My Life as A Death Guard

The fervent crowd broke through the city gates, pouring into the narrow streets with an uproar.

The stench of decay entered this sanctuary along with them.

This was a battle of ideologies, observed coldly by merchants and politicians alike.

Even before this, the establishment of the Vine Academy outside the city had been funded by their investments.

The people had long grown weary of the religion that demanded asceticism and devotion. The dwindling number of believers, the murmurs in the shadows, the wavering gazes—it all spoke of decline.

Bishop Mazel stood silently atop the obelisk square, offering a final, wordless rebuttal.

The tide had turned, and all he could hope for was that they would refrain from violently desecrating the relics of God.

But he was wrong.

“Shh, quiet now.”

An eerie voice whispered in his ear.

Mazel wanted to turn around but found himself paralyzed.

“You are already dead, my dear.”

A face that was both smiling and crying hovered near, distorted and grotesque. Its twisted fingers grazed Mazel’s neck, where a thin line of blood appeared.

“But you must know the truth. You shall be the first to know the truth.”

“Because you are a darling little mourning dove.”

“Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry.”

The voice grew cold.

“It’s all fate.”

Mazel blinked one last time—

A stone, hurled with precision from the crowd, struck his forehead.

He fell, and the mob trampled over his corpse.

The rebellious son of the divine was hoisted onto the high platform.

The towering black stone obelisk stood indifferent.

“Today, we end this once and for all!”

“Let the light of science guide our civilization!”

Raibo operated a machine, directing it toward the obelisk—

A structure said to be impervious to destruction by mortal hands suddenly seemed fragile. A crack, unmistakable, appeared on its perfect geometric surface.

The grievances and hatreds of the past were buried beneath the earth.

Yet, those treading above were entirely oblivious to the danger below.

<+>

As the Skitarii soldiers reached the edge of the vast square, an anomaly erupted.

The stench of rot filled every nostril.

Magos Korklan stared in shock at his psychic detector, its slender needle wildly oscillating, as if desperate to exceed its maximum threshold.

A sudden tolling of bells echoed through the forest. Mist swirled, birds fell from the sky, and moss and fungi burst from the cracks in the bricks. A thick, yellowish, putrid fog enveloped the city in an instant.

Pus, blood, and vomit seeped from underground, rising rapidly to ankle height.

The entire square turned into a boiling cauldron.

Maggots writhed, climbing up people’s legs with alarming speed. Soldiers without sufficient leg armor were immediately consumed, falling into the foul sludge, only to be overwhelmed by swarms of wriggling larvae.

“Arghhhhh!”

Screams and the crackling of broken electronic signals burst forth from the sludge.

The scene was grotesque beyond imagination—an image no logical engine could have predicted. Most of the soldiers were too stunned to react, scrambling in panic to pull their comrades from the mire.

“Run!”

“Use fire! Retreat!”

Damn it, this is a trap!

A commanding shout pierced the toxic air. Hades grabbed a comrade sinking into the sludge, hoisted him up, and tossed him out of the square.

Hades then switched to a flamethrower, spraying fire at the writhing maggots!

Galvanized by Hades’ orders and actions, the soldiers scrambled to draw their weapons. Flames were used to clear the area around them, preventing further entrapment.

Under the glow of firelight, a path out of the square was carved.

The group quickly fled the reach of the sludge. Hades stayed at the rear, scanning for the source of the anomaly.

The maggots and flesh momentarily ceased their advance, their writhing slowing noticeably. Apart from the initial casualties pulled underground, the squad suffered no further losses.

Hades gritted his teeth, his thoughts racing.

This is a trap! A damn trap!

Judging by this scene, if it’s not the Plaguefather’s handiwork, he’d eat his own boots!

Hades cursed inwardly while analyzing the situation.

He cast a glance at Magos Korklan, who seemed frozen in place.

If his guess was correct, reinforcements in the forest and at the shuttle station were already engaged in battle.

They were cut off.

Hades could only hope the distress signal sent earlier by the Magos had been received. But now… If the enemy truly wanted him dead—

Damn it!

It was obvious they’d have to handle this themselves.

And it would be up to the infantry Skitarii soldiers—heavy firepower support wouldn’t arrive in time.

Hades tried contacting other teams again. The good news was that soldiers exploring other parts of the city had not been attacked.

However, the sludge and blood in the square began boiling again.

The liquid, spread across the entire square, bubbled like a thick stew.

A massive fly leg burst forth from the flesh and mire, its black surface covered in barbed spikes.

Then came the second leg, then the third.

Soon, the Decayer stood in the center of the square.

Its massive body, the size of three or four horses, resembled that of a grotesque fly.

Attached to this monstrous form was the upper half of a rotting, bloated human torso. Its swollen head sagged limply, with bulbous, compound fly eyes protruding grotesquely from its face.

