Chapter 262: A Live Demonstration of Ascension
The negotiations with the various planets went relatively smoothly. Under the oppressive aura of the Death Guard, no one dared to lie.
It was only the follow-up agreements that would need to be carefully reconsidered.
Still, this entire round of talks had broadened Mortarion's view of the diversity of the human species. Whatever their personal morals or private lives were like, the representatives sent to Barbarus were at least competent enough.
After all, these were talents chosen to represent entire worlds—no ruler would send useless trash.
At the very least, Mortarion's own prejudices about planetary leadership had been softened.
Among the delegates, there were quite a few who even left Hades with a good impression. They were sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and made conversations smooth.
For example, wealthy hive world Rawantia wished to remain neutral but was willing to sign a trade pact with the Death Guard. They even offered to handle a portion of the legion's supplies and to station personnel on Barbarus long-term to mediate between the two sides.
On the other hand, Tagus, which had just suffered a brutal greenskin invasion, requested the direct leadership of the Death Guard. Without external help, this world—recently ravaged by Orks—would find it impossible to recover its former prosperity.
The rest of the worlds fell into two broad categories:
The first is those who are willing to hand over resources in exchange for stability and the military protection of the Death Guard; or those that sought to directly attach themselves to the legion, hoping to use its power and supplies to grow.
For the first kind, Hades sent Vorx over to negotiate with them.
For the latter, he dispatched Garro, whose sharp instincts could easily tell which worlds were worth investing in.
Hades also brought along Fuller's team of mortal administrators, as well as a batch of Death Guard who had studied social governance, to serve as aides for Vorx and Garro.
And of course, for worlds that met the Death Guard's recruitment standards, Mortarion himself took charge of negotiations. He seemed particularly engrossed in chatting with representatives from death worlds—pulling up a little stool, calling over Cinis of Galaspar, and diving into long conversations.
It looked as though everything was running smoothly. Barbarus' internal affairs were being managed by Mortarion, leaving Hades free to relax.
But in truth, Hades was about to become the busiest man of all.
He lifted his gaze toward the faintly visible Forge-Satellite above.
He swallowed hard.
It was time to pay a visit to those oily cogboys.
. . . .
"Praise the Omnissiah!!!"
The binary hymn resounded. Countless red-robed Tech-Priests lined the way, forming a solemn procession. On either side, massive manufactoria rose skyward—far grander than before. As far as the eye could see, prosperity and wealth dripped like dew on leaves, ready to fall.
Everything was fine—
That is, only if that church-like building looming in the distance didn't exist.
Expressionless, Hades listened to the endless chants, following the crowd forward. His mind had long gone numb.
Thankfully, at least they were shouting praises to the Omnissiah. If they'd been calling his name with that same organized, disciplined, zealous fervor… Hades was pretty sure he'd be forced to perform a live demonstration of Godhoon Ascension right then and there.
Once again, he silently thanked himself for keeping Korklan under control, and for confining that damned Hades faith to a small circle.
Most of these Tech-Priests had originally been drawn by those viral recordings—footage of Hades wielding the power of the Void Dragon. Added to that, many of them had grown disillusioned with the main Forge Worlds, so they'd migrated to Barbarus' Forge-Satellite instead.
That alone wasn't so bad.
But then, after those same priests witnessed him purifying Barbarus' toxic atmosphere and publicly displayed his power up close, another round of sanity checks failed en masse. Their fanaticism ticked up another notch.
If that had been the end of it, fine—most faiths eventually erode under the weight of time.
But the real problem came later.
When Hades opened the Barbarus system to the nearby stars, the Tech-Priests here profited massively—utterly, completely, and overwhelmingly.
And every bit of it stemmed from Hades' policies.
Now, their fortunes were inextricably bound to his. Whatever excuses or denials he might try, nothing would change that.
The streets overflowed with Tech-Priests shouting their praises to the Omnissiah. Look at them! Once exiles and paupers, now lords of wealth and resources!
To question Hades was to question the wealth of the Mint Tech-Priests—no, their faith.
The richer and more splendid the buildings on Mint became, the more Hades' heart ached. He knew that every coin these Tech-Priests squeezed out of others would be chalked up as yet another one of his so-called "miracles."
On the surface, he kept his composure. Inside, however, his heart wore the mask of agony.
Before he had discovered that those "For Hades" prayers actually worked, he could still deceive his conscience and brush it aside. But now that he knew their prayers were genuinely effective, every time he looked at these cogboys, chills crawled down his spine.
He wanted to ban them from invoking Hades in their chants, yet he feared the opposite effect: perhaps they hadn't been thinking in that direction at all, but the moment he tried to forbid it, they would start wondering—could praying to Hades be possible? His very act of banning it might only make things worse.
Hades was screaming inside, pounding the ground in his mental world in frustration. What kind of cursed 30k-level problem was this?!
As he ranted inwardly and tried to calculate just how much these Tech-Priests had consumed in resources, the procession finally reached its destination.
A towering cathedral loomed before them, sunlight spilling across its gleaming walls. One man stood at its gates, staring at the approaching Hades with reverent eyes. The glow-lamps embedded in his face flickered—a sign of joy.
Unlike the other Tech-Priests, the Archmagos of Mint was garbed in silk robes of crimson. Golden thread embroidered sacred verses across the fabric, glittering as he moved.
In both hands, he cradled a sealed scroll, waiting with perfect obedience.
"My lord, under your blessing, Mint thrives. On behalf of all the Tech-Priests of Mint, I present to you our most sincere loyalty."
The Archmagos bowed low, though he did not kneel. With calm dignity, he extended the scroll to Hades. Binary prayers were etched upon its surface, glowing faintly.
There was no refusing it. Hades kept his face taut, silently reached out, and accepted the scroll.
"My lord, this contains the keys and records of all Mint's knowledge, archives, and wealth. Even during your Great Crusade, the followers of the Omnissiah have heeded your words—unceasingly treading the path of truth."
"Not bound by desire, not shackled by obsession. For truth, and for mankind."
The Archmagos whispered, and behind Hades, the endless procession took up the same murmur. A chorus of thousands rose, reciting their creed together.
"My lord, we have done it."
Hades swallowed hard, lowering his eyes to look at the half-bowed Archmagos.
"…Good. May truth and humanity endure forever."
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