My Life as A Death Guard (Warhammer 30K Male MC)

Barbarus, Morava Mountains, Mountain Peak.

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Seven years had passed since they escaped.

During these seven years, the small village of Hailer Pass, near the Overlords' territories, had long been overrun, while Mortarion and the resistance forces had moved to a new base on the northern plains.

The Death Guard resistance, led by Mortarion, was steadily growing. Initially, they organized forces to fend off nighttime attacks. But as time went on, more and more villagers joined them, and they quickly expanded this new base into the largest human territory.

In addition to organizing passive defenses at night, the resistance also began launching proactive strikes during the dim daytime, eliminating beasts and minor Overlords near human territories.

Now, the Death Guard, equipped with many elite warriors, even initiated attacks against the Overlords.

Hades stood on a secluded mountain path, gripping a scythe. Beside him was a fully armed girl holding a fire gun.

The girl was covered head to toe to ward off Barbarus' poisonous mists, but her curvaceous figure and flowing black hair hinted at her gender. A few strands of black hair dangled from her gas mask, and she occasionally fired her gun, splattering the brains of the puppets fleeing down the path.

Hades remained silent, advancing with his scythe. The blade flashed, and the puppets, still staggering after being shot, finally fell.

“The battle above should be ending soon.”

Hades shrugged. The decreasing number of puppets indicated the fight between the resistance and Overlord Dray was nearing its end.

“Another tyrant will be held accountable for his past atrocities.”

Hades turned back. Despite the gas mask, he could tell the girl was smiling, smiling for the impending victory.

Hades was momentarily stunned.

The black-haired girl was Herila, his battle partner.

Long ago, before they relocated their base, during a village defense battle, Hades decapitated a festering hound that had eaten her father, saving her sister.

Since then, only she was willing to team up with Hades in battle.

Only her.

Others always hesitated to act with Hades; some even harbored inexplicable hatred towards him.

Hades had no idea why.

It wasn’t like his combat skills were terrible and dragging others down. His scythe technique was unparalleled—except for Mortarion, Hades was confident he was the best at wielding a scythe.

Except he couldn’t handle guns or other slightly technological weapons, which might have lowered his combat effectiveness.

For some reason, these weapons malfunctioned in Hades' hands.

(Interaction with the Untouchable causes machine spirits' displeasure)

After Hades broke the seventh good gun Mortarion handed him, Mortarion gave him a decent scythe with a dark expression,

“You’d better stick to melee combat.”

But he was great at close combat! Why didn’t they want to fight with him?

Not only that, but others at the base also avoided him, even though they welcomed and adored Mortarion.

Though Typhon, being a hybrid of alien and human, wasn’t very popular either, Hades had it worse!

To avoid this unwelcome atmosphere, Hades had to live in a small house at the base’s remotest corner. Except for Mortarion and Herila, no one came to see him.

Even Typhon didn’t come! And they were the three who led the resistance!

“Sorry, Hades, I just... always find you unpleasant.”

Was it his sharp tongue, causing him to keep offending people? Or was he naturally unlikable?

Hades admitted he was mildly troubled by this for a while, but soon he was over it.

Sometimes he dreamt of leading the resistance with Mortarion, becoming a high-ranking officer, and leading the people.

But honestly, Hades wasn’t someone obsessed with secular power or being adored by everyone.

He was just a recluse who enjoyed being alone, doing his hobbies freely.

So, this situation suited him just fine. Nobody bothered him much, and since everyone seemed to dislike him, Mortarion couldn’t assign him any administrative tasks. Hades spent his time on personal research, like continuing to develop his gas mask and drawing mechanical blueprints—despite his tendency to break machines, his designs were quite reliable.

During battles, he preferred finding a secluded spot to clean up stragglers with his scythe alongside Herila.

No intense combat, just leisurely skirmishes.

As the battle neared its end, he could even chat with Herila.

Hades felt—

Life was great.

With no more monsters running down, Hades walked back to Herila, stabbed his scythe into the ground, and leaned on it, ready for a chat.

“That was quick. I thought it would be tougher.”

“His intel mentioned he was skilled in physic.”

Psyker were always tough opponents. The resistance had no Psyker of their own since Typhon never revealed his Psyker abilities. So, they had to rely on physical damage.

But with Mortarion, who could deal critical damage with one scythe swing, battles became simpler.

Without Mortarion, ordinary humans could hardly match these Psyker Overlords.

Their combat strategy was still Mortarion handling the elite enemies, with the human resistance dealing with the grunts, supporting Mortarion with ranged attacks and firepower.

Mortarion single-handedly changed the battlefield dynamics.

“Victory will belong to humanity. We can win.”

Seeing Hades relax, Herila lowered her gun, smiling at him.

“Last time I collected supplies, my sister helped out and got us some extra cheese. I made some cheese pastries. Want to come to my place later and share some?”

To be honest, Herila’s cooking skills were mediocre at best. Her food only qualified as “non-toxic.”

You might as well give me the cheese. Let me cook it instead.

Hades was internally crying, but he didn’t dare say it. Herila was one of his few friends, and he didn’t want to ruin their relationship.

So, he always ended up eating a lot of “non-toxic” food with tears in his eyes.

Feeling her eager gaze, Hades swallowed his complaints.

“Sure, I love everything you cook. That mushroom soup last time was pretty good.”

Pretty good? That stuff had a layer of purple unknown liquid floating on top!

“Great, I’ll pack the leftover cheese pastries for you.”

“You always seem to enjoy my food. I’m happy to cook for you.”

Herila shyly lowered her head, tracing circles on her gun with her finger.

“When lord Mortarion overthrows all the tyrants, and resources are no longer rationed, I’ll open a restaurant.”

“I’ll be the chef. Hades, will you come and help me?”

At this moment, Hades didn’t catch the underlying meaning, as his inner critic was burning brightly.

Girl, with your cooking skills, shouldn’t I be the head chef?

Also, don’t raise such obvious flags that might lead to trouble!

As if in response to Herila’s flag, the temperature around them suddenly dropped. The water puddles on the ground started to freeze, and frost quickly covered the ground.

Above them, space distorted, and a bloodstained, bone-crusted claw reached out from the rift.

In an instant, a heavily injured monster, roughly the size of a small car, appeared before them. Its basketball-sized eyes locked onto Hades and Herila, exhaling a foul stench from its bloody maw.

Damn it, Psyker teleportation!

Hades felt Herila stiffen beside him.

“Herila,” Hades said softly.

“I’ll hold it off. You run up and report to Mortarion that Lazar has escaped to this path.”

Hades assumed a ready stance with his scythe.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll just delay it and run later.”

“Go report, or everyone will die.”

The other resistance members were below. If Lazar got past them, it would be a massacre.

He planned to delay, hoping Mortarion would arrive in time.

—If not, he’d buy time, then fake his death or jump off a cliff to escape.

But this might worsen his already poor social relations.

Mortarion, please hurry and help, don’t make me fake my death. That’s too humiliating.

The desperate monster roared and lunged at Hades, its twisted claws swinging at his head!!

Hades shouted, blocking the claws with his scythe. The force numbed his arms, and sparks flew from the reinforced steel handle.

“Run, Herila!”

“Run!!!”