Time to Get the Plot Moving

A nameless hillside on Barbarus.

Hades stood still, staring intently at the figure in the pale mist. For a moment, he felt that they had met each other's gaze. Even through the thick fog, that tall, gaunt man was staring fixedly at a member of his kind he was seeing for the first time.

.

The master of the garden in the Warp grumbled in displeasure. The fate It had so painstakingly brewed seemed to have suddenly acquired an unpleasant flavor, but the sensation vanished in an instant.

Muttering, It reached up and scratched the pus-filled sore on Its chin. Yellow-white pus burst over Its hand, improving Its mood somewhat. Perhaps that unpleasant flavor had merely been a fragment of some nightmare-induced illusion.

It continued stirring Its crucible. Countless, immeasurable, endless exquisite diseases and plagues danced and sang within, praising Its mercy.

It would get what It wanted.

.

An uninvited guest seemed to have arrived upon the stage of the Four Gods.

But evidently, this guest's first appearance had no audience.

.

The blue figure sneered. Wait, was there really no audience?

.

Hades hesitated for a moment, but he did not intend to call out directly. The puppets were still on their way over, so there was time. He turned around and, together with Typhon, rescued the remaining people from the carriage.

First, to save them. Second, to use them as cover and have them delay the puppets.

Hades thought darkly.

Most of them were doomed not to survive.

Everyone rushed out. Typhon spotted Mortarion's castle and, panicking, ran madly toward it.

Led by him, the others began running toward the fortress as well. Most of them had not brought gas masks; they could not survive outdoors at this altitude.

The crowd began moving toward the castle, and those brainless puppets changed their course as well.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Hades quietly slipped back behind the truck. Gripping his crossbow, he began to take aim.

He trusted that his gas mask was sufficient to withstand the poison gas here.

The puppets had followed them... Several times, Hades found opportunities for a clean headshot, but he did not take them... Timing. He was waiting for the right moment.

Just as in the original story, Typhon began shouting at Mortarion.

"Who are you?"

He cried out, half sobbing, half wailing.

"Standing high above and watching the fire from across the river? You clearly saw us! You could clearly help us!"

The faster puppets had already begun trying to attack Typhon. This leader had clearly fallen into a bitter fight, all alone as he struggled to swing a rusted dagger across the muddy ground.

Some of the others had already been felled by the poison gas, lying unconscious on the ground with nothing awaiting them but death.

The rest, like Typhon, were fighting the puppets. But lacking combat experience, they were soon torn to pieces—

Typhon was quickly knocked down as well. His Psychic Power talent was only enough to let him hold out a little longer.

Several puppets surrounded Typhon, apparently intending to tear off his limbs.

Hades aimed, but did not pull the trigger. He waited.

He waited for Mortarion to resolve to resist, for Mortarion to resolve to save Typhon.

Otherwise, none of them would escape.

"Save us! Stranger!! You can clearly help us!!"

Hades knew that Mortarion was undergoing an incredibly fierce internal struggle.

Several gunshots rang out, and the puppets fell in response. The figure by the fortress was holding up a musket.

It worked. The corner of Hades's mouth curled up.

Seeing Mortarion raise his musket to help the humans, the puppets stationed at the castle roared in fury. They were Mortarion's subordinates, but also his jailers.

They seized their weapons and charged at Mortarion.

The main force of the slave-catching party also turned their weapons on Mortarion.

Mortarion leaped down from the towering battlements. The primarch landed heavily, actually kicking up a shockwave.

He drew a long whip twisted from iron chain and swung it with fierce force. Every lash was accompanied by shattered flesh and a rain of blood.

Mortarion moved through the puppet horde with madness and calmness alike. Like a lone wolf suppressing a flock of sheep, every charge and pass separated the puppets into smaller groups before tearing them apart.

At first, the puppets could still suppress Mortarion with their numbers. But as time passed, the battle gradually became a one-sided, chaotic massacre. Mortarion had clearly gone red-eyed with slaughter, attacking without regard for anything. He even gave up chances to block in exchange for more killing.

Compared to Mortarion's unstoppable slaughter, Typhon was having a much harder time. He clutched his gas mask tightly and held a knife in one hand, fending off the puppets attacking him.

Meanwhile, Hades hid by the truck and fired cold arrows. With no puppets targeting him, he had precious time to reload. Hades aimed and fired as precisely as he could, supporting the two close-combat warriors on the front line.

The arrows flew silently, every shot a headshot!

He successfully killed three puppets trying to sneak over and ambush Typhon. He also repeatedly shot through puppets attempting to attack Mortarion, giving Mortarion more opportunities to attack rather than defend.

When Hades nocked his last arrow and blew apart a puppet's head, the massacre gradually neared its end. The ground was covered in mangled meat and pools of blood, twisted limbs struggling and twitching. The few remaining puppets had completely collapsed and fled toward the higher slopes.

There were still a few puppets around Typhon and Mortarion, but they posed no substantial threat. Hades emerged from behind the truck and quickly ran toward the small escort vehicles.

He opened one of the smaller vehicles and successfully started its engine.

