brilliant waves washing over the fleets. The hulks of ships swayed and rose and fell in the Warp's turbulent currents. If any of them had spared a glance outside, they would have immediately realized that the Warmaster's fleets were retreating.
But the Primarchs, locked in their savage struggle, could no longer distinguish such details. A great scythe swept across the floor, slashing into Horus's abdomen. Black blood sprayed. Horus roared with laughter, and with the chains that bound Curze, he violently kicked away Konrad, who was tearing at his body.
The Warmaster rose, swinging his Lightning Claw to parry Mortarion's great scythe.
He had already won! He was the one who had truly wielded Chaos—just look at Konrad, about to be dragged into hell, and the monstrously inhuman Mortarion! Horus's eyes reflected the raging fires of Cadia; the planet's uppermost atmosphere was already ablaze. Less than five seconds remained—the flames would reach the surface!
He even felt a surge of anxiety—what if the Khan had successfully taken that monster away? But no, that was impossible! From start to finish, there had been no reports of any ship successfully escaping Cadia.
As long as that monster self-destructed—the Warp would be destroyed, and he could intercept the assault from the Imperium's dark side on behalf of the Emperor!
And the traitorous reinforcements would be annihilated—Guilliman, Angron, Malcador... He had finally killed them!
Once everything was over, Terra, guarded by the Custodes and the Imperial Fists, would once again become the strongest faction on the Imperium's surface.
—It was all over, all over now!
Horus laughed wildly. He saw Konrad, whom he had just thrown, being yanked by the chain around his neck, spewing blood as he flew into the darkness. He saw Mortarion raising his scythe, swinging it toward his head without any regard for defense. He saw the raging fires of Cadia, the battlefield churning like a tumultuous sea—Horus's pupils constricted. He saw the gods who had once granted him power.
And then, and then—
He saw the sun he had yearned for.
Why did You only come now, Father?
Golden light reflected in Horus's eyes. He saw a faint, brilliant gold enveloping Mortarion before him, but... but he himself was not?!
Why?! Why? Had he done something wrong? No! No, no, no, no!
"Get the fuck off me!" Mortarion roared, his voice raw. "You old bastard! Get off me!!!"
He felt the sensation of being controlled—Mortarion was all too familiar with this. From Nekare to Nurgle—his so-called "fathers" always loved this kind of thing!
Mortarion swung his great scythe. Why did his so-called "fathers" always have to interfere? He'd had enough! He'd had enough!!
He was slaying a traitor! What right did they have to stop him?!
His scythe traced a crescent moon in the air, slashing toward the visibly panicked Horus. Horus clumsily parried the blow. The Lupercal screamed, his voice a desperate cry directed at the space behind Mortarion.
"Please, let me explain—no, I'm just—"
A searing golden circle was cast against the bulkhead where Horus leaned, his pupils trembling as he stared at the scene behind Mortarion. The Pale King's shadow eclipsed the light falling upon Horus. Three seconds remained before Mortarion raised his scythe again.
He would not listen to Horus's explanation, Mortarion sneered. That arrogant bastard—he would never sacrifice a single shred of his "Grand Scheme" for his wretched, insignificant children.
Beyond this small battlefield lay the battlefield of countless colossal ships, and beyond them, the gods themselves were fighting.
If they craved the Warmaster's fleet—they would surely pay the price.
The countdown had already begun. On Cadia, Trazyn tightened the last conduit. Searing heat filled the interior of the Blackstone Obelisk as Necron technology operated at maximum capacity.
In the Empyrean, the Lord of Humanity swung his sword wreathed in golden flames, striking at the False Gods with ten thousand years of faith. They shrieked and scattered, desperate to flee this region—
But behind them, the golden flames held them fast.
The Lord of Change was the first to act. He was already well-versed in this; he cast aside the scorched portions of himself, and the power he had invested here began to rapidly withdraw.
The Lord of Rot frantically abandoned his cauldron, which had been scorched red-hot by the flames. In his panic, he retracted the seeds he had sown across the Eye of Terror, choosing to flee after being seared by the fire.
The Lord of Brass roared from his throne, yet the pool of blood churning at his feet was swiftly receding.
The slumbering Slaanesh was not present.
Before the slowly rising Eternal Sun, the phantoms dispersed. All that was hideous and foul was utterly consumed by the flames—pain, for He brought them agony and weakness.
