Picking Up a Gas Can

Emperor's Dream, single-person luxury sanatorium.

Three months before the modification surgery.

The originally luxurious and fragrant sanatorium was now filled with Barbarus's unique poisonous gas.

This poisonous gas was specially collected from Barbarus by servitors. Then, the compressed gas was mixed with the air on the Emperor's Dream according to a certain ratio and released into the huge, empty sanatorium.

The room's occupant, Mortarion, was sitting by the bed, quietly flipping through a thick book.

He wasn't wearing a gas mask; the concentration of these poisonous gases would be considered pleasantly breathable on Barbarus.

Mortarion was dressed in simple white casual clothes, the loose and comfortable fabric draped loosely over his body, revealing the bandages and medical gel underneath.

The entire room contained nothing but a bed, a workbench, and a huge bookshelf crammed with books.

Mortarion had requested that all the fancy things be removed. He couldn't appreciate the glittering gold, the elaborately carved ornaments, or the carpets sewn with thousands of silk fabrics, praising the warriors' achievements.

Waste, utter waste, and a smug display of one's own taste.

Mortarion couldn't understand these behaviors of the Imperium, but he accepted the Emperor's mission.

After he had cut off Nac'Lare's head and then passed out, it was the Emperor, his so-called biological father, who saved him and Hades.

When Mortarion woke up, the golden figure slowly came before him.

He showed Mortarion the scale of the Imperium, he showed Mortarion how many human worlds were struggling under the rule of Aliens.

He extended an invitation to Mortarion to liberate those humans in dire straits.

He promised Mortarion a vast and powerful space army, and a chance to transform the people of Barbarus.

"Mortarion, my son, join us."

Without a doubt, Mortarion agreed to the Emperor.

The conditions he offered were too tempting, the force he displayed was too powerful, Mortarion had no other choice.

Faced with the Emperor, no one could have any choice but to submit.

No one.

Perhaps this man called the Emperor is a good person?

Such a naive and absurd thought filled Mortarion's mind.

In the past few months, Mortarion had been recuperating peacefully in the sanatorium.

The massive star fortresses under construction were rotating above Barbarus.

His Death Guard were taken to these star fortresses, where they would undergo the Imperium's modifications, becoming Space Marines, Mortarion's true blades.

Mortarion had seen those Imperial troops called Space Marines, and it was simply... incredible.

The sturdy bodies that mortals could not achieve, the extraordinary reaction speed, the superb memory, the combat experience that could be passed down from generation to generation, the power armor specially made for war...

Such powerful warriors, if Mortarion had been given seven such warriors back on Barbarus, he would have been able to pacify all the Aliens on Barbarus within a month.

The thought of leading such an army in the future made Mortarion a little excited.

He would lead these powerful warriors to save humanity from the hands of the xenos...

"Ding."

The door of the sanatorium made a soft sound, interrupting Mortarion's thoughts.

Someone was coming.

Probably another researcher coming to check on his injuries, Mortarion thought impatiently. He was already well. These injuries were not worth spending so much time recovering from. He didn't want to spend any more time on recuperation. He wanted to see his army.

But as the door slowly slid open to the right, and a faint golden light shone from the other side—

The person who came was dressed in simple clothes, a minimalist brown linen top, loose trousers that showed off long legs, fine gold thread embroidered on the edges of the clothes, and a golden olive branch lying quietly on black hair. Every gesture revealed elegance and nobility.

——It was the Emperor.

Mortarion didn't move, stubbornly pretending that the person who came in was a medical staff member, and continued to pretend that he was reading a book.

He didn't want to salute.

The Emperor walked in, frowning slightly in displeasure. The originally luxurious sanatorium had been stripped down to only the most basic necessities. Those elegant and beautiful golden sculptures had been removed, those carpets praising the warriors' achievements had been removed, and all kinds of furniture that ordinary people liked to use for relaxation were gone.

The whole room was even full of poisonous gas!

The Emperor couldn't help but frown again, as if he was very dissatisfied with Mortarion's arrangement.

But he quickly returned to that calm, even benevolent expression. He walked over calmly, ignoring Mortarion's little tantrum, and sat directly on the bed, next to Mortarion.

Mortarion reluctantly raised his head, "Good afternoon, Father."

"Good afternoon, Mortarion."

Then the Emperor raised his head and looked around, "This air... is it a personal preference of yours?"

"Yes, Father, I'm not particularly fond of the original air here."

Mortarion said with a calm and confident expression.

The Emperor nodded slightly and continued nonchalantly, "My son, I would like you to pay attention to your public image."

Mortarion ignored all the Custodian Guard saluting him during his first walk outside the recovery room.

Mortarion did not reply.

"As a leader who will soon command a legion, you must set a good example for the Imperium of Man."

"Very well, I will pay attention, Father."

The Emperor had no patience to continue the topic this time. He beckoned, and a Custodian Guard carrying a tray walked in.

The Emperor took a specially made syringe from the tray.

His golden eyes looked at Mortarion, "Your friend, Hades, his injuries were quite severe and he is still undergoing treatment."

"And for his transformation surgery, we need some of your blood."

Hades, his close friend, his right-hand man, Mortarion was very worried about him. In his last memory, Hades was dying, and didn't seem like he could survive.

Mortarion extended his right hand without hesitation, and rolled up his sleeve.

The Emperor maintained that perfect expression, indifferent yet with divinity and benevolence. He precisely inserted the needle into the Primarch's firm skin, and blood slowly flowed out.

Mortarion watched his blood flow out little by little, "Is this to cultivate a set of modified organs specifically?"

Mortarion asked. In fact, through his constant reading of Imperial books, he knew that in the Space Marines' transformation surgeries, modified organs with Primarch genes would be implanted.

"Yes, you are very clever, my son."

The Emperor's indifferent voice sounded, he lowered his head, silently watching the syringe.

Enough blood had been drawn.

Mortarion couldn't wait to pull his arm back, and under the Primarch's powerful recovery ability, the pinhole quickly healed.

"Will he be alright?"

Mortarion still remembered the ability Hades unleashed before his death. If it weren't for Hades, he wouldn't have succeeded.

But that ability, what exactly was it? It didn't quite match the characteristics of an Untouchable that Mortarion had read about.

The Emperor looked up, his golden eyes staring emotionlessly into Mortarion's amber eyes—

Mortarion's expression instantly became blank.

In just a moment, the Emperor withdrew his gaze, and Mortarion seemed as if nothing had happened.

Mortarion silently watched the Emperor walk out, then lowered his head again and began to read.

"Click."

The door closed.

Mini Theater:

The Emperor's face has a kind smile.

Inner thoughts: I'm hard, my fist is hard.

It's not amnesia, don't worry.

In fact, the Emperor is quite fond of Mortarion, I think it's because Mortarion's position is particularly in line with the Emperor's taste.

Mortarion: Extreme human race-ist + extreme rejection of Aliens + materialistic god of war.

Speaking of the materialistic god of war, Mortarion even tried to explain science to a Great Unclean One of Nurgle after his ascension to daemonhood, leaving the other side speechless.