He who had transford into the Deathmark possessed limbs and a head indistinguishable from a human's, yet his skin was a tawny brown. This was likely tied to his howorld's location in a galaxy drenched in high-intensity radiation.
As his body regenerated, the control protocols hard-coded into his underlying systems lost their hold.
The Deathmark rejoiced at regaining flesh once more. He had escaped a nightmarish imprisonnt and reclaid the freedom he had long been denied.
"Smash this bastard into the ground."
Datch opened the Room of Requirent and summoned Mordachi, the prized relic of the Dark Angels.
They would use the sa tactics against the Deathmark that they had once employed against the Fallen Angels.
From the enemy they hoped to learn the identity of the ruler commanding the cosmic Necromancers invading this world — and the full extent of their situation.
Before Mordachi could strike, the Deathmark shouted in flawless High Gothic.
"Great and Supre God, accept my loyalty! As your devout servant, I swear to serve you faithfully!"
Though he no longer wore a body of living tal, the Deathmark retained vast stores of mory and knowledge. He could still speak to humans in Gothic.
"You surrendered that quickly just to survive?" Zarhulash sneered, glaring down at the Deathmark pinned beneath his boot.
"I never wanted to fight in this war," the Deathmark explained. "Once, I was simply an adventurer who loved wandering the stars."
"The mont I returned to port from another expedition, they dragged into the bio-conversion furnace and burned the Deathmark protocol into . Resistance was already impossible."
"Believe — I hate being controlled more than anyone alive. Days of having every thought dictated by others, of possessing no will of my own… that is far worse than any prison."
The group exchanged glances. Even among the cold, rciless cosmic Necromancers, such rich emotion existed.
"Who is your commander? Why invade this world?" Sa'kan demanded.
"My commander is the Illuminor Szeras." The Deathmark answered without hesitation, pouring out every scrap of knowledge he possessed.
Those bearing the Death Mark held no concept of loyalty. Serving immortal overlords as slaves for years — and calling it loyalty? What a joke.
If the Silent King and the ancient saints ever stood before him, the Deathmark would empty a Gauss gun into the Silent King's body without a second's pause.
"The Illuminor, Szeras?" Danica's eyes narrowed as she tasted the na.
"Ah… that rotten seed…"
The Deathmark spilled every detail about Szeras like beans cascading from a split bamboo tube.
The commander of the undead horde that had invaded this planet was the Illuminor Szeras — a ravenous technophile and co-creator of bio-transference technology.
The knowledge that allowed biological consciousness to be uploaded into living tal had co from the C'tan. Szeras had been the one who forged that theory into working machines and protocols.
He believed with absolute certainty that the final stage of evolution was neither flesh nor steel, but a being of pure energy. After his own body was chanized, he beca obsessed with unlocking life's secrets and reversing biological-to-chanical conversion so he might one day ascend to godhood.
Their invasion of this world was purely for research materials. Even now they were harvesting prisoners, dissecting souls in search of the universe's greatest mystery.
"Most Supre God, I know Szeras's exact location. I also know every weakness in his defenses. For the sake of the galaxy, guide your servants — and let help you destroy this evil."
When the Deathmark finished, he offered to lead Datch's party straight to Szeras.
"You filthy xenos scum — are you trying to lure us into a trap?"
Danica leveled her bomb-gun at the Deathmark's chest with both hands, finger already on the trigger.
"Kill if you must. But before you do, let take you to Szeras."
"He is the mastermind behind this invasion — the greatest sinner of all. I will deliver you to him. Then you can destroy him together with ."
Even with a battle-sister's weapon aid at his heart, the Deathmark showed no fear of death. He only regretted that he had not betrayed his master sooner.
Datch let out a short laugh.
The concept of a terrifying-dead NPC was genuinely fascinating. Even staring death in the face, their first instinct was still to betray their superior.
A task window materialized before Datch's eyes.
[Mission: Annihilate Szeras]
The Illuminor Szeras's invasion has brought untold suffering to this world. Expel this evil existence and restore peace.
[Reward: 1,000 EXP, 1,000 Points, 150 Reputation]
Dead Zone side quests really did pay well.
Datch skimd the mission briefing and muttered under his breath.
