In the distance, the rumbling of garbage trucks continued, echoing through the desolate wasteland.
The abandoned refuse zone, a massive graveyard of piled tal, remained devoid of onlookers.
Hades stood motionless, the display inside his helt marking the passing seconds.
“I suggest you get straight to the point,” he said coldly.
“Otherwise, the distress signal I’ve prepared will be sent out.”
A faint glimr of light flickered across the electronic eye of the Tech-Priest opposite him.
A miscalculation—this Death Guard was far more cautious than his deanor suggested.
If Hades had managed to see through the carefully planted Jin at the Techmarine base, then much of the previously gathered data had beco significantly less reliable.
“What distress signal?” the Tech-Priest probed, fishing for more information.
“Don’t play dumb.”
Hades spoke calmly, his tone steady as he explained:
“What you should be considering now is why I’m even interested in this so-called collaboration, instead of figuring out more ways to take away.”
“Before I even set out, I knew about your trap. But I ca here because I was curious about why you were targeting .”
“Give a reason. Otherwise, even if you kill now, you’ll expose yourself.”
The crimson-robed Tech-Priest showed no outward reaction.
“And why do you think you, a re Techmarine of a newly ford legion, can threaten ?”
Hades took his ti, reaching into his gauntlet and pulling out Mortarion’s letter. Though it contained little of substance, it bore the seals of the Imperial Palace on Terra, a Primarch’s personal sigil, and Malcador’s insignia—more than enough to make an impression.
“Because I have backing,” Hades declared.
The Tech-Priest’s chanical eyes focused on the seals etched into the docunt. Once he’d gotten a good look, Hades casually returned the letter to its place.
This move—calling on borrowed authority—was designed to ensure the Tech-Priest wouldn’t attempt a sudden ambush.
Hades had already noted that the crude Electroleech Staves wielded by the Tech-Priest’s constructs were not the proper forms of such weapons. They were shoddy imitations, lacking critical inscriptions and even basic circuitry.
This suggested that the crimson Tech-Priest had not yet attained the rank required to interact with the Electro-Priests.
Two possibilities erged:
The Tech-Priest’s actions were a personal endeavor, independent of any larger organization.
The Tech-Priest was operating under the aegis of an organization, but this mission had not been assigned high priority.
Either way, should Terra or a Primarch investigate seriously, this Tech-Priest would face consequences.
If the first scenario were true, the Tech-Priest would likely be completely dismantled.
If the second scenario played out, the Tech-Priest would be scapegoated by his organization to mitigate the fallout.
Thinking he could devour Hades whole?
He’d better have a big enough net—and a much bigger appetite.
Judging by the approach taken to capture him, it was clear the Tech-Priest wanted to avoid escalating the incident.
Moreover, based on his decryption of the ssage Jin had sent, Hades had already pinpointed the general location of the Tech-Priest’s base of operations—even though those transmissions had been encrypted and routed through multiple relays.
“So, give a reason not to report you,” Hades demanded.
The Tech-Priest, Korklan, felt his few remaining organic components pounding in agitation.
This Death Guard, having uncovered the trap, not only avoided it but actively sought him out.
Clearly, Hades’ goal wasn’t re self-preservation. He had ulterior motives.
The idea of using him as a test subject was no longer feasible.
If they were to cooperate…. Korklan’s computational processes began to churn. Ensuring the subject’s stability would rule out certain experints entirely.
In the Tech-Priest’s calculations, the only unknown variable was Hades’ connection to Terra and the wider Legion.
He lacked precise information about Hades in this regard.
But for now, Korklan’s priority was to stabilize the situation and prevent further exposure.
Yet the rarity of this specin—Hades—sent Korklan’s processing circuits into overdrive. He could not let this opportunity slip away.
Hades’ traits aligned with what Korklan knew of the “Cursed.”
Hades’ anti-psyker field was the most unique Korklan had ever encountered.
Its intensity was enough to create a void in the Warp, yet Hades also exhibited precise control, containing the field just beneath his skin to avoid disrupting his daily life.
Unlike any untouchable specin Korklan had studied before, Hades was indispensable.
And Hades had agreed.
The complex factions among the Tech-Priests demanded Korklan leverage his research and potential to climb the hierarchy, trading knowledge and techniques for status.
