“Crack.”
The nauseating buzzing sound was getting closer, a sour smell that made him want to cry lingered at his nose, his muscles were rotting and he couldn't move.
The corridors of the Endurance were lit with a warm yet eerily dim dark orange light, like the last ray of dying sunlight at dusk.
Spores and bugs leaped at the teasing of the light.
He lay silently on a pool of soft flesh and blood. These warm and elastic biological tissues grew out of thin air on the floor of the Endurance.
Before he fell, or did he ever stand? Everything on the ship became fertile, no longer so cold, but with a strange sense of life.
Thoughts became blurred, but perceptions were magnified to the extreme, just like the densely swarming little bugs on the wall next to the kitchen waste.
He could hear the breathing of this mass of flesh and blood, the rustling sounds of its growth, as it climbed inward through the gaps in the power armor, exuding smelly, corrosive mucus.
The power armor was rotting and rusting, the rivets buckling under the incredible force and creaking slowly.
The unbearable sound was getting closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large group of flies flying over. They hit his power armor randomly, making crackling sounds.
They came in through the breathing tube, the buzzing sound echoed in the power armor. They crowded around his face and crawled into his mouth and nose.
There was an unbearable stinging sensation in his mouth and esophagus, and his stomach was filled with flies with black eyes, feeling their wings scraping across his mucous membranes and the spikes on their antennae piercing his flesh lightly.
No. No.
His thoughts were filled with tired and powerless resistance. His mind became heavy and he couldn't even muster the anger. He tried to struggle, but it was all in vain.
The muscles had atrophied and turned into some kind of slimy tissue fluid, which was wrapped by the skin instead of oozing out.
No. Endure it, insist on giving him an order, don't let him exist meaninglessly anymore. Give him an enemy. Or destroy his existence.
Dark.
His vision darkened and he felt a black liquid rising up.
The corridor, which had been brighter, began to darken. A light suddenly went out, then struggled to light up again, but even when it lit up, it was as if it had been extinguished.
The whisper of darkness spread along the corridor and along the edge of the sight, like a rapidly growing blood vessel, pulsating—
But it did not give him a sense of life. Although darkness was the fastest moving thing, it was not a living thing.
In just a moment, darkness quickly grew in front of his eyes, his pupils constricted, an innate sense of fear gripped him tightly, and an even more complete feeling of powerlessness attacked him.
But he was also aware that there were other beings that feared the darkness, beings in his stomach, on his skin, between his cells. He heard those little screams.
It would not be an unacceptable fact if we died together.
So he took as deep a breath as he could (even though he felt nothing but flies), closed his eyes, and let himself sink into the black nothingness.
The water of the Styx wrapped around him, and he sank and sank. He sank to the bottom of the river where not even bubbles could reach. Thick and heavy darkness was waiting for him there.
Dark, but with light.
He opened his eyes and the ceiling of the Endurance was staring at him quietly.
Clean, smooth, free of rust and sticky vegetation.
He lay in his bed, the world seemed to be tilting dizzily.
He shifted his gaze forward and saw a man sitting beside his bed, holding a command board in one hand and writing and drawing on it with the other, seemingly unaware that he was awake.
Through his previous training and his faint memory, he recognized that it was the commander of the Death Guard.
In the dim and dry room, the faint blue light of the command board was reflected on the commander's pale hair and skin, depicting a pensive expression.
He realized that the commander of the Death Guard was quite handsome and young.
Such a young man is the commander? He originally thought that the commander would be an older and more boring person.
But no matter what, the commander's presence, although strange, still provided him with a sense of stability, which was a signal of safety.
He blinked, his dull brain barely working, and he struggled to sit up, startling the commander sitting beside his bed—
"Hey, you're awake, are you okay?"
The commander casually put down the board in his hand, turned his head and asked him about the situation with a smile, and stretched out a hand to pull him up.
There was a very relaxed, natural tone to his words, but not frivolous, and he sounded as if he was sure of everything.
It was rare, especially on Death Guard, and the Commander was the first to speak to him in that tone.
He... He was a standard Death Guard, so he responded to the commander with silence.
If he were an Ultramarines, he would probably say he was fine while asking about the dream he had just had, if he was an Imperial Fists, he would describe the dream in detail, if he was a Space Wolf, he would curse between threatening grunts.
But he was neither, he was a Death Guard, so he remained silent.
He couldn't respond by saying he was fine, in fact, it was terrible, but he couldn't say it was terrible either, because... the nature of the Death Guard prevented him from saying that, that would be a sign of weakness.
So he stared at the commander in silence, not knowing what to say.
It was not until the commander turned his head that he saw that the other half of the commander was a mechanical brain. A deep scar ran through the left half of his face, and the mechanical prosthetic eye on it flashed a scarlet and dangerous light.