The Dead Zone, the Great Rift, the looming Fourth Tyranid Invasion, and Bone Crusher's colossal WAAGH — these were the primary threats facing the Human Empire.
They were also the backbone of Datch's main questline. Defeat every Xenos nace and usher in a new golden age for the Imperium, and the ga would end.
Mordachi stared at the Deathmark, brow furrowed. "Why should we believe you would betray your own kind?"
Mockery colored the Deathmark's reply.
"Betraying the Illuminor is the sa as betraying my race?"
"In my view, betraying those detestable high-ranking Necromancers is not betrayal at all — it is simply justice long overdue."
"The nobles under the Silent King ignited the War in Heaven. In the end, who truly profited?"
"Are we the pitiful lower caste who once feared death? No. We are not."
We lost our souls. We lost our bodies. We lost our freedom. We beca puppets bound by ancient pacts — tools to be used and discarded at whim.
"Countless souls who feared death paid the ultimate price for their leaders' ambition and madness, becoming slaves of living tal."
"So why must I remain loyal to those who already reaped every benefit from this system?"
"Simply because I once feared death, must I serve a master who cares nothing for my life and treats as disposable garbage?"
"If that is the price of loyalty, then this race deserves extinction. At least then we would finally be free."
Mordachi stood speechless, unable to muster a single retort. Rage boiled inside him. To be rendered mute by an Xenos was the deepest humiliation.
He wanted nothing more than to snatch up his bomb-gun and execute the Deathmark on the spot.
But the Naless Man stood right there. Discipline held his hand.
"Then lead the way," Datch said, ignoring the argunt. He gestured for the Deathmark to take point.
"With pleasure," the Deathmark answered, almost cheerful.
Even if death waited in the next heartbeat, he would still betray his master first.
Led by the Deathmark, Datch's team ford up and advanced toward the Illuminor Szeras's stronghold.
For safety, the civilian column led by the Ecclesiarchy priest was placed at the very rear.
Along the route they gathered every surviving soldier they encountered, folding the stragglers into their ranks and swelling their strength for the coming counterstrike against the immortal rulers.
Passing the shattered battlefield, they found an Ultramarine Apothecary nad Fernas kneeling amid rubble. With solemn, gentle precision he extracted gene-seed from the chests of fallen battle-brothers and sealed the precious organs inside cryogenic capsules.
Fernas's armor was caked in dust and blood; exhaustion and grief lined his face. With every extraction he offered a quiet prayer that the warrior's soul might return to the Emperor's light.
At the sound of approaching footsteps Fernas looked up sharply. Surprise flashed across his features when he recognized Sa'kan and the others — then turned to awe the instant he saw Datch.
He rose, fist striking his chest plate in salute.
"Naless Lord — why have you co to this place?"
Datch paid him no mind and continued forward alone, skipping lightly over debris as if the grim atmosphere could not touch him.
Fernas paused only long enough to learn their purpose from Sa'kan. They were marching to confront the invasion's architect — the Illuminor Szeras.
"Then I will accompany you."
Deeper into enemy territory they pressed, the Deathmark guiding them unerringly.
The closer they drew to Szeras's lair, the thicker the undead presence beca. Palm-sized tal scarabs scurried across the ground, emitting a constant chanical drone as they dug and assembled angular necron structures. Every surface glittered with dark-green necromantic runes.
The invaders were systematically colonizing the planet, turning it into both fortress and laboratory for Szeras's deranged experints.
Even with their guide, danger struck without warning.
They blundered into a patrol of twenty Necron warriors ard with Gauss splitters.
Perfect coordination turned the encounter into a slaughter. The patrol was annihilated in seconds.
Datch seized the mont. Several cosmic undead were ripped from their control protocols and reborn as Terror Undead, finally tasting true freedom.
Shock and confusion gave way to stunned joy. The Necrontyr dropped to one knee before Datch.
"We thank the God who returned our freedom."
For those who had once feared death above all else, the "gift" of living tal had been a life sentence. No will. No soul. Only endless service to masters who viewed them as tools.
A swift, painless death would have been rcy compared to this.
Now that the Deathmark had promised to lead humanity straight to Szeras's annihilation, every death-fearing warrior burned with renewed purpose. So even seized Gauss separator cannons, volunteering to charge headlong into enemy fire.
