Chapter 179: Hades: Yep, This Is The Day I'm Going To Die
Hades declared this moment—this exact moment—as one of the top three most soul-crushingly unbearable scenes of his entire life.
This, despite the fact that he had once coolly beat down a squad of envious Techmarines on Mars without flinching. Despite the time he shamelessly ate the Death Guard's entire daily food ration in front of a crowd. Not even those events made him want to die as badly as he did right now.
Currently, Hades was floating near a Forge World satellite orbiting Barbarus. The Graia Tech-Priest had "invited" him here to "take a look" at some future equipment production plans. Oh, and as a "coincidence," they mentioned there was a "small" dedication ceremony happening that they "hoped" he could attend.
Thinking he was coming for a routine negotiation about gear specs, Hades showed up completely off guard.
Looking back now, Hades wanted to strangle that naive idiot version of himself from earlier.
The towering cathedral arched above like a myth brought to life. The songs of history echoed into new chapters beneath its spires, while servo-skulls spun gracefully, weaving binary hymns through the air. Deep within the cathedral, the blurred silhouette of a Titan flickered in the gloom.
Binary chants spiraled around him like a storm. Tech-Priest cloaked in crimson stepped forward with solemn grace, machine-oil incense soaking into every gear and cog, and gilded ornamentation laced through every crevice of the chamber.
The Tech-Priest gleefully ushered Hades toward the "VIP" seat.
Except—who the hell puts the VIP seat dead center at the very front of the whole blasted arena?!
Even worse, looming behind that seat stood a massive statue—not the usual form of the Omnissiah, but a brooding sculpture cloaked in stone-black drapery, jagged edges barely visible beneath its surface. It radiated pressure. Dread.
Hades' lips twitched.
He took back everything he'd ever promised Mortarion.
Abort mission.
Run.
RUN.
And that wasn't even the worst part.
Before Hades had handed over Blackstone technology to the Sisters of Silence, Charon and Sister Nera—the Custodes and Sister of Silence—had sworn to guard his life until his mission was fulfilled.
Which meant…
They were still with him.
Still. Right. Beside. Him.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Wait, wait, wait—you're telling me these Tech-Priest can't see the two massive golden death machines flanking me?! Are you blind or are you just too into this whole ritual thing?!
You didn't actually think they were regular security, did you!?
Hold up—is that seating on either side of the VIP chair meant for them?
Oh no.
Oh no no no no—
Hades could already feel Sister Nera, the Sister of Silence, brimming with righteous execution-mode energy. Her hand inched toward her pistol grip, fingers curling with methodical menace.
Meanwhile, the Custodian Charon, faceless beneath his golden helm, gave no reaction. Hades couldn't read him at all.
But it looked like Charon might have subtly blocked Sister Nera's move just now.
In that moment of surreal panic, Hades thought he saw heaven calling to him.
No. I have to escape.
He slammed on the mental brakes.
The Tech-Priest behind him halted in confusion, murmuring in their binary tongues. The one in front, who had been tugging him toward the seat, nearly stumbled when Hades resisted.
Even though the Tech-Priest had surprising strength, Hades had mass on his side. He wasn't going anywhere he didn't want to.
"…"
"…What exactly are you doing?" a voice asked, deep and gravelly, slicing through the cathedral's soaring hymns like a rusty blade.
"A ceremonial blessing, my lord," came the reply. "To sanctify the completion of this new Forge World satellite."
"…I just remembered something urgent. The Death Guard Primarch is calling me back. I'm afraid I'll have to miss this… lovely ceremony."
Lies. All of it.
Barbarus was in the middle of a massive reforestation effort. The Death Guard needed more biochemical agents, so Mortarion had gone off to play biotech with the Druid, theMagos Biologis .
Unlike the other Primarchs, Mortarion had taken biochemical research to an entirely different level—specializing in the crafting of all manner of toxins, venoms, and explosives. Naturally, he had absolutely no reason to call for Hades.
