Across the vast, desolate land, white and yellow vapors rose, merging into the thick clouds that clung to the ground.
On an agriculture-based planet, abundant rainfall promised fertile soil and a year-long bounty.
But on Barbarus, the toxic atmosphere ensured that every raindrop carried chemical compounds—hostile to humans, yet rich in nutrients for the planet's flora.
No farmer had ever prayed against a good harvest.
"O great earth, bless us with bountiful grain!"
Centuries of whispered prayers rippled through time. The gods turned their gaze downward, yet never upon the common folk.
The first drop of rain, bearing the Rainfather's blessing, landed on Calas Typhon's wingtip.
The murky water trickled along the delicate patterns of his moth-like wings, seeping into the pale, blood-red cracks.
A seed, once touched by the Merciful Father, was about to break from its cocoon—guided by divine will.
Perhaps now was not the right time.
A seed required proper time to grow.
Yet, the nail lodged in fate's gears had shattered the natural order.
Then let it be—
A storm would rise.
A thunderclap would shatter the silence.
And sleeping things would awaken.
<+>
A thunderous elegy erupted, shaking the skies.
The storm poured down, drowning the land in darkness.
The wind howled. The rain roared. The horizon blurred into chaos.
"Hold formation—teams of three—engage the enemy!"
Hades' shout barely cut through the deafening rain.
The communication channel crackled with static—distorted beyond recognition.
Within his line of sight, the bone-white armor of the Death Guard stood stark against the murky night.
The marching formation continued forward.
At the outermost edge, Barbarus' native creatures lunged at the troops—made even more feral by the acidic rainfall.
A faint psychic glow flickered through the downpour.
Hundreds—thousands—of Poxwalkers tore across the wasteland.
Above, swarms of Rotting Carrion Birds circled hungrily, appearing as if conjured from the storm itself.
Every predator of Barbarus had seemingly gathered here.
The scene was apocalyptic.
Death had descended upon Barbarus' storm.
Any ordinary human would have collapsed in terror.
But—
Gunfire shattered the storm.
Muzzle flashes carved through the night.
The Death Guard raised their scythes and bolters without hesitation—ready to meet the howling beasts.
Blood and rain mixed in the mud.
The Death Guard warriors Hades and Mortarion brought this time were all Barbarus-born.
Long ago, on the day they swore their oaths to Mortarion, they had already begun their battle against Barbarus' monstrous fauna.
Back then, all they had were makeshift gas masks and suicidal tactics—
One chosen warrior would draw the enemy's focus, while the others fought desperately to survive.
Every battle was a final farewell.
But now—
The beasts' corpses were reduced to shredded flesh beneath their scythes.
Every bullet found its mark.
Beasts that once required an entire rebel squad to slay were now trivial prey to their enhanced bodies, power armor, and bolters.
They had become Barbarus' new Reapers.
Hades sighed, almost resigned to what he was witnessing—
The frontline squads would retreat to the inner circle after a period of combat.
Not to rest—
But to let their eager comrades take their place in the slaughter.
A reckless habit, but tactically sound for maintaining the marching formation and pace.
He let it slide.
<+>
Mortarion's voice broke through the storm.
"So... it was always tied to Barbarus, wasn't it?"
"I believe so."
Hades answered quietly.
Barbarus had long been entangled in Nurgle's grasp—
It was the destined stage.
The starting point of an inevitable fate.
And now—
Fate was trying to turn the wheel back to its intended course.
<+>
The army pressed forward into the mountains.
The rain thickened—now laden with a dense, toxic mist.
But their power armor systems filtered out the poison with ease.
The path ahead narrowed and steepened.
A large force would struggle to advance.
Thus—
Hades and Mortarion made a decision:
They stationed two hundred Death Guard warriors and five Pariahs at the mountain pass—to hold the line against any beasts attempting to climb the slopes.
Hades and Mortarion pressed onward, leading the remaining forces up the mountain.
At the vanguard, draped in shrouds of death, they marched ahead—the relentless downpour washing over them.
The landscape, both familiar and distant, stirred old memories.
This was the very place where they had once been bombarded.
Hades instinctively tensed, expecting danger—
But this time, it came from beneath.