"When the ti cos you may execute by firing squad — but the vanguard is mine."
"Let us fight for you!"
"Bring down the Silent King and avenge every death-fearing soul!"
Sa'kan, Fernas, and the others could only stare in stunned silence at the fanatical Death Bringers.
How deeply must the cosmic immortals be hated for their forr slaves to guide their own executioners?
Led by the death-fearing vanguard, Datch's force slipped past remaining patrols via hidden routes.
At last a vast necron complex rose before them — geotric pyramids and towers seemingly afloat, every surface alive with flickering dark-green runes. At its heart stood a colossal central pyramid. From its entrance a constant stream of Necrons carried corpses inside while living prisoners were herded forward in chains, faces hollow with terror.
Danica's fury ignited the mont she saw Necrons dragging the bodies of her fellow battle-sisters.
"How dare you desecrate my sisters!"
"These xenos must be purged to the last," Fernas growled, equally incensed at the sight of Ultramarine corpses being harvested.
Datch gave the order.
"Make them afraid."
Zarhulash struck first. A searing beam of destruction lanced out, triggering a chain of thunderous detonations.
"Charge! For the Naless Ones! For the Emperor!"
Mordachi's roar split the air. Astartes surged forward, boltguns and chainswords reaping a bloody harvest. Gauss splitters, bolt rounds, and energy beams tore through Necron ranks. Shattered tal and glowing green fluid sprayed across the ground.
The Necrontyr proved equally devastating. They located maintenance interfaces and control panels with uncanny speed. Most necron structures still carried authentication keys from the ancient Terrifying Dead era — backdoors the Necrontyr exploited ruthlessly, shutting down automated defenses before they could activate.
Datch's team breached the pyramid with almost no losses.
A piercing alarm scread through the corridors.
Szeras, deep in his experints, jolted upright. Surveillance feeds showed humans already inside his sanctum. He imdiately severed all external communications to protect his work.
Only after Datch's strike force shattered the final defensive layer did Szeras receive the alert.
"Impossible. How could such primitive creatures move this fast?"
He could not fathom how they had located him — or bypassed every outer defense.
A scarab scuttled forward and projected the Deathmark's image.
Szeras's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
What—?!
A death-fearing one?!
"Lord Szeras. Do you rember ?" the Deathmark asked calmly.
"Who are you?" Szeras demanded, mind racing.
The Deathmark smiled. "I was once your assassin. You awakened and sent to exterminate these humans."
Szeras felt his processors overheat.
This was one of his own Deathmark assassins?! How had he reverted to fearing death?
Shock gave way to manic excitent. "Return to at once! I must dissect you — I must understand how this was done!"
He had heard rumors from the Silent King: certain humans possessed the power to reverse biotransference. He had never believed they would appear here. They had to be destroyed.
The Deathmark's laugh was cold. "Lord Szeras, you still don't understand, do you? I didn't co to be your specin. I ca to end you. Your location is known. There is no escape."
Szeras understood in an instant. The traitor Deathmark had exposed him. Another force had guided the humans inside and crippled his defenses.
These wretches understood nothing of loyalty — only betrayal for personal gain.
Reading Szeras's expression, the Deathmark spoke first.
"Don't bother, my lord. Even if I betrayed you, I was the one who acted first."
Szeras's rage exploded. "You dare betray and lead these inferior creatures against ?!"
"I learned everything from you," the Deathmark replied. "You sacrifice us at whim, manipulate us at whim, discard us like refuse. Why, then, should I not betray you in return?"
"What did they promise you?" Szeras snarled.
The Deathmark's grin widened. "They promised I would watch you die before they killed ."
Szeras fell silent.
…Did they truly hate him that much?
All he had done was summon them for minor tasks and issue a few sharp rebukes. He hadn't even bothered with regeneration contracts. Was that enough to justify this?
Could death-fearing beings never see the larger picture? Were they forever chained to petty grievances?
"We are the sa race," Szeras tried one last appeal. "Humans are nothing like us. The mont I fall, they will turn on you."
"Whether I live or die is irrelevant," the Deathmark said softly. "Right now, I simply want you dead."
"Madman. Traitor." Szeras's voice dripped venom. "A death-fearing wretch like you deserves no honorable end."
…
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