Mortarion: The Traded Equipment is Really Useful

The highest peak in Barbarus is shrouded in poisonous gas year-round.

The gray castle stood atop the mountain peak, completely shrouded in thick, poisonous fog.

The Barbarus launched an attack on the sorcerous Overlord who had enslaved them; this was the final battle for liberation.

Mortarion held a scythe, with Kalas Typhon and other elite Warrior he named the Death Guard behind him.

Unlike previous offensive battles, this time all the militia were mobilized.

This was both because Mortarion needed all his strength to breach the last stronghold and because the militia no longer needed to defend their villages.

All the enemies are on this mountain peak.

An endless expanse of zombies emerged from behind gray rocks, from behind white trees, and from green poisonous gas.

Mortarion wore a specially designed respirator on his face; he knew his Xenos foster father, the Pale King Necare, was waiting for him on the mountaintop.

He fought his way to the mountaintop, which would consume a great deal of his strength.

Necare will only appear when he reaches the place where the fog is thickest, the place where the Overlord breathe the poison gas can exert their abilities the most, and also the place where he is the weakest.

But he was prepared; his mission had to be accomplished.

Mortarion gripped his scythe tightly, swung it, and sliced more than a dozen zombies in half at the waist.

His superhuman vision pierced through the horde of corpses, locking onto the pale-skinned sorcerer Overlord.

The Overlord raised his staff, a green aura spreading from him, and the zombie's unsteady steps suddenly became swift as he charged towards Mortarion.

Mortarion strode forward, his scythe flashing, and the zombies fell in droves.

He walked slowly and indifferently, his sickle tearing open the rotting body, the mangled limbs scattering like shrapnel.

Mortarion smashed through the line of zombies, rushed to the sorcerer's Overlord, and swiftly felled him.

Mortarion didn't shake his scythe, flicking away the grayish-white chunks of flesh and blood clinging to the blade. This was going to be a long battle, but he was resilient enough.

Mortarion swung his scythe relentlessly, the giant scythe drawing a broad arc as limbs fell like raindrops.

After an unknown amount of time, the gray fortress came into view.

Mortarion's eyes gleamed; his mission was nearing completion.

He stormed straight into the gray fortress, pulled out a Combat Nutrient Injection, and his exhausted body was once again filled with power.

His scythe swung with increasing speed, and wherever it passed, swathes of gray-white bodies fell.

As Mortarion stepped into the fortress, the memories lingered in the corners of his mind became clearer. He followed those memories, searching for Necare.

In his memory, his former Xenos foster father was most often associated with palaces and witchcraft laboratories.

"You've come." A deep, familiar voice echoed in Mortarion's ears; he could already smell the stench of witchcraft.

"Stop with those witchcraft tricks!" Mortarion looked around, trying to locate Necare by sound.

"There will be no escape, only revenge and punishment!"

Following the sound, Mortarion smashed through four walls before finally seeing that familiar, tall figure.

His body was as gray as his own, and he held a gleaming, unpleasant-looking staff.

My son, it's been a long time.

As he spoke, dark green smoke billowed from his mouth.

Mortarion's voice came through the respirator, "Die!"

He raised his scythe and charged at Necare.

The scythe struck the green Psionic Energy shield with a loud bang.

Necare's staff slammed into the ground, and green pus spread rapidly, engulfing Mortarion like tentacles, reaching for his former adopted son.

Mortarion's grey boots slammed heavily on the ground, and his scythe slashed down with lightning speed, shattering the venomous tentacles of the smoke.

The shockwaves and roars echoed, the walls collapsed, and a gray-white figure emerged from the gray fortress.

Poisonous gas billowed, and green Psychic Lightning streaked across the sky.

The two reduced the entire mountain to ruins.

Necare's head was buzzing. He raised his hand to block the scythe and exclaimed in surprise.

"My son, you are even more capable than I imagined."

Mortarion did not reply; he knew Necare was trying to glean intelligence from his response.

The respirator provided by Nimrod was very useful. If I had used the rudimentary filter I made myself, it would have been damaged by inhaling the toxic gas, and I would have felt weak all over.

I will win this battle of destiny!

Mortarion swung his scythe repeatedly, slashing at the Psionic Energy shield.

With a crash, Necare raised his staff.

A blinding green light erupted, and countless green spikes shot out from the gray armor.

Mortarion's armor clanged with a piercing sound as green spikes pierced it, turning it into a hedgehog-like structure, the green venom coating the spikes crackling and popping.

Mortarion knew that if it were the crude armor he had made earlier, he would have been injured by that attack.

The excellent armor he acquired through the trade with Nimrod protected him from the attack.

But the crisis was not over; he could not withstand the thick poisonous gas at the mountaintop.

With a venomous explosion, the palm-sized gray armor rapidly dissolved, instantly shrinking to the size of a finger before falling to the ground.

The poison gas seeped into the armor through the breach.

"My son, you are still too young. Come back to my side, and I will continue to teach you." Necare mockingly pulled away, taking a deep breath of poison gas, the buzzing in his head seeming to subside somewhat.

Having regained some of his strength, Necare's eyes turned cold. His former adopted son was actually able to fight him to this extent, which was completely beyond his expectations.

The psychological impact contained in his playful words was nothing more than to erode Mortarion's will.

The name means "Death's Son," a name bestowed by Him, and now it is He who should bring about its end.

Necare grinned maliciously as he raised his staff, his eyes blazing with murderous intent.

Just as he was about to launch a fatal blow, he saw Mortarion struggle to pull a Black Serum from his waist and inject it into his body.

Mortarion injected the most precious Black Serum he had obtained from Nimrod into his body.

In an instant, the Primarch's body rapidly digested and absorbed the antidote created by Malena Skala.

Mortarion felt the numbness in his body instantly dissipate, and his limbs moved smoothly according to his will.

In an instant, he rushed in front of Necare and brought his scythe down.

Necare frantically raised his hand, a green Psionic Energy shield protecting his pale body.

With a deafening roar, the scythe cleaved through the fragile Psionic Energy shield and struck Necare.

The last Overlord of Barbarus, the Pale King, lies on the ground.

"I have freed Barbarus." Mortarion paused for a moment, then, upon hearing footsteps, swung his scythe again and severed Necare's head.

He smiled and said to Typhon, "Except for the head of the Pale King, the heads of all the other Overlord will be traded to Nimrod."

"The focus of the trade is no longer weapons, but antidotes and farm tools. No one will enslave us anymore; Barbarus will usher in a new era."