At the entrance of Hades's dilapidated house in the Helle Narrows.
The morning after their escape.
Hades stood at the door, pondering how to initiate a conversation without being misunderstood. Given Mortarion's peculiar temperament, one wrong word could lead to a decade-long grudge.
This reminded Hades of his former resentful leader, who could interpret a simple statement like "The printer is out of paper" as a personal insult.
Why did other transmigrants get to level up by fighting monsters, while he was stuck figuring out how to converse? Well, when you're under someone's roof, you bow your head.
Hades's Chatting 101 class was now in session.
He knew Mortarion wanted to discuss something. All he had to do was ask a few questions and let the other man ramble.
"Will those lords come down?"
"They will... Those bastards. Their pitiful lives revolve around their so-called authority."
"And now, the livestock from the lower levels, the trash in their eyes, have trampled on their dignity. They won't let this go."
Mortarion's teeth gritted, as if he wished he could behead those lords right now.
"Do you plan to face them alone?"
"..."
"The rage of the oppressed burns in every slave's heart..."
"...Given time, I will ignite the fire of rebellion in everyone. We will overthrow these tyrants. Victory belongs to humanity."
Hades shrugged, "You'll have the time."
But... when you finally confront your adoptive father, time will be running out.
"Not necessarily," Mortarion stared intently towards the mountains, "My foster father might seek revenge now, but I'm not sure. He's cunning and won't act rashly."
In fact, if Mortarion's alien foster father, Necare, chose to seek revenge immediately, the village would be obliterated by a barrage of artillery.
Mortarion knew his foster father well. He never took risks. When battling other lords, unless he chose to toy with Mortarion by throwing him into the battlefield, Necare would typically start with a saturation bombardment, followed by sending hordes of magically controlled puppets to wear down the enemy.
He rarely entered the battlefield himself, even though Necare was the most powerful sorcerer on the planet.
"So, you're waiting for him? Are you afraid he'll attack the village?"
"...Yes."
"I'm waiting for his revenge. I betrayed him, not you."
"If he seeks revenge, he should come after me, not you."
Well... isn't it possible, Hades thought with a wry smile, that as potential slaves about to be harvested, we also blew up his transport and ran away?
"But we also escaped, right?"
Mortarion glanced down at Hades.
There was no helping it; Mortarion was tall, and Hades was short.
"He won't care about the lower levels..."
But he might slaughter the villagers in front of Mortarion just to mock and torment him.
Perhaps he should leave.
But what if, after he left, his foster father attacked the village?
Hades looked at Mortarion, feeling a bit mocked. Indeed, as a human, would you remember every piece of bread you've eaten?
Of course, he knew Mortarion's concerns were valid. If he hadn't read the script, he'd be afraid of the lords coming too.
But they didn't.
Speaking of which, it's quite suspicious here. It's as if everything was designed to let Mortarion experience human life. And not to mention, in the original story, it was the psyker Typhon who rescued Mortarion.
Actually... all of this might be...
Stop!
Hades abruptly halted his train of thought. He didn't want to delve deeper. It was time to change the subject. It seemed Mortarion might stand guard here for days, and Hades wasn't planning on persuading him otherwise.
"Um... the bandage on my left arm, did you redo it, or was it Typhon?"
"It was me. Your left arm was infected. If it wasn't bandaged, you might have needed an amputation."
"Ah, thanks, haha."
"Don't be so serious! Since we've escaped, let's have a feast tonight to celebrate!"
Hades wanted to give his buddy a pat on the back to boost their rapport, but then sadly realized he was only tall enough to reach Mortarion's waist.
And he was just a seven-year-old kid.
Damn it, you're tall, so what?
I'll grow taller!
Hades thought to himself, determined to reach a height of 6'7", and then undergo an Astartes procedure to reach 9'10".
But honestly, even if Hades could reach that height, in Mortarion's eyes, he'd still be a shorty.
Is this the cruel reality of Warhammer?
Hades awkwardly refrained from patting Mortarion and said, "I'll head out now and get some food. You keep watch."
On his way back, he saw a fresh horse carcass in the field, probably one that had escaped the Pale Laughter's attack on the stable.
It looked like it had just died. If he butchered it now, it'd still be edible!
Triggering his innate farming and cooking skills!
If he waited any longer, it'd be gone. With that thought, Hades quickly bid Mortarion farewell and dashed off with his dagger.
Mortarion stood still, a bit dazed, watching Hades's retreating figure.
What did "thank you" mean?
And why was eating so important?
That night, he truly savored the experience.
Watching Mortarion and Typhon devouring skewers of grilled horse meat by the fire, Hades thought, "This is just the beginning. If I had more seasonings, I could showcase my ultimate culinary skills!"
From the moment he started skewering the meat, Typhon had been circling him, asking at least a dozen times, "Is this really for me to eat?" It reminded Hades of a Golden Retriever he once had, which would wag its tail excitedly whenever he cooked.
Mortarion, standing at the door, was clearly tempted by the aroma but remained vigilant. He was a warrior, a weapon, always ready.
But Hades's words, "It's just evening now. If the lords plan to attack, they usually choose the early hours. Why not eat something now to conserve energy?" persuaded him to join the feast.
It was the right choice. After devouring his fifty-second delicious skewer, Mortarion was convinced.
He had never realized how enjoyable eating could be. In the past, he mostly consumed the bodies of his fallen enemies. Occasionally, his foster father would throw him some stale, moldy bread.
But tasting these perfectly grilled skewers, crispy on the outside and tender inside, Mortarion finally understood Hades's passion for food.
He'd have to find a way to get Hades to cook more often.
As for Hades?
He looked across the fire at Mortarion, whose eyes gleamed with hunger, and thought, "Bro, slow down. You've already eaten half a horse."
Can these primordial beings ever truly be satiated?
For a long time afterward, Hades remained puzzled by this question.
But for now... it was a race to grab the remaining skewers!
In the end, Hades, with a determined look, said to Mortarion, "Mortarion, lead us in a rebellion, will you? I feel you can pull it off."
Compared to the later depictions of the primordials becoming godlike, the early portrayals showed their very human side.
In fact, aside from the protagonist, everyone else was quite serious. Really.