Three Lives That Shouldn't End

Hades gripped the dagger tightly, waking up amidst the jolting and the cries of people.

He shook his head, his consciousness gradually clearing.

Just now, he had passed out from exhaustion.

The truck holding the people was still moving slowly forward. Based on the angle of the incline, Hades judged that they were climbing a mountain—and had already reached a low to mid-altitude.

The night of Barbarus was over. The puppets that had finished hunting slaves were sending them to the Alien Lord's fortress on the mountaintop.

Hades gritted his teeth. He lay prone in the completely enclosed cage containing them, crawling and tapping the floor—searching for the weakest point in the cage.

Yes, he had to escape. Even without a shred of hope, even with the overwhelming difference in strength between them and the enemy, as long as Hades had a breath left, he would never give up.

He would never give up.

Even if captured, he could struggle with his limbs to find a way out; even if his limbs were broken, he could tear at the enemy with his teeth; even if his teeth were knocked out, he could stare at them with a defiant, scornful gaze, spitting a mouthful of blood to tell them that Hades would never give up!

The opportunity to escape would only come once, and it had to be now. If time continued to pass, the slave convoy would travel to even higher altitudes—where the poisonous gases of Barbarus were even more deadly. Their homemade, crude gas masks would be completely unable to resist these gases, and they would struggle and die in minutes of agonizing suffocation.

Since he had no information about the mountain, Hades could only decide to break out of the cage first. Now that it had come to this, he could only improvise and take it one step at a time.

In the cramped, enclosed space, people wailed and cried. Hades squeezed past the people around him, discarding all extraneous noise. He tapped the floor, focusing all his attention on finding the weakest spot.

—Finally, he found it.

He pushed aside an old woman (though she only looked old, she might have been thirty) who was sitting and sobbing on it. She didn't even pay attention to Hades. Most of the people in this cargo container had been consumed by fear and were only capable of crying.

He took out his dagger and began to chisel at the ground. The poisonous gas helped him a lot. The floor, long exposed to the poisonous gas environment, was not as hard as it looked. Hades quickly chiseled out a small pit.

A higher concentration of poisonous gas drifted in from the small hole. Hades saw hope. Small, but it existed.

But it still wasn't enough.

Hades continued to chisel like mad, the digging sounds and the poisonous gas seeping in from the outside slowly rising from beneath him.

As he did this, the crying in the carriage gradually stopped. These villagers, who had spent their entire lives hiding and crying, tormented to the point of collapse by fear, stared blankly at Hades's actions.

They didn't seem to realize what Hades was doing, but at the same time, they realized—

Now was the time they could still struggle.

A lean, wiry young man emerged from the crowd, dressed in rags, with a cunning look on his face.

He crawled on his knees to Hades's side and patted Hades's shoulder.

"I'll help you."

Hades was stunned. He turned to look at the man, finding that his hands were empty.

"You don't even have a knife. How do you plan to help me?"

The young man paused. He lowered his head and spoke as if he had made a great decision.

"I am a Psyker."

Hades's mind buzzed. On Barbarus, living, adult, and healthy Psykers were almost nonexistent.

A thought flashed through Hades's brain like lightning.

"Are you Typhon? Calas Typhon?!"

The other party nodded bitterly.

"What? Even now, you despise me, a freak?"

Hades shook his head instantly. He looked at Typhon with a firm gaze, his eyes shining.

"No, I believe in you. Let's escape together."

"I just... didn't expect to meet you here..."

Hades carefully organized his words, hoping to avoid hurting Typhon as much as possible. After all, Typhon could be considered a key figure in the Warhammer storyline.

What's more, he now needed to rely on Typhon's psychic powers to escape from here.

Who was Calas Typhon?

Calas Typhon, the true leader of the Fourteenth Legion (cough, cough, not), the First Captain of the Fourteenth Legion, Mortarion's former close friend, the despicable traitor, the filial son who was kind to his father, ■■■■■■, a Psyker born from an Alien father and a human mother.

His claim to fame was single-handedly losing the entire Death Guard.

