Chapter 182: Weapons of Loyalty
In Mint's specialized design factory, the lights blazed brightly. Countless servitors hauled unfinished weapons in and out of the production halls as the hiss and roar of plasma torches echoed throughout the chamber.
Several high-ranking Magos had been permitted to stay—albeit at a respectful distance from the core design sector—to observe Hades at work. Even though he had promised to teach them the techniques afterward, not one of them wanted to miss even the smallest detail. They muttered binharic prayers under their breath as their cybernetic eyes stared unblinking.
In the center of their vision, Hades moved with flowing precision, directing a cluster of mechanical arms to carry out his modifications. Around him, his Black Domain pulsed gently, shielding the space from any external interference. Though Hades himself was immune to the Warp's influence, it didn't hurt to add an extra layer of security.
As for the machine spirits, these components were still incomplete, and thus lacked full spiritual integration. Any trace psychic fluctuations could be erased by Hades's Black Domain, returning the area to total stillness.
Not all machines possessed a machine spirit. Such entities typically formed in older machines, especially those invested with strong emotional bonds from human users over long years of service.
At first, Hades's Black Domain had caused discomfort in some machine spirits, occasionally provoking backlash or resistance. But ever since the purge of Barbarus, he discovered something peculiar: his Black Domain could now erase machine spirits entirely.
He'd only realized this when he casually picked up a locally-manufactured Graia pattern firearm. A sharp, psychic scream rang in his mind—then vanished into utter silence.
Afterward, the Magos noticed that the weapon—previously chosen for its "exceptional soul and tuning"—now operated with exact baseline specs, just as described in the original blueprints. Not an iota above or below.
Hades slowly withdrew his hand.
'…Did I just accidentally kill a machine spirit?'
Since then, he'd run a few more tests using Graia's arsenal and drawn some conclusions.
Without machine spirits, mid-to-low-tier equipment ran exactly as designed. No more plasma guns that fired forever without overheating, or stubborn bolt rifles that refused to fire because a soldier hadn't polished them properly. It was pure, unembellished functionality.
Generally speaking, these lower-end machines rarely developed true spirits anyway.
But what about high-grade war machines?
Take the Knights and Titans, for instance—armored behemoths known for their deep bond with the pilots who steered them. The presence of a functioning machine spirit was almost a requirement.
Piloting one wasn't just mechanical—it involved the pilot's consciousness and soul diving deep into the machine's interface. Popular theory held that a Knight's spirit was either a fusion of many former pilots' minds, or one awakened by the will of the current pilot.
For such units, Hades had two hypotheses:
1. If the spirit were erased, the war machine would enter a default operational mode, behaving with baseline combat parameters—no better, no worse.
2. Alternatively, the war machine would break down—entirely or partially. After all, there were no known Knights or Titans operating without a machine spirit, suggesting the spirit played a direct, vital role in system function.
If the second theory was true… and Hades had to face such a machine in battle…
He glanced toward the corner of the vault, where a Knight suit stood still and silent.
Was it just his imagination, or had it flinched slightly when he looked at it?
'Hmm. The cost of experimentation is a bit high. Better not poke it… for now.'
Maybe he could test the theory using someone else's Knight or Titan.
'Wait—doesn't the Death Guard have a wrecked Knight stored somewhere?'
'Back on that Plague Planet, they took one down with stasis grenades, didn't they?'
But wasn't the pilot of that Knight a Blank—a psychic null?
And that Knight… it looked too primitive. Didn't really seem like it had a machine spirit to begin with.
'Can a Blank even pilot a Knight?'
Hades frowned slightly, deep in thought.
'I'll have to investigate that later.'
For now, he had just acquired an extensive amount of anti-psyker knowledge. His Black Domain had also evolved further. That meant it was time to resume development on Blackstone technology.
First, though, he needed to finish his negotiations with Mint, get the production lines running, and then return to his personal workshop to begin prototyping his next Blackstone designs.
As for mass production… Hades would love for Magos Korklan to whip up a proper manufacturing line for Blackstone tech.
But realistically?
Yeah, not likely.
Currently, Hades's grasp of Blackstone technology was still rudimentary—limited, for now, to the construction and deployment of blackstone towers. Worse, in situations where Hades wasn't personally operating them, even the most potent Nulls needed to sacrifice multiple lives just to activate a single tower.
