Chapter 126: Kidnapping a Child
Hades stood in an endless field, the low white corn of Barbarus rustling softly beside him.
The rain had just cleared, and the dim Barbarus star hung high in the sky.
At this moment, the sky displayed a healthy yellow-white hue, with a faint acidic scent lingering in the air—evidence of the recent rainfall.
He gazed into the distance, where the vast, undulating fields led his sight toward the faintly visible mountain ridges.
Hades blinked.
Calas Typhon had survived in the end, though his current condition was as good as dead.
Typhon now lay barely breathing in the Death Guard's Medical Room, guarded by a force composed of countless Death Guard warriors and Untouchables.
Whether he would ever wake up remained unknown.
Mortarion sat despondently on a waiting chair outside the Medical Room. Hades had briefly spoken with him and, after confirming that Mortarion was simply in low spirits, chose to leave him alone for the time being.
Back when they were still on Barbarus, Mortarion had spent more time with Calas than with Hades, who had chosen to be by himself because of his Untouchable constitution.
The event that truly solidified Hades' influence in Mortarion's heart was their mission to slay Necare.
And after having his soul devoured by Hades, Calas was completely freed from Nurgle's grasp.
Born as a hybrid of xenos and human, his soul had always been inherently bound to the entities of the Warp.
But now, Hades had directly swallowed most of his soul into the Black Domain, leaving only a small portion intact—the part that belonged to his humanity.
Those tiny, shimmering fragments of pure white soul were perhaps the final gift left to Calas by his mother.
That day, after they descended the mountain, they received a report that the Death Guard forces at the foot of the mountain had been attacked. No Space Marines had perished, but the accompanying Untouchables—
—had all been annihilated.
According to Morarg's report, someone had been performing some kind of sorcery near the foot of the mountain, using the wild beasts of Barbarus as part of the ritual, concealed by the night and heavy rain.
Despite these conditions, the Death Guard scouts had still managed to spot the individual—he was clad in moss-green power armor, though its markings had long been worn away.
As the commander of the mountain's defenses, Morarg made a swift decision. He ordered the squad accompanied by the Untouchables to attack immediately while the other Death Guard squads broke through the surge of beasts to escort them forward.
Yet, without exception, every Untouchable who approached the area collapsed, vomiting blood and dying instantly. The enemy, taking advantage of the overwhelming beast horde, managed to escape.
A later analysis of the incident suggested that the deaths of the Untouchables had, in fact, disrupted a teleportation ritual.
The ritual had been drawn in moss, clinging tightly to the rain-slick earth. A withered boxwood tree had burst forth from the abdomen of a massive, pale corpse known as the "Pale Laugher."
According to the Death Guard who had led the assault, as he escorted the Untouchables toward the site, the boxwood tree had been in full bloom. He had personally witnessed a bloated, translucent green hand emerge from within the clusters of white flowers.
Upon seeing this, the strike team used the energy shockwave from the Untouchables' deaths to forcefully disrupt the tree with heavy firepower. They attempted to kill the enemy, but were soon overwhelmed by the swarm of wild beasts and barely managed to escape.
Hades let out a sigh.
That person was most likely the apothecary Laton, the one the Magos Biologis had mentioned.
Subsequent investigations showed that Laton had probably come into contact with the Plague Marines' infection source around the time of the Librarium fire incident.
The Death Guard had immediately issued a capture order, but unfortunately, a psyker Space Marine could teleport anywhere using the Warp—who knew where he had gone?
So far, the search across the Barbarus system had yielded no trace of him.
Another round of Death Guard internal screening would be necessary.
Hades sighed again.
Recruitment on Barbarus, gene-seed issues, wrapping up and rebuilding Galaspar, infrastructure development on Barbarus, Legion organization, Untouchable training, Mortarion sulking and refusing to work, Death Guard screenings, the early stages of anti-psyker technology, finding a reliable Forge World for the Death Guard, tax exemption reports, bureaucratic disputes with Imperial institutions...
Hades' head was spinning.
In short: construction, productivity development, and Warp prevention.
