Chapter 221: Hello, Xenos, Your Scourge Has Arrived (Part 1)
The cold urgings and questioning transmissions from the First Legion carried a high-handed, inhuman arrogance.
The footsteps of war were drawing near; there was no time for hesitation.
They need to advance, or find an excuse to retreat; the Warp was no place to linger.
The appearance of that ship had disrupted the Death Guard's established plans, and the dying words of the Explorator only deepened the confusion.
Mortarion's expression grew especially grim: an Astartes in white and green armor, accompanied by the curse of Nurgle? Mortarion did not consider this a good omen.
So far as Mortarion knew, there was only one "former Death Guard"—that traitorous Apothecary, Laton.
But could it really be him? There was too little information for Mortarion to reach a conclusion.
Compared to Mortarion's openly displeased expression, Hades, who had returned from the exploration mission, appeared as calm as ever, continuing his various duties with a steady face.
But was Hades truly as composed as he looked? No. With a major battle looming, the Legion needed someone to hold steady, to be a pillar.
In reality, Hades was even more panicked than Mortarion.
At first, Hades had also suspected that the Astartes might be the traitorous Apothecary, but being familiar with the Warp, Hades knew that time in the Warp was not continuous; it could be someone from the future.
Yet in the timeline known to Hades, if the Death Guard ever did turn traitor, their armor should be purely green, not white and green.
Faced with that ship covered in fungus, the two men who knew the truth within the Death Guard were both clearly unsettled.
A single question circled in their minds —
If that Death Guard was a traitor, and a follower of Nurgle, then if he appeared on a battlefield held by another Legion under the banner of the Death Guard…
Mortarion buried his face in his hands. To a Primarch, this was the most terrifying scenario he could imagine—unclean, corrupted sons appearing before the other Legions. What would that mean?
What made Hades even more anxious was that he knew Rangda had already destroyed two Legions. The timing of this was far too coincidental.
If it were any other Legion, it would be less dire, but right now the Death Guard was about to face the First Legion—those cryptic masters who would decisively slay even their own if needed!
Hades had a sudden, absurd thought: What if the Lion believed the Death Guard had fallen to corruption, then went berserk, and the First Legion together with the Sixth Legion wiped out the Death Guard in one go?
No, no, no—that way even Nurgle would gain nothing, it couldn't be that bad…
Cough, ridiculous, Hades decided to put that thought aside for now.
Regarding the current situation, the frustrated Hades and Mortarion held an emergency discussion for a long time, but the two truly could not reach a solid conclusion. And with every minute and second of their debate, the Death Guard fleet remained adrift amid the tides of the Warp. The longer they stayed, the greater the danger they would face.
Falling back was not a good option—to defy the Emperor's orders on their own initiative?
And if they did not advance, and a corrupted Death Guard truly appeared on the battlefield ahead—if they didn't kill him, would they just wait for the First Legion to come and execute them instead?
Just in case, and under Hades' urging, Mortarion began to draft a statement of innocence in case another Legion witnessed a corrupted Death Guard. When writing it, Mortarion looked like a man already dead; Hades saw more than once that Mortarion's trembling hands were ready to pick up a knife and commit ritual suicide.
While Mortarion was writing this, Hades began preparing a distress call.
If anything went wrong, he would call for the nearby Space Wolves to bombard the sector. If Space Wolves were all they had, so be it—better than nothing.
In the end, the Death Guard chose to attack. The operational plan for assaulting the Rust System slowly began to take shape in the Death Guard's strategic chamber.
With war imminent, Mortarion, finally having finished his declaration of innocence, recovered some of his resolve and began to deploy operations against the xenos.
In the information-blocked Rust System, the Lord of Death carefully selected thousands of men from among his mortal servants—loyal and clever human crewmen, who would serve as the vanguard trumpet of this war.
Some small ships had been hastily disguised by the forges to resemble merchant vessels, equipped with only the most minimal light defensive systems to reduce weight and maximize speed. There would be no return journey on this mission—they would bring the Death Guard the latest information about Rust.
In the Warp near the Mandeville Point, the Death Guard, scythes in hand, waited in silence for war.
. . . . . . . . .
This was a war that would decide the survival of the Mekanic species. Every Mekanic knew it. They had left their homes behind in a desperate attempt to seize even the faintest hope of survival.
They successfully arrived above the Rust system according to their plans, relying on a massive fleet to conquer the outer mining worlds of Rust. Using those mining worlds as footholds, they continued to devour this human star system, which are doomed to fall.
There was only one last target left: taking the Rust homeworld, a dim, rust-colored planet whose alien technology and resources would give the Mekanic hope for further advances. If they could capture this place, just beyond lay a rich oasis—a spark to ensure the expansion and survival of their species was within sight. They would not disappoint those who waited for them back home.
Even with nearly the entire star system already fallen, even though the Mekanic had broadcast countless offers of surrender, the humans on Rust's homeworld continued to resist with desperate ferocity. These bipedal apes, bodies studded with pipes and metal, refused to accept any of the Mekanic's demands to capitulate.
It did not matter. The Mekanic would see them destroyed.
Upon Rust's orange-yellow, desolate lands, Mekanic warriors advanced through the sands, bringing inevitable death.
But then the Scourge arrived, stealing through the shadows of night.
As night's curtain fell over the observation post nearest the Mandeville Point, a group of ships, appearing to be ordinary human merchant vessels, forcefully translated out of the Warp from the Mandeville Point.
These small, numerous ships streaked past the observation point like a meteor shower.
The Mekanic fleet immediately opened fire, bright fireballs blooming in succession. Amidst the searing beams of light, the wreckage of ships drifted, drawing lines through the sky to mark the convoy's course. Yet many of the merchant ships broke through the first line of defense, relying on speed, numbers, and covering fire from their comrades to push onward, unstoppable.
The star system's outermost defense fleet quickly dispatched ships in pursuit, but to the Mekanic warships, these human merchant vessels were small and nimble. When they began to scatter and fly toward different worlds, even the Mekanic were forced to send more ships to block them, and the planetary defense cannons pivoted to track and attempt to shoot down these seemingly panicked humans.
In that instant, as the Mekanic's focus wavered, a corner of a giant vessel emerged from the rippling blue-green waves of the Mandeville Point—it raised its cruel, savage spear and hurled a deadly first blow toward the Mekanic.
For the Mekanic, comfortable in their temporary conquest, this would be their first—and last—experience of the true nature of interstellar war:
Slaughter. Destruction. The end of war could only mean the complete death of one side.
Death had already raised its scythe.
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