And so far, Hades hadn't managed to locate any particularly powerful Blanks. Even among the vaunted Sisters of Silence, their anti-psyker fields—while useful—weren't strong enough to fully exploit Blackstone tech.
'Strong Blanks are ridiculously hard to find,' Hades thought, sighing softly as he resumed manually modifying weapons and armor components.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
One week later
Mortarion stood in silence, his glowing eyes scanning the rows of customized armor and weaponry laid out before him. Beside the towering Primarch, Hades made one final sweep, ticking through the checklist of upgrades.
Mortarion had been wholly absorbed in his own laboratory until now. The toxic crystals extracted from Barbarus's noxious atmosphere had provided fascinating material for experimentation. With just slight processing, they could produce vapors of vivid, unusual hues—each with its own lethal properties.
And the sheer volume of toxic sediment gathered from Barbarus's skies? Enough to keep the Death Guard supplied for generations.
Mortarion was pleased.
After developing his 51st variant of synthetic atmosphere, the Primarch had been called out of his lab by an authorization request from Hades.
"I've done some filtering," Hades said, gesturing to the equipment on display. "These will form the core of Graia's future logistical support for the Death Guard."
In addition to the official supplies from Mars and the Imperium, the Death Guard would now enjoy independent logistical support from Graia as well.
Once the inventory was finalized, Hades handed Mortarion a long, curling scroll—so long it touched the floor and kept unrolling.
"You're free to add more," he said, casually pointing behind him.
Mortarion turned, only to see an entire side chamber stacked floor-to-ceiling with more parchment scrolls.
"…"
He decided to just stick with the one in his hand.
The list was full of tanks and armor systems, along with stockpiles of ammunition and arms intended for mortal auxiliary forces. However, as he skimmed the list, Mortarion frowned.
"These weapon names… they aren't part of the official Imperial arsenal."
He looked back at Hades.
"And during our prior inspection of Graia's forges, I didn't see these models either."
He shifted his gaze toward the weapons Hades had just finished assembling.
"These must be the ones?"
Hades nodded, walking over to tap on the hull of one of the displayed tanks.
"They are, for now."
Although the full scope of military hardware ranged from capital ships to sidearms, Hades had chosen to focus Graia's production capacity primarily on armored units and guided weaponry. It was a logical decision—expecting a forge world specialized in armor fabrication to suddenly start mass-producing aircraft was a fool's errand.
For aerial units and more complex systems, they would still have to rely on Mars or the Imperium.
Hades could handcraft unique prototypes—but in a galaxy-consuming war, one-of-a-kind relics meant little.
"These are intended first for the mortal auxiliaries," he added.
Even in the manpower-heavy days of the Great Crusade, the mortal forces accompanying Astartes legions remained a vital support element.
While the Legionaries themselves were often deployed into zones of overwhelming intensity—where mortals would be vaporized within seconds—properly outfitting the mortal regiments with heavy vehicles could dramatically increase their battlefield utility, especially in coordinated operations with the Death Guard.
After all, the number of Astartes was inherently limited—constrained by both gene-seed production and strict genetic compatibility rates. No matter how many worlds one conquered, there was an upper cap on how many Legionaries a Chapter could field.
Just look at the Ultramarines.
By contrast, the mortal auxiliaries? They could be raised in the billions from a single hive world. With a slight increase in their armament and combat capacity, the exponential growth in manpower could produce qualitative shifts in military effectiveness.
Moreover, weapon and armor development for Astartes had already matured. The space for improvement was narrow.
But for the mortal forces?
There was still so much room to push them further.
"This is a modified variant of the Hellhound," Hades said, tapping a tank with an armored knuckle. "Or maybe a variation of the Bane Wolf—haven't really decided on the name yet."
He pointed toward the chassis. "It's been tuned for enhanced agility. Designed to weave through enemy heavy armor formations with ease. Dual heavy flamethrowers, replaceable high-capacity gas tanks, and we mounted a stripped-down version of the Manticore missile system on the flanks."
"We can load the tanks with the air of Barbarus, or whatever else the mission calls for. Depends on who we're up against."
Mortarion's eyes gleamed with visible approval.
He could already picture it—these heavy tanks storming enemy lines, a dense toxic haze rolling in behind them.