Finally, Korklan spoke:
“I am Lanzer, a Xenos-oriented Tech-Priest specializing in anti-psyker studies. I have spent years collecting data on untouchables and xenos-based anti-psyker technology.”
“By chance, I discovered you. Your anti-psyker field is far more potent than any other untouchable I have studied—and unique.”
“How exactly did you stumble upon ?” Hades asked, narrowing his eyes.
"To be honest," the Tech-Priest decided, knowing it wouldn't affect the conversation's trajectory, "I detected a psychic vacuum in the Warp. After calibrating my instrunts, the coordinates pointed to the Barbarus sector."
Hades blinked. A psychic vacuum? Could it be referring to the Black Domain he had previously failed to retract?
If such subtle phenona could be detected, this Tech-Priest was no ordinary individual.
What Hades didn’t realize was that the Tech-Priest had captured the psychic vacuum from the mont his Black Domain had erupted. However, Hades' altered mories left him unaware of the event.
Hades thought to himself:
This Tech-Priest clearly has impressive capabilities. Why didn’t he appear in the original tiline?
The Tech-Priest spread his hands, as if to indicate he had revealed everything he could.
"After that, I began paying attention to you," he said.
Anti-psyker technology had always been a fringe field of research before the Heresy, typically under the Emperor’s direct purview.
Yet here stood a wild anti-psyker Tech-Priest.
He was skilled in anti-psyker techniques but had managed to avoid Imperial notice. Instead, he had resorted to underhanded thods to capture Hades.
Combining this with what Malcador and the female Tech-Priest had previously ntioned, it beca evident that the Tech-Priest before Hades was an anti-Imperial figure, one who did not wish to attract the Imperium's attention.
But the Imperium needed his expertise.
Hades scrutinized the Tech-Priest—"Lanzer," as he had introduced himself—and a bold theory began forming in his mind.
Could it be that this Tech-Priest had joined the anti-Imperial faction only to be betrayed and killed by his allies during the Heresy?
After all, so Tech-Priests sought rely to overthrow the Emperor in hopes of restoring Mars’ autonomy. But if they aligned with Horus, a Tech-Priest who specialized in anti-psyker research would have been among the first targets of Chaos.
Hades decided to test the waters:
"If you’re an anti-psyker specialist, you could always contact the Imperium directly. I imagine the research division of organizations like the Sisters of Silence would welco you with open arms."
A wise man will not associate with a liar.
Moreover, entering the Imperial system would subject him to extensive scrutiny.
Electric currents surged through Korklan’s processors as he rejected the notion.
He could never side with a tyrant who had deceived the Omnissiah.
He rembered that day vividly.
That day, it rained on Mars.
Thick clouds blanketed the endless mountain ranges. Blinding lightning forked through the heavens, and deafening thunder rolled with a weighty, oppressive presence.
Everyone ca out—Tech-Priests, servitors, the skitarii.
They gathered along the city streets, on the platforms of the ports, and stared at the miracle before them.
So servitors, their programming overridden, shakily abandoned their posts.
And then, the rain began to fall.
Rain!
It wasn’t the byproduct of industrial processes or toxic runoff but pure, natural rain—clear liquid, mostly H₂O with negligible impurities.
The droplets fell, soaking the crimson robes of the chanicum.
So trembled and knelt, their heavily modified legs barely capable of the motion. Hymns filled the air, activating every individual's sensory processing systems.
But most were simply stunned. The god of the sanctum had truly descended from the heavens.
Unmodified human eyes began to shed tears.
“Praise the Omnissiah!!!”
The chant echoed without end.
But Korklan… he was frozen.
He stood, bewildered, watching it all unfold.
The portable psychic detector he had just finished building shrieked in his arms.
He held it as though it were a live nuclear bomb about to detonate.
Slowly, he turned, looking at his companions, their logic circuits blinded by joy.
The psychic detector’s alarm hit its peak. The values trembled, struggling to rise further, but they had already reached the limits of Korklan’s settings.
Liar. Deceiver!
It was a psychic-induced rainfall.
All of it—a grand illusion orchestrated by a psyker.
Korklan stood in the downpour as the rain lashed against him.
His entire world had betrayed him.
From that mont, Korklan, once a scholar of psychic phenona, shifted his focus entirely to anti-psyker research.
He vowed to tear down the lies of that charlatan.
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