My Life as A Death Guard

Tn: In case it isn’t obvious, the whole thing with Raibo and the revolution against the church thing is something that happened in the past, not the present.

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The mucus flowed slowly.

It sank onto the cold ground and spread across the floor tiles as the man moved.

The man blinked in confusion, but his hollow eye sockets held nothing—his eyes had long since rotted away. Through the gaping holes in his face, thick, gelatinous yellow flesh was clearly visible.

It hurts.

A dull pain, like a knife slicing away at his flesh piece by piece. He was rotting, inevitably slipping toward death.

But he was not dead yet—because the Daemon needed him alive.

Behind him, a massive reservoir pit had collapsed inward, packed tightly with naked human figures and pulped fruits crushed beneath their desperate struggles. The rotting juice mixed with bodily fluids, emitting a foul stench.

Fruits continued to fall into the pit.

The prisoners were held there—alive, conscious, suffering.

But now, they would be used.

“Go, go!”

A woman’s shrill cry echoed. The man blinked in confusion. His mush-like brain no longer allowed for deep thought, but he could vaguely recognize the voice—it belonged to their leader.

“I will free you…”

He believed that Lady Raibo would lead them to freedom.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry!”

Their leader was crying. The man tried to grin to comfort her, but he failed to do so.

So, slowly and sluggishly, he struggled to crawl out of the liquid pit. His arms had turned soft and weak, so he bit into the pit’s hardened walls to pull himself free from the writhing mass.

He was the signal.

After him, the densely packed horde began to squirm.

The first undead emerged from the city’s western side and was discovered by Squad 26 of the Skitarii’s forces.

A gunshot rang out, marking the beginning of the second phase of the war.

The bullet roared with fury, piercing through the undead’s skull with precision. After a moment of meaningless twitching, the corpse collapsed.

The scene was faithfully transmitted to Hades and Magos Korklan at the rear lines.

Something’s wrong. If this was all there was, the reinforcement team in the forest wouldn’t have gone silent.

While maneuvering the plasma cutter to widen the gap in the Blackstone Obelisk for repairs, Hades spared a fraction of his cognitive power to analyze the situation.

It could be that the enemy’s forces were too numerous. It could be that there was an ambush in the forest.

Or… there could be something else. A stronger enemy unit.

“Watch out for ambushes,” Hades opened a communication channel and informed Korklan.

Magos Korklan stood at the final defensive line. Though he longed to be on the front lines, if the enemy used another surprise attack or teleportation tactic to reach the plaza directly, he would be the last barrier protecting Hades while he repaired the obelisk.

More and more undead staggered out of the mist, and the fog surrounding the forest began creeping toward the city along with the advancing army.

The Skitarii’s first battalion stood atop the city walls, coordinating their shots as they fired upon the undead. The crackling of arc-rifles echoed continuously.

Wave after wave of undead collapsed, their thick bodily fluids seeping out.

Yet, those behind them mindlessly trampled over the fallen, staggering forward with heavy, unfeeling steps.

Magos Korklan monitored the incoming data from the front-line troops. His computational engine processed it with precision—

As another undead fell atop the pile, Korklan immediately relayed a command to the Skitarii soldiers.

[Set it on fire.]

Incendiary grenades arced through the air, landing precisely on the growing mound of corpses.

Boom!

With an abundance of organic material as fuel, a crimson blaze erupted, instantly engulfing the advancing undead in roaring flames.

Yet, the undead continued to march forward, oblivious. They had long grown accustomed to agony far worse than this.

Flames licked at their bodies, melting salty fat into oil that dripped and crackled in the fire.

Thick, choking smoke billowed upward, and even those at the farthest reaches of the city could catch its acrid stench.

“They’re insane… truly insane,” Magos Korklan muttered. The sight of the decaying masses marching unwaveringly into the fire was overwhelming.

But tactically, the situation was favorable—the enemy was effectively marching to their own demise, their corpses fueling the blaze.

However—

DONG~ DONG~ DONG~ DONG~ DONG~ DONG~ DONG

A bell tolled, ringing seven times in reverence.

The undead trembled and halted, their vacant eyes blinking in confusion. Slowly, they began forming circles—seven figures to a group.

Magos Korklan shuddered. Something was wrong.

His brief encounters with Daemons had taught him that this was not a good sign.

[Attack! Don’t let them form the circles!]

[Prioritize attacking the groups forming circles!]

The Skitarii forces immediately unleashed a storm of gunfire, but the sheer number of enemies meant that some of the seven-person circles were still completed.

Korklan’s eyes remained locked on the live feed—

The seven figures knelt down.

Then, as if seized by an invisible hand, their bodies convulsed, flesh and fluids spilling out from both ends.

Bang!

Flesh burst apart, twisting and reforming.

In mere moments, a grotesque creature the size of a man emerged at the center of each summoning circle.

Its body was grotesquely swollen, its rotting red sores clinging in patches to its sickly green skin. Through its translucent, half-decayed flesh, viscous slime sloshed inside.

Beneath jagged, uneven horns that gleamed with an eerie light, a single, shallow red eye festered.

A long, bright red tongue slithered out, licking the creature’s lone eye.

After facing those fly-like Daemons, Magos Korklan found himself once again mentally shaken.

But a glance at his comms screen, where Hades was still desperately repairing the obelisk, steadied his resolve.

He had to purge this blasphemy.

Data on the new enemy type was rapidly fed into Korklan’s logic engine, and his analysis began.

At the same time, a simplified report was sent to Hades.

<+>

The moment Hades saw the incoming data, he couldn’t help but curse in his mind—

‘Fuck! These are Plague Toads?!’

Plague Toads—essentially walking sacks of toxic sludge—were considered low-tier troops in Nurgle’s army, meaning their summoning cost wasn’t particularly high.