The Death Guard would thrive in such an environment, bolstered by gas and steel alike.
Let the enemy feel the love of Barbarus.
"…Then call it the Hadeshound," Mortarion said.
Hades nodded seriously, entirely missing the grim pun. He thought Mortarion was simply naming it after him—like any other inventor's namesake.
"Next, this one."
Hades picked up a launcher in one hand—what looked like an oversized rifle to him. In truth, the weapon was a rocket launcher, large enough that only a genetically enhanced Imperial Guardsman—or one with mechanical augmentation—could wield it effectively.
Despite its crude appearance, the weapon was cleverly engineered. Each rocket was guided, and the warheads were interchangeable—explosive, chemical, melta… all swappable depending on battlefield needs.
"I reverse-engineered the Manticore missiles from Graia's arsenals, stripped them down, and made this into a single-soldier version. That one's for auxiliaries. Over there is the Astartes version."
He pointed toward a far more intimidating version of the launcher—bulkier, heavier, fitted with redundant targeting nodes.
Its design took inspiration from Graia's existing grenade launcher systems, but with superior firepower and guidance.
Fitted with Graia's precise targeting systems, these rocket launchers filled a key tactical void—ground-level precision fire support. Especially vital when armored divisions were still en route or when the skies remained contested.
"These are all called Manticore Rocket Launchers," Hades added.
Mortarion examined one of the launchers up close. To his surprise, it wasn't especially complex. In fact, it was deliberately simple—easy to manufacture, easy to train with, and most importantly, easy to maintain in the field.
A refreshing change from over-engineered Mechanicus relics.
With the more conventional weapons now introduced, Hades bent down and began rummaging through a pile of loose equipment in the corner.
"…And then there's this one."
He held up a rifle that shimmered faintly with an unsettling green hue.
To the untrained eye, it looked like a Necron Gauss Flayer awkwardly shoved into an Imperial shell casing. An Aquila—the twin-headed eagle of the Imperium—had been affixed to the body in a clumsy fashion.
"—That one wasn't me," Hades said quickly. "The Graia Magos added that Aquila themselves."
Mortarion stared silently at the rifle in Hades' hands.
Hades looked away, coughing lightly.
"Ahem— This one's just a handy little rifle. We're calling it the Wraith Rifle. The internal reaction mechanism's a bit special, but aside from that, nothing too fancy."
He was obviously downplaying it.
Thanks to Trazyn's begrudging charity, they'd managed to reverse-engineer this piece from Necron tech. Though the cryptic collector had deliberately withheld and distorted key schematics—leaving them able to replicate only the most rudimentary electro-magnetic mechanisms—the result was still a game-changer.
A simplified, human-compatible version of the Gauss Flayer. It didn't overheat, had next to no recoil, and could, in theory, tear matter apart at the atomic level.
It ignored most conventional armor.
One shot didn't do the job?
Fire a second.
Back in the wars against the Necrons, even the Astartes had relied on high-speed evasive maneuvers to avoid these rifles—direct hits had been out of the question. No one tried to tank one of those beams.
Still, for Astartes, the weapon was a bit underwhelming. Plenty of bigger, nastier options already filled their arsenals.
But for the Imperial auxiliaries?
This was gold.
"The only downside," Hades muttered, "is the output. They take ages to produce, the materials are absurdly expensive, and certain assembly steps can't even be automated."
Typical of Necron design—overengineered, inflexible, and impossible to mass-produce without a stellar empire's worth of resources.
Hades clenched his teeth.
Trazyn did this on purpose.
Mortarion glanced between the weapon in Hades' hands and his own xeno-tech relics—The Lantern and Silence, both of dubious purity.
Then, he finally spoke.
"…This won't cause trouble?"
"Not at all," Hades replied with absolute confidence.
"I've already cleared this with Graia. Officially, these are weapons provided by Graia to the Death Guard. We don't know anything beyond that."
In truth, Graia's Mechanicus only understood how to assemble the rifles—not how they actually worked.
Hades had been cautious. All Necron-related manufacturing was restricted to Mint, the forge satellite orbiting Barbarus. Graia only handled more conventional armor and weapons—nothing that might raise too many eyebrows.
Mortarion gave a short nod.
"Fine."
<+>
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