In its hands, it wielded a whip made of twisted vines and sinew, with fly-like barbs glinting in sickly shades of green and purple.

Maggots crawled over its body, and swarms of black flies buzzed in an ear-splitting cacophony around it. Somewhere in the background, a daemon of decay cackled sharply.

“Long time no see, Hades.”

It spoke.

“I’m delighted to run into you.”

The Decayer’s gaze lingered on the stunned mechanical Magos and the terrified Skitarii soldiers, and it couldn’t help but rub its grotesque hands together in glee.

It had already won.

In the forest, the army of its disciples had already crushed any chance of escape. They were advancing steadily toward this location.

“Don’t be afraid. You could always kill yourself,” it taunted, its tone brimming with smug certainty.

The Decayer believed victory was assured. If it could persuade Hades to surrender or personally execute him, the Plaguefather would bestow even greater favor upon it.

Hades said nothing. Silently, he readied his weapon. Without hesitation, he raised his gun and fired.

Bang! Buzz!

The explosive round was intercepted by the dense swarm of flies surrounding the Decayer. The shot burst into a brief flash of fire but failed to harm it.

“It seems negotiations have failed,” the creature remarked mockingly.

The fly wings on its back suddenly flared to life, propelling the massive creature into the air!

From the sludge below, more enormous flies emerged—each the size of a horse.

The swarm surged toward the soldiers with terrifying speed, spitting corrosive venom that sprayed across the battlefield.

“Find cover! Open fire!”

Scattered bursts of gunfire echoed as the energy rifles came to life.

<+>

This isn’t right!

Unlike Hades, who had already anticipated the worst, the soldiers around him struggled to comprehend the horrific scene before them.

Panic spread rapidly. Fear gripped the troops, their hands trembling as they struggled to aim. Hades, acting decisively, used the management override code provided by Magos Korklan to take control of their actions.

Under his command, a torrent of firepower rained down on the swarm.

Following Hades’ instructions, the soldiers retreated into the narrow alleys, using the buildings for cover while continuing to fire.

“What in the name of all that’s holy is that?!”

Magos Korklan, clearly shaken, trembled uncontrollably. Wisps of smoke rose from his crimson robe as if his systems were overheating. Although he had no stomach, he appeared on the verge of retching.

Fear gripped every fiber of Korklan’s being, but his automated targeting system continued to function flawlessly.

His scatter-ray weapon was steady and precise, punching through one of the massive flies with ease.

With a plume of dark smoke, the grotesque creature plummeted from the sky.

“Daemon!”

Hades shouted, firing another explosive round.

“Daemon?!”

Korklan’s voice cracked, the screech of his electronic tones rising in pitch.

Daemon?!

How could such a thing possibly exist?

“This— this must be some kind of genetically engineered bioweapon native to this planet!”

“Does it look like that to you?!”

Korklan fell silent, utterly dumbfounded. Under normal circumstances, Hades might have taken the time to explain the true nature of these abominations, but now was neither the time nor the place.

It was clear that the Decayer had come specifically for him. The swarm was nothing more than a diversion.

Hades swallowed hard and shouted,

“These are warp creatures, Magos!”

“You can call them Daemons!”

“That’s why I, a Death Guard, have been so desperate for your research on anti-psionic weapons!”

Magos Korklan’s engines were overheating, and the scene before him was beyond anything he could have conjured in his wildest nightmares.

Daemons. He mouthed the word through his voice synthesizer, as if trying to digest its meaning.

These defiled, chaotic beings—utterly anathema to the teachings of the Machine God.

Creatures that trampled on the sacred laws.

If Hades wasn’t lying, then the anti-psionic weaponry he had been developing was intended to combat these things?

This… this was worse than the most sacrilegious psionics Korklan had ever encountered.

His entire worldview was overturned.

He felt his servos trembling violently, even though the laser in his hands had never stopped firing.

“Conventional firepower works on them—keep shooting, warriors!”

“And if you’re feeling uneasy, Magos, then play the Machine Hymn!”

Hades, noting that while Korklan’s mental state seemed unstable, there were no signs of corruption, Hades quickly shifted his focus back to the battle.

Explanations could come later—survival came first.

Damn it, the enemy could fly. How the hell were they supposed to fight that?

Hades clenched his teeth so hard it felt like they might shatter. The sense of being caught off guard filled him with a rage he could hardly contain.

He felt like a fool for how cautious he had been earlier—like a clown.

This wasn’t just any daemon; this was a Great Unclean One of Nurgle, clearly operating at the peak of its power.

Even a slight misstep would be fatal.

Hades brushed his hand against the stasis grenade at his waist but quickly dismissed the idea. The creature’s movements were too erratic; there was no guarantee he’d hit it.

For now, the Skitarii soldiers had all retreated into the narrow alleys, using the low buildings as cover.