The good news was that, for now, the barrier between the Warp and the material universe was still relatively stable. Even on Barbarus—clearly marked by Nurgle's influence—it was still difficult to summon a Greater Daemon directly from Nurgle's Garden.
They could only use the planet's naturally psychic-sensitive creatures as conduits for summoning.
Otherwise, Hades and his forces wouldn't just be facing resurrected xenos lords and a corrupted Calas Typhon.
The psychic purge of Barbarus needed to be scheduled soon—who knew if Nurgle would target the Death Guard's homeworld again?
So many things to deal with... Hades almost wanted to just give up.
So he slipped away—no, ahem—so he volunteered to scout for new recruits in the villages of Barbarus.
There was still time.
His thoughts carried him slowly to a familiar field.
The old graveyard—how tall the corn had grown.
Hades stared blankly at the corn plants, which, compared to his current height, looked no taller than wheat.
Time had long since washed away the sorrow, leaving only a faint nostalgia.
This kind of thing would only happen more and more.
Time flew. He still felt like the same traveler who had first arrived on Barbarus—crying, screaming, dreaming of returning to the real Earth.
Back then, just staying alive had felt like a struggle—choking on toxic fumes, barely surviving, working the fields, his hands cracked and raw from the rough wooden scythe, the infected cuts turning an unhealthy red under the poisonous air.
At the time, all he wanted was to join the Death Guard and slack off. But now…
Hades found it both funny and exasperating to realize that if he really slacked off, there wouldn't be many people left to do the work.
Had he… overachieved his original goal?
A breeze swept past. Hades removed his helmet. The once-suffocating toxic air was now powerless against his modified respiratory system, instead filling him with a familiar sense of home.
The corn rustled, growing steadily under the dim Barbarus daylight, day after day, year after year.
A soft rustling sound broke the silence. Hades turned around and saw two children carrying farming tools, staring at him curiously from the edge of the field.
It was little Herila and Had.
Not far away, the Death Guard warrior assigned to watch over them saluted Hades.
Hades had only ordered him to follow the children—it was both protection and surveillance.
Hades smiled at the two kids and, at the same time, sent a message over the comms for the Death Guard to regroup with the recruitment team in the village.
Although, to be honest, the so-called recruitment assessment was more of a formality—once they arrived at the village, the Space Marine quietly split up and went back to visit their families.
Little Herila tugged her younger brother along as she approached.
Hades noticed their gas masks were far more advanced than the ones he had used in the past.
The Imperium had indeed brought changes. If not for the Mechanicum's failure to fully grasp Barbarus' unique biosphere, the planet would have already undergone extensive modifications.
The little girl spoke up in a bright, clear voice.
"Sir, my grandma says I'm a lot like you. Is that true?"
She hesitated, then asked softly—
"Will people hate my brother too?"
Hades was momentarily speechless.
He looked down at the tiny girl, barely reaching his knees, and crouched to meet her eyes.
The villagers of Laysa village indeed had no concept of Untouchables, but their feelings toward them remained unchanged.
Hades patiently spoke, "Yes, I was once disliked by others too."
"It's because of our nature. We are Untouchables, born with a presence that harms beings with souls."
Hades hesitated for a moment before continuing,
"But not everyone hates us. A strong will can overcome the aversion to our kind."
"I know,"
Little Herila responded, raising her brother's hand high in the air while he shrank behind her.
"Had always plays with me."
Compared to Herila, Had was noticeably thinner and looked more listless.
That was likely the price of prolonged exposure to an Untouchable.
And he was a psyker on top of that.
Hades sighed softly.
He extended his hand, removing the gauntlet of his power armor, and gestured for the children to place their hands on his.
Herila's eyes darted about playfully before she exaggeratedly pressed both her own and her brother's hands onto his palm.
Hades let the Black Domain spread over his skin.
Had flinched violently, as if burned, and immediately hid entirely behind his sister.
Herila turned to look at him in confusion.
Ignoring their whispered conversation, Hades sighed internally.
Had's soul flame was already extremely weak. Though it shone brighter than an ordinary person's, it flickered unsteadily.
These two couldn't stay together—if they did, Herila would eventually kill Had without even realizing it.
Hades sighed once more.
