Howling drop pods tore through the dry air of the desolate mining world, flames wrapped in steel, glint flashing off scythe-blades—death descended with them.
Inside the violently shaking, cramped drop pod, Hades sat silently, an obituary resting quietly in his hands.
He was among the first wave of Death Guard to land, descending alongside the Iron Warriors' primary drop force into the rear of Sector 03.
Due to the mutual disdain between Mortarion and Perturabo, the latter had adamantly insisted that the Iron Warriors would be the first ground troops to make landfall.
The Lord of Iron believed the Pale King was trying to provoke him—so he sent his finest steel, the elite of the Iron Warriors, to lead the charge.
Mortarion, on the other hand, had no clue about any of this posturing. He simply chose the first wave of drop pods that would get him to the surface fastest, just so he could start to butcher some xenos.
After some urging from the other Death Guard, Mortarion gave up his plan to drop with the first wave. Instead, he would wait until the initial wave of Death Guard had landed and secured the terrain before making his descent.
Hades still remembered a few Death Guard had come to him beforehand, hoping he could talk Mortarion out of rushing in too fast.
They still hadn't forgotten that one time in the Battle of Galaspar—how the Primarch had charged straight into enemy lines, leaving his troops in the dust. That image had left a deep impression.
For a legion, a Primarch's symbolic presence often meant more than his individual combat prowess. That was why Mortarion had ultimately been talked down.
And so, after the Iron Warriors' initial drop, command of the first wave of Death Guard naturally fell to Hades.
BANG!
A sharp, violent jolt—and then the hiss of air screamed into the pod. Blinding sunlight and grit tore through the opening, blades drawn, rounds chambered.
Hades strode from the drop pod, issuing commands over the comms to the Death Guard landing with him.
[Death Guard First Team has reached target zone.]
The harsh static of the public comm channel crackled as Hades addressed the Iron Warriors' commander, Dantioch.
Realizing the first wave of reinforcements had arrived, Dantioch silently breathed a sigh of relief.
As the one tasked with establishing the beachhead, the pressure on him had been immense.
Perturabo had only assigned him barely enough troops to seize the landing zone.
But with the arrival of the Death Guard—clearly outnumbering the Iron Warriors—the pressure on their line was immediately eased.
Gunfire roared from Death Guard weapons.
Dantioch was mildly surprised to notice that, unlike his own brothers who would bellow war cries, these pale green warriors entered the battlefield in utter silence. They took their place alongside the Iron Warriors in hastily constructed trenches. Apart from the sounds of gunfire and the heavy thud of boots, the Death Guard made no noise.
The occasional crackle of static on the shared comms reminded the Iron Warriors that the Death Guard were, indeed, on the channel.
But... there was no chatter.
Only when absolutely necessary would short, clipped transmissions be exchanged among the Death Guard—just enough to remind the Iron Warriors:
They're listening.
And they're watching.
But the Death Guard commander, Hades, was not like most of his silent brethren. Clear High Gothic rang out across the comms, reporting the Death Guard's current status and relaying intelligence on enemy positions.
[Well done, brothers.]
[We will now take control of the battlefield.]
Hades's voice cut through the static.
[Understood.]
Dantioch responded crisply.
Originally, this landing operation was supposed to be led by the Death Guard, but due to Perturabo's insistence, the Iron Warriors had become the first wave.
Now, with the initial drop zone secured under Dantioch's command, the Iron Warriors had already proven themselves. There was no need to prolong their engagement.
Unlike Perturabo, who seemed indifferent to casualties, Dantioch wanted every drop of blood spilled to have meaning.
Besides... Dantioch recalled the brief communication he received right before boarding the drop pod.
It came from a brother who had just returned from Mars.
In that short message, the brother advised him to make a good impression on the Deathshroud known as Hades, and assured him that as long as they fight together, there is no need to worry about the running-in problem—because, surprisingly, this Deathshroud had a good temper.
Dantioch was taken aback.
Judging from the timing of that brother's return from Mars, this Hades must've climbed the Death Guard ranks very quickly after leaving the red planet.
Such a meteoric rise usually implied ruthless brilliance—but outsiders described him as... mild-mannered?
Recalling Hades's earlier private message and the efficiency of his battlefield reports, Dantioch found himself growing curious about the burly Deathshroud.
