Where was this? What was he supposed to do—and who was he
This was the Endurance, and he was supposed to come check on his brother, and it was... a Mortarion.
Correction, a Mortarion.
Guilliman subconsciously wanted to take a deep breath to calm his heart, which he thought would never experience sadness or joy again. But in fact, there would always be cruel things in the Warp to show to the Lord of Macragge.
But he was aware of the white mist that filled the room, so he politely but awkwardly stopped his behavior.
Mortarion stood before them and he was just... wow... oh my god... the Emperor.
This is really hard to describe.
If Guilliman were to describe it, he would say that, first of all, the person standing before them was a human.
Guilliman was silent.
He decided not to describe it all.
A similar scene reminded him of the first time he met Archangel Sanguinius.
Guilliman stood there and saw a god walking slowly towards him with a smile, and the glimmer of broken stars gleamed on each of its wings.
Guilliman stood here and saw Mortarion's eyes rolling. Thank God, he still had normal eyes, not the compound eyes that came with his wings.
The huge, natural wings drooped, hanging from the bony giant's back, dull and lifeless.
Ever since the two Primarchs entered the room, their attention was drawn to the pair of folded giant wings.
The wings trembled.
Guilliman felt a shudder in his soul, his scalp tingling, and along with the movement of his wings, there was also the voice of their old friend,
[Have you seen enough?]
Angron silently looked away. It was difficult to do, but he was the Primarch, so he did it.
Apart from the wings, at first glance, Mortarion was still the same Mortarion, only without armor, thinner, and part of his body seemed to be made of white mist, and his proportions were more slender, like a scarecrow propped up by a dead tree... or... some kind of insect.
Guilliman looked at Angron. Angron would be the savior of both of them. Guilliman was not familiar with psychic powers, so he did not speak rashly to avoid causing misunderstanding.
Looking at Angron and Guilliman standing at the gate, one in front and one behind, staring at him vigilantly, Mortarion raised his hand expressionlessly, signaling the servitor to bring two chairs over.
Chairs were brought over, and Angron and Guilliman walked slowly, hesitantly, to them and sat down.
By the way, Mortarion was also sitting, sitting very upright with his back straight, which was completely different from his usual domineering and rogue sitting posture, as if he needed the sofa to support himself.
The back of the chair he was sitting on had been roughly cut off, along with part of the back of the chair—
It was obvious that Mortarion's wings looked limp and weak, making it difficult for him to sit down.
Guilliman subtly recalled that the Archangel had told him that he had no bed.
Yes, Sanguinius had no bed, no bed that could accommodate his huge pair of wings, so the clever angel made a nest-like bed for himself so that he could sleep comfortably.
So... Guilliman looked at Mortarion.
He shouldn't need sleep, that's all.
While Guilliman was thinking, the brave, wise, and mind-reading Lord of the Red Sand spoke cautiously.
[My brother, are you okay?]
Mortarion took a deep breath, and as he breathed, the white mist in the room seemed to rise and fall with him.
[… Very bad.]
The dark circles under Mortarion's eyes and his thinner face confirmed his words.
Angron blinked, and spread his hands.
[I can see - you're scaring me and Guilliman. Is there anything we can do to help you?]
Mortarion gave a dry laugh.
[Your kindness is too pale, I don't need it. ]
Mortarion said,
[I guess you mean you want me to explain all this to you?]
Angron straightened up and immediately changed his tone. He spoke seriously,
[Yes,]
He said,
[But Mortarion, we do mean well and are concerned - even if you and I sometimes know that we can't do anything, it's still our attempt to make you feel better.]
Mortarion was silent. He looked a little conflicted and uneasy. Finally, his tone softened perhaps by one in seven million.
[Then you should point this out directly next time.]
Mortarion spoke, rising heavily to his feet, mist falling from his upraised wings as he rose.
[That's it.]
He said,
[I have a pair of wings.]
Mortarion's tone was quite nonchalant, but the other two present knew that he was just pretending.
[… You can… compare it to the wings of the alien birdman… about the same.]
[Birdman?!]
