Chapter 164: Don't Kneel to Me!
Shattered walls, crumbling ruins, and blast craters littered the battlefield—everywhere bore the violent scars of war.
After tagging along with the main force for a few days, watching Mortarion lead the charge against some grotesque abominations, Hades took his chance. With Apothecary Leo no longer paying close attention to him, he decisively requested a small squad and returned to the area where the Necron constructs had once swarmed. He had a personal mission—to dig out something that Trazyn had promised him.
Leading his squad carefully around the Mechanicus patrols, Hades drew near the silent remnants of the Necron constructs. He came to a halt before a slab of blackstone, gazing thoughtfully at the scorched crater before him.
The scene from a few days ago—the chaos, the surge of power—flashed vividly in his mind.
He gestured for his fellow Death Guard to stand back and wait. He needed a moment to recall...
Gripping his scythe in one hand, Hades stretched out the other, staring blankly at his palm.
That moment... had he actually managed to tap into the energy of the Void Dragon?
A thunderous green flash had torn through the monochrome battlefield, as if a god who commanded the laws of physics had briefly skimmed across the surface of reality.
The Void Dragon... could control blackstone. And he—maybe, just maybe—had touched that power for an instant?
Hades tilted his head, listening closely. The stones around him were... resonating with him.
But—how the hell was he supposed to use that power again?
He frowned at his hand, then tried imagining himself as one of those mages who could hurl energy balls barehanded. He concentrated hard, focusing on that imaginary flow of energy reaching his palm...
For several long moments, he stood there straining—cycling through everything from qi cultivation breathing techniques to random magical incantations.
Nothing.
...Maybe he should ask a Librarian? But this didn't feel anything like warp-based psychic power.
Forget it. He'd try to do it later. The Death Guard behind him—who'd signed up to dig up graves, not watch him meditate—were probably losing patience.
But just as Hades was about to step forward—
[MY LORD!!!]
From behind a broken wall near the Necron constructs, a figure draped in crimson robes—a Tech-Priest of the Graia Forge World—suddenly popped out.
Incense filled the air. A sacred hymn blared from hidden vox-speakers. And then—
That Tech-Priest dropped to his knees and bowed before Hades!
'What the hell?!'
Hades barely stopped himself from taking a step back.
Sure, as an Astartes—especially an elite boss-tier Death Guard—he had high status. But this was way over the top!
And it wasn't even just a normal kneel—it was the full religious prostration!
Hades reacted fast, quickly trying to pull the Tech-Priest up. The guy didn't look like much, but he was surprisingly heavy—Hades almost strained himself.
"...…"
He stared in silence at the Tech-Priest, utterly lost. Should he say, "You've got the wrong guy"? Or maybe, "Stand, brother—you don't need to kneel like that"?
But he forgot one crucial thing:
He hadn't disabled the Tech-Priest's comm channel.
[Praise the Omnissiah!!]
The Tech-Priest's ecstatic voice burst through the channel—so loud it echoed.
Within seconds, Hades' field of vision filled with at least ten crimson-robed figures.
All of them chanting hymns. All of them reeking of sacred oils.
They were the same Tech-Priests who had witnessed the ghostly image of Hades days ago—and, crucially, they were the ones who actually bought into the faith.
'What is happening right now?!'
Hades could practically feel his hair standing on end.
One after another, the Tech-Priests emerged from the rubble like some kind of cultist ambush—every single one locking eyes on him and immediately falling to their knees in reverent worship.
"Do. Not. Kneel."
Still holding up the original Tech-Priest by the arm, Hades spoke in a deep, steady tone. He sounded calm. Commanding. Like he had everything under control.
Inside, though? He was screaming.
Inside, Hades was absolutely screaming.
What the hell is happening right now?!
His brain raced through every possible scenario and explanation as the only thing he could blurt out was, "Everyone, stop kneeling."
Compared to Hades—who was internally freaking out—the Tech-Priests were on the verge of rapture.
How merciful!
The Omnissiah was so magnanimous that He even helped up the first believer who found Him. And His calm, wise voice—so full of command—had already delivered His first decree.
The Tech-Priests who had dropped to their knees (or were about to) all rose, one after the other, curiosity and reverence mixing in their gazes as they stared at the Astartes before them.
In theory, the Omnissiah referred to that being of the Imperium. When the red rains fall upon Mars, it is said that the god descends unto the world.
But the truth was: Mars had no absolute control over the other Forge Worlds.
Each world operated independently, both in manufacturing and, crucially, in faith.
While the Martian Mechanicus had its rigid dogmas and established rituals, the beliefs of the outlying Forge Worlds were a mosaic—each with its own interpretation.
Sure, the central doctrine stayed more or less the same, but the more distant the Forge World, the more imaginative their belief systems got.
After all, the Emperor's so-called miraculous descent on Mars had happened millennia ago. The further away in time and space, the dimmer the impact.
So when it came to religious doctrine, the Mechanicus across the galaxy was less of a strict dogma and more of a... collection of enthusiastically applied headcanons.
Still, there was one idea they all agreed on:
The miracles of the Omnissiah would one day be delivered by His divine representative.
And now? These Tech-Priests were absolutely convinced that Hades' near-death explosion of void energy was that miracle.
If one were to trace it all back... The origin of the Adeptus Mechanicus faith itself was born in the slumbering dreams of the Void Dragon.
The "truths" they so devoutly preached were, in fact, the physical laws governed by that same dragon.
And Hades? He had literally inhaled a chunk of the Void Dragon, courtesy of the Emperor.
So in a very twisted, technically-true way…
Hades was a counterfeit Omnissiah.
After surviving the psychic whiplash of being worshipped out of nowhere, Hades started to put the pieces together.
His final memory before blacking out... was that burst of power.
Did these Tech-Priests actually witness that?
Yeah... they probably did.
And no—he definitely couldn't pull it off again right now.
But looking at all those Tech-Priests, faces full of reverence and awe…
And considering the Death Guard had just been talking about finding a Forge World ally...
Hades took a long, deep breath.
This was a bluff he had no choice but to keep playing.
And hey—it wasn't even technically a lie!
He was, in some sense, the representative (bite-sized edition) of the Omnissiah (Void Dragon).
Hades looked down at the Tech-Priest he'd been holding. Once he confirmed the guy wasn't about to kneel again, he let go.
"…Why did you seek me out?"
This time, it was the Tech-Priest's turn to be completely stunned.
Why? Was that even a question?
He'd seen a miracle! Wasn't that reason enough?!
This was exactly what the Prime Hermeticons taught them—when a divine sign appears, you kneel. You follow.
You don't need a damn reason.
Now that the Omnissiah had spoken to him directly, the Tech-Priest's logic engine spun like mad.
After a brief internal overheating, he finally stammered out:
"We, your humble followers… were drawn here by your calling, seeking truth in this imperfect world."
A few soft gasps escaped from the other Tech-Priests waiting behind him—equal parts awe at their colleague's boldness and a shared, eager curiosity at how the Omnissiah would respond.
Hades went still.
'Shit.'
He just remembered—he was terrible at playing the messiah.
His thoughts scrambled. He tried to recall how that street-preaching auntie back in the hive market used to talk.
Then his memory jumped to those dreadfully boring theology lectures on Mars.
A thick silence blanketed the ruined battlefield, the only sound being the mechanical ka-chunk and whirr of the Tech-Priests' internal servos ticking in anticipation.
Hades took a long breath. He lowered his voice and tried to sound dignified and divine:
"Your pursuit of truth… pleases me greatly."
"However, I possess only a fragment of His power. The galaxy is in decline, truth obscured, chaos encroaching. I must remain hidden from the world... and cannot directly guide you."
All true. Every word he spoke is the truth. He wasn't lying! At least not technically!
His solemn, resonant voice rippled across the broken stone. The Tech-Priests stood frozen, reverently absorbing every syllable.
He claimed weakness, but they all remembered that impossible vision, that burst of power that cracked the heavens and echoed with knowledge itself.
If that was weakness… then what kind of strength must the Omnissiah originally wield?!
Silently, the priests began dissecting his words with meticulous care, their cogitators whirring.
They logged every sentence, began semantic breakdowns, deconstructed the phrasing.
To them, this wasn't just speech—it was encrypted scripture.
And then came silence. Again.
The kind that made cold sweat begin to form at Hades' temples.
'Shit. Don't tell me they've figured out I'm a fraud. If they call me out I'm toast.'
Thankfully, the priest he'd helped earlier finally spoke.
And Hades genuinely, from the bottom of his heart, wanted to bless that guy on the spot.
"Forgive my boldness, my lord."
Hades gave a slight nod—solemn and silent. As is giving the Tech-Priest a divine permission.
"Are you… currently hidden within the ranks of the 14th Legion?"
Hades paused.
Then nodded again.
The priest bowed low, in a strange but oddly respectful gesture—likely one of those regional rites.
"Then... please allow us to consider how we may serve your Legion."
'YES!'
Hades almost screamed it.
Hook, line, and sinker.
On the other side, the priest's own heart beat faster than his engine regulators could suppress.
He knew, of course, that a low-ranking Tech-Priest like him couldn't possibly finalize any alliances with an Astartes Legion.
But he also knew something else:
His superiors had already been debating which Legion to partner with.
Originally, Forge World Graia had been leaning toward the Iron Warriors, with their similarly cold mechanical doctrine.
But Perturabo's utter contempt for the Archmagos caste had soured that deal fast.
Some of the Magos had quietly floated the Death Guard as a candidate. Others had argued for waiting.
But now—now, standing before the Omnissiah—This Tech-Priest knew:
His chance to be promoted had come.
Omnissiah, forgive my selfish ambition.
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