<+>
The rain-soaked earth had turned soft and treacherous.
Like a hungry mire, it clutched at their boots, dragging them down.
Even the smooth, reinforced soles of their power armor found no purchase in the sinking mud.
A lightning bolt cleaved the sky.
And from the swamp, the Xenos Overlords emerged.
Some were bloated, others skeletal, their twisted forms rising from the murk.
Pale, lifeless eyes glowed with psionic energy—
Their minds, however, were not their own.
Hades' gaze sharpened.
Most of Barbarus' Xenos Overlords were here—
But strangely, Necare was not among them.
"So, in the end, they were nothing more than puppets themselves."
Mortarion's voice, filtered through his respirator, was calm.
The same Xenos Overlords who once tormented the people of Barbarus, who stitched puppets from human corpses, had themselves been enslaved by a greater will.
He raised his scythe, Silence.
The chainsaw teeth roared to life, and the chains at its base rattled ominously.
"We have killed them all once. We'll just kill them again."
The Death Guard opened fire.
Psionic energy rippled between the Xenos Overlords.
While Mortarion relied on sheer memory to cut down the strongest, Hades focused on command—
He coordinated the squads protecting the Pariahs, ensuring they disrupted the Xenoss' psionic waves.
The Pariahs were scattered among the enemy ranks, their very presence quelling the Warp's fury, reinforcing the barrier between the physical and immaterial worlds.
Wherever a Pariah stood, the psionic glow of a Xenos Overlord dimmed instantly.
The Death Guard warriors would seize that moment—
And execute the kill.
<+>
Hades' blade swept through the neck of a Xenos Overlord.
Its lifeless head spun through the air, landing with a wet thud, dark blood splattering the mud.
But even without a head, the Warp still seethed.
The psychic turbulence was intense.
Hades' helmet readouts flashed red warnings.
Some Pariahs, weaker in constitution, were beginning to collapse.
He frowned.
Pariahs were anti-Warp by nature, but enough pressure could crush them in reverse.
Yet—
The Death Guard held firm.
Despite fresh limbs and torsos crawling from the muck, their sheer firepower and numbers ensured they never lost ground.
"They're trying to delay us."
Mortarion's voice crackled through the comms, nearly drowned out by static.
He lowered his bolter, aiming at a corpse—
One that refused to stay dead.
Its flesh writhed, attempting to stitch itself back together.
BANG!
The xenos pistol, Lantern, fired a charged bolt, its blue-violet light cutting through the dark.
Hades followed suit, sweeping his power scythe.
The bisected creature finally ceased moving.
He took a moment to analyze the battlefield.
The number of rising corpses was decreasing.
The Xenos Overlords were thinning out.
But it would still take time to clear them all.
"Do we push forward?"
"Yes."
Leaving behind a force of Death Guard to hold the rear, Hades and Mortarion led their elite warriors further up the mountain.
This time—
No one fell behind.
Hades instinctively held his breath.
Thick, churning poison clouds swirled at the mountaintop, yet the torrential rain that had accompanied them ceased here.
The heavy storm clouds formed a gaping void, an unnatural hollow in the sky.
A shallow layer of calm rainwater pooled over the platform-like summit.
And there—
At the very spot where they had once battled Necare,
A bloated figure stood.
Vibrant, yet decayed colors bled across the dim light, shifting in unnatural hues.
A pair of massive, moth-like wings unfurled from Calas Typhon's back, their veins intricate, their membranes ghostly pale.
His swollen, corpse-like face was adorned with delicate, moss-like patterns, creeping in fractured symmetry across his skin.
There were no other enemies.
No hidden ambush.
Just him—
Hovering motionless, his toes barely touching the water's surface—
Smiling.
"I made it, Mortarion... I did it."
Calas Typhon muttered.
Perhaps to himself.
Perhaps to Mortarion.
Hades raised his melta gun without hesitation, ready to fire—
But Mortarion blocked him with a hand.
?!
"Fifteen seconds."
Hades took a deep breath, swallowing his rage.
He signaled for the Death Guard to spread out, taking advantageous firing positions around the perimeter.
He could give them fifteen seconds to have their philosophical debate.
No more.
