Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

Let him finish shaving it, just once, just once!

It's alright!

"Stop eating it!"

The panicked Jordanian sage reached out his limb, trying to snatch Hades' bowl away, which thwarted Hades' movement—

"Let him eat."

A familiar voice echoed in the hall.

Hades, who managed to grab the last mouthful of porridge, almost spat it out of his nostrils.

Everyone stood up and saluted, but the Jordanian sage seemed to freeze, turning around far too slowly.

His primary limb quietly lowered.

"Sir, welcome to the Technical Sergeant Base."

Hades realized for the first time that electronic sounds could also produce a trembling effect.

The Jordanian sage trembled as he greeted the visitors.

"My lord, I am Jordan, the mechanical sage, in charge of training the Legion's technical sergeants. I am delighted that you have come to visit."

"I offer the most comprehensive selection here."

The Jordanian sage's tense words were drowned out by the background chants of his servants.

The Primarch's towering figure was surrounded by a group of sages in magnificent red robes, covered in metal and cables, with some hunched historians and Imperial officials following at the rear of the procession.

Not wearing power armor, Mortarion wore a ceremonial uniform that blended Barbalusian and Imperial styles. The Barbalusian style successfully overshadowed the Imperial's opulent style, and the plain color stood out against the crimson, just like him.

Mortarian nodded, signaling everyone to lower their bows.

The Primarch listened patiently to the Jordanian sage's rambling.

"Thank you for your dedication to training technical sergeants. I am already looking forward to entrusting the next batch of technical sergeants from the Fourteenth Army Corps to you."

Upon hearing the approval of the Son of Om Messiah in his heart, the Jordanian sage was so happy he almost crashed, and a faint smell of smoke seemed to emanate from him.

"It's alright, it's alright."

As the sage muttered to himself, he extended some tiny appendages and began tightening screws on the smoking part.

Mortarian's hoarse voice rang out again.

"Well then, please allow me to apologize for this sudden visit, as I was simply curious about how our legion's first technical sergeant is doing now."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take my technical sergeant with me to check on the Legion's affairs with Mars."

"Does the base agree to this?"

"Agreed! Okay!"

"Sergeant Hades may leave now!"

Motarian nodded almost imperceptibly, as a gesture of thanks.

Then he looked at Hades, who was holding a spoon that had already solidified.

He walked over, and the sages in front of the Primarch made way for him.

As the Primarch entered the hall from the entrance, Mortarion's inherent aura began to overwhelm the entire area.

In the hall, the other technical sergeants were also impacted—

This is an aura completely different from most other Primarchs!

The poisonous gas from Barbaros slowly suffocated the room. His tall, withered figure, his haggard and sunken face, and his plain mourning clothes were draped over his body.

Unlike the glorious Guilliman and Saint Gilles, and unlike the solemn and silent Dorne and Fernus, when Primarchs generally gave people a positive and proactive image, the Grim Reaper from Barbaros shattered their perception.

Silence, death.

The poison gas slowly choked everyone present.

Wild Wolf Manning instinctively held his breath.

That was the poisonous smell that Hades had before.

Are all Death Guards smelling bad?!

Besides, wasn't the previous intelligence supposed to be more approachable?!

Is this some kind of approachable person?!

What happened to the promise that Space Marines would all resemble Primarchs?

Ignoring everyone else, Mortarian looked at Hades, who was still holding the spoon.

Did I disturb you?

“Ah?! Ah?”

"No no!"

Hades was internally screaming, "Dude, could you at least give me some advance notice? Look at the other sages behind you, they look like they're about to kill me!"

In reality, the Martian sage who arranged the Primarch's journey wished he could tear Hades to pieces at this moment.

God knows why this Primarch suddenly insisted on going to the Tech Sergeant Base halfway there!

The Primarch's Martian trajectory began to be recalculated, and the routes escorted by the Mechanicus of different sects began to change.

"Then you still eat?"

"I'm not eating anymore, I'm not eating anymore!"

Hades was startled and quickly put the bowl down.

Mortarian gave him a puzzled look; the Primarch's memories indicated that Hades didn't have such a small appetite.

"Let's go."

Hades stood up and said, "Let's go!"

He felt like the gazes of others were slashing at him like daggers.

If we don't leave now, we'll be torn to pieces!

Not far away, Ultramarines, Imperial Fist, and Iron Warrior stared wide-eyed.

He felt he could hear Manning the wolf snoring, but in reality the wolf hadn't made a sound.

Mortalian blinked in confusion, clearly not understanding what Hades was thinking.

But having achieved his goal, he could not linger any longer.

Hades stood beside the Primarch, and the massive procession slowly departed once more.

Having recovered from Mortalian's oppressive aura, the technical sergeants, who had been silent for a long time, finally stirred.

They had just come into close contact with a Primarch.

"He was an extraordinary adult."

"Every adult is different."

Discussions began within the Ultra Warriors organization.

"Isn't he someone you don't know well?"

The smell of poisonous gas still lingered in his nostrils, the wolf said through gritted teeth.

These words immediately pulled the Tech Sergeants, who were still immersed in the shock of the Primarch, out of their thoughts, and they suddenly realized what Hades had said earlier.

silence.

Other Space Marines began to wonder if their Primarch would visit them if he came to Mars.

The Ultramarines believed Lord Guilliman would, and the Shadowmoon Wolves thought so too, while the Steel Hand remained silent, knowing the answer was probably "no."

The white scars didn't care about any of this, and the fire lizards fell silent as well.

The Iron Warriors have stopped thinking.

“I need to discuss some legion matters with my warriors, and it’s inconvenient for the sages to come over.”

Mortarian stared expressionlessly at the mechanical sage who was trying to board the vehicle.

The towering Grim Reaper now unleashed his oppressive aura, and the temperature seemed to plummet.

The logic system is performing operations.

"Yes, sir."

An electronic sound effect rang out.

Mortalian ignored the sage and boarded the vehicle, with Hades and a historian following the Primarch.

This is a specially designed transport vehicle, all black in appearance, with special treatment at the entrance.

The vehicle began to move, dust billowing up around it. Not far away, a vehicle belonging to the Cult of Mechanics closely followed the Primarch's vehicle.

Mortarian glanced calmly out the window.

"Okay."

?

What's okay?

As if in response to Hades's question, the hunched historian who had boarded the carriage with them slowly removed his hood. He had been hidden in the crowd, completely inconspicuous.

It's Macado.

The wise man gazed at Hades with profound eyes, but said nothing.

"You'll leave with Makado in a bit, Hades."

Mortarian spoke,

"Ok?"

Hades asked in confusion,

"What are you doing? Where are you going?"

Mortarian frowned in displeasure.

"Ask him, I don't know either."

“I just brought you here as he asked.”

Hades turned his gaze back to Macado, but the old man merely closed his eyes.

"You'll find out later. Until then, let me rest for a while."

Could they really have sent him over to be used as material for the sages?!

"Don't think too much."

Makado opened his eyes, glanced helplessly at Hades, and then closed them again to rest.

"There should be no danger."

Mortarian spoke,

"Otherwise, I won't let this psionicist get away with it."

Hades blinked.

"Then why is it like this?"

So high-profile?

"If you want to hide something, why not try putting it in the shadow of something more high-profile?"

Makado's voice slowly rose.

Primarchs possess an aura that attracts attention. When the gaze of the Martians is drawn to a Primarch who can freely alter their course of action, attention to other corners of the planet will diminish.

The only price will be that the Martian sages develop a deeper impression of this Primarch.

Arrogant, stubborn, uncooperative, self-centered

But it's clear that neither Mortarian nor Macado cares about that.