But Hades needed an excuse—any excuse—that wasn't just "I don't want to die here today."
To the Graia Tech-Priest, Hades might've been an acting representative, but he still technically operated under the Death Guard's jurisdiction. If he disobeyed what could be interpreted as an order from his Primarch, and it was because of them, then they'd be responsible for the Omnissiah suffering punishment.
Which, in Mechanicus terms, was the metaphysical equivalent of sacrilege.
If they really forced him into that seat, he'd be one bolt short of the grave. Hades felt the cold breath of death on his neck and swore he could see the light fading from his vision already.
As soon as he gave his excuse, the lead Tech-Priest hesitated—and Hades immediately felt the ambient electro-frequency chatter spike like wildfire.
The Tech-Priest were communicating—rapidly.
Binary and radio signal exchanges were far more efficient than anything a flesh-throat could utter. After a long 3.6 milliseconds of "deliberation," the lead Tech-Priest turned back toward him.
"You truly intend to leave, my lord?"
Hades offered a tight smile. A quick glance to his right showed Charon, his golden Custodian bodyguard, silent and still. To his left, Sister Nera's hand was still hovering dangerously close to her sidearm.
Did they seriously think he had a choice here?
If he didn't leave, there was a very high probability he'd die on the spot.
And if he did leave?
Well… someone would probably still die. Just maybe not him.
He tilted his head up toward the cathedral's vaulted ceiling. From the shadows, skeletal cherubs watched from above, their hollow sockets boring into his soul.
Yeah.
He was gonna die today.
He'd made peace with it.
But Hades wasn't ready to die without at least trying to run first.
"I'm leaving," he said firmly.
The lead Tech-Priest tensed slightly. "My lord… for a Forge World satellite, the dedication ceremony holds great importance. It is a ritual to invoke the wisdom and blessings of the Omnissiah upon this installation."
These ceremonies were considered essential. They were the sacred rites to ensure the Machine God's favor. Naturally, invitations were extended to the most accomplished researchers—those considered closest to the divine mind of the Omnissiah.
Ironically?
The smarter a Tech-Priest was, the less likely they were to truly believe in the Mechanicus religion.
But they still showed up.
Because these rituals were fantastic opportunities to flex on lower-ranking Tech-Priest with achievements and status.
In contrast, the low-tier Tech-Priest genuinely believed in the Machine God. Though no one was sure which caused which—were they low-tier because they were devout, or devout because they were low-tier?
Mechanicus dogma was notoriously rigid. Not about innovation, but preservation. If one followed every tenet to the letter, true innovation became all but impossible.
So, the truly intelligent Tech-Priest never claimed to have "invented" anything.
No.
They were simply "guided by the Machine God" and had "restored ancient mechanisms to their original divine form."
Meanwhile, behind closed lab doors, they performed the kind of experimental heresy that would make a Puritan Inquisitor's head explode.
This duality had become an open secret within the Mechanicus. As long as no one said it aloud, everyone pretended harmony reigned.
Though, granted, there were still a handful of high-level Tech-Priest who were genuinely fervent believers.
As for the lower-tier Tech-Priest? Most of them still clung to the dogma with both hands.
To be fair, the dogma did serve a purpose—it safeguarded knowledge from corruption, and provided a stable structure for information transmission through the ages.
The majority of those attending today's ceremony were these low-tier Tech-Priest. The truly brilliant ones rarely left their personal forge worlds just to consecrate some minor Legion satellite.
For the low-tier? Dogma held them here.
For the high-tier?
Only profit could move them.
One of the more fervent believers now looked straight at Hades, voice trembling with conviction.
"The guidance of the Machine God shall determine the destiny of this forge-satellite,"
"…Which is why, my lord… you must not be absent."
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Tn: What's happening in this chapter is basically the Graia Tech-Priests inviting Hades to a ceremony, and give him a VIP seat where if he end up seating there, it would be like a proclamation that he is God.
Keep in mind, Hades is followed by a Sister of Silence and a Custodian.
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