Chapter 204: The Crowd Gathers
That was not a power meant for mortals.
Countless lives fell in the blink of an eye. On the blood-soaked ground, death spread like dense wheat in a field—everywhere, unavoidable.
It was not a power that could be comprehended. It was something only hinted at in scattered phrases buried deep within ancient tomes of the Warp. To those who had only glimpsed the calm surface of that otherworldly ocean, it was an undercurrent they'd never truly witness in their lifetimes.
It was the power of the Lord of the Underworld—the ruler of the waters of the River Styx.
And now, they had seen it. They had been terrified by it.
Even the most blasphemous and tainted psykers and sorcerers would use chants and frenzied movements visible and audible to men, praying for a response from their powers. They acted, and then power was granted—psychic energies visibly flared around them, signaling the incoming disaster.
But the Lord of the Underworld required none of that. He merely stood there, and with a single thought, life withered.
The name "Hades" once again began to circulate among the Death Guard. Initially, it had meant only a powerful warrior—a skilled Techmarine, a Barbarus-born brother close to the Primarch, and a fierce eater on the battlefield. But now, the meaning of that name returned to its original form. Among the Death Guard who liked to study in the archives, they uncovered the truth behind the ancient Terran word—
Hades—Lord of the Underworld.
The details of the Drune campaign involving Hades had long been hidden and encrypted, but the veterans who fought alongside him in that battle responded with incomprehensible silence and fear whenever it was mentioned. The title "The Death Guard's Lord of the Underworld" first came from their lips, and even the most taciturn Death Guards began to feel a mysterious aura in the hushed conversations within training halls.
Strictly speaking, the title was a little disrespectful, since the Legion Commander Mortarion himself was known as the "Reaper." Calling a mere warrior the "Lord of the Underworld" might have seemed excessive—but those who had lived through that campaign agreed the name was fitting.
"That's the Lord of the Underworld, the one who controls death—"
"Sorry to interrupt your training. I'm Hades."
Hades entered somewhat awkwardly, not entirely willing to disturb the warriors during practice. But among the Death Guard, the two most common gathering places were the training hall and the cafeteria—and he wasn't about to make a speech in the cafeteria. He still wanted to enjoy his meals there in peace.
Those who had been training paused in silence. The crowd instinctively formed a half-circle around him, all maintaining a deliberate distance.
Those who hadn't had the chance to observe him closely on the battlefield were now doing so—the so-called Lord of the Underworld. He wasn't wearing a helmet, and on his half-new, half-worn power armor hung a finely crafted backpack like those carried by master artisans.
Aside from the metallic half of his brain that marked him as the Lord of the Underworld, he did indeed still look like a man—even acted like one. But after what had happened, no one intended to treat him as one anymore.
The atmosphere was just a little bit tense. Hades, slow to catch on, finally realized it. He had the distinct feeling that this crowd might scatter at any moment. Thankfully, Branka had come in with him—hopefully enough to ease the tension.
"This is Hades from Zero Company. Most of you met him at Drune. Let's get familiar with each other again—from now on, Seventh Company will be operating with him most of the time."
Branka spoke, tapping on Hades's armor, prompting him to say a few words.
Hades glanced around the crowd.
He could feel it—the mix of fear, confusion, and curiosity all cloaked beneath a layer of respect.
They certainly respected and even liked the Hades they once knew. But that didn't stop them from fearing the Hades he had become—the Lord of the Underworld.
People instinctively fear overwhelming power—and when the principles behind that power are beyond their understanding, or worse, beyond their ability to counter, that fear reaches its peak.
Even Space Marines, with their formidable mental fortitude, are not immune to such shadows creeping at the edges of their minds.
Hades sighed and spoke solemnly,
"I realized that after the last battle, many of you were left confused and uncertain about my abilities. That's my fault—I failed to help you understand what the Black Domain really is."
"I apologize for that. I can explain my abilities to you now, though for certain reasons I won't disclose everything. What I can assure you is this—the Primarch, Garro, and the upper ranks of the Death Guard are fully aware of my powers and have already prepared appropriate response protocols."
"To put it simply, my ability is a form of anti-psyker power. You can think of me as the counterpart to a powerful psyker—an untouchable in direct opposition. My power functions more like suppression and eradication of psychic energy. That's why, on the recent battlefield against psychic-based enemies, my abilities were so effective, leading to the outcome you witnessed."
The crowd remained still, silent as they processed Hades' words.
Branka stepped forward, coming right up beside Hades and clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"That's about the size of it. Any of you got questions? This guy's been busy as hell—if I hadn't dragged him out of the Armoury, he'd still be elbows deep in machine oil with the other Techmarines."
Hades smiled appreciatively at Branka.