He brought humanity a brief, precious moment of undisturbed peace.
The Lord of Humanity came to a halt. A blinding golden light blazed in his eyes, and the sword hanging by his side erupted in fierce flames. He looked upon his followers, his humans. Each Human Spirit drifted in the Warp like a golden jellyfish—
Their end should not be here.
He lowered his gaze, and the sunlight fell equally upon every person.
I'm sorry, Horus.
Horus stumbled, his earlier laughter long since turned to a wretched wail. He pleaded, but only the False Gods answered him.
Before him, the golden light on Mortarion grew ever brighter, yet the Pale King's movements did not falter in the slightest. Mortarion seemed to ignite within the golden flames, agonizing pain tearing through him, but he refused to yield!
Each strike of the Pale King's scythe fell heavier than the last, cleaving into Horus's flesh and aiming straight for his head.
He would kill him! No matter who tried to intervene, Mortarion would kill Horus—he was selfish, vindictive, but at the same time, no traitor who had fallen to Chaos deserved to live!
No—no, no, no! Father! What had he done wrong? Could Mortarion truly be loyal? No, how was that possible?! Horus screamed, his breath failing him! The mere thought of the sins he had committed—no! No! No, no, no!
Konrad shrieked, violently pulling at the chains around his neck. He fell to his knees, his head thrown back into the darkness, his entirely white pupils reflecting a broken, blurred figure—no, no! The place he had fallen was not Hell!
Other beings in the Warp had locked onto him!
No—he would never—fall—Save—Save—
"Mortarion!!! Save... Save... save... me..."
"Die!!!!" "No—listen to me—"
+False Emperor, I spit on your tyr—+
On the blazing, sinking behemoth, a mortal soldier glowed with light, blood streaming from his forehead as he roared—
"For the Emperor!!!"
. . .
"Enough prattling, Trazyn. Open it."
The Lord of the Underworld spoke from the Blackstone Throne.
Before him, Trazyn, who had been offering further counsel, fell silent. The Necron gazed calmly at Hades as countless conduits extended from Hades' body, piercing into the interior of the Blackstone Obelisk like the Lord of the Underworld's own colossal hand reaching into the mortal realm.
With an expressionless face, Trazyn pulled the lever before him.
Clang!
A needle-thin bolt of black lightning erupted—
!!!!
The Underworld has arrived!!!
On the blazing surface of Cadia, a black tide surged forth, expanding in a smooth, two-dimensional sphere that swiftly engulfed a small portion of the burning world before greedily spreading into the void.
Within the Eye of Terror, countless Blackstone Obelisks hummed in unison, their spires gathering black lightning as if welcoming their true master.
On the Ultramarines warship hurtling toward Cadia, Guilliman rose to his feet in shock. He raised his hands, which were now radiating a brilliant golden light; Roboute Guilliman himself was shining.
Beside him, Angron was no different. Not only the Primarchs, but the Space Marines and the mortals were all enveloped in a layer of golden light.
"What... is happening?" Guilliman asked softly.
Beside him, Angron looked at him with a complex expression. "It seems we are too late."
The two Primarchs looked up in unison. Beyond the viewport, they saw black voids erupting on distant planets.
Countless black threads, like two-dimensional entities, pierced through the hull, crackling around them like arcs of lightning.
Guilliman reached out to touch the black lines, but Angron stopped him. The Lord of the Red Sands shook his head, his gaze fixed on the distant battlefield.
The two-dimensional darkness swept past smoothly. It was silent, carrying an irrevocable resolve. Across the Chaos-torn battlefield, the False Gods screamed in terror as they abandoned their armor and weapons. Golden flames roared, advancing, yet they halted at a precise distance, refusing to retreat a single step further.
This was the fundamental difference between him and them.
The Lord of Humanity plunged his blade down from the Empyrean, half-kneeling upon the earth with his head bowed. Behind him, the Eternal Sun rose, and flames erupted from the sword driven into the ground.
All that had not yet fled, all that remained unblessed, would perish.
A dense, pitch-black void swiftly flooded the battlefield of the titans. Men collapsed in dizzying waves, sprawling across the ground. The colossal ships began to drift on inertia and preset programming, and for a moment, countless friendly vessels collided in a series of blinding explosions.
Yet, the people could only watch, helpless.
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, Mortarion let out a deathly howl. He felt the tide closing in—No—Trazyn had failed! Hades was dead! No! No! No!!!
