章 93: Chapter 93: Side Story 4.4 - You Call Yourself Mortarion?
Hades was leaning against a wall, feeling utterly despondent.
At the end of his chain's reach, groups of Nurglings were shrieking. These mischievous and noisy creatures seemed to be playing some sort of rope game, provocatively hopping back and forth just beyond Hades' reach.
Initially, Hades would pull on his chain, reaching out and successfully crushing many of the Nurglings.
The semi-dried mucus on the ground was the remains of these creatures, with clusters of mushrooms sprouting from them.
But soon, he found this act to be foolish. Hades, drained of energy, abandoned this pastime and chose to contemplate life instead.
In Nurgle's domain, one's perception of time becomes distorted. Hades felt as if he had been lying here for an eternity.
The last time he felt time drag on so slowly was during a week of overtime after a national holiday.
At least this time, he didn't have to work.
Ever since he miserably landed in the grimdark world of Warhammer 40K, Hades had been busy surviving, scraping by, and planning his escape.
But not anymore, for he was truly in deep trouble now.
After several escape attempts and successfully taking down two Plague Marines while unarmed, Hades came to a bitter realization—
He couldn't escape.
He was likely aboard a ship of the Death Guard. Where could he run? The ships of the Death Guard, made of flesh and bone, were impossible for non-Nurglites to pilot.
He didn't have any meltabombs to blow a hole in the ship.
Regrettably, during his previous escape attempts, Hades didn't have the heart to end his own life and was knocked unconscious by Mortarion's scythe.
The good news was that Mortarion and the Death Guard probably didn't want him dead.
They initially planned to amputate Hades, but he made them realize that in the environment of the Death Guard, he might just die from infection after the surgery.
Although the ship was mostly filled with psychic viruses and bacteria, there were also many physical diseases.
The Death Guard had no concept of "sterilization."
Their apothecaries were straightforward: "Oh, your intestines fell out? No worries, the Plague Father blesses you. Here's some fecal soup to patch you up. As long as you can move, it's fine."
Clearly, their special concoctions, various psychic fecal soups, were ineffective on Hades.
Recalling this, unfortunate memories flooded back to Hades.
Mortarion's decision to spare him was essentially to use him as a guinea pig for his experiments.
Mortarion had genuinely tried to corrupt him, or rather, test the extent of Hades' anti-psychic abilities.
Thus, Mortarion concocted various strange mixtures, forcibly feeding or injecting them into Hades.
Although Mortarion had rambled on during the first feeding, Hades, overwhelmed by thoughts of "Why won't you just die?" or "Why don't I just die?", chose to tune him out.
After observing the reactions, Mortarion left without further attempts at communication.
And Hades' reaction?
It was always the same—
Vomit—
The unpleasant memories of being force-fed began to overwhelm Hades, making him feel nauseous again. He quickly suppressed these memories.
Honestly, he'd rather be captured by the Khorne Berserkers than the Nurglites.
Was it too late to shout, "Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne"?
Ahem, just a joke.
In any case, all of Mortarion's attempts to corrupt Hades ended in failure. Like a recurring villain, Mortarion would storm off in frustration after each failure.
Although the concoctions were disgusting, Hades could feel the abundant psychic energy within them.
After each test, Hades felt his psychic null field, or "black domain," becoming more chaotic.
Perhaps the black domain was his last chance.
Hades tried to expand the black domain beyond himself, like he did on Barbarus, but always failed.
Every time the black domain stretched to its limit, a hint of golden light suppressed it.
Initially, this frustrated Hades, but as he grew more resigned, he accepted it.
At least the light wasn't the sickly green of Nurgle.
One should be content with life.
After countless failed attempts, Hades decisively entered a state of resignation.
He couldn't escape, couldn't fight back, and couldn't die. It was the perfect time to give up.
Except for Mortarion, who came to administer the concoctions, no one else bothered him. Once Hades learned to tune out the shrieks of the Nurglings, he officially began his Warhammer 40K vacation.
He closed his eyes, at peace with the world.
Being confined didn't matter; after all, the essence of a homebody isn't to wander outside.
The environment didn't matter; he'd get used to it.
The only thing he couldn't get used to was the food here. Oh, wait, it was literally feces.
Hades would rather starve than eat the "food" the Death Guard provided. He was on the brink of successfully starving himself.
Mortarion, left with no choice, ordered his Plague Marines to gather uncontaminated nutrient fluids to barely keep Hades alive.
Other than that, Hades had no other complaints.
After all, as a prisoner, he couldn't ask for much.
With nothing to do, Hades began to recall memories from his past life—
He remembered the two cacti he accidentally killed (even though he took care of them diligently). Now, he could casually kill a Nurgling and watch mushrooms grow in its place.
It had to be said, in Nurgle's domain, a variety of species could thrive effortlessly.
If any so-called biologists came here, they'd probably be ecstatic. Their research funds would be secured for life.
Speaking of which, ever since Mortarion sided with Nurgle, he seemed to be engrossed in research, right?
Ah, Hades recalled a classic joke—
"This isn't witchcraft; it's numerology."
Your numerology involves feeding people fecal soup.
Suddenly, Hades noticed the Nurglings' shrieks had diminished.
He opened his eyes to see Mortarion entering once again.
Caught up in the humor of the joke, Hades struggled to hold back his laughter.
Mortarion, with a gloomy expression, looked at the Death Guard's intel, while Vox and Calas stood nervously by his side.
Mortarion, who hadn't achieved his destined death, who hadn't killed his counterpart, and who had lost his progeny for nothing, swore vengeance.
He vowed to kill this damned version of himself.
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