Mortarion nodded.
"Calas... why?"
His voice cracked.
Why betray them?
Even now, as he stood face-to-face with Calas' corrupted form, some fragile hope in Mortarion's heart shattered completely.
Why?
Had Calas fallen to Chaos?
Had he willingly embraced the Warp's corruption?
The natural order had been broken.
A brother turned foe.
Why?
Mortarion still remembered the Calas Typhon who spoke his mind without hesitation.
When had he become this?
Calas smiled faintly.
"Weakness is the original sin."
He said.
"You were never truly weak... you never understood."
His answer was met with Hades' roaring gunfire.
Mortarion hesitated—
Then lunged.
Hades' bullets whizzed past, barely missing Mortarion as they blazed toward Calas.
CLANG!
Calas raised his scythe—
And blocked the Primarch's full-force strike!
Sickly yellow-green Warp lightning crackled across his blade.
Mortarion immediately disengaged, knowing Calas was using psionics.
A deadlock would be dangerous.
"We've all seen horrors beyond reckoning! Why would you still choose corruption?!"
Mortarion's voice was raw.
"There is no freedom in this world, Mortarion!"
Calas stared them down—
Watching them sink into the abyss, yet unaware of it themselves.
"War will consume us all in the end!"
To stand beside a tyrant who cares nothing for individuals—
Is to march toward destruction.
"Better to serve a merciful father... at least He will grant us peace at the end."
Too bad He wouldn't accept Hades.
He could only save some of them.
"Mortarion, I know you're not the kind of man who gets deceived by appearances!"
Surely, merciful Mortarion would understand him.
"Bullshit!"
Seeing Mortarion retreat, Hades, who had been supporting fire, immediately rushed forward, engaging Calas Typhon directly.
"If you're forced to be a dog, then stop barking!"
Mortarion glanced at Hades in disbelief.
Had he ever said something like that before?
But Hades wasn't thinking—he was fighting, relentlessly hammering at Calas' scythe defenses.
From the artificer backpack on Hades' back, a melta gun emerged, its barrel aimed directly at Calas' face—
But the pale-green psychic shield surrounding Calas absorbed the blast effortlessly.
Calas' bloated body, wrapped in sickly warp energy, might be invulnerable to most attacks—
But not against Hades' Black Domain!
If—
If only he could break through Calas' scythe defense first!
The corrupting blessing of Nurgle had strengthened Calas immensely.
Each clash sent shockwaves up Hades' arms, leaving them numb from the impact.
Realizing Hades' intent, Mortarion lunged in from the flank—
Water erupted!
Calas beat his wings, launching himself high into the air.
His moth-like wings shimmered muted yet iridescent, beating against the sky.
The swirling clouds of toxic gas converged around him, a storm of raw warp energy surging to life.
"It pains me that you never understand, Hades."
Calas gazed down, watching the tiny figure below.
"You're too short-sighted, Hades. Small-minded and crude."
"Whenever Mortarion and I pondered why we stand where we do, whenever we questioned the very essence of our thoughts—you were always the one who walked away."
Hades' teeth clenched.
Why?
Why was it always flying enemies?!
Gunfire erupted.
Calas effortlessly weaved through the Death Guard's suppressive fire.
"Short-sighted and ignorant. Clinging desperately to what's in front of you, too afraid to lift your gaze and see the grander truth."
Hades glanced at Mortarion—
The length of his scythe chain was not enough.
He looked back at Calas—
It was clear.
Calas was waiting.
Waiting for the storm to fully gather.
Opening a private comm channel, Hades spoke briefly to Mortarion.
The Primarch nodded.
Hades began backing away slowly.
Calas watched him, frowning slightly.
The storm and rain surged within his grasp.
Their time was running out.
Aside from Mortarion, the rest of them—
Calas would ensure they all perished.
Yet—
Mortarion stabbed his scythe, Silence, into the ground.
And the retreating Hades suddenly charged at him!
What—?
With crossed hands, Mortarion braced himself—
And then launched Hades skyward with a mighty push!
"You think I'm shallow?! The one who's short-sighted is you!"
Using the momentum, Hades soared towards Calas, his power sword, Obituary, swinging for the kill!