No!
He had failed!
Mortarion strode forward, a true wraith now, golden flames billowing from his form as frost melted away. He swung his scythe down upon Horus, who could not accept this reality!
Beside them, Konrad, who had been screaming and struggling in despair, finally lost his strength. He was dragged down by the chains around his neck, pulled into the absolute abyss.
His final, desperate scream brushed softly past Mortarion's ear—
"Save..."
+Stop.+
In Mortarion's eyes, a fire unique to him ignited. His scythe swept down with a rustle, its edge shimmering with a cold, silent death.
Opposite him, the golden light that had enveloped Horus's body had vanished, leaving only darkness—He had already arrived—everything was finally going to end.
The scythe sliced through. Horus's head, his mouth agape in horror, spun away. Black blood trailed through the air in dotted lines—at the same time, the darkness finally swallowed him whole.
It's done.
Mortarion's vision was filled with darkness. He stumbled, trying to turn around, but there was still only darkness, darkness, that endless, boundless darkness.
He had failed.
He had failed.
A colossal despair consumed Mortarion.
No... no, no, no, no... A desperate smile twisted the corners of the Pale King's lips.
Blind, he gazed upon that black Cadia.
A world without psykers... was coming... There would never again be the sorcerers he so loathed...
All you filthy trash... die with me...
A dying rattle escaped Mortarion's throat, but before he could even form a sound—
BOOM!!!
The Primarch's massive body slammed into the ground with a deafening crash.
Then, everything fell silent. Everything plunged into darkness—no, it was more accurate to say that the souls themselves fell silent.
Only the flames continued to burn, a quiet, steady blaze.
The physical world kept turning. Before the collapsed armor, amidst the shattered glass, the warships sailed on. The ventilation fans continued their relentless roar.
Farther away, Cadia burned, still rotating slowly at its fixed speed.
The wreckage within the Empyrean had been devoured, erased from existence. The King, half-kneeling on the ground, wept golden tears as the flames raged fiercely around him. The tide of death halted before his feet.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Upon the Blackstone Throne, Hades gasped for air, black lightning crackling around him. He slumped forward, barely able to support himself against the black stone chair. He felt his own existence expand—becoming vast—and he "saw" the souls of the fallen. But Hades saw that they had not vanished.
Is it Neoth...? When did he become so powerful...?
Hades couldn't understand. Amidst the excruciating pain, he feasted upon the Chaos corpses strewn across the ground, expanding chaotically, chasing after the fleeing cowards.
He eroded the golden light surrounding the human souls, yet never touched their inner essence. The golden light slowly faded, and soon, the darkness seeped in—
"Enough!" Trazyn shouted, slamming the gate shut.
"Hiss!!!"
Hades, who had been forcibly sustained by the Black Domain, collapsed instantly. He gasped for air like a drowning man, his remaining pupils dilating as he stared emptily at the void above, his dwindling consciousness slipping away.
In his blurred vision, Trazyn leaned in, shaking him and shouting for him to stay awake.
No, he was too tired.
And so, Hades fell asleep.
. . .
Short Afterword:
Mortarion awoke to a cacophony of noise.
He opened his eyes to see a restless Guilliman and Angron. The Pale King said nothing. He pushed himself up, turning his head to see Vorx—half his face sliced away—and a silent Calas.
The summoning circle beneath him revealed the truth: he had been temporarily brought back.
"Prepare a ship. I'm going to Cadia."
Mortarion was exhausted, utterly spent. He couldn't remember how he'd sent Guilliman and Angron packing; he only recalled stumbling off the Death Guard's gunship and standing upon the only intact patch of ground on Cadia.
Barely an hour had passed since the oblivion.
Before him, the ruined Blackstone Obelisk ground slowly, maintaining order in the wake of the receding tide.
Even Mortarion found it impossible to move. He forced himself forward, gritting his teeth as he staggered toward the entrance of the Blackstone Obelisk—he had to ask that damned xenos—Why? Why?!
Thud!
Mortarion collapsed. A crushing sense of rejection bore down on him, forcing him to crawl the final distance to the Obelisk's threshold.
There, he saw Trazyn operating a machine to lift a familiar figure.
"You..."
The xenos turned, his eyes gleaming.
"Until we meet again."
Goddamn it...
Mortarion blacked out.
He was banished back to the Warp once more.