But these structures wouldn’t hold against the Daemons for long.

If it were only the smaller Daemons surrounding the Decayer, Hades might have been able to rely on the terrain to delay them.

But the presence of a Great Unclean One rendered such tactics useless.

The gap in power was simply too great.

The only good news was that, apart from the square, the ground hadn’t shown signs of corruption yet. This meant the warp’s influence here wasn’t strong enough to spread further—for now.

Hades took a deep breath.

There was no choice. He’d have to step in himself.

It wasn’t as if he could send Magos Korklan to take on a Greater Daemon, could he?

May humanity prevail.

He whispered the prayer in his heart, locking his gaze on the rapidly approaching Decayer.

The Daemon raised one arm, rotting flesh and maggots falling away.

It licked its fingers with a long, pus-covered tongue, leaving trails of yellow-green slime, and began tracing symbols in the air.

Blasphemous incantations buzzed like a hive of flies.

Did you think I’d let you finish that?

Hades sharpened his senses to their peak, black mist filling the obituary-like screen of his visor.

With precise calculations, he fired two explosive rounds.

The first struck a large fly in front of the Decayer, causing it to recoil in pain. The second shot pierced through the swarm, striking the Decayer directly!

The order to concentrate fire was given.

At the same time, Hades emerged from behind a building wall, accelerating in a short sprint before leaping high into the air!

The force of his jump shattered the hardened ground beneath him, but the swarm wasn’t his target.

After a brief moment of suspension in midair, he landed on his second springboard—

The tallest building in the area.

Using his momentum, Hades ran along the outer wall of the structure, then leaped again, his speed surging to even greater heights!

The figure wielding the scythe streaked through the air. Under the cover fire of the Skitarii troops, Hades surged through the swarm like a bullet!

On the ground, Magos Korklan and a blonde soldier let out soft gasps of surprise.

In mere moments, Hades had already reached the swarm overhead.

The servo arms on his back tore through the flanking attacks and streams of venom aimed at him.

Gravity began to pull his airborne figure downward—

But Hades swung his scythe. Retracting the Black Domain into the blade of the Obituary, the tip of the weapon plunged deep into one of the giant flies circling above.

Hades pushed with both hands, forcing the massive fly down and using its lift to propel himself back into the air!

Just before the Obituary left the fly’s body, Hades infused it with the Black Domain again, the smooth and effortless sensation transmitting back through the scythe’s shaft.

The grievously injured fly spiraled out of control and plummeted toward the ground.

The once-cohesive formation of the swarm was instantly disrupted. The buzzing chaos scattered wildly.

The Decayer hadn’t anticipated Hades’ reckless strategy.

In its calculations, Hades—a mere infantry soldier lacking heavy weaponry or flight capabilities—should have been nothing more than easy prey.

But how could this man, clearly heavier than other Astartes, clad in cumbersome power armor, and carrying a mechanized backpack, leap so high?

This height was a domain unreachable for non-jump-pack-equipped Astartes.

And yet Hades’ figure was barreling toward it with terrifying speed.

Realizing the direct threat, the Decayer flapped its wings furiously, pulling back to put more distance between them.

Unlike last time, this time, the Decayer’s true form had crossed from Nurgle’s Garden into the physical world through millennia-old sacrifices and incantations.

If it were struck by that scythe, or worse, slain—

For the first time, the Decayer felt fear.

No, it couldn’t be.

It had to be cautious. Even if it were banished or forced to retreat now, the faithful in the nearby forest would soon summon it back again.

But it could not allow itself to be killed.

Creatures of the physical world couldn’t truly kill Daemons.

Even the false Emperor’s firepower would merely cause a Daemon’s material body to rot away, returning its essence to the Warp, where it would bide its time until breaching the physical plane once more.

For millennia, no Daemon had ever truly died.

But if it were this man—this accursed slayer—who struck the final blow…

That would mean utter annihilation.

The Decayer snapped out of its overconfidence, realizing that Hades had turned what seemed to be a prey into a dire threat.

But Hades had already seen through its plans. Riding the momentum of the plummeting fly carcass, he surged upward again!

Panicking, the Decayer fired a spray of venom laced with psionic energy. The corrosive liquid shot toward Hades at high velocity, but the plasma cutter on his back evaporated the bulk of it instantly. A few residual drops landed on the Obituary but caused no reaction at all.

Bone-white and moss-green hues clashed as Hades’ polished mechanized backpack unfolded fully. The metallic gleam was swallowed by the dazzling bursts of plasma and explosive light.

Time seemed to freeze.

Everyone on the ground stared in disbelief as the massive, armored figure defied gravity, ascending with terrifying speed.

High above, the midnight-black scythe swung in a full crescent moon arc.

And in that fleeting moment, for the first time, the Decayer experienced the innate terror of meeting its natural predator.