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

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Of course, some shrewd Barbarosians would choose to work in the service industry, either by becoming servants to imperial bureaucrats or by starting businesses in human settlements.

Of course, the more daring people would try to board a passing merchant ship and leave their hometown for good.

Compared to the still lifeless Barbarus, the rings surrounding it reveal a civilization that has rapidly developed after overcoming its survival difficulties.

On Barbarus, those who chose to stay, or waited to become high-level laborers and then go to work on the Star Ring, continued their necessary farming day after day.

Every morning, the village children would go out in groups of three or five to work in their own fields.

Meanwhile, the elderly are engaged in the preliminary processing of agricultural products and household chores such as cooking at home.

The Death Guards who remained and were stationed in Barbaros regularly patrolled human settlements of all sizes, so these villages, lacking young and middle-aged laborers, were rarely attacked by wildlife.

Now, this is what a typical Barbalusian's life would look like—

They were born on the ring of stars and then sent back to Barbaros by their parents, where they were raised by elders or relatives from the same village.

When he or she is old enough to pick up farm tools, he or she will begin to cultivate the land.

Once he or she is older and capable of handling most of the work on the Star Ring, they will go to the Star Ring, spend most of their lives there, meet their lover, have children, and then send the children back to Barbaros.

If they live long enough to be no longer of any working value, they will return to Barbarossa with their savings to help their children raise their grandchildren.

Of course, this story has only lasted for one generation so far. The wealth has not yet been accumulated, and the first batch of elderly people have just returned to their hometown.

Hades blinked.

This sense of déjà vu is so strong!

He desperately wanted to change the current situation, but the most urgent task was to select the first batch of new recruits before making a long-term plan for the construction of Barbarossa.

Hades knew very well that Barbaross could not continue like this.

The industry on the ring is not enough to support the rapidly growing population in the long run; only Barbaross, a planet, can shoulder this responsibility.

However, the planet is not yet suitable for any other long-term development plans until the Nurgle's psionic problems are resolved.

He might try using psionic powers on that black stone obelisk, but that obelisk was even more thoroughly damaged after his last tinkering with it.

Moreover, the working range of a single black obelisk certainly cannot cover an entire planet.

"Are you thinking about how to select new recruits?"

The familiar voice interrupted Hades's thoughts.

Hades didn't even turn his head.

"Finally out of the medical room?"

Mortarian glanced at Hades, then silently looked away.

Hades, did you say that before?

"This is indeed hard to accept."

As he sat there, before the dying Karas, Mortarian pondered many things.

What did he do to make his friend choose the path of betrayal?

Perhaps Callas did not do it willingly, but he chose to ignore his old friend's gradual decline.

Mortalian still remembered the scene when he first met Karastifon, the disheveled young man struggling to his feet from the mud.

“Motalian, I know you. You are the child of the Alien Lord.”

Then the young man gave a sly smile.

"I knew you would save us."

"Come with us, down the mountain, to the human village."

In the distance, Hades, still a child, sat on a truck and shouted at them to run.

Mortarian was still contemplating revenge against his adoptive father, because he believed that Nacre would not let the matter rest. Should he go with them? He would kill everyone.

But Karas grabbed his wrist and dragged himself down the mountain.

He is the Primarch; the power of mortals is insignificant to him.

But he was still pulled over, and from then on, he was dragged to the other side of fate.

But Callas

Can he pull Callas out of the mire of fate as well?

Will Carrastiphon, who is still in a coma, give him this opportunity?

If Mortarian is to lose this opportunity completely, can he try not to create an even greater tragedy?

Perhaps I've been so focused on liberation that I've overlooked too much.

Liberation, yes, liberation.

He was always striving for liberation; he was pursuing liberation.

The vow the three of them made was for liberation, and the words he murmured countless times were for liberation.

But while Karas lay lifeless in bed, Hades was frantically planning conscription and other matters.

Mortarian suddenly realized that what he really wanted was not just liberation.

What they promised him back then—was it liberation itself, or the infinite possibilities that followed liberation?

He recalled that when he was preparing to attack Nacre, he had envisioned the livelihood and recovery of the people after Barbarossa.

But then the emperor interrupted him.

What followed was the promise from his biological father, a greater liberation, a more glorious liberation.

Mortarian admitted that there was a moment when he was indeed swayed by that empty promise.

He did so without hesitation, patiently sharpening his sickle once more, vowing to liberate one world after another.

It was as if he was climbing a mountain that had no end.

But did the world he liberated before truly celebrate its liberation?

You cannot replace one tyranny with another.

Have you communicated with the locals?

Do his descendants truly feel genuinely proud of his liberation?

Mortarian pondered silently, concealed by his breathing mask, as poisonous gas slowly seeped from the statue.

He eventually emerged from the medical room. The Barbarosians never mourned their injuries for long; life always went on, and the grieving weak would be consumed by the poison gas.

