Chapter 242: This Is Science
Hades stared at the experiment report in deep thought, not realizing that he was now the only one still standing in the entire area.
Behind him sat the Lantern Bearer, Ugo, looking utterly dead inside. Judging by his expression, maintaining spells near Hades was extremely taxing, draining both his stamina and will.
Next to him sat Hade, who looked equally miserable—after all, he had been helping Ugo connect to the Warp, and that wasn't exactly a pleasant experience either.
In front of Hades, beyond the observation window, the two faithful lay sprawled out on the floor without a shred of dignity left in their posture, utterly spent.
Apparently, praying to Hades was exhausting work. In fact, Hades suspected that both Margo and Korklan were on the verge of passing out.
The conclusion was obvious, Hades thought with ease—this had saved him a lot of time and effort.
From current observations, it seemed that control-type psychic spells could indeed be cleansed or weakened through prayer.
For the simplest spells, prayer alone was enough. But if the psyker's spell was more intricate, the level of prayer would have to be deeper as well.
In other words, the believer had to be more devout.
But too much devotion wasn't necessarily a good thing either.
If you compared everyone's Warp projection to a flame, then a psyker's control would be like adding a smudge of alien color to that flame.
Praying meant casting a part of your flame into Hades's Black Domain.
The stronger the psychic sorcery, the more deeply the flame was tainted. To cleanse it, you had to shave off more of your own flame.
But if you shaved off too much, it would cause irreversible damage to your soul's flame.
So in essence, removing a debuff meant the believer allowed Hades to consume a portion of their flame—the portion that happened to be tainted by psychic corruption.
Casual mentions of Hades, muttered with passing emotion—weren't nearly enough to fully dispel a debuff.
And if the believer happened to be under a positive buff from a psyker, prayer would erase that as well.
Hades pondered.
He could only say it was useful, but not that useful.
First, prayer was inherently harmful to the soul. Second, its effectiveness was tied to the depth of devotion—meaning it wasn't the kind of thing you could just chant like a slogan and expect good results.
Chanting it like a slogan only ended up making yourself miserable.
Praying could remove a debuff, yes, but afterwards the person would hardly be in fighting condition—unless their soul's flame was particularly vigorous, their recovery strong, or their willpower ironclad.
Hades felt a trace of disappointment, but more relief—this meant that apart from those two fanatically unhinged believers, most others weren't likely to develop a burning passion for him and his Black Domain.
As for how to deal with those two fanatics…
Hades decided to confine Korklan and Jin in the Blackstone Laboratory area, make them work, and stop letting them interact with other gearheads.
As for Margo, Hades would send her back to the Hadeshound unit, give her a set deadline, and have her drag out all the other lunatics in the crew. Then he would dump them into Zero Company to keep them isolated from normal people.
Hades still held tight control over Zero Company. Compared to those who knew nothing of the Black Domain and saw it only as a divine miracle, the Blanks adapted far better to it.
And the presence of the Grave Warden kept Zero Company's mental defenses high.
Of course, Hades would also make sure these people didn't start spouting nonsense or going into hysterics—
The door suddenly slammed open, and a gray cloak, riding on a gust of wind, strode in.
"Hades, you've been gone from your office for fourteen hours. The Rust Magos are already starting to act crazy. You could easily just go to the—"
There was only one person who could enter this area without notifying Hades—Mortarion, Primarch of the Death Guard.
Hades turned to see Mortarion staring silently at the people in the room.
Ugo and Hade tried to stand to salute, but in their state of psychic exhaustion, both looked like they were about to topple over.
Mortarion silently glanced once more at the two people collapsed on the floor in the interrogation room, then at Hades—whose expression was the very picture of I don't know anything about this.
The Primarch raised an eyebrow.
"…?"
. . . . . . . . . . .. . . .
"So, that's how it is."
Hades gave a brief explanation of the situation. In an Imperium that upheld the Imperial Truth, religion was supposed to be a matter of concern.
Mortarion, however, wore an expression that clearly said, That's it?
"That reason does not explain your being away from your post for sixteen hours."
With a casual remark, the Primarch brushed aside Hades's words, shutting the conversation down entirely.
In truth, while the war on Rust had ended, the real work had only just begun—battle reviews, material audits, official reports, not to mention coordination with the Mechanicum and the First Legion.
Hades knew his absence meant dumping the front-line workload on the other administrators—
—but that wasn't the point!
"This violates the Imperial Truth! Unauthorized religious activity—one of these days I might just be—"
"If he didn't allow it, you would've been executed back on Mint."
"?!"
Ignoring Hades's reaction, Mortarion pulled out his command slate, began assigning tasks to him, and continued speaking.
"He doesn't care about such things."
"When he allowed his own remembrancers and chroniclers to call the Legions 'demigods,' he had already tacitly accepted these little bits of foolery."
"It's just a rule kept for appearances. Until you touch the real bottom line, no one cares."
"There will always be those born with a craving for authority and dominion. Even if they're forbidden from saying 'god,' they'll find another title to use instead."
"But wait—back on Mint, did you see the way those Magos behaved?!"
"They were merely ignorant believers."
Mortarion gave a short, derisive laugh.
"As long as you walk far enough in a certain path—far enough alone—they will deify you."
"Have you not seen those people who, upon seeing me, kneel and whisper, calling me the God of Death?""
In a sense, to such people, a Primarch was a god.
Every Legion had its share of such mortals. On worlds under Imperial rule, people often used 'holy' as a synonym for the Legions.
Son of God, demigod, angel—
"But I can respond to prayer."
"And you've already understood and explained all of it. It's just a property—fire is hot, stone is hard, and this is simply a property of your Black Domain as it manifests in the Warp."
"This is science, not witchcraft or theology. It can be understood, it can be explained—so what exactly are you worried about?"
"…?"
Well… that was true.
"…At the very least, I have to stop them from spreading it."
Better not let those lunatics go out and make a spectacle of themselves.
Hades always had this peculiar brand of caution that Mortarion could never quite fathom.
Among his own mortal retainers, there were also those who worshipped him as the God of Death—so what?
Beyond giving born slaves a false sense of protection under the strong, it meant absolutely nothing.
Yes, Mortarion knew that thought had power—but in his view, the thoughts of the weak could never stir great waves.
All the more so since the Death Guard had a dedicated Blank corps.
It wasn't as though some crazed Inquisitor would suddenly appear and, just because a few menials privately thought of a Primarch as a god, decide to have them all executed.
"Do as you like—provided you first fulfill your duties as a commander."
Mortarion, satisfied, dumped the workload on him.
The Primarch blinked, then glanced at the latest message—
An invitation to a banquet?
While Hades busied himself issuing orders to those two "believers," Mortarion silently opened the notice.
It appeared to be a victory celebration.
Several nearby Primarchs would attend—but, for some reason, it made a point of noting that Lion and Russ would not be present.
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