My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 385: Hades Really Likes This Kind of Mechanical Army
"There's one more thing."
Hades looked at Ferrus. His expression seemed harmless, as if he were testing whether Ferrus could accept what he was about to say.
Ferrus frowned slightly in confusion and fixed his gaze on Hades, waiting for the next sentence.
"Uh… well… aside from being a Blank, I actually also have some rather special abilities when it comes to controlling machinery."
Ferrus calmly studied Hades's mechanical brain.
"I'm not surprised. In fact, before boarding your ship, I didn't expect the Mechanicum's Tech-Priests to hold such a position within the Silent Sisterhood. I assume you mean proficiency with machines and excellence in mechanized warfare?"
Ferrus raised his own hands, encased in iron—he himself was a master of steel.
Hades blinked. The index finger of his right hand, resting on the armrest of the chair, lifted slightly.
?!
Ferrus suddenly leaned forward. The Lord of Medusa saw it clearly—several thin strands of green lightning crackled between the plates of Hades's gauntlet.
For a brief moment, Ferrus felt as though his armor systems were resonating faintly with those arcs of electricity. The Primarch devoted a sliver of attention to checking his armor's status.
"Actually, it goes a bit deeper than that."
Hades rose to his feet and looked at Ferrus thoughtfully.
"The Silent Sisterhood doesn't possess as many mechanized forces as the Iron Hands. Would you permit me to give a demonstration within the Iron Hands Legion?"
Ferrus nodded slowly, still staring contemplatively at Hades's hand, even though the lightning had already vanished.
. . .
If Mortarion was a pure pragmatist, then Ferrus was as well—something that could be seen clearly from the flagships of the two Primarchs.
The Death Guard's Endurance was like a mourning woman draped in a tattered sack, while the Iron Hands' flagship, Iron Fist, was even more brutally unadorned. Where the Death Guard would at least conceal pipes and engines within walls and floors, the Iron Hands chose to expose them outright—or rather, in Ferrus's eyes, these mechanical constructs were decoration in and of themselves.
To outsiders, this might seem like evidence of the Iron Hands' coldness and eccentricity. But to Hades…
Steam, engine oil, and the scent of metal permeated every corner. Engines and pistons roared along the edges of the walls. Mechanical life was everywhere.
This was simply… awesome.
Hades decided to give the Iron Hands' flagship ninety-nine points. The remaining point was reserved to distinguish the Iron Hands from the Death Guard.
Of course, this did not mean Hades intended to add the Iron Hands to his list of "Nth spiritual homelands." The reason was simple: Ferrus's home world was just as brutal as Barbarus, and the flowers that grew from Medusa were even more so—at least, Hades could not fully appreciate them.
At first glance, Hades—with half his skull made of metal—did not look much different from the Iron Hands warriors standing guard along the corridors.
Hades's gaze swept subtly across those warriors. As far as he could see, not a single one of them was "whole." All bore marks of mechanical augmentation.
Among the many Legions, the Iron Hands were the most heavily mechanized. This reverence for machinery—or rather, this disdain for the weakness of flesh—had already become one of the Legion's core creeds. Compared to their own bodies, an Iron Hands warrior trusted machinery more. They would selectively replace their flesh with metal, bit by bit—until they could no longer endure any more engines and cables.
This mindset was clearly extreme. And in the hellish universe of Warhammer, the greatest taboo was extremity of thought (even though, ironically, those who were not extreme often didn't survive long in the early stages). If Chaos were truly willing, this would undoubtedly be a crack through which the mind could be corrupted.
If there were time, Hades would have hoped that everyone present might be a little less extreme, but there was no time. And since his very existence could ensure that the Iron Hands would not be corrupted, then… the Iron Hands, with their unparalleled degree of mechanization—where even the Legion's warriors had their flesh replaced by machinery—would be the most ideal allies for Hades on the physical side.
In fact, the moment he stepped aboard the Iron Fist, Hades had already felt that abundant, harmonious symphony of machines. They were welcoming him, as if greeting a long-returned old friend.
Hades kept silent as he walked alongside Ferrus. He had to restrain his Black Domain and the authority of the Void Dragon, but even so, every time he lifted his foot, pale green arcs of electricity still flared beneath his magnetic boots where they met the metal deck.
What Hades did not realize was that every Iron Hands warrior he passed felt both their spirit and their metal bodies shudder in response—but all of them attributed this sensation to the honor of being in the presence of their Primarch.
