Those Involved Cannot See Clearly

Barbarus, Southern Swamps, wilderness.

Hades's third year in the south.

.

The dense white mist drifted in hazy coils, while the deep, soft black earth stretched thick beneath it. Between heaven and earth, there seemed to be nothing above but white fog, and nothing below but black soil.

In an open patch where the white fog had thinned slightly sat a tall figure—

Mortarion paid no heed to the mud, sitting directly on the black earth. An unconscious young man leaned against his left knee, while his right arm rested on his other knee, holding his massive scythe at the same time.

He looked into the depths of the mist, his amber eyes seeming to cleave through the viscous sea of fog and gaze directly upon that familiar figure.

Hades slowly emerged from the fog. The scythe hanging at his side was like a ferryman's oar, gently parting the white waves of mist and sending ripples through layer after layer.

When he was still four meters from Mortarion, Hades stopped. The face beneath his mask smiled apologetically, and then he too sat down directly on the ground.

"Long time no see, Hades."

Hades tilted his head back and smiled, even patting his knee. That familiar gesture from an old friend made Mortarion relax a little.

It had already been three years.

"Yeah. Long time no see, Death."

Mortarion did not like his own name. Hades knew that. It was more than dislike—he deeply loathed the name bestowed upon him by his foster father.

So the Death Guard all called Mortarion "Reaper."

Reaper: both Death and harvester, one who harvested wheat.

Just like Mortarion himself.

"How's it going? The liberation plan in the south hasn't held you back, right? Our Death Guard are damn capable. I watched from afar—the moment those artillery batteries fired in unison, they blew through the first layer of those petty lords' defenses—"

"Whoosh, whoosh—BANG!"

Hades gestured wildly, leaning on the shaft of his scythe as his other hand swept dramatically from one side to the other, tracing an exaggerated arc of artillery fire.

Mortarion smiled. He had indeed witnessed the power of that artillery, but unfortunately, those formidable guns were poorly suited to mountain warfare. They could only provide support on the plains; against those mountaintops high in the mountains, they were powerless.

Still—Hades was as fond of praising others as ever. The Death Guard truly were Mortarion's pride.

Those people who fought bravely, those who had taken up scythes to resist for the sake of survival—they fought, they resisted, all for a future where they would no longer have to live in fear.

Mortarion unconsciously lowered his eyes toward the young man leaning against him. The way he had struggled against fate remained vivid in his mind.

They were all warriors fighting for themselves, weren't they?

But when Mortarion looked at Hades, who was still boasting wildly across from him, he seemed to be talking about how impressive he himself was now.

"Hades, can't you still get close to other people?"

Mortarion reached out, as if he wanted to touch that invisible field around Hades.

"Hey! Don't! Don't, don't, don't!!!"

Mortarion's movement made Hades scramble backward. Still seated, he lost his balance and nearly toppled over.

Brother, don't!

Cold sweat streamed down Hades's heart. It was one thing if someone else touched his Null Field; at worst, it would make them sick for a while. But if Mortarion touched it—

Brother, don't go attracting other weird things!!!

Hades rapidly scooted backward across the ground, utterly abandoning any concern for his image.

Seeing Hades react so intensely, Mortarion instead withdrew his hand in disappointment, his eyes seeming to reproach Hades for rejecting him so strongly.

Was that it? After so long, had the three of them already drifted apart?

Mortarion still remembered how immature the three of them had been back then. After drinking, they had laughed in a ruined shack and talked grandly about liberating humanity. At the time, he had boasted that he would fight for humanity's resistance to the very end. Typhon had egged him on from the side, while Hades crawled around on the floor and applauded as he crawled.

Mortarion had not been drunk, of course, but Hades and Typhon had very obviously been drunk.

"Mortarion! Big brother! I'll follow you!!! I don't have any big dreams! I just wanna find somewhere I can draw little people whenever I feel like it!"

What were little people?

Mortarion still wondered about that to this day.

But now, those happy and simple memories had all faded away. Typhon was doing well enough; Mortarion was very glad that Typhon, too, had found comrades who understood him.

Only Hades, because of his peculiar nature, could only walk alone beyond the crowds.