Calas hesitated—
Then chuckled softly.
"You're always so reckless."
With a simple twist, he sidestepped Hades' wild charge.
He watched as Hades began to fall, gravity pulling him down, still thrashing, still clawing for an attack.
Bullets from the Death Guard soared up—
Pointless.
"Is that so?"
A shadow loomed.
A massive, spinning blade cut through the storm—
Mortarion had thrown Silence.
Hades' figure had just blocked the scythe behind him!
Calas, who had been focusing entirely on Hades, was struck by the massive scythe. The gleaming blade tore deeply into his power armor, spilling his entrails.
Meanwhile, Hades, who had just descended, grabbed onto the chain that Mortarion had deliberately let loose from the end of the scythe's shaft. With a forceful yank, Hades abruptly halted his descent and directly pulled Calas down with him!
Typhon flapped his wings violently, trying to resist Hades' pull, but the Primarch's superior technique had wedged the scythe firmly between Calas Typhon's flesh and bones, making it impossible to escape.
The storm clouds that had just gathered began to disperse again, as if sensing the tide had turned. Beyond the mountains, the once torrential downpour thinned into a drizzle.
Under the force of gravity, they plummeted straight toward the ground.
Boom! Boom!
Water splashed apart.
Hades pinned Calas down, using the Black Domain to suppress him. He gripped his scythe, Obituary, ready to reap a life.
"Don't kill me."
A sudden flicker of clarity appeared in Calas' previously clouded eyes. He struggled, attempting to continue speaking—No, you can't kill me—but the bile rising in his throat choked his words.
A muffled whimper escaped.
Hades ignored him and swung the scythe—
Blood trickled down the power armor.
Hades took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress the raging fury within.
He turned his head, looking at Mortarion, who was gripping Obituary, stopping him from striking further.
"Don't tell me you're thinking of saving him."
"No,"
Mortarion said.
"I recognize this sorcery."
He pointed at the tiny patterns crawling across Calas Typhon's face.
"The host's death will open a rift to the Warp."
"Everything around him will be indiscriminately sucked into the chaos of the Warp's currents."
That was their true plan.
Hades hesitated, growing irritated as he pondered for a moment.
Then, he took a deep breath.
"Do you have another solution?"
Mortarion fell silent.
At the same time, Hades could feel Calas Typhon's psychic energy growing erratic—
Without hesitation, Hades reached out with his free left hand and clamped down on Calas' throat.
The Black Domain began to seep from Hades' hand. Sensing a soul, the dark energy naturally surged beyond its usual restraints.
Calas' soul began to tremble—Hades could feel him trying to escape.
A murky mix of vast green and smaller, untainted white fragments intertwined, forming the essence of Calas Typhon's soul.
A foul, blasphemous aura emanated from that dark green soul-flame.
Hades guided the Black Domain, carefully attempting to devour Calas' soul.
This was his first time actively consuming the soul of a "human," and the very thought unsettled him.
Calas' soul shrieked and struggled to flee, but the encroaching Black Domain soon surrounded it completely.
Sweat trickled down Hades' face—it was exhausting to control the Black Domain outside his body. He felt as if he had run a lap around the equator of Barbarus.
Before long, Calas fell silent, lying there on the verge of death.
Hades released his grip on Calas' throat, gazing at him in silence.
All traces of Nurgle had vanished—Calas looked like a corpse. Even if left alone, the wounds from Obituary would not let him live much longer.
Hades was certain that even if he killed Calas now, the sorcery would not activate.
His soul had been reduced to just a sliver—Hades had devoured all the tainted parts.
Could a person survive with most of their soul missing? Hades didn't know.
Mortarion pulled Hades up. The Primarch silently lifted Calas, while the two wings detached from Typhon's back.
"Prepare to descend the mountain."
Mortarion said.
Exhausted to the brink of collapse, Hades was in no mood to argue this time.
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind paying $5 each month to read the latest posted chapter, please go to my Patreon [1]
Latest Posted Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 160: Bargaining[2]
Link to the latest posted chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/my-life-as-death-126282689[3]
https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/my-life-as-death-126282689
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/my-life-as-death-126282689
[4] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl