Chapter 165: New Guy... but the Boss?!
Under a chorus of hymns and praises from a whole group of Tech-Priests, Hades finally managed to barely persuade them to leave.
Thankfully, one of them—though he had that classic "touched by the Omnissiah" vibe—was at least sane enough to help smooth over communications between Hades and Graia Forge World's delegation.
That Tech-Priest, designation 021, had trembled with zeal as he swore to Hades that within one standard Terran month, Forge World Graia would attempt to formalize a cooperation agreement with the Death Guard.
Hades stared at 021, his gaze resting on the guy's dust-scratched goggles.
'Wait a minute,' he thought. 'Don't Tech-Priests rank pretty low on their own forge worlds?'
The Mechanicus hierarchy was a tangled mess of cult doctrines, forge politics, and rites that varied wildly between forge worlds, so Hades really couldn't be sure.
Still, that was Graia's internal matter. Hades didn't plan to interfere.
If they didn't reach out first, the Death Guard would eventually initiate contact anyway.
Maintaining his "divine dignity," Hades watched as the group of machine-oil-scented priests finally backed out of view.
Some of them were still trying to half-kneel every few steps while retreating, but he ignored them.
Only once their little red silhouettes disappeared off his tactical HUD did Hades finally let out a long, exhausted sigh.
'Whew. Talked my way through that one.'
Good thing he'd ordered the Death Guard warriors who were waiting for him to pull back far enough not to witness the scene.
If they had seen the Tech-Priests kneeling and heard him pretending to be a prophet of the Machine God?
Hades could already see himself socially combusting on the spot. Instant death. No saves.
To prevent a repeat incident, he made a point to warn the Tech-Priest:
Just treat him like a regular Astartes in public.
And for the love of the Emperor, stop chanting litanies directly into his ear.
Following coordinates provided by Trazyn, Hades led the squad with practiced ease toward a concealed tomb entrance.
Nice and hidden—no fuss, no traps, no bugs.
Even the scarabs that usually infested Necron tombs were still sleeping soundly in their alcoves.
Perfect. In and out, grab the loot, simple job.
Well, for him.
The Death Guard following behind were... less relaxed.
These weren't just any Astartes—these were personally selected by Vorx himself: elite warriors from Barbarus, sharp-minded and cool under pressure.
But that same caution meant they were also suspicious as hell.
As they moved deeper into the enemy's stronghold, that sense of unease only grew.
Wasn't this supposed to be a low-risk job?
Why the hell are we in the enemy's core tomb now?!
They exchanged a few wary glances but remained silent.
After triple-checking Hades' identity, they simply tightened their grip on their bolters and kept following their increasingly cheerful leader into the depths.
. . . . . .
The promised loot from the Lord of Figurines had arrived!
Two brand-new engines and a unique weapon!
. . . . . .
Inside the storage vault, Death Guard Master of the Forge Enrique stood silently, staring at the two massive alien engines before him.
Sleek xeno-tech practically radiated from their surface.
Black outer plating, traced by vivid neon green lines, flowed like liquid speed.
Enrique slowly turned.
Behind him stood Hades—wearing his signature black and white twin pistols at his waist.
Hades grinned. "Heh."
Enrique turned back to look at the engines again.
Brand new. Untouched. Glorious.
Then he turned back again.
Hades: "Heh."
Enrique remained silent.
The old veteran Techmarine just stood there, staring directly at Hades.
Hades tried to maintain his grin.
"Where did you get them?" Enrique finally asked.
"...Found them," Hades replied.
Enrique casually adjusted his precision lenses, slipping on a pair of intricate magnifying glasses. He picked up a black dataslab and tapped it a few times without looking up.
"Quite the stroke of luck."
"Oh—and I found the instruction manual too," Hades added.
The air turned awkward.
Hades coughed, trying to regain control of the situation.
"You don't have the clearance," he said, trying to sound official. "I can't disclose the source."
Technically true.
Only Mortarion or Garro held the required level of authority.
But the moment they heard it was a tech-related matter? Both immediately waved it off and told Hades to handle it himself.
Hey! Aren't you guys even a little curious where I got these things?!
Hades had filled out an entire report booklet—a small novel of a thing—and Mortarion didn't even look at it.
He'd just chucked it straight into the archives.
Hello? What if I was doing shady stuff?!
He still remembered the look Garro gave him. A long-suffering sigh, a slow blink, and then a firm pat on the shoulder:
"Do your job."
And that was it.
Since none of the top brass had any mechanical expertise, the only one who could oversee the forge was Hades.
Enrique, despite his skills, was only mid-tier in terms of command structure and couldn't access the inner decision-making circle.
So yeah... on paper, Hades now held the highest position within the Death Guard's manufacturing division.
Even if, experience-wise, he was still basically a freshman.
Last time they met, Hades had been an apprentice.
Now? Straight into upper management.
It was so awkward, Hades couldn't even meet Enrique's gaze.
Enrique's eyes bore into him like a plasma cutter.
They didn't blink. Didn't soften.
"…Fine," Enrique finally said, flatly.
"But those engines—no matter where you got them—must undergo full verification by the Armoury. I don't care what your clearance is."
"I don't get involved in the bureaucratic stuff," Enrique continued, "but technically speaking? These machines require intensive analysis. It'll take a lot of time."
Hades nodded, switching to full professional mode.
"Absolutely," he said. "They need comprehensive evaluation."
"Directive 093-1 mandates at least four hundred and one checks on machines of unknown origin."
"Set it to Beta priority for now. No rush."
Enrique blinked.
He'd been ready to mentally categorize Hades with the usual command-layer idiots he had to deal with.
The type who walked in, threw around rank, and had no idea what they were talking about—forcing Enrique to waste time explaining basic forge logic to stop them from issuing nonsense orders.
But now, this leader—
—this former apprentice, had just cited a rarely used procedural directive from memory and even assigned an appropriate workflow priority.
Enrique's gaze grew more complicated.
He stared at the boy who had somehow grown into a man—both in stature and in rank—and now stood above him.
Was it a good thing… or a dangerous one?
Still, so far? At least this was a leader who didn't need him to explain what "binary fail-safe protocol" meant.
And one who actually knew what the Armoury did.
...Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
<+>
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