My Life as A Death Guard

With that done, he turned his attention back to Mortarion and Typhon, who were now arguing.

As a former shut-in, Hades couldn’t understand or mimic their behavior, but he respected it. This was a world where beliefs held real power.

But now wasn’t the time for debates—Mortarion’s foster father would soon attack!

Hades took a deep breath, his gas mask creaking with the pressure.

“Typhon! Calas Typhon! And you, over there! Are you running or not?!”

“The aliens are coming! If we don’t run now, it’ll be too late!!!”

The tense atmosphere of existential pondering vanished. Both turned to look at Hades in surprise, eyes wide.

Hades waved them over.

Meanwhile, the horns atop the mountain sounded, signaling the high lords’ call to attack.

Typhon anxiously said something more to Mortarion, but the Primarch remained motionless.

Hades understood Mortarion’s dilemma. His entire life had revolved around two options: “kill my foster father, or die.” The sudden appearance of Typhon and Hades introduced a third option: “escape.”

It was like someone telling a person who had played a game with only choices A and B their entire life that they could simply unplug the console and stop playing.

Mortarion had never encountered such a choice. This new concept overloaded his inexperienced brain, akin to a CPU overheating.

‘Damn it, don’t just stand there.’

Hades saw puppet soldiers beginning to descend from the mountain top.

“Move it! You two!!! There’s no need to die here!!! Live to fight another day! If we survive today, we’ll come back stronger!”

He watched as Typhon half-dragged Mortarion towards him. At first, they stumbled in a hesitant run, but soon they were sprinting.

Hades jumped into the truck and started the engine.

“Get in!”

Mortarion leaped into the truck bed, pulling Typhon in with him.

The moment they were aboard, the engine roared to life, and Hades immediately floored the gas pedal.

At that moment, Mortarion’s foster father’s enraged voice echoed through the psyker-enhanced air.

“Face me, child, or we sever all ties!” The narrow mountain pass seemed to reverberate with the hollow shrieks of the Overlord. “Do you hear me, brat? If you dare run away, I will ensure you die without a grave! Abandoning me is abandoning your life!”

“I’ve been as good as dead all along!” Mortarion shouted back. Crouched in the truck bed, he raised his gun and took aim.

“Until today!”

Bullets flew, bursting into flames upon hitting the slaver’s vehicles. The fuel spilled earlier ignited, creating an inferno that consumed everything in its path—the grey, squat vehicles, the grotesque stitched puppets, and the fortress Mortarion once called home. The flames reflected in his eyes, burning away his past.

Mortarion cursed as he fired wildly at the fortress, as if trying to shoot the very air around it.

Then he stood up in the speeding truck, hurling his gun towards the flames. It traced a perfect arc through the air—

He then began tearing off his belt and other gear, cursing under his breath and throwing everything away.

Finally, Mortarion shouted towards his past,

“Go to hell!!!”

Ah, the rebellious phase of a Primarch.

Hades, though a bit pained by the discarded gun, had to admit that Mortarion’s rebellious behavior was quite exhilarating.

Now out of immediate danger, Hades began to relax, whistling and laughing,

‘That’s cool.’

Each of the three had their own thoughts as they sped towards their destiny.

Author’s Note:

The past few chapters have deeply borrowed from the story “The Buried Dagger.” I apologize for this; I couldn’t think of a better way to phrase things. Referencing official material gives a sense of “predestined fate.”

If this is infringing or causing discomfort, I will make modifications or delete this content.

Side note:

In the official lore, Mortarion and Typhon have a vibe reminiscent of a tragic girl being swayed by a cunning boy.

Mortarion’s trust in Typhon runs so deep that even the voice in his head is Typhon’s.