"No matter how tough your mouth is, in my hands you'll become Hakimi!"
In this moment, in the eyes of Lasker and the others, Nyx was more terrifying than a hundred thousand xenos! His white coat, under the dim light, made him appear like the god of death himself — come to escort them straight to the Golden Throne.
That look, when Nyx glanced back at them, caused the still‑struggling Reaper veterans to go weak in the knees — nearly losing control of their bladders on the spot.
"Don't be afraid. This time, we're too pressed for time — I didn't have a chance to calibrate the machine properly. Urgent matters call for urgent measures. It'll pass once you endure it."
His tone was casual, as though discussing some trivial matter not worth mentioning — even as his hands swiftly adjusted those terrible instruments.
When Nyx said this, even Mortarion felt a chill run down his spine. The image of Typhon — eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out, that tragic, played‑out expression — was still fresh in his mind.
At the thought, Mortarion unconsciously tightened his grip on his scythe.
"Lord Mortarion! SAVE US!"
Lasker's cries for help were utterly pitiful. The scene was so agonising, so life‑or‑death, the howls mixing with the clash of metal, that Mortarion could hardly bear to watch. He turned his head halfway, suppressed his conscience, and nodded — almost imperceptibly — gesturing for Nyx to continue.
...Though you are transforming them, my heart aches... Mortarion murmured inwardly.
Whether Mortarion's heart ached or not was unclear. But with his brother's tacit approval, Nyx completely threw caution to the wind. He smiled, revealing neat white teeth. To the veterans, this scene was nothing less than a demonic grin.
Nyx cared not. With an iron will and ruthless efficiency, he directly commenced the [Temporary Saint Egg Transformation Surgery Apparatus] on the remaining candidates!
Time was running out. Nyx could only forcibly cobble together a heap of scrap metal and broken copper into a surgical machine for 'Saint Egg' modification. Though some bare wires sparked alarmingly, he firmly believed that the future Death Guard warriors would never refuse this 'gift'.
Ah? You say they're struggling violently? That's just a little pre‑operative nerves. Their bodies want to move — perfectly normal. The machine hasn't even officially started yet.
"GENE‑SEED EXTRACTION — COMMENCE!"
While Nyx muttered to himself, Mortarion pulled Bug aside. At present, Bug was the sole lucky soul present not subjected to this 'torture'. He watched his colleagues; his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
"...Nyx... Is it always like this?"
Mortarion's voice was somewhat subdued.
"Boss... Seems like it's always been this way..."
Bug replied after a moment's thought, his gaze sliding to the buzzing apparatus.
Though Bug appeared somewhat simple, he was not stupid. Orks didn't have such experiences, but he still felt a faint phantom pain.
In that instant, the image of Nyx and a mad scientist became completely fused in Mortarion's mind. He somewhat regretted consenting to Nyx's Saint Egg transformation operation — but it was already underway, and far too late to stop.
And Nyx showed no sign of regret — from the moment he pressed the start button and that powerful suction engaged, all was doomed.
"OOOOOWWW——! HNNNNGH——!!"
Howls so terrible they sounded barely human erupted instantly, echoing between the laboratory's metal walls. An uninformed observer might have thought a pig‑squealing convention was underway. The cries did not last long, however, before everyone fell silent.
(Slaanesh: How exciting... What are you doing?! This movement has even made the youngest sister in the Warp set aside her dubious attentions for a moment!)
While the future Death Guard company commanders still lay in their comatose state, Nyx deftly produced a camera.
This was, of course, Nurgle's domain — but this was merely a small prelude to the manifestation of Nyx's wickedness. The outcome, however, was satisfactory: after what seemed an interminable several hours, the Saint Egg transformation operation was finally complete. The gene‑seed had been transfigured into Saint Eggs, each emitting a pale, glimmering radiance.
Nyx wiped away non‑existent sweat and exhaled in relief. "The transformation is successful. However..."
He pulled Mortarion — who still could not bear to look — closer, and extended a finger toward the transparent container holding Typhon's freshly completed Egg.
"Look... This is likely the 'hidden隐患' Nurgle buried within him."
The pale Saint Egg — which should have resembled a miniature Death Guard helm — now faintly emitted a green light from within. This was not a manifestation of Typhon's psychic ability, but a trace Nurgle had left behind, infiltrating deep into the gene‑seed itself.
...Why does this guy play his role better than the Dark Prince?! Nyx curled his lip and began rapidly taking notes on his dataslate.
According to Nyx's analysis, he was confident that Typhon would not be corrupted by this Nurgle remnant. As Typhon became a Space Marine, the Saint Egg's power would gradually strengthen, absorbing these dark green blemishes.
Ultimately, however, corruption depended on personal choice. Nyx had merely granted him the right to see the truth — and to make his own choice.
"...I... trust him."
In the end, Mortarion chose to trust Typhon. They had fought side by side, after all. He could not slay his own brother based on a mere possibility.
"Alright... The decision is yours."
Nyx spread his hands and said no more. He pressed the temporary apparatus button once more. The Saint Egg in the container rapidly began its return journey to its host's body. After another brief, mournful howl, every Reaper had finally completed their transformation — becoming Space Marines, truly capable of determining the war's outcome.
The efficiency of the transformation surprised even Mortarion. He had thought Nyx's earlier rhetoric somewhat exaggerated. He had not expected that, the moment the Saint Egg reintegrated, the bodies of these veterans would abruptly swell, transforming into robust giants over two metres tall.
The instant consciousness returned, several veterans suddenly tore free from the restraints that had bound them. The next second, their eyes met Mortarion's. Their bodies instinctively knelt.
"...Father."
Mortarion was silent. This was the first time he had truly experienced what it meant to have genetic progeny.
And when these newborn Astartes turned their gazes upon Nyx — their expressions shifted. In unison, they covered their lower bodies.
"...What do you mean by that?!"
"Am I really more terrifying than a xenos?!"
Nyx's protest was met only with silent disdain from all present. Some things need not be spoken aloud — everyone knew Nyx's virtues.
"Nyx. Why hasn't Typhon awakened yet?"
Mortarion turned to Typhon, who still lay motionless upon the slab. The transformation was clearly complete, yet he remained asleep — as though locked within some dream from which he could not wake.