As if he had expected his response, the commander shrugged nonchalantly. The mechanical arm behind him stretched out, and there was a cup on it.
"I'm glad you woke up. Do you need some water?"
He nodded slowly and swallowed subconsciously. Only then did he realize that his throat was dry and uncomfortable, as if a fly had really crawled over it.
The touch of water on his lips further awakened his thoughts. Was he still dreaming
It all still seemed so unreal, about waking up from a nightmare and finding the commander sitting by his bed, even offering him a glass of water.
Seeing that he had recovered from the nightmare, the commander scratched his head and spoke again.
"Forget it. I don't expect you to speak first. Do you have anything to ask?"
You? He keenly grasped the message in the commander's words.
But he wouldn't ask that.
"Commander, why are you here?"
The commander blinked in surprise, then waved his hand cheerfully and said,
"Don't call me that. Just call me Hades."
"Well it seems you haven't realized what you just went through."
Hades looked at him seriously.
"What did you see in your dream? Don't feel burdened, just speak it out."
"Rotten Endurance, flies, lots of moss."
He tried to recall the memories from his painful nightmare, and Hades listened and nodded from time to time, as if he had known it would be like this.
"Finally, there was darkness and a feeling of weakness that was very uncomfortable. It made me feel very uncomfortable, which was more disgusting to me than flies and slime. But I think it woke me up."
Hades was stunned for a moment, then gave a slightly awkward smile.
"Ah, that's my anti-psionic field."
He looked at Hades in amazement, not realizing what he had just said in front of Hades.
"You helped me, didn't you?"
Hades nodded.
"What you just experienced was not an ordinary nightmare. This is what most Death Guards experience."
"A trial."
In fact, after successfully completing Space Marine surgery, a portion of Death Guard recruits will have nightmares during the first 49 days of training.
—Or, experience the illusions they have experienced before.
Some people can wake up on their own, but others will fall into a deeper and more realistic nightmare and find it difficult to wake themselves up.
At the same time, some soldiers will feel lost and perplexed after waking up. At this time, they need a spiritual guide.
These recruits don't know that after they go to sleep, other departments of the Death Guard will be busy.
In the corridor outside the lounge, the Soulless from Zero Company were on guard, the gravekeepers and pharmacists were all on alert, and the legion leader and the commander were patrolling the entire time to guard against any unexpected situations.
After Hades' training, the shallow nightmares of most recruits can be safely handled by the gravekeepers, and the deep nightmares can also be handled by the soulless and the gravekeepers working together.
But anyway, they are all "relatively" free, so Hades and Mortarion are not idle either, helping the gravekeepers share the pressure and also getting to know the situation of this batch of new recruits.
Although Hades reasonably suspected that Mortarion was just trying to play tricks on the new recruits, caring for and counseling the frightened recruits was better than staring at a few resentful clerical workers in a dark office.
Of course, Hades is the Untouchable, so he has to be present at such scenes. Compared to Mortarion, his appearance is more reasonable.
"So. What is that?"
Hades waved his hand.
"Don't call me sir, just Hades."
"That"
"What do you think it is?"
Unexpectedly, he was asked back, and he could feel Hades patiently waiting for his answer—
But what is that
The strange scene and the feeling of suffocation and despair that made him feel so strange, what on earth was that
I was speechless for a moment.
But... he looked at Hades and realized that everything that had just happened was not real and only existed for a moment in his mind.
He was still here, on the Endurance, and he even had a commander who cared about him.
He has strong muscles, clear vocal cords, no rot and stench, and he still has the strength to resist and fight.
"Maybe. Maybe that was a nightmare for me."
He saw Hades raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"It's just a nightmare. Yes, that's a good answer."
So far, Hades has received answers such as "illusion", "fate", and "future".
But it was just a nightmare. Hades smiled brightly.
"Yeah, it's just a nightmare, just a dream."
The beautiful answer is that it is a dream. No matter how much you hint at it, at this point in time, it is a dream that has not happened.
Hades patted his shoulder with a smile that said "you know what I mean".
"This is the most refreshing answer I have ever heard. I think you don't need me to say anything more, right?"
He paused, then without thinking,
"unnecessary."
This sentence pulled Hades back when he was about to leave.
"ah?"
This was the first time Hades had heard of someone asking for chicken soup.
"No, no--that's not what I meant, sir. No, sir Hades, no no, Hades, I meant that I still don't feel right."
"Even after waking up, I still feel like something is wrong. It seems like my room is a little weird and tilted?"
“Ah, this one.”
Hades silently shifted his gaze away. He had originally wanted to run straight back, but he was still discovered unexpectedly.
Yes, that's right. He broke the soldier's bed.
Although the Space Marine's bed was made of solid alloy, Hades silently stared at the foot of the bed where he had just sat. A crack was clearly visible.
This was so embarrassing that he had been planning to pin the blame squarely on the new recruit.
