My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 429: Mortarion Could Have Won Big
Seven sacrificers from life-worlds.
Seven planets undergoing rebirth.
Agents who had long since infiltrated Macragge.
The first awakened Son of Fungus.
In the Garden, the bell tolled—seven long, distant chimes. All it would take was a single opportunity to fall into illusion, and He would gain another bargaining chip to persuade the wayward son to turn back…
. . .
"Too hasty." Mortarion commented, his eyes reflecting the hospital complex radiating an ominous aura.
Vorx did not know whether Mortarion was referring to themselves, or to their enemies.
At a glance, these buildings appeared normal. But the moment one approached, the stench of rot rushed forward.
Everyone present had put on the highest-grade gas masks under the Lord of Death's warning, yet the foul smell still pierced the bones and seeped into the soul.
Fragmented screams and cries for help echoed from the shadows behind the windows. For a moment, Vorx even thought he saw the silhouette of a Death Guard swaying past one of the windows?!
Vorx remained silent. He checked the ammunition at his waist once more and confirmed the number of Death Guard currently following them.
"My lord, the Death Guard are ready to launch the assault." He said this, only to see Mortarion frown and glance at him, muttering something in dissatisfaction.
Then Mortarion opened the communication channel.
"Gage." Mortarion spoke. He leaned casually on his scythe like a farmer standing beside a field ridge, looking nothing like someone about to launch an attack.
"Macragge First Hospital, along with the three adjacent residential districts. Saturation bombardment with phosphor incendiaries and firebombs. Recommend using phosphor shells with lingering radiation."
After finishing, Mortarion lifted his gaze to the buildings once more. Then the Lord of Death turned around and began withdrawing outside the bombardment zone.
Vorx fell silent again.
As a Death Guard who had misunderstood his gene-father's intentions, he began reflecting.
Vorx had expected a serious assault—a war against warp entities—just as in the past, when Mortarion had always handled such situations personally.
Suddenly the vox channel erupted in a screech of static. Vorx could easily imagine the unfortunate deputy commander screaming on the other end, while his Ultramarines comrades probably wished they could cut down the man who had authorized the Death Guard.
"My lord! I don't understand your meaning?!"
Mortarion frowned.
"I trust you understand High Gothic. Saturation bombardment with radioactive phosphor shells. Cover the three sectors of Macragge First Hospital. Bombardment begins in forty seconds."
"My lord, this seems—"
"If you do not do this," Mortarion said, looking toward the horizon.
In an extremely short span of time, thick clouds had gathered there. It looked like rain would begin at any moment.
Seeds and life flourish after the rain.
The enemy understood this principle. Mortarion understood it as well.
"If the Ultramarines do not follow my orders, Gage," Mortarion said, "then the Death Guard will do it ourselves. You might say the Death Guard do not currently possess air superiority over Macragge, but the Death Guard can acquire it."
Gage's anxious voice sounded over the channel. "My lord, Macragge will not authorize—"
Mortarion listened with satisfaction as the Ultramarine's voice gradually quieted. He had understood the implication behind the Lord of Death's words.
The Death Guard would not mind launching an attack on Macragge itself in order to seize air superiority.
Mortarion frowned. There was little time left. He did not want anything to go wrong at this moment.
He drew a deep breath. The odor of decay entered his nose.
"If my judgment is wrong, then I will bear all consequences. When Guilliman returns, I will personally await his judgment."
The faintly trembling vox signal seemed as though it still wanted to argue something…
A faint drip—the first barely visible raindrop fell beside the Lord of Death's feet. Mortarion lowered his head and silently watched the darkening, damp ground.
Mortarion's voice rang out, stern and impossible to refuse.
"Now. Bombard this place. This is my last warning."
The Space Marine on the other end hesitated. On one side was a district with at least a hundred thousand people. On the other was the command of a Primarch—
Gage recalled Roboute Guilliman's final instructions. At this moment, he wished more than anything that Guilliman had not left.
He stood there, feeling as if an immense pressure were crushing him.
Finally, Gage spoke.
"My lord, afterward, you must give us a reasonable explanation."
At the corner of Mortarion's eyes, teasing wrinkles creased as he let out a dry chuckle. He listened with satisfaction as the roar of Stormbirds sounded in the sky. The sleek hulls of the warships cut through cloud and mist as they approached the area.
He seemed to hear the distant cries of alarm from onlookers. Perhaps their family members, loved ones, or friends were inside that hospital—
But they were powerless.
The first phosphor shell traced a perfect arc through the air. Violent, uncanny flames burst forth in brilliant colors, blasting apart the hospital walls as severed limbs scattered outward.
Through the eyes of a Primarch, Mortarion saw the mottled walls already infected by fungus.
He saw those things—still standing.
"Living" corpses.
But they would soon disappear again, Mortarion thought. He would not recklessly rush into the enemy's trap anymore.
This would exact a heavy price, but it was worth it.
Phosphor shells continued to fall in an unbroken stream. The Ultramarines even dropped smoke shells. Perhaps, to them, it was necessary—to sever the connection between the outside world and this hell on earth.
He would not lose this battle so easily.
He could precisely estimate the enemy's movements. That existence shared… an extremely high degree of similarity with him, which made his calculations even more accurate.
And he was no longer that Mortarion, the one who could be provoked by emotion and leap straight into the enemy's trap.
Even if achieving that meant abandoning many things.
Mortarion stood in silence. Though the veil here trembled and wavered, this was still the physical world. Chaos could not directly summon its daemonic legions here. They required rituals, anchor points—and Mortarion would not allow such things to exist for long.
He wondered what other tricks the enemy could possibly have left.
Beneath his hood, Mortarion began to laugh softly.
"Unscrupulous."
Originally, that word had been used to describe Hades.
The Primarch stood there as blazing phosphor fire roared around him. The smell of burning and char filled the air, and it put him in a rather good mood.
The hospital and the surrounding buildings had already become half-collapsed ruins. After a short while, following the second round of bombardment, this place would become a true wasteland.
No life would remain.
The lingering high radiation from the phosphor shells would also exterminate any life afterward, sterilizing the region for a long time to come.
Mortarion was thinking this when the instincts of a Primarch alerted him that something was wrong.
He looked up again.
Reflected in his eyes was a new wave of phosphor shells, falling with precision toward the very area where he stood.
?!
At the moment the shockwave of the phosphor blast hurled him into the ruins of the hospital, Mortarion realized what he had overlooked—
Just as there had been among the Death Guard, there were traitors among the Ultramarines.
But unfortunately, Roboute Guilliman had not purged them.
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