"True, I've been spending a lot of time in the Armoury, but I still come to training when I can—just been a bit swamped lately."
"So, does anyone want to ask anything? Or maybe you'd like to feel my ability firsthand? Don't worry—I have good control over it."
Hades tried to keep his smile warm and friendly.
At his invitation, a ripple ran through the veterans, and finally, a heavily scarred man stepped forward.
"Captain Hades… I witnessed your performance on the battlefield clearly. Those people…"
He struggled to find the words.
"They were fragile mortals, yes, but they didn't even get a chance to resist. Not one within the affected area survived. Isn't that...?"
Hades blinked, then replied,
"Well, technically, powerful psykers can do the same—it's just that we rarely encounter psykers that strong in normal battles."
"Actually, everyone has some degree of psychic potential."
"My ability targets that part—the latent psychic energy. If someone shoots a bullet at me, I still have to dodge like anyone else."
"Ah, whatever, maybe it's easier to just show you."
Hades strode forward and grabbed the veteran's hand. The man looked like he wanted to bolt, but forced himself to stay put.
Hades looked at him with a bright smile. "Ready?"
The veteran looked like he was trying to pass a kidney stone, but gave a reluctant nod.
'Man, don't look so terrified,' Hades grumbled to himself internally. Still, he was exceedingly careful as he let the faintest wisp of his usually retracted Black Domain brush against the veteran. It was highly concentrated, yes—but such a small amount wouldn't be fatal. At most, it would nibble at the faint psychic glow of the man's soul, a tiny bit he'd recover from in a few days.
But what Hades didn't expect was that the moment his Black Domain made contact, the veteran dropped to his knees—literally dropped, in an instant.
The veteran only felt darkness overtake his vision. His limbs went limp, as though disconnected from his consciousness. By the time he opened his eyes again, he saw Hades looking at him with genuine concern.
"Uh, sorry—you alright? You blacked out for about five milliseconds."
Hades had caught him just in time, preventing him from fully collapsing to the ground. The veteran gasped for breath, slowly regaining control of his body.
"I'm fine."
A flash of revulsion passed through him—and when he looked at Hades again, what he felt was a strange mixture of familiarity and distance.
Was this what surviving death felt like?
Only the lingering sense of helplessness remained, slowly fading from his body.
"It was a strange sensation… Not what I expected."
He spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "If it's just this level of intensity, and I had some mental preparation beforehand, I think… I could retain control of my body for a brief moment before passing out."
"Really? I didn't know that. I mean, I can't exactly experience my own Black Domain." Hades smiled and patted him. "You feeling okay now?"
The veteran nodded, and Hades let go of him.
"Anyone else want to give it a try?"
Realizing that the experience wasn't fatal, the crowd grew visibly interested. Hades smiled and gave a welcoming nod.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Why is he in the medical room again?"
Mortarion stood before his alchemical workstation, the deep-hued chemicals dripping slowly through a distillation device.
"He exerted himself demonstrating his anti-psyker field to Seventh Company," came the reply. "The Apothecary's diagnosis was overexertion."
Activating the Black Domain was simple. The difficult part was controlling it with fine precision. Hades had pushed himself to his limits to make sure no one got hurt.
Mortarion frowned. "Don't tell me he demonstrated it on each of them one by one."
Garro was silent for a moment. "Actually, at several warriors' request, Hades gave multiple personalized demonstrations."
Mortarion said nothing. The Reaper simply stared at the pitch-black potion, its surface trailing tear-like streaks along the glass wall.
"He's always been like that."
After a long pause, the Reaper muttered to himself, "If not for that side of him… people would fear him far more than they already do."
"Best he keeps projecting that persona. Still, I don't understand why he insists on caring about how others see him."
Perhaps that was simply the kind of person Hades was.
Mortarion decided not to dwell on it.
Perhaps, if there ever came a day when Hades no longer cared about such things… That would be when Mortarion truly felt fear and unease.
"Done."
Mortarion carefully picked up a small vial. Inside it, a thick black liquid lay still—like an abyss, absorbing every trace of light.
"My lord, what is that?"
"Just one drop is enough," Mortarion murmured. "Touch, inhale, or ingest—it doesn't matter."
"The subject will immediately fall unconscious. All physiological activity will freeze in that moment."
"And for him…"
"The duration of the toxin will feel almost eternal."
Mortarion wordlessly divided the liquid into two vials, handing one to Garro.
"Give this to Hades. Let him keep it on him."
"If he asks what it is, just tell him its name—Deliverance."
"As for this half," Mortarion lifted the remaining vial, holding it up to eye level. The violent substance inside sat quiet and docile.
"I'll continue refining and improving it. And its name…will be Trust."
<+>
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