"Ahem. Actually, listen to me."
Hades explained seriously,
"A Space Marine's bed cannot bear the weight of two people. Your bed is cracked. Just go find a mortal servant to replace it tomorrow."
He was silent, slowly bent down and glanced at his bed.
The semi-solid alloy bed had a crack on one corner of the rectangle, and it looked as if it had cracked quite a bit under the pressure of the weight.
Hades was silent; he was silent.
Silence is Cambridge tonight.
Hades felt like his hair was about to explode, his reputation as a hero in this life.
As if realizing Hades' despair and his determination to defend the so-called non-existent majesty to the death, he slowly spoke,
"Yes, sir."
"Don't worry, I won't say it was you who did it."
After receiving a positive answer, Hades immediately fled away from this embarrassing place.
Looking at Hades' back as he ran away in an instant, he realized... So this is the kind of person that the commander of the Death Guard is
A person who is respectable but not boring or oppressive. But it is a pity for him that the commander does not directly involve himself in the actions of ordinary sergeants.
What Hades didn't know was that in the future, if a statistics was taken on the management of the Death Guard, it would be found that all the new recruits visited by Hades during the trial had basically entered the management level.
"Tonight, there are 59 people in total, and three of them are in deep convulsions."
In the long, dim corridor, Mortarion listened to Garro's report in silence. Then the Primarch nodded, indicating that tonight's work should be ended.
There was still half a standard Terra hour left before the new recruits would have to wake up. Those who had a dreamless night naturally had no idea what had happened during the night.
Mortarion watched the Soulless and Apothecaries retreat in an orderly and rapid manner, leaving the Gravekeepers in charge of the daily training of the recruits. The document approval in the channel had begun to sound expedited, and the Primarch had to stride down the corridor to the office.
The Primarch was in a good mood. It was indeed a meaningful and worthwhile thing to enlighten the confused hearts of the recruits and show them the path for the future of the legion.
Light up the heart of a descendant, how—
"Hey, Mortarion, I say, hey!"
Mortarion reluctantly pulled his mind out of his memories and turned to look at Hades.
"?"
"How much do you weigh? You're heavier than me, right?"
Mortarion turned his head back speechlessly and continued to recall his conversation with the awakened children.
"No, Mortarion, how do you talk to them? Standing or sitting?"
"You're asking a stupid question, Hades. The Space Marine room doesn't allow me to stand at all - and standing is not a good posture for conversation."
Mortarion was used to it, no, all the Death Guard management was used to Hades often asking meaningless questions or starting meaningless conversations.
"Yeah, where do you sit?"
"On the floor, or sometimes on the bed."
With the Primarch's height, sitting on the bed would be a very uncomfortable thing, but sometimes, Mortarion really didn't want to sit on the ground -
The Primarch, who always pursued simplicity, was unwilling to let the servitor go to the trouble of dragging a chair in. It was too troublesome and useless.
Hades said with great sorrow,
"As I recall, the Death Guard's standard bed is not strong enough to support a Primarch, right?"
Mortarion's footsteps suddenly paused for a moment, and then a gloating voice sounded.
"Let me guess, Hades."
Mortarion stopped talking, and the Primarch opened the channel without any hurry.
"Vox, please pay attention to the repair reports in the next few days. If any Death Guard requests to replace the bed, please remember to notify me."
Although Vorx on the other end of the channel didn't know what Mortarion was talking about, he still answered dutifully.
"Yes, sir."
"Hades, I didn't expect that - you broke some poor kid's bed by sitting on it?"
"That's not the case! Am I Hades the kind of person who would do such an evil thing?! Mortarion, please don't slander the innocence of me, the commander of the Death Guard! I strongly condemn your unjust and immoral slander—"
"You helped me sort out Druune's report documents today, and I didn't know anything."
"make a deal."
In the following day, the recruits never knew why the Primarch, who was not originally in the training plan, suddenly chose to train them personally, nor did they know why the Primarch was in such a good mood and even took on the daily task of training the Cerberus.
In contrast, there were sad sounds of death coming from the office.
Of course, Hades did not gain nothing. He had been too lazy to change his bed, so he received a gift from Mortarion. The Primarch ordered that the broken bed and his original bed - two large pieces of metal - be welded together to make him a new bed.
As for the new bed, the crack was naturally retained.
So Hades fell asleep every night in a rage to kill the Primarch, and successfully maintained a high fighting spirit in daily training.
.
[No update tomorrow, 7.1 will resume, but the time may be abnormal.]
Well, I was supposed to update the main story today, but I had an exam and was too busy to update, so I'll just write the interlude first, and write about Nurgle to heal my heart [Interlude] or [Interlude] This is something I got from other bad writers. From now on, I'll write this kind of thing in the interlude. It's considered daily and semi-daily stuff? The last Mars Guide should also be thrown into the interlude
(End of this chapter)