In the original storyline, Calas Typhon was Mortarion's close friend on Barbarus. Inspired by him, Mortarion escaped the imprisonment of his Alien stepfather and successfully reached the human settlement at the foot of the mountain.

After that, Mortarion and Calas Typhon together formed and led the rebel army. (Although most of it was formed by Mortarion).

It could be said that Calas Typhon was Mortarion's guide in the human world.

Mortarion had great tolerance and indulgence for this human he met for the first time.

This led to Calas Typhon's betrayal after becoming the Death Guard, repeatedly committing rebellious acts, but still not being killed by Mortarion.

In the end, Mortarion, who failed to recognize people, was directly sacrificed by Calas Typhon along with the entire legion. It was another day of filial piety between father and son.

And Typhon's appearance here could only mean one thing.

In the original story, Mortarion and Calas Typhon's encounter began with Typhon escaping from the slave transport.

So, Mortarion is about to descend like a god, which means Hades probably won't die this time!!!

He can escape!

As for meeting Mortarion soon, Hades is indifferent. Surviving and playing it safe is the most important thing right now!

Forget about the betrayal hundreds of years from now, if he doesn't run, he'll be Alien BBQ'd!

Hades stepped aside, signaling Typhon to begin his Psyker performance.

Come on, Typhon, give us a show!

Typhon frowned, and a strange white light gathered in his hand—

Okay, uh, crap, go—

The white light suddenly dimmed.

"That shouldn't have happened, I feel like my connection to the Warp has been weakened..."

Typhon muttered to himself.

Hades stared at him, Can you do it or not, big brother? Can you do it or not?

What they didn't know was that it was Hades' Untouchable-like constitution that was blocking Typhon's connection to the Warp.

They should probably be grateful that Hades' constitution grows with him. The current Hades is still a child, very weak, which means he can only weaken the Warp connection.

It was precisely because of Hades' slow-growing constitution that he didn't initially think of himself as an Untouchable. After all, in his memory, Untouchables are like black holes in the Warp, constantly and unconsciously devouring the souls around them, so any being with a soul would instinctively hate them.

Untouchables are the kind that everyone hates, and some people might even try to hunt them down out of inexplicable hatred.

It was precisely because of Hades' understanding that he didn't immediately think of himself as an Untouchable.

If a Psyker dared to try to use their powers near a powerful Untouchable, they would most likely explode and die on the spot.

But Hades doesn't know any of this yet.

He was speechlessly watching Typhon slowly move back, as if gathering energy for a big move.

As they distanced themselves, the white light instantly became blinding. Through his rebreather, Typhon shouted, "Get down!!!"

The dazzling white light instantly engulfed the narrow cage. The explosion caused by the psychic energy impacted Hades, and the massive psychic shock even overturned the truck, sending them rolling down into a gully.

When the white light disappeared, a huge hole was gaping in the floor.

Poison gas rushed in. Typhon was the first to half-roll out of the hole. He instinctively gagged, but didn't run away immediately. He turned back and pulled Hades out.

Hades could now see their surroundings. They were on a mid-level hillside, surrounded by rubble and withered grass, with a fortress nearby.

The tumbling had landed them in a small gully on the upper part of the slope. The slave-taking team's small escort vehicles slowed down and stopped, and the Alien Lord's puppets got out, yelling at each other as they tried to get to them.

Further away was a fortress, its tall walls oppressively standing in the thick fog, making it seem like the castle was imprisoning something rather than protecting it.

Enveloped in the mist, on the battlements of the castle's outer wall, stood a tall, gaunt figure—

It was Mortarion.

Uh, I've made some personal settings for the Untouchable concept. The official settings for Blanks are constantly being retconned, so I'm roughly following the official version, and making my own settings for the details. ()

In short, Untouchables have a constitution that everyone hates, even dogs hate. The stronger the suppression of psychic energy, the more easily they are hated.

In addition, Untouchables don't operate machinery much, because the machinery will malfunction, and the machine spirit will be displeased!

But there are rumors that Untouchables can control their constitution through meditation, but that's just a question mark.

One of the male lead's golden fingers is a similar Untouchable constitution.

There will be a bunch of personal settings later, which may bring a bad experience, I'm very sorry.