Before the Grave

28. Before the Grave

Barbarus, northern mountains, cemetery outside the old stronghold.

Now.

.

The sky was always overcast.

Poisonous fog shrouded the planet.

In the Death Guard cemetery, rows of wooden crosses stood in neat silence.

Beside nine newly buried wooden crosses, the cold, fishy scent of fresh earth faintly brushed the nose.

Hades stood before one wooden cross gravestone, while Laisa stood beside him, sobbing quietly.

Around him, beside the other crosses, stood other mourners.

There had been three teams in this delivery mission, nine people in total.

The first team had been wiped out under dense artillery bombardment, and the intelligence had been lost.

The second team's last close-combat warrior had crawled back to headquarters after his comrades died and both his legs were blown off. The intelligence had been safely delivered.

His legs later became infected, and he died in the Death Guard medical division.

The third team lost two men while escorting the shooter carrying the intelligence. In the end, the shooter had been discovered by Hades in farmland furthest from headquarters during one of his nighttime wandering patrols, and the intelligence had been safely delivered.

The shooter died from excessive blood loss.

Thus, all of them had died, but the intelligence had been safely delivered.

The quiet sobbing of those around him occasionally reached Hades's ears, but he seemed oblivious to everything, staring blankly at the cross before him.

The Death Guard believed in silent death and rebirth. These wooden crosses would soon vanish beneath the corrosion of Barbarus's toxic gas and acid rain.

When the last body beneath a cross disappeared into this vast land, when grief began to be forgotten,

this land would be tilled once more, and wheat—the crop that sustained the lives of Barbarus's people—would silently replace these crosses that symbolized unyielding defiance.

That wheat would grow strong, growing soundlessly until it was cut down by the scythe, completing its silent life.

Just like the people of Barbarus.

On Barbarus, death was commonplace.

Death was not worth such grief.

It was simply part of the daily lives of Barbarus's people.

Every Barbarus native knew that in their heart.

.

An elderly pair of parents came over and stopped before a cross. The mother wept, while the father smiled. They did not regret that their child had sacrificed himself for the greater cause.

Even as they stood here, before their son's gravestone, with pain burying their hearts.

.

A still-boyish young man stood beside another cross, holding the crude scythe issued by the Death Guard and swearing softly.

He swore to avenge his elder brother. He would soon enter the Death Guard's formal combat corps.

The spark of vengeance burned in the boy's dim eyes.

.

A tall warrior stood silently before a cross.

Wordless.

.

An exhausted woman tightly embraced the two children beside her, crying with great restraint.

A family still needed support. She could not collapse.

Your father fought so that you could have a future free of oppression.

Children, remember. Remember all of this.

.

A young girl wailed aloud, cursing the aliens and cursing the lover who had rushed so eagerly to the front lines.

"Why did you abandon me?!"

"Didn't we promise to go together?! There were only three days left before my order to go to the front came through. Why did you run away first?!"

She shouted, covering her head desperately with her hands as she fell to her knees, her disheveled hair bursting through her fingers.

.

There were several graves before which no living person stood.

The people buried there had already been the last members of their families.

.

Heavy footsteps sounded. Even atop the soft black soil, they were clearly audible.

"My condolences to you all."

The tall figure of the Primarch appeared before the mourners.

Mortarion wore a gray half-cloak, with his usual simple combat uniform beneath it. There was not a trace of ornamentation; his attire was entirely plain.

Calas Typhon followed behind him, along with two other Death Guard bodyguards.

Whenever the Death Guard suffered casualties, Mortarion would always make time to comfort the families.

If he was truly too busy to get away, he would have his bodyguards do it for him.

Everyone in the cemetery was drawn to the tall, solemn Primarch. The aura he naturally carried added a measure of gravity to the already sorrowful scene.

The Primarch's inherent charisma was beyond words. The people at the graves voluntarily gathered around Mortarion, waiting in heavy-hearted anticipation for consolation.

They needed to be told that all of this had meaning.

That all of this had been worthwhile.

"Every warrior here completed their mission bravely."

"Even when faced with the aliens' cunning surprise attack, they remained composed and fulfilled their duty to the fullest extent possible."

"For this, I offer my deepest mourning and respect to the warriors resting here."

Mortarion closed his eyes. Facing the vast expanse of gravestones standing across the land, he placed one hand over his chest and mourned in silence.

The three bodyguards behind him also closed their eyes in salute.

The families of the dead restrained their overflowing grief and began to mourn as well.

The sorrowful, bewildered children; the grief-stricken, hysterical girl; the desperate yet resilient woman; the angry, steadfast boy; the indifferent yet dutiful warrior; the heartbroken yet understanding couple.

People of Barbarus, be silent.

As tiny members of this vast and boundless universe, as mere specks in this grand and romantic tale,

small as ants, lowly as mud.

You bowed your heads, burdened by endless toil, yet those who pressed onward with heads lowered were resilient warriors who would never yield.

No sacrifice was too small to be disregarded, and no effort too slight to be scorned.

After all, the fighting spirit of resistance burned within your humble yet unyielding chests!

The living fell silent, offering the greatest respect to the dead who had fearlessly marched toward death.

When the silence ended, Mortarion crouched down and spoke carefully with each bereaved family.

He comforted the crying children, encouraged the warriors about to depart, and made promises to the haggard women.

Hope was slight, yet like ripples scattered across water, it began to spread outward in layer after layer from Mortarion.

Grief remained, yet hope remained as well.

Because they knew that all of this had meaning, that all of it had been worthwhile.

Mortarion had promised them the future they longed for.

After hope came fighting spirit.

So as not to disappoint The Deceased, so they could walk together toward the tomorrow they hoped for.

Hades stood where he was, staring blankly in silence.

Herrela's struggling figure before her death still lingered before his eyes.

There had been none of the imagined resentment, only the resilience of a warrior determined to complete her mission.

Hades knew of Herrela's feelings for him.

He had known all along.

Yet the girl's gratitude toward the one who had saved her life had not developed into lingering romantic affection. Instead, it had become the force that supported her in battle.

"Thank you. I can see you one last time."

"Please keep going. I believe Hades can lead everyone to liberate this land."

The warriors of Barbarus believed so deeply in the beauty of the future.

Herrela had merely been an inconspicuous reflection among countless others.

She had her own personal feelings, yet she still feared no sacrifice for the liberation of this land.

Bitterness filled Hades's mouth.

The aliens had to be destroyed. Oppression had to be overthrown.

With the strategic map delivered, the Death Guard's full-scale preparations for war were about to begin.

The decisive battle with Alien Lord Nac'Lare was drawing near.

There was not much time left.

.

Herrela's final words echoed by his ear.

Herrela.

But this world had always been so cold and merciless.

The Deceased were gone. The living took up their hopes for the future and continued struggling onward through this world.

Hatred, anger, and the desire to change the future mingled together.

There was not much time left.

Hades knew that he needed to make his final preparations.

I pushed myself to the limit revising this. My writing still wasn't strong enough, and I apologize for that (;Д｀)

There had originally been another 9,000 characters of interactions between Herrela and Hades later on, but following readers' suggestions, I urgently revised the original draft, cut 5,000 characters, and completely changed the detailed outline for this section.

It was only after readers pointed it out that I realized this was a major poison point (;Д｀)

I got up in the middle of the night to revise it to the limit (_)

More than ten thousand characters of the later draft were completely scrapped (;Д｀)

Suggestions are welcome as well.

I hope you enjoy reading.