Once I defeat Nac'Lare, once oppression is gone from this planet, Mortarion swore, I will help my friend escape this damned curse of a constitution.

Seeing Mortarion across from him obviously sink into deep thought yet again and again, Hades panicked internally.

Don't, brother, don't hold a grudge!!!

"Uh..." Hades scratched his chin. "It's just... this constitution of mine can hurt people. I'm still not used to the feeling of hurting people."

"And I don't want my friends to get hurt either, right? Death, if someone got hurt because of you, you definitely wouldn't be able to get over it either."

Hades nodded as if he had convinced himself first. He secretly glanced at Mortarion, who seemed to have been persuaded.

Over the course of his interactions with Mortarion, Hades had realized that Mortarion was the type to go through tens of thousands of words' worth of strange mental twists and turns in his head, then say only a few words aloud. Unless he was pushed to the limit—like when his defenses were broken—Mortarion was unlikely to fully explain what he was thinking.

And his thought processes generally took several more turns than those of ordinary people.

That meant Hades did not dare let Mortarion misunderstand him in the slightest. If there was a misunderstanding, the problem would become huge!

Mortarion nodded and used his hand to shift the young man slightly, putting him in a more comfortable position.

"I understand how you feel, Hades."

"If you truly want someone to talk to, you can come find me. I can endure and resist your ability."

Mortarion fell silent for a while, then added in his dull, straightforward way.

"I am not that easily hurt."

As Mortarion moved, Hades looked at the emaciated young man. He was probably Vokes. Sigh, a future Death Guard this badass was actually so skinny right now.

"Hahaha, Death, you still have to lead the Death Guard against xenos. I wouldn't dare come bother you."

A wisp of mist drifted over, and Hades idly reached out to pinch it.

"You already are bothering me."

Damn, what a cold joke.

Hades immediately clasped his hands together in exaggerated fashion, bowing and nodding toward Mortarion.

"Ah, I should not disturb Lord Mortarion. This humble commoner deserves ten thousand deaths; this humble commoner shall take his leave at once—"

"Hades."

Mortarion merely frowned and called that devilish name in a serious voice, instantly subduing the mischievous monkey who had been about to throw a fit.

Fine, fine, no more fancy tricks.

Hades instantly sat upright. To be honest, he had not come to find Mortarion this time because he had gone too long without speaking to anyone and started acting crazy.

If there had been no reason, he would not have wanted to delay Mortarion either.

After all, compared to Hades, Mortarion had far too many things to do right now.

Mortarion might still be thinking of advancing steadily, securing each step, laying out his final plan, and killing his foster father Nac'Lare.

But... Hades knew that what seemed like endless time was already like a fish stranded upon the shore, doomed to dry up overnight and hanging by a thread.

Could Mortarion really kill his foster father before the death knell rang, before the Emperor arrived?

If he could not, would Mortarion's mind gradually twist as it had in the original story, until he finally fell?

Hades knew that what happened on Barbarus was destined to become a poisoned thorn deeply embedded in Mortarion's heart, silently corroding the Lord of the High Walls from within throughout the long years of legion life to come.

Then, before it all happened, could Hades do something?

Hades knew he did not have much time either. Though he had always hoped to completely suppress the Null Field beneath the surface of his body, based on his previous attempts, that was not realistic in the short term.

He could only gradually distance himself from the crowds.

But Hades thought, what if—just what if—he could try to persuade Mortarion before he completely withdrew from people?

While the connection between Mortarion and him had not yet become so precarious.

While nothing had happened yet.

If Typhon could rely on Mortarion's trust to betray an entire legion in the future—

Could Hades rely on Mortarion's trust to save an entire legion?

He wanted to try.

.

At the very least, he had to give Mortarion an indirect warning about the future.

Today, Hades was still working hard not to become a stinky canned meat.

Uh, I'll put the group QR code in the comments and try again!

I repent. As I write, it keeps drifting toward comedy. I really can't stop myself.

Sigh, stop, stop.jpg

[Lord of the High Walls] refers to Mortarion. In a short piece where the Emperor and Malcador played chess, Mortarion's piece before his betrayal was a high wall; after his betrayal, it became a heart hollowed out by maggots.