Barbarus was a world that seemed designed for suffering.
Poison fog drowned the mountains.
Corrosive mists choked the highlands.
The air itself carried death.
Humanity survived only in the deep valleys and lowland basins, where the toxins thinned just enough to permit life.
Above them, in fortress-keeps built into the toxic peaks, ruled the Overlords.
They were necromantic tyrants — inhuman warlords steeped in sorcerous arts — who commanded legions of corpse-soldiers animated by foul energies. Their citadels loomed above the poison clouds like black crowns of decay.
The Overlords warred endlessly.
But never against each other directly.
Instead, they raided one another's human populations.
To them, humanity was not an enemy.
Humanity was livestock.
Humanity was currency.
Humanity was sport.
The Child in the Poison
After one such war, the Overlord Necare descended upon a battlefield to inspect the fallen.
There, amid the corpses and the drifting toxic fog, he heard a sound that should not have existed.
A child's cry.
On Barbarus, such a cry should have weakened within seconds as the lungs filled with poison.
Instead, the infant's voice remained strong.
Defiant.
Alive.
Necare found the child — pale, resilient, breathing air that should have killed him.
Intrigued, the Overlord took the infant back to his mountain fortress.
He named the boy Mortarion.
Raised in Poison
Necare did not raise a son.
He cultivated an experiment.
Mortarion grew amid toxins, rot, and cruelty. He was exposed to ever more lethal gases, forced to endure environments that would kill any human, and subjected to relentless psychological domination. Necare sought to shape him into a being worthy of the high citadels — or to break him.
He did neither.
Mortarion endured.
He learned.
He remembered.
And he hated.
The Descent to Humanity
Ignoring Necare's warnings, Mortarion fled the high mountains.
He descended into the lowland valleys — the realm of humanity.
He had seen humans before: captives dragged upward for experimentation, their suffering used to refine the Overlords' toxins and undead servitors.
But witnessing their daily struggle changed him.
Bent backs beneath toxic rain.
Children coughing blood.
Families living in perpetual fear.
Mortarion swore an oath:
He would overthrow the Overlords.
He would free humanity.
He would kill Necare with his own hands.
Trust Earned, Not Taken
At first, the villagers feared him.
A towering pale giant with corpse-like skin and a scythe-bearing silhouette was not easily mistaken for a savior.
Typhon — the first man to speak with him — offered pragmatic advice:
"Why seek their approval? With your strength, you could rule them."
Mortarion refused.
"I will not rule through fear as they do."
So he worked.
He harvested fields through toxic drizzle.
He cleared land.
He carried burdens no human could lift.
He asked nothing.
Trust followed.
The Seeds of Rebellion
Mortarion forged crude respirators and protective gear to resist the poisonous air. He developed weapons and tactics suited for fighting necromantic overlords and their undead hosts.
Under his leadership, human resistance grew.
One by one, the lesser Overlords fell.
Only one stronghold remained:
Necare's citadel, encircled by lethal fog so dense that even Mortarion could not yet endure it.
The Emperor Watches
The Emperor had observed Barbarus for some time.
This son fought tyranny.
This son protected humanity.
This son endured suffering without surrender.
He was, in many ways, the Emperor's ideal.
Yuki: "And me?"
Emperor: …
Yuki: "You absolute—"
The Emperor intended a dramatic arrival.
A radiant descent.
A helping hand.
A son brought to tears of loyalty.
Yuki intervened.
"Let's observe first. Meet him as strangers. Understand him."
After consideration, the Emperor agreed.
They descended in hooded disguises.
The War Council
Within the human stronghold, Mortarion studied schematics and respirator failures.
Typhon entered, holding a damaged breathing mask.
"We failed again. Even the smallest breach lets the poison through. We cannot breach the outer fog."
Mortarion nodded calmly.
"I am designing a new seal system."
Typhon hesitated. He had previously suggested modifying humans into toxin-resistant cyborgs. Mortarion had rejected the idea with fury.
To Typhon, Mortarion possessed immense power yet refused decisive solutions.
To Mortarion, Typhon's thinking resembled the Overlords'.
A guard entered.
"Lord Mortarion, two strangers claim to be travelers from another world. They request an audience."
Mortarion looked up.
"From another world?"
A pause.
"Bring them."
Typhon objected. "They may be dangerous. We should detain them."
Mortarion frowned.
"No one here can harm me, Typhon."
"…Very well."
But Typhon left with unease.
The Meeting
It went badly.
Very badly.
"I am your father," the Emperor declared.
Mortarion exploded.
"You're my father? I'm your grandfather!"
The resentment was immediate and volcanic.
He had survived alone.
He had suffered alone.
He had fought alone.
Now a stranger claimed him.
He refused.
The Emperor attempted persuasion.
"I can make Barbarus habitable. I can help you conquer—"
"Enough!"
Yuki snapped, silencing him.
Mortarion did not want solutions.
He wanted truth.
He wanted acknowledgement.
He wanted to understand why he had been left.
Yuki removed her hood.
"I'm your sister."
Mortarion turned away.
"I'm not leaving with you."
She stepped closer and embraced him despite the acrid fumes and the poison-soaked armor.
White wings enclosed him.
"Little Mo… we didn't abandon you. We searched the moment we knew. This was an accident — not indifference."
Mortarion's jaw tightened.
After a moment, he pulled away.
"…I believe you."
A pause.
"But I cannot leave yet. I have a war to finish."
Negotiation
The Emperor spoke within Yuki's mind:
Make him kill Necare now and return.
She answered:
Give him time. If you force him, you lose him.
"One year," she said aloud. "He finishes his war. Then he returns."
The Emperor considered.
A year was nothing.
A loyal Primarch was everything.
"…Agreed."
He prepared to depart.
Yuki did not move.
"You go. I'm staying."
The Emperor paused.
Mortarion pretended not to care, but did not hide his relief well.
If they left now, resentment would grow.
If she stayed, trust would grow.
The Emperor understood.
He departed.
Yuki nudged Mortarion with a wing.
"Father's gone. Happy?"
"Who's happy?" he muttered. "You're trouble."
She smiled.
"Sorry."
"I need to work. Don't interfere."
He lifted his respirator prototype.
She sat beside him, watching quietly.
After several minutes, Mortarion slammed the device down.
"Fine. Stay here. I'll find you a room."
Yuki only smiled.
Mortarion turned away so she would not see the faint, unfamiliar softness in his expression.
For the first time in his life, the Lord of Death did not feel alone.
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL for more chapters.