Warhammer: I Don't Want to Become a Stinky Can!!!

Hades gripped his dagger tightly, waking up amidst the jolting of the vehicle and the cries of the people around him. He shook his head, his consciousness gradually clearing. He had passed out earlier due to exhaustion.

The truck carrying the captives was still moving slowly. Based on the incline, Hades deduced they were climbing a mountain—already reaching mid to low altitude. The night on Barbarus had ended, and the slave-hunting puppets were now transporting them to the fortress of the alien overlord atop the high mountains.

Hades clenched his teeth. He crawled in the completely enclosed cage, tapping the floor—searching for the weakest point of the structure. Yes, he was going to escape. Even if there was no hope, even if the odds were overwhelmingly against him, as long as Hades had a breath left in him, he would never accept his fate.

He would never accept it.

Even if captured, he could struggle with his limbs to find a way out. Even if his limbs were broken, he could bite his enemies with his teeth. Even if his teeth were shattered, he could stare at his foes with a defiant, death-defying gaze, spitting blood to declare that Hades would never yield!

There was only one chance to escape, and it had to be now. If they waited any longer, the slave convoy would reach higher altitudes—where Barbarus's toxic gases were even deadlier. The crude gas masks the people had made would be useless, and they would die in agonizing suffocation within minutes.

Without any knowledge of the mountain terrain, Hades decided to focus on breaking out of the cage first. He would have to improvise as he went.

In the cramped, enclosed space, people wailed and wept. Hades pushed past them, blocking out the noise as he tapped the floor, concentrating on finding the weakest spot.

Finally, he found it.

He shoved aside a sobbing elderly woman sitting above the spot (though she looked old, she might have been only thirty). She didn't even acknowledge Hades; most people in the cargo hold were too consumed by fear to do anything but cry.

Hades pulled out his dagger and began chiseling at the floor. The toxic gases had done him a favor—the floor, long exposed to the poison, wasn't as sturdy as it looked. Hades quickly made a small hole.

Higher concentrations of gas seeped through the hole, and Hades saw a glimmer of hope—small, but present.

But it wasn't enough.

Hades continued to dig frantically. The sound of his chiseling and the gas seeping in from outside slowly filled the space beneath him.

As he worked, the crying in the compartment gradually stopped. The villagers, who had spent their lives hiding and weeping, paralyzed by fear, stared blankly at Hades.

They didn't seem to understand what he was doing, but they realized one thing—

There was still time to fight.

A lean, wiry young man emerged from the crowd. He was dressed in rags, his face sharp and cunning.

He crawled over to Hades on his knees and tapped his shoulder.

"I'll help you."

Hades was stunned. He turned to look at the man and saw he was empty-handed.

"You don't even have a knife. How are you going to help me?"

The young man paused, then looked down, as if steeling himself before speaking.

"I'm a psyker."

Hades's mind buzzed. On Barbarus, adult, healthy psykers were practically nonexistent.

A thought flashed through Hades's mind like lightning.

"Are you Typhon? Calas Typhon?!"

The man nodded bitterly.

"What? Even now, you despise me as a freak?"

Hades immediately shook his head, his gaze firm as he looked at Typhon, his eyes blazing with determination.

"No, I believe in you. Let's escape together."

"I just… didn't expect to meet you here…"

Hades carefully chose his words, trying not to offend Typhon. After all, Typhon was a key figure in the Warhammer lore.

Moreover, Hades needed Typhon's psychic abilities to escape.

Calas Typhon—who was he?

Calas Typhon, the true leader of the XIV Legion (ahem, not really), the First Captain of the XIV Legion, once Mortarion's closest friend, a treacherous turncoat, a filial son who brought about his father's downfall, ■■■■■, a psyker born from an alien father and a human mother.

His most infamous act was single-handedly dooming the entire Death Guard.

In the original lore, Calas Typhon was Mortarion's closest friend on Barbarus. Inspired by him, Mortarion escaped the imprisonment of his alien foster father and reached the human settlements at the base of the mountain.

After that, Mortarion and Calas Typhon formed and led a resistance army together (though Mortarion did most of the work).

In a way, Calas Typhon was Mortarion's guide into the human world.

Mortarion showed immense tolerance and leniency toward this first human he had met.

This, in turn, led to Typhon's eventual betrayal. Despite his repeated acts of rebellion, Mortarion never struck him down.

In the end, Mortarion's poor judgment allowed Typhon to sacrifice the entire Legion—another day of father-son "bonding."

Typhon's presence here could only mean one thing.

In the original story, Mortarion and Calas Typhon's meeting began with Typhon escaping from a slave transport.

Which meant that Mortarion was about to make a dramatic entrance, and Hades had a good chance of surviving this!

He could escape!

As for meeting Mortarion, Hades didn't care much. Right now, survival was all that mattered.

Forget about the betrayal centuries later—if he didn't escape now, he'd be BBQ'd by the aliens!

Hades moved aside, gesturing for Typhon to begin his psychic display.

Come on, Typhon, show us what you've got!

Typhon furrowed his brow, a strange white light gathering in his hands—

Alright, here we go—

The light suddenly dimmed.

"This shouldn't be happening. I feel my connection to the Warp weakening…"

Typhon muttered to himself.

Hades stared at him. Bro, are you serious? Can you do this or not?

What they didn't know was that Hades's Pariah-like nature was interfering with Typhon's connection to the Warp.

They should be grateful that Hades's ability was still in its infancy, weak enough that it only weakened the Warp connection rather than severing it entirely.

Hades's slow-growing Pariah nature had initially prevented him from realizing what he was. In his memories, Pariahs were like black holes in the Warp, unconsciously and slowly devouring the souls around them. As a result, any soul-bearing creature would instinctively despise them.

Pariahs were universally loathed, and some might even try to hunt them down out of sheer hatred.

It was this knowledge that had kept Hades from considering himself a Pariah.

If a psyker tried to use their powers near a powerful Pariah, they would likely explode on the spot.

But Hades didn't know any of this yet.

He watched in frustration as Typhon slowly backed away, as if charging up for a big move.

Once there was enough distance between them, the white light suddenly became blinding. Through his gas mask, Typhon shouted,

"Get down!!!"

A brilliant white light flooded the cramped cage. The psychic explosion sent Hades flying, the force even flipping the truck. They tumbled down the mountainside along with the vehicle.

When the light faded, a massive hole had been blown open in the floor.

Toxic gas rushed in. Typhon was the first to roll out of the hole, gagging but not running away. He turned back and pulled Hades out.

Hades could now see their surroundings. They were on a mid-level slope, with nothing but rocks and withered grass around them, save for a fortress in the distance.

The earlier tumble had sent them into a small ravine. Further up the slope, the slave convoy's escort vehicles were slowing down and stopping. The overlord's puppets were shouting as they disembarked, rushing toward them.

In the distance stood the fortress, its towering walls looming ominously in the thick fog. It felt less like a protective structure and more like a prison.

Amidst the fog, on the fortress's outer wall, stood a tall, gaunt figure—

Mortarion.

Note: Some of the Pariah/Blank lore has been slightly adjusted for this story. Official Warhammer 40k lore on Blanks is constantly evolving, so I've taken some liberties with the details. In short, Blanks are universally disliked, even by machines (machine spirits hate them!). There are rumors that Blanks can learn to control their abilities through meditation, but that's up for debate.

One of the protagonist's "cheats" is his Pariah-like nature. There will be more custom lore later, which might not align perfectly with established canon. Apologies in advance if it affects your reading experience.