Ferrus strode into the training hall. At Hades's request, various types of Land Raiders and Vindicators had already been arranged there. In an inconspicuous corner of the hall, Hades even spotted a unit of Iron Warriors–style Ironhulks with cogitator control spikes.
The steel tide within the hall was divided into two opposing forces, awaiting only a word from the Primarch for smoke and gunfire to erupt.
Hades gave the entire field a brief glance, then chose a rear defensive trench to stand in.
Judging by Iron Warriors doctrine, the first round would be indiscriminate fire suppression. There was no need for Hades to expose himself—this was evident from the fact that, aside from a handful of essential repair crews and mobile personnel, all other warriors were already inside vehicles or trenches.
Since it was only a cover anyway, Hades smiled. He turned his head toward Ferrus beside him.
"Begin."
Hades said softly. In the next instant, rolling darkness descended upon the small trench, accompanied by crackling lightning.
Ferrus's order sounded almost simultaneously with—only a fraction slower than—the roar of artillery. The entire floor of the training hall shook violently. Though these were only practice rounds, their destructive power was far from negligible.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Brilliant fireballs blossomed as both sides began bombarding one another. Hades could feel that several vehicles had already been judged "destroyed."
"There is no simulated air battle this time. Normally, air power plays a crucial role in the first wave of bombardment."
As if to prevent Hades from imagining the Iron Hands as some antiquated or World War I–era force, Ferrus's voice drifted through the darkness.
Ferrus's eyelid twitched. He folded his arms and stared at the emerald arcs of electricity dancing around him. He was shocked—this sensation did not displease him, but…
Ferrus clenched his fist.
"I assume this darkness and the lightning are not the same ability?" The Lord of Medusa asked abruptly. The reason was simple: while the lightning did not trouble him, being shrouded in darkness genuinely made him feel nauseous and weak.
"That's correct."
Within the darkest mass of mist, several emerald points of light flickered. Hades's voice came from there, sounding distinctly pleased.
"The darkness is a trait of the Blank. And these arcs of electricity…"
Hades paused—he could hardly say Void Dragon outright.
"…are my authority on the mechanical side."
"Authority." Ferrus repeated the word with a frown.
"I don't believe you are a psyker. This looks very much like psychic power."
There was a brief silence from Hades, but he soon answered Ferrus's question.
"That was a poor choice of words on my part. But you see, Ferrus—the physical universe can have its own kind of magic as well. Of course, we call that science."
Ferrus frowned, clearly wanting to ask more—but at that moment, the trembling of the ground ceased. Charging signals raced through the vox channels. From within the darkness came a soft chuckle, almost like a sigh.
"I can't really describe it properly. Just watch once and you'll understand."
The darkness rolled.
"You can witness it for yourself."
Hades fell silent. Ferrus frowned and shifted his view to the full tactical display, carefully studying the war of iron against iron. The Primarch's keen eyes gradually picked up on something unusual.
At first, tiny arcs of electricity crackled in the gaps between treads and ground, flickered around weapon triggers—then metal began to resonate with them.
Ferrus drew in a quiet breath.
As if assimilating everything they touched, those fine, static-like emerald arcs spread outward like a spiderweb from the trench closest to them. Metal and machinery were their perfect conductors. As the lightning spread, those tiny sparks grew brighter and brighter.
At last, the warriors focused on the battlefield noticed the arcs that were now everywhere. Confused and startled, they looked around at the lightning-wrapped metal surrounding them.
"Red team, this is my ability. There's no need for alarm, I will be assisting you in combat."
Hades's voice sounded in the vox channel at just the right moment. But Ferrus knew that, aside from the Red Team, he was seeing the same arcs on the Blue Team as well.
And once the arcs had essentially covered the entire field, the first drop of silvery metal dripped from beneath the armor plate of a damaged tank.
Hades closed his eyes. He saw both forces fighting at the first defensive line. Countless streams of binary data roared past him. He heard the Blue Team's transmissions—the data from the metallic augmentations within those warriors, the whispers of machines.
That was enough.
Hades grasped his scythe with one hand and extended the other forward. Verdant green light tore through the oppressive darkness.
The lightning surged violently.