Guilliman almost shouted,
[Sanguinius?!]
Mortarion frowned at him, looking confused, and Guilliman quickly changed his words smoothly.
[You reminded me, my brother, that they are indeed very similar.]
Guilliman and Angron looked at each other, and saw encouragement in each other's eyes.
Hold on.
Mortarion slowly withdrew his inquiring gaze. He looked anxious, but if you could tell anxiety from a giant bug-like creature, he was probably about to explode with anxiety.
Angron paused.
So what you mean is that this is... We can all...
He changed the wording.
[Can fly?]
Angron wondered if Mortarion, like him, had regained his original abilities after some "restriction" was lifted.
It was after the Butcher's Nails stopped rotating that Angron gradually regained his mind-reading ability. At the same time, the Lord of Red Sand vaguely felt that his ability might be more than that.
Among the eighteen Primarchs, only Magnus was proficient in psychic powers, and the Archangel Sanguinius could also use psychic powers in a simple way - so, is it possible that among the remaining Primarchs, there are also those who can use psychic powers in a simple way
At least as of now, Angron has determined that his ability is a psychic technique.
And in the case of Mortarion... Angron pondered, and thought he was close to finding the answer.
Mortarion's face looked even worse.
[Can fly?]
Mortarion repeated,
[Would you like me to show you again?]
The wings behind him suddenly stood up and spread out, and a strange light suddenly lit up. In the bright green color that was completely inconsistent with Mortarion's appearance, the flowing skulls looked at them ferociously.
Angron stood up in an instant and slowly put down the battle axe in his hand.
He laughed.
[Of course you can, but then again, this is pretty cool! ]
Angron stared at Mortarion's wings in wonder.
If the Mortarion just now looked like a piece of rag, the current Mortarion has turned into a plus version of a rag that glows coolly.
Angron walked towards Mortarion, and after obtaining Mortarion's tacit consent, the Lord of Red Sand walked around Mortarion.
He had thought Mortarion would end up being his usual self, dull, unremarkable, tired... But after these wings spread—this was the Primarch!
Angron didn't mind having a pair of these, but it would be better if they were of a different color, or... Angron laughed in his heart. He didn't want a bug-man style either, and if that didn't work, a bird-man style would also be fine.
but-
Angron walked around to Mortarion and patted him firmly on the shoulder.
[Good stuff! It suits you perfectly! ]
Mortarion's mood improved slightly. He smiled.
Angron thought he might be the first person to claim the Mortarion's appearance.
Guilliman, who had just stood up with Angron, also walked over cautiously.
[Very consistent.]
Guilliman said,
[But for me, this is still hard to imagine. ]
Guilliman laughed.
[It seems that I still need to expand the limits of my imagination. What I can see is too little. I have always been a poor learner in this area.]
Mortarion folded his wings. He seemed still not used to this big guy. He flapped his wings a few times before folding them.
Mortarion stared at Guilliman.
[I envy you.]
Guilliman's blue eyes looked back at the new Zerg Mortarion. This was not something that Mortarion would say.
I envy you even more.
Guilliman spoke carefully and briefly, one hand on the sword at his waist.
[In this matter, I apologize to you, Lord of Death Mortarion, because of my own error in judgment - which led to your enemy, I am very sorry for this.]
[This is just a private moment of inspiration. If you think this is not enough, we can have a more formal ceremony.]
Mortarion stared at Guilliman, as if examining something. Finally, Mortarion said slowly,
[No need, this is...]
He spoke with some pain,
[This is what I have to go through.]
Guilliman was stunned; he had expected Mortarion to at least have something sarcastic to say to him.
But Mortarion remained silent. Then he suddenly spoke:
[That person is not dead.]
Guilliman blinked in confusion.
[Which person? ]
[The one everyone knows.]
Angron frowned, folding his arms.
[What, you can't mention him? Ha-uh!]
The rising white mist immediately covered his mouth and nose. The originally odorless white mist instantly became pungent and unbearable.
[I won’t tell you! I won’t tell you!]
The white mist dissipated.