Only those who adapt to reality can survive, even if reality is not what they once imagined.

Mortalian blinked, staring at Hades, who was surveying the terrain and contemplating recruit selection.

"I came out of the medical room,"

"Because the medical room is not a quiet place, Vox and Garo send me communication requests every five minutes."

Hades turned and looked at Mortarian incredulously, who was unusually displaying his dry sense of humor.

They tacitly remained silent on the topic of Carrastifon.

"Ah, I hope Galo and Vox are alright."

Hades remarked,

"How are things there?"

"The post-war cleanup work is almost done, but they are still negotiating with the Imperial departments regarding taking over the administrative management."

"Interestingly,"

Motalian said,

"According to Galo's report, the empire even sent two groups of bureaucrats with reversed orders to implement different tax policies."

Hades silently shook his head; the empire's administration, as always, conformed to his stereotypes.

"Then why aren't you helping them deal with things in Galaspa? Are you here to come and recruit soldiers?"

“I should certainly be there for Barbarossa’s second round of conscription.”

Motalian, on the other hand, was perfectly justified.

"Furthermore, I have already approved the post-war handling of Galaspa, and the tasks of liaising with other forces have been handed over to Galo and Vox."

The Primarch's efficiency remained astonishing as ever, but Mortarion also decisively relinquished control over the minutiae he was unwilling to manage.

Without giving Hades a chance to ask about the job again, Mortarian spoke directly.

"So, how do you plan to select new recruits?"

Hades shrugged.

"I have not decided yet."

Is it simply a matter of looking at the physical examination results, or capturing wild animals for fighting competitions, or directly having the contestants fight each other in the qualifying rounds?

These are all common approaches, and the selection of new recruits often serves the purpose of defining the roles of each legion.

For example, the Space Wolves would throw recruits awaiting selection onto the snowfields of Fenris, and as long as they could return alive, they would receive a ticket.

There are all sorts of methods for screening physical conditions, and Hades just wanted to choose a convenient and quick one.

But Hades hopes that when selecting recruits who are physically fit, they can also be screened psychologically and ideologically.

During the Great Expedition, the Legion's ideological assessment of new recruits was extremely lenient, almost nonexistent.

However, the legion cannot be blamed for this, as their selection criteria based on ideology and mindset are simply too idealistic.

"simply,"

Mortalian's power armor clattered as he raised his massive scythe, Oblivion, and pointed it at the distant, rolling mountains.

"Let them climb the mountain."

"Death Guard requires resilience; only those who survive in nature can become qualified Death Guards."

Hades looked at the mountains; as the altitude increased, the poisonous gas became more concentrated.

The training for the Death Guard resistance back then also involved taking them up mountains.

"Can."

Hades spoke slowly, but before that, he had to make sure that the poison gas there wouldn't be any interference from Nurgle's psionic energy.

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Chapter 136 A peaceful day, with two children, Jin

The moss-green glow of light streamed down from the floor-to-ceiling windows that filled the entire room, and looking down from the enormous star ring, Barbaros was a beautiful emerald.

The once-large room was now filled with cables and various parts. Countless tiny, dark-black components were neatly arranged on the floor, and servo arms hanging from the ceiling would occasionally reach out and precisely pick up a part.

In the very center of the room, at the center of a circle formed by countless parts, stands a black obelisk.

In front of him, Hades was dressed in the simplest technical sergeant's uniform, his strong muscles were powerful, and behind his work vest was a hideous mechanical skull.

The precision-engineered backpack hangs on the back, from which a plasma cutter extends, emitting a ghostly blue flame.

For a moment, the room was completely silent except for the rustling sounds made by Hades, who was trying to make repairs in the center.

After an unknown amount of time, Hades finally stopped what he was doing. He scratched his chin and stared at the obelisk in front of him, lost in thought.

He could make a rough repair. His previous reckless actions only burned some of the circuitry. By replacing the cables, he should be able to restart the Black Obelisk.

Hades only needs to generate an anti-psychic field; he doesn't need any other functions yet.

However, the material that makes up the cable is too strange. It is like a kind of malleable crystal with excellent compatibility with psionic energy. Hades searched through the materials library but could not find a similar material.

Left with no other choice, Hades opted for the most rudimentary method: trying them one by one. He finally found a material that could barely conduct energy, though it was far less effective than the original, but at least it was usable.

Hades looked up at the Black Stone Obelisk and thought that, given the right materials, he might be able to handcraft a junkyard version of the obelisk.

Okay, let's go see where we can get some blackstone.

Hades stretched, feeling refreshed after a long period of continuous mechanical work.

He first pressed the communication button, intending to ask Jin to prepare some food for him, and also to inform the Great Sages to see when to go to Barbarus to test the power of the Black Stone Obelisk.