And Hades was proving himself a competent commander—he relayed up-to-date battlefield intel, smoothly transitioned the Death Guard into taking over frontline responsibilities, and favored cautious, calculated tactics.
So far, Dantioch would rank this cooperative experience in his top three most preferred command partnerships.
Hades's orders were devoid of ego, free of fluff, and densely packed with actionable information—exactly how Dantioch liked it.
In his past collaborations with other legions, some commanders talked far too much. Dantioch disliked that.
What Dantioch didn't know was that Hades would also go on to praise the Iron Warriors during his after-action reports. Had he known, he would've bumped Hades to the top of his "preferred cooperation" list.
The Death Guard began pushing the frontline forward—slowly, but steadily. Meanwhile, the Iron Warriors who had withdrawn from the very front turned their efforts toward reinforcing trenchworks.
Their current landing zone was behind a low ridge, part of the terrain surrounding a cluster of Necron necrotect constructs. The Iron Warriors had only managed to secure it thanks to their use of terrain and a well-coordinated airstrike before landing.
The troops stationed here were tasked with pushing into the towering blackstone structures, locating and attempting to destroy the enemy shield systems, and then calling in a second wave of precision fire support.
Before they entered the complex itself, Perturabo's calculations had allowed for one final airstrike by the Iron Warriors' aerial units—to carve a hole through the dense ranks of Necron infantry for both the Death Guard and Iron Warriors to charge through.
After this bombing run concluded, Mortarion would descend with the second wave of Death Guard, leading them to seize the objective.
But for now, the Iron Warriors' Stormbirds remained entangled in dogfights with crescent-shaped Necron aircraft. Amidst the sweeping yellow sandstorms, glimpses of their clashing metallic forms occasionally flickered into view.
Though the Iron Warriors had briefly gained air superiority—long enough to shield their drop pods during descent—that advantage had swiftly changed hands again.
Both sides were fiercely contesting the skies. The side that could maintain control for even half a standard hour would gain the chance to unleash a wide-area bombardment on the ground forces.
That was why the Imperial troops on the ground needed trenches to shield them from incoming fire. Dantioch directed a portion of the Iron Warriors to dig defensive fortifications, while the rest held the line.
The good news: soon, the Iron Warriors would once again dominate the skies.
On another front, the Iron Warriors were fighting alongside the Graia Skitarii, engaging the Necron main force and their armored divisions. Their objective was to hold the enemy at bay while the vanguard tried to link up with the drop forces and clear an evacuation route.
[Prepare for melee! Scythes up!]
The current enemies faced by the drop forces were still primarily Necron infantry. And the best solution to Necron infantry was brutal close-quarters combat.
As the number of attacking Necrons began to dwindle, Hades decisively ordered a detachment of Death Guard to leave the trenches and engage the enemy in melee, under cover of supporting fire from their brothers.
Hades did not waste words. Scythe in hand, he was the first to charge.
Despite his towering build, his movements were surprisingly agile. His precision-engineered backpack unleashed a storm of bullets and plasma beams, intercepting enemy fire with practiced ease.
His breath was long and steady. The scythe spun, cutting cleanly through metal. Sparks flew as Obituary—his weapon—clashed with Necron alloy. A chorus of harsh metallic screeches echoed across the battlefield.
The Black Domain was useless here.
Hades observed the Necrons he cleaved—those rigid, mechanical forms with their lifeless eyes.
It was clear: these beings possessed no soul.
Just as he suspected.
Now certain of this, Hades wasted no more mental effort on them. As he surveyed the battlefield, he continued harvesting the enemy with practiced ease.
However—
At the very instant Hades first clashed with the Necrons—
Deep within a tomb, a figure muttering to himself suddenly looked up.
It was Djoseras.
"Nas, you were wrong."
"Just as I had said before, In the end, I'll be the one to defeat him."
But Nas could no longer hear his king's voice. The ship he commanded—along with the Necron fleet under his control—now drifted silently through the void of space.
The faint signal of the shard of a C'tan had vanished.
Nas stared at the scanner, his thoughts silent.
The last location of that signal?
It had been aboard the Fourth Horseman, sheltered among a portion of the Iron Warriors' and Death Guard's fleet—now preparing for the second wave of orbital descent.
<+>
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