Angron wiped his nose, the smell was so memorable.
So what happened
Mortarion was silent, and he looked even sadder.
In fact, this matter is easy to explain. Mortarion became the psyker he hated the most - or some kind of warp existence that far surpassed psykers, and in the process of his transformation towards this state...
In order to survive, Mortarion [summoned] Hades, [the god of the underworld], and used part of himself as bait.
Mortarion's own destiny was already very close to Hades, and he also [sacrificed] a part of himself to Hades.
This resulted in his psychic powers being marked.
Hades might recognize Mortarion and try to brake, but Pluto might not.
He attacks Warp creatures indiscriminately.
So who are the Warp creatures now
Who is it
Malcador almost laughed to death. After all, he was a psyker, not a [Warp creature].
It was a sad thing, but Malcador could only smile.
Mortarion's face darkened.
[…He will attack me.]
He said, explaining to Angron Guilliman that Malcador had told him,
[It cannot be recalled, cannot be mentioned, cannot be described. ]
Mortarion was silent for a long time.
[Unless I wish to destroy myself.]
The sadder news is that he may not be able to resist the black domain that is now running amok unconsciously and floating in the subspace.
Mortarion should thank the Four Gods to some extent, as they are now doing their best to pin the Black Realm on Cadia, allowing only a slight leak when it is summoned.
… He might as well bring about his own destruction.
Angron took a deep breath.
This sounds very sad.
[But at least we got the good news, he's not dead, right? ]
Guilliman swallowed.
[This is good news, but I mean, his tombstone on the Endurance... that should... ]
He and Yuton also presented flowers, which had the aesthetic feeling of offering sacrifices to living people.
Mortarion sighed deeply.
[I have no idea,]
The Lord of Death spoke candidly for the first time. After all that he had gone through, especially after a month of memory restoration therapy by Malcador, he seemed to have become more sincere.
All I know is that we need to get to the battlefield—right there, where he fell.
[… As long as there is a chance…]
[Then what?]
Angron looked at Mortarion intently.
[… Malcador did not tell me the rest.]
Mortarion said, and he stated briefly,
[But I sensed that there were other beings similar to us out there.]
[They were there, giving him a glimmer of hope.]
Mortarion's gaze was directed blankly into the distance.
[After this... I should thank them.]
He turned his gaze to Guilliman and Angron, dully,
[Same as you.]
Angron paused.
[Brother, we are the ones who slowed you down.]
Mortarion stared at him, and finally,
[you're right.]
Mortarion spoke again, clearly and distinctly,
[You should know more about the Warp. I think... Malcador would be happy to teach you this, just as he taught me.]
Mortarion took several more breaths, and after the seventh he spoke, opening his hands.
"I am attempting to reclaim my form. I will leave when Malcador deems that I will not inadvertently harm a mortal."
[You can also call me, the Pale Lord, and call me with seven deaths, and I will give you my power.]
Mortarion paused.
[But I hope you will call on... the Emperor, or that person, they are useful, far more... grand than we can imagine.]
Mortarion turned and sat back down, staring at the two visitors in the darkness and mist.
[There is nothing else to do. I still exist and will continue to exist. Thank you for your visit. ]
Having received the hint to send the guests away, Angron and Guilliman did not want to stay any longer. They looked at each other, and after a few words of greeting and concern, they disappeared back into the corridor behind the door.
The Blackstone gate slammed shut.
Mortarion sat there, as motionless as an insect perched on a branch.
After a long time, a rustling sound was heard in the fog.
The smaller Death Guard came out, gathering around Mortarion spontaneously, some trying to pull at his cloak.
Mortarion bent down and lowered his hands, letting the two fallen small Death Guards stand up. He stared casually at the two small Death Guards in his hands who were tilting their heads to look at him.
[…They didn’t see that I didn’t know them, did they?]
Mortarion was silent.
[Who is Sanguinius? ]
He said, muttering to himself,
[Malcador... that damned... old man definitely didn't tell me the whole story. He deliberately told me to compare it with the alien humans.]
No more, yay!
(End of this chapter)