The Blue Team's channel was instantly drowned in shrieking static. The engines of the frontline tanks let out dying roars; then their treads began to slow. Warriors who had been advancing steadily with weapons raised suddenly froze—only to be immediately "killed" by the Red Team, who seized the opening.
In that moment, Ferrus felt as though his heart had stopped.
His eyes widened as he stared in disbelief at the flood of data returning from the front.
The Blue Team's electronic systems were effectively crippled. This meant that overall command and coordination had collapsed. Even vehicles that relied least on sophisticated systems were being declared inoperative. According to the Master of the Forges still struggling on the front lines, critical cables and metal components within those vehicles had been severed by silvery liquid metal.
And it wasn't over.
Even the mechanical augmentations within the warriors themselves began throwing error reports. No—no, no, no—this was far too terrifying.
The symptoms looked like an electronic virus infection, but it wasn't. What truly affected them were the lightning that existed between machines—and that inexplicable silvery metal.
If it were an electronic virus, they would have had countermeasures. But this—this—
Why did such an absurd ability even exist?!
Ferrus felt his mind begin to tremble. He desperately reviewed the data, searching for even a single exception. Then the Primarch noticed that the Iron Warriors–style Iron Spike automata on the Blue Team were the least affected, showing the smallest drop in efficiency. After that, there were only a handful of vehicles still maintaining over 80% operational efficiency.
On the other side, the Master of the Forges of the Red Team—who had rushed to repair damaged vehicles—found that the machines had already been covered and repaired by silvery metal before they could even begin their work, leaving behind only faint emerald arcs that flickered intermittently.
Ferrus swallowed silently. At this moment, the Red Team's overall performance rating had climbed to over 120% of normal.
Slowly, the Primarch opened a channel to the Blue Team's commander. As expected, he heard a voice that was rational yet filled with disbelief—the end of his son's words trembling slightly.
Ferrus took a deep breath. Just how many secrets… how many incomprehensible things… had his father still concealed?
"…Enough."
Ferrus let out a heavy breath and stared silently into the darkness ahead.
Perhaps only Ferrus Manus—who placed efficiency above all else—could immediately grasp what this truly meant: crippling over 40% of an enemy's mechanized forces in a very short time. If done by surprise, it would be more than enough to directly overturn the outcome of an entire battle.
Deep down, Ferrus realized that Hades's ability was the perfect weapon against mechanized forces—and, just as importantly, the perfect support.
No one… no one… at least Ferrus himself had no desire to stand opposed to such an existence. He could already sense the mental collapse spreading among some of the Blue Team's warriors: the steel they took such pride in had instead become a burden.
Ferrus heard a relaxed inquiry come from the darkness.
"?"
The Primarch let out a loud sigh.
"I said, enough."
Ferrus raised his voice. In the very next instant, the darkness dissipated completely, and the lightning scattered like a final burst of rain, splashing against the ground before vanishing without a trace.
He saw Hades facing him, expressionless, black eyes as if lightning had just split across them.
Ferrus swallowed subtly.
Then he saw Hades give what looked like a rather simple grin. Hades laughed and scratched the back of his head.
"Sorry, I think I startled some of the warriors. Maybe I should've explained things beforehand, but I haven't seen such a beautiful mechanized force in a long time. I got a little carried away."
Hades smiled at him and spread his hands.
"…That's about it, I guess?" he said uncertainly. He blinked, as if something had just occurred to him, then snapped his fingers.
"How about we end the exercise now? I've still got a bit of control left—I could take the opportunity to patch up your vehicles and such. Though they'd all be silver-white; I don't have the ability to change the color."
Ferrus took a deep breath.
Then he took another.
"Perhaps you should go check on the warriors you frightened, and explain to them in detail how they should coordinate with you in battle." Ferrus said evenly.
Although the Iron Hands upheld a brutal internal culture of competition—any warrior who displayed weakness or fear would immediately be challenged by others seeking advancement, their status plummeting as a result—
Still… Ferrus thought of his own shock just moments earlier.
The Lord of Medusa decided to grant his sons this one lapse.
Ferrus recalled what Hades had said before. Yes—he realized now—his wording had not been wrong.
This was already… another kind of existence altogether.
He watched Hades adjusting the vox channels, visibly eager to follow his suggestion. For reasons he could not quite explain, Ferrus felt an odd sense of reassurance.
Though he had always claimed to prefer the company of machines, at this moment, Ferrus found himself hoping that the man before him would behave a little more like a human.
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