"This is not good..."
Hades muttered to himself. After handling matters at the gene-seed vault, he now stood atop the old stronghold's watchtower, gazing out toward the distant mountains. The sky was a murky yellow-black, like a solid wall of storm clouds pressing down upon the land.
From time to time, small shapes flitted into the dense clouds—Barbarus' strange native creatures.
Rolling thunder rumbled across the horizon, and flashes of light gathered at the highest peaks.
After assessing the distant terrain, Hades turned and leapt from the watchtower. Below, four hundred Death Guard warriors stood in rigid formation before their Primarch, awaiting further orders.
But Mortarion was not focused on his warriors.
Instead, he was staring pensively at three small figures before him—
An elderly woman with silver-white hair and her two grandchildren.
The woman was Laysa.
Hades remembered her as the petite, frail younger sister of Herila. But now, she was old and wise, her body bearing the permanent scars of Barbarus' toxic environment. Even with Imperial medical advancements, the people of Barbarus aged rapidly, their lifespan growing longer, yet their bodies weathering even faster.
Hades walked forward, crouching as carefully and gently as he could, staring into Laysa's familiar eyes.
For a moment, he wanted to call her "Grandma"—but then, he remembered:
He was far older than her.
"Laysa… Your granddaughter, little Herila, saw Calas Typhon heading toward the Necare Mountains?"
Laysa nodded.
The little girl standing beside her nodded as well.
She glanced up at Hades with deep brown eyes, then quickly looked away, her messy black hair tumbling over her shoulders.
The people of Barbarus named their children after those they respected—
This little girl had inherited Herila's name.
And more than that—she was a Pariah.
She was immune to Hades' Black Domain.
The realization made Hades almost laugh. But he swallowed the bitter smile before it could form.
"Elder Sister was following that man closely. She would never mistake him for someone else."
A crisp voice interrupted.
It was little Herila's twin brother—Had.
His short, curly brown hair framed a pair of dark eyes, staring at Hades without fear.
But the most surprising fact was—
Had was a psyker.
Psykers on Barbarus were always doomed.
The planet's unique warp-tainted atmosphere twisted psykers into abominations, their power mutating them into horrors like the Xenos Overlords.
Any child displaying even a trace of psychic ability was killed immediately by their village.
Perhaps the only known exception had been Calas Typhon. But Typhon was part Xenos, born of both human and Xenos blood—so the usual rules might not apply to him.
So then…
Hades had already noticed—
Mortarion had been staring at the boy for a long time.
The Primarch's hand rested on the grip of his pistol, Lantern.
"This child—who is he?"
Hades asked, though he knew he should already be chasing Calas Typhon.
Laysa smiled.
"This is Had. I had hoped to send him off-world to the Halo Stars. Perhaps that way, he could survive."
"Don't kill my brother."
Little Herila suddenly spoke.
"I've been with him this whole time. He won't lose control."
Hades blinked in surprise.
Behind him—
So did Mortarion.
Using a Pariah to suppress the growth of a psyker, thereby avoiding the mutation process that turns Barbarus psykers into abominations?
A strange coincidence.
Hades turned his head and gestured to a Deathshroud Terminator. The warrior stepped forward.
"Watch over them."
Hades spoke over a private communication channel.
He straightened up and motioned for Laysa and her grandchildren to head back, expressing his gratitude for their information.
Laysa smiled warmly at Hades.
"Herila's old field—the one she used to sleep in—has yielded its twenty-sixth harvest of white corn this year. You should go visit her sometime."
Hades paused for a moment.
Then, seamlessly, he resumed watching them leave.
Turning back, he prepared to discuss the next steps.
Mortarion glanced at Hades but said nothing.
He still remembered the sight of Hades standing before that grave.
<+>
Hades took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus.
The situation at hand is pretty much like this:
Calas Typhon is heading alone toward the former Overlord Necare's territory.
He did not bring any troops.
The Death Guard forces that accompanied him for recruitment have already been detained.
They claimed Calas suddenly left without warning.
What Hades wasn't sure about—
Would the apothecary, Laton, whom the Magos Biologis encountered, also appear?
Even if he did—that would only make two Death Guard.
The balance of power was heavily in Hades' favor.
And Barbarus' toxic atmosphere, once a deadly advantage, had long been neutralized by the closed-cycle filtration of Astartes power armor.
The real danger was still Nurgle's sorcery.
But Hades had prepared for that too.
He had specifically brought ten male Pariahs, chosen from those Malcador had assigned to him.
Currently, Malcador had only given the Death Guard fifty Pariahs—but their quality varied drastically.
Hades hadn't personally assessed them yet, but the Grave Wardens' reports suggested:
Malcador never guaranteed their quality.
The Death Guard had done little to train them—aside from basic physical exercises under the Grave Wardens' supervision.
So, Hades selected the ten weakest among them.
They were unsuited for frontline combat, but perfect for suppressing warp activity in an emergency.
Each Pariah wore basic Mechanicum-provided armor—equipped with a life-support system, but useless for battle.
Each Pariah was guarded by three Death Guard warriors.
If they encountered psychic attacks, they would serve their purpose—acting as anchors to still the warp's waves.
A distant thunderclap shook Hades from his thoughts.
He turned to Mortarion.
"Shall we move out now?"
The thick storm clouds made it impossible for Stormbirds or other aircraft to enter the region.
Barbarus' steep terrain was unsuitable for deploying heavy armored vehicles.
The Halo-ring orbiting Barbarus was ready to initiate a bombardment.
Still, they needed to assess the situation firsthand.
If things turned too strange, they would immediately withdraw—and begin the strike.
But that dense, toxic fog...
Hades and Mortarion both knew—
Until they set foot in that land—
It would never disperse.
<+>
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