Chapter 183: What? This Isn't Necron Tech
"There are upgrades for the Astartes too," Hades said.
As he spoke, he casually picked up a scythe—its surface shimmered faintly with a sickly green glow.
Mortarion stared wordlessly at the weapon. The blade had a bold "XIV" etched into its shaft, along with the emblem of the Death Guard.
It was unmistakably a Necron Warscythe—except this one had been resized to fit a Death Guard's proportions, making it easier to grip with their larger hands. Everything else was exactly the same.
Mortarion didn't need an explanation. He already knew what it was. During past clashes with the Necrons, he'd seen firsthand what these razor-thin weapons could do. Their edges sliced through power armor like mist, turning even the clunkiest Necron warrior into a far deadlier opponent.
"This is just a regular scythe—" Hades began, but Mortarion cut him off.
"I know what you're about to say. Don't."
The two locked eyes in silence.
Even a primarch as notoriously indifferent to Imperial law as Mortarion understood that what they were doing here—this level of xenos tech integration—was very, very illegal.
"I'm sure it would be better if we didn't distribute them to the entire Legion," Mortarion replied flatly.
Hades nodded sheepishly.
"Yeah… good call."
Scythes were rare enough among the Legions that the Death Guard could plausibly claim "you just don't understand scythe doctrine" if anyone questioned it. That might be enough to deflect suspicion—barely.
Hades set the scythe down and rummaged through the pile again, pulling out a dagger—this one also glowing faintly green.
This time, Mortarion actually winced.
"…Should I thank you for finally bringing out something that isn't painted green?"
Hades laughed.
"Haha! It's our Legion color scheme!"
Mortarion gestured toward the collection beside them—the green-glowing rifles, the green scrythe, the green dagger…
"I'm not sure if I should commend your engineering… or report you."
The rasp of his voice came harsh and dry through his mask.
"If it increases combat effectiveness," Hades said solemnly, "then it's worth doing."
Mortarion was silent again, eyes fixed on the unnatural hue radiating from the weapon pile—each piece practically reeking of xenos influence.
Outfitting the mortal auxilia with this gear was barely defensible. They could plausibly deny any direct connection to xenos tech.
But handing this kind of weaponry to his own Legionnaires?
That crossed a line.
"…Have these weapons passed Mechanicus testing?"
"They're in the final testing phase," Hades said with a straight face. "About to pass."
The Adeptus Mechanicus had a… flexible definition of "innovation." On the battlefield, certain emergency modifications—even heretical ones—could be tolerated. Sometimes even praised.
Normally, however, before anything entered mass production, it would be shelved for a century or two—ostensibly to assess corrosion resistance, detect tech-heresy, and ensure Machine Spirit compliance.
But there were exceptions.
Quite a few, in fact. After all, the Mechanicus operated on a principle of "selective orthodoxy."
The Magos of Graia, for example, had deliberately fast-tracked the approval process for Hades's new weapons. At least when it came to the Necron-based tech, Hades swore on his forge-heart there would be no corruption risk.
For the simpler modifications—like the rocket launchers—the Graia Magos were conducting more rigorous anti-degradation tests. No one wanted battlefield failures due to sloppy calibration.
Mortarion gave Hades a long look.
He still didn't like the green-glowing pile of alien weapons. In fact, he hated it. So, in a rare move, the Primarch who loathed bureaucracy volunteered to personally audit the entire development process.
Hades simply pointed to another room.
Inside, stacked floor to ceiling, were mountains of parchment.
Three days later, after pouring through the documents and test data, Mortarion emerged. Silent. Then nodded.
Approval granted.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
What followed became a unique ritual among the Death Guard.
After particularly grueling campaigns, each company captain would select the most resilient warrior from the field. The chosen soldier was led in silence to the legion's Armoury, where he drank a cup of poisonous wine and made a vow that no one would ever hear.
When he stepped out, a new weapon hung across his back: a tattered, ominous scythe, wrapped in gray, grimy cloth. The Soulreaper Scythe.
None ever spoke of it.
Even among the Death Guard, its origins were shrouded in silence. The scythe's shape, its dull green shimmer—it all screamed alien. But no one asked, and those who bore it never offered an answer.
In campaigns alongside other Legions, curious eyes would sometimes fall on the strange, cloth-wrapped blades strapped to certain Death Guard's backs. But the pallid, green-armored Astartes always dismissed it without a word.
The scythes remained untouched… until needed.
When the warrior faced a trial unlike any he had ever known—when the situation became truly desperate—he would unwrap the blade.
One loop at a time, the toxic cloth would fall away, releasing fumes laced with Mortarion's own deathly essence.
The grip itself became poisonous. Any who so much as touched it and were not of the Death Guard… died.
Once drawn, the Soulreaper scythe made no distinction: it spared none but its kin and their allies. Every enemy in its path would fall—horribly, quickly, and completely.
Those from other Legions who were lucky enough to survive such a battle would only remember one thing—the flickering, eerie glow of green that hung in the air like a curse.
And even among the mortal auxilia who served closest to the Legion, strange things began to appear.
A select few of the most loyal support troops were issued curious daggers, infused with hints of alien tech. They, too, glowed faintly, disturbingly.
But no one paid attention. After all, no one paid attention to mortal soldiers.
And so, in battles fought with blade and blood, a flash of unnatural green would sometimes flicker through the mist—silent, swift, lethal.
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind paying $5 each month to read the latest posted chapter, please go to my Patreon [1]
Latest Posted Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 270: Help Him Keep His Dignity[2]
Link to the latest posted chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/138190396?collection=602520[3]
https://www.patreon.com/collection/602520?view=condensed[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/138190396?collection=602520
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/138190396?collection=602520
[4] https://www.patreon.com/collection/602520?view=condensed