He glanced at Herila's small hand, still resting on his.
Even after making contact with the Black Domain, she showed no discomfort.
Untouchables did not repel each other.
However, Herila's anti-psyker field seemed very weak...
Though in truth, it was simply that Hades' Black Domain was far too strong.
'If this child ever realized that she had been unknowingly killing her own brother…'
Hades blinked and gestured for Herila to withdraw her hand.
"You are an Untouchable, Herila. And your brother… is a psyker."
"A psyker? You mean a monster that practices sorcery?"
Herila immediately pulled her brother back a few steps, eyeing Hades warily.
"My brother isn't like that! He doesn't use sorcery."
Hades sighed. He really wasn't good at talking to children.
But Had, who was hiding behind his sister, finally spoke up,
"Sis… maybe it's true."
He muttered.
That man from before had always looked at him like he was prey...
Then there were the years of discrimination from the villagers, and the piercing gaze of the adults who recently constantly followed them...
But the good news was that the tallest man—the one before them now—had never looked at his sister with hostility.
That was rare.
Most people instinctively hated Herila.
Perhaps it was because the man before him had the same nature as his sister, but clearly at a much higher level—he could even command others.
His sister could still be saved.
Unlike the optimistic Herila, Had—who had been tormented since birth by both the psychic environment of Barbarus and his sister's null field—had long realized the tragedy they were destined for.
They were both doomed to die, to perish under the villagers' discriminatory gazes.
After giving birth to their sickly children, their parents had abandoned them to seek a better life in the orbital ring.
They had been raised by Granny Laysa, but even her respected status in the settlement could not change their fate.
But now!
Now he could make this man take his sister away.
Surely, this man knew how to stop people from instinctively hating her.
But how could he convince this man to help them?
Had knew that the tallest man, the one who looked like the Grim Reaper, had wanted to kill him.
It had been this man who subtly blocked his line of sight back then.
Maybe this man was a good person—like his sister.
But to Had, as a psyker, Hades—an Untouchable—radiated an even stronger presence of a higher-tier predator.
"I'll go with you. You can…"
Had whispered, feeling like he was about to cry.
You can kill him.
He wouldn't run or make trouble for them.
His life—the life of a sorcerous monster—in exchange for his sister's.
Hades sighed.
Why was this kid suddenly on the verge of tears? Did his Black Domain burn him too much just now?
He had deliberately kept it at the weakest level.
If that was enough to make Had react like this, then what the hell had he done to Calas Typhon when he cranked it to the maximum?
Scratching his head, Hades decided to coax them along first and bring them into the Death Guard.
Herila could be placed with the Sister of Silences—though ideally, she'd be accepted into the Death Guard's Untouchable division.
As for Had, if he was confirmed to be non-threatening, he would be assigned to the Undertakers.
Currently, the Death Guard was struggling with recruitment for its Undertakers, as the harsh environment of Barbarus produced very few natural psykers.
Most of the wild psykers born on Barbarus ended up driven mad by its corruption over time.
But if removed from that environment early enough… there was still hope.
After all, not every psyker from Barbarus had a fate as twisted as Calas Typhon's.
Hades cleared his throat and tried to sound as gentle as possible.
"Had, are you saying you're willing to come with me?"
Had nodded, his eyes red.
"Alright,"
Hades then turned to Herila.
"And you? Are you willing to join my legion?"
Herila looked at her brother, then back at Hades, clearly confused as to why Had had suddenly made such a request.
To be fair, Hades himself couldn't quite figure out Had's train of thought either.
But if Had had actually voiced his reasoning, both Hades and Herila would have been horrified.
"If my brother says we should go, then I'll go too!"
"But I need to tell Granny Laysa first."
"Alright, alright, go ahead."
Hades watched helplessly as the two children grabbed their farming tools and bounced away happily.
No matter what these two wished for, their very nature had already decided that their futures would be tied to something far greater—a battlefield that stretched beyond their comprehension.
Hades stood up and dusted off his hands.
At that moment, Herila and Had still didn't realize that, from this point forward, they would face challenges far worse than life and death.
The roar of war would echo through the rest of their lives.
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