Then he turned and called to the last remaining humans—unbelievably, these lucky survivors had endured both the poison gas and the puppet attack.

"Run!" Hades shouted at them. They hurried over and climbed into the vehicle.

"Kid, aren't you coming?"

Hades glanced at them. "No. I'm not leaving yet."

When the odds of winning were relatively high, Hades liked to take a gamble.

They did not try to persuade Hades again. The gray vehicle slowly moved off, heading toward the valley.

The vehicle was slow, but fast enough to get them safely to the valley floor.

He found another medium-sized truck to use as his escape vehicle later. He climbed in, started it, and quickly drove it a little farther away.

Hades got out and ran back, continuing to search through and modify the vehicles. He found a wrench, then used it to smash open the fuel valves of every small vehicle he could find. Fuel gushed out, quickly spreading across the entire stone ground.

Only after finishing all that did he turn his attention back to Mortarion and Typhon. Their battle appeared to be over, and they were currently trading words.

As a shut-in in his past life, Hades truly could neither understand nor pull off such a miraculous behavior. But he respected it; after all, this was a world where thoughts and beliefs truly possessed power.

But big brothers, quit talking already. Mortarion's foster father is about to come charging down here?!

Hades took a deep breath, making his gas mask creak.

"Typhon! Calas Typhon! And the friend over there! Are you running or not?!"

"The aliens are coming down to kill us any moment now! If we don't run, it'll be too late!!!"

That strange atmosphere of "what is the meaning of life" and "should we even be alive" vanished. The two of them looked toward Hades in surprise, staring wide-eyed at each other.

Hades beckoned to them.

At the same time, horns sounded from the mountaintop. It was the Overlords' horn call to begin their attack.

Typhon anxiously said something more to Mortarion, but Mortarion was still standing there like a post, without moving.

Hades knew what Mortarion was thinking. Throughout a life of imprisonment, there had only ever been two options: "Kill my foster father, or die." But the sudden appearance of Typhon and Hades had given him a third option: "Run."

It was like someone who had played a game since birth, a game where they could only choose A or B, only for someone to suddenly come over one day and tell them they could unplug the console and choose not to play.

You could choose not to play.

Mortarion had never encountered such a choice. The idea exceeded his inexperienced mind and practically burned out his CPU.

Damn it, stop freezing up, you two.

Hades could see puppet soldiers beginning to run down from the mountaintop.

"Move it! You two!!! There's no need to die here!!! As long as the green hills remain, there'll always be firewood!!! Run today, and in a few years you'll be heroes again!!"

He saw Typhon half-dragging Mortarion as they started running toward him. At first, they were only staggering along in short steps, but soon they broke into a sprint.

Hades got into the truck and started the engine.

"Get in!"

Mortarion jumped onto the truck bed and pulled Typhon in after him.

The instant the two of them entered the truck bed, the engine roared. Hades immediately entered the state of a mountain pass racing king and floored the accelerator.

Then Mortarion's foster father's roar carried over through Psychic Power.

"Face me, child, or we sever all ties!" For a moment, the hollow shriek of Ghoul seemed to echo from every direction through the cliffs of the narrow mountain pass. "Did you hear me, you little bastard? If you dare run away, I'll make sure you die without a grave! Abandoning me means abandoning your life!"

"I've never been much different from a dead man anyway!"

Mortarion shouted. Half-crouched in the truck bed, he raised his pistol and began to aim.

"Not until today!"

The bullet roared toward the vehicles with all his pent-up fury. Bright yellow fireballs exploded in an instant, roaring across the fuel spilling over the ground and devouring everything!

The low gray vehicles, the ugly stitched-together puppets, the fortress where he had once lived... all of his past was consumed by raging flames, their light turning Mortarion's pupils red.

Mortarion cursed as he fired madly at the fortress. Hades even felt like he was trying to shoot the air there to death.

Then Mortarion stood up in the rapidly speeding truck and viciously hurled his pistol toward the flames. The pistol traced a perfect arc through the air—

Next, he removed everything from his belt, muttering curses under his breath as he threw it all away.

Finally, Mortarion shouted toward the place he had left behind.

"Fuck you!!!"

Haha, a primarch in his rebellious phase.

Though he felt rather sorry for the pistol that had been thrown away, Hades had to admit that this rebellious behavior looked pretty damn satisfying.

Hades thought this as he relaxed somewhat, now that they had escaped the danger.

He whistled and burst out laughing.

"Cool!"

Each with their own thoughts, the three of them carried their own fates toward their stage.

The preceding chapters drew heavily from the article "The Buried Dagger."

For that, I deeply apologize. I truly could not think of a better way to write it, and using official material made it feel more like "predestined fate."

If this infringes on anything or makes anyone uncomfortable, I will revise it further or delete this work.

As an aside, in the official material, Mortarion and Typhon give off the strong impression of a girl with a tragic first half of her life being whisked away by a clever boy.

Mortarion trusted Typhon so deeply that even the voice he heard speaking to himself in his own mind was Typhon's voice.

Mortarion had been completely won over.