But right now…

“Fall back! Fall back!”

“Suppressive fire! First battalion, retreat!”

As if responding to Hades’ command, the Plague Toads outside the city walls swiveled their bulging eyes and suddenly leaped—

Some crashed directly onto the Skitarii soldiers stationed atop the walls. Those who reacted too slowly were instantly crushed to death, or impaled by the Toads’ barbed tongues and spikes.

Those quick enough immediately opened fire.

However, under concentrated fire, the Plague Toads simply exploded—

Toxic fluids splattered everywhere.

Soldiers caught in the splash screamed in agony, collapsing as the venom and plague bypassed their bio-armor’s defenses.

Korklan began recalculating.

A forced directive was issued.

The wounded soldiers rushed forward, wielding power swords to pin the Plague Toads down, while the remaining troops dispersed into the streets. Once at a safe distance, they opened fire to detonate the Toads from afar.

“AAAAAHHH!”

“For the Omnissiah!”

Korklan hadn’t muted their voice comms—so the screams and battle cries overlapped.

Boom!

The battlefield was filled with the sounds of Toads bursting apart and soldiers melting in corrosive agony.

Meanwhile, some Plague Toads at the base of the wall, seeing that suppressive fire had weakened, calmly hopped toward the flames—

“Urgh—!”

The Toads vomited forth their toxic bile, and a rolling tide of sludge smothered the burning corpses. The once-roaring inferno immediately dimmed.

The undead horde resumed its march.

However, thanks to the sacrifices of the first battalion, the remaining forces successfully retreated to their designated fallback positions. Now at a safe distance, they picked off the larger Toads one by one.

Hades clenched his jaw as he watched multiple video feeds go dark.

“Damn it. I underestimated them.”

Plague Toads weren’t elite by any means. In fact, they were so repulsive that even Nurgle found them disgusting.

But the enemy had just used these wretched creatures to annihilate their first defensive line.

Hades had expected the first line to fall eventually—

But being wiped out this efficiently, with such a cost-effective tactic, even losing several Skitarii troops in the process—

That pissed him off.

A sharp crackle of electricity snapped Hades back to focus.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain composed.

Gritting his teeth, Hades transmitted a list of commonly encountered Nurgle forces to Magos Korklan before forcing himself to continue his repairs.

As he worked, faint black lightning began flickering once more around the obsidian obelisk.

But while Hades focused on his delicate work, on the other side of the city, an intense urban battle had begun.

The first wave of undead mindlessly trampled over pre-planted landmines, setting them off in bursts of fire and shrapnel. Meanwhile, heavy machine guns mounted at key strategic positions roared to life, unleashing a torrent of bullets upon the advancing horde.

The enemy fell in waves—life spilling away like water over a waterfall, cascading into the abyss of oblivion.

But their objective had already been achieved.

Despite lacking ranged capabilities, and despite being mowed down in droves, the endless tide of corpses continued to advance, slowly tightening their encirclement.

Dense minefields were swept clean—sacrificed to the advancing horde.

Silently, methodically, they marched through familiar streets, while a thick fog began to rise, stirred by the countless deaths.

But the Skitarii troops were no easy prey.

By the time the undead pressed into the Second Battalion’s zone, the defenders had already adapted to the tide of corpses.

Their disciplined, calculated volleys tore through the enemy ranks—bolts of energy crackled, and floating servo-skulls hovered in the air, broadcasting praises to the Machine God!

Even though their minds were bound by code, some of the more battle-hardened Skitarii soldiers began spitting curses at the blasphemy before them.

A stalemate ensued.

But it was soon shattered by an unexpected arrival.

A deafening roar erupted—

From within the mist, a towering silhouette loomed.

Each thunderous footstep struck like a hammer on the heart, shaking the very earth beneath them.

The ground trembled.

Then, with a burst of fire and destruction, the silhouette fully emerged!

Heavy-caliber rounds pierced through cover, shredding the Skitarii forces behind them.

A massive chainsword revved with an ear-splitting whine, slicing through the fog—

And into the frontmost defenders.

An eight-meter-tall behemoth had suddenly appeared before them!

<+>

Why? Why was there an Imperial Knight on a low-military-grade planet?!

Realizing what they were facing, Magos Korklan let out an anguished burst of static.

“It’s over! We’re finished!”

An Imperial Knight.

Originally developed as lumber-harvesting machines during the Golden Age, these powerful war machines had long since been monopolized by the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Knight Houses during the Great Crusade.

Larger than Dreadnoughts, but smaller than Warhound Titans, Imperial Knights were battlefield game-changers!

Without heavy artillery, another Imperial Knight, or a Titan—

How could they possibly fight back?!

Even piercing its ion shield was questionable with their current firepower!

Magos Korklan stared in disbelief at the incoming video feed.

But he didn’t even need the comms.

The towering figure of the Imperial Knight was already clearly visible at the edge of the square.

And it wasn’t a standard model.

It was smaller than most Knights, its entire frame painted pitch black, with no sigils of any Knightly House—only intricate engravings of twisting vines across its armor.

Most unsettling of all—

The pilot was not in the usual cockpit.

A black crucifix-like pole jutted into the sky, its surface entwined with cables and conduits that snaked up, connecting directly into the pilot’s severed limbs.

There, bound to the pole, hung a white-haired woman, her limbs amputated, her head drooping lifelessly. Black, engraved vines coiled around her fragile form, securing her in place like a twisted effigy.

Her long, unkempt hair cascaded over most of her gaunt, skeletal frame, obscuring her face. Her ribcage protruded sharply beneath her pale skin.

And then—

“Save them.”

Her voice was barely a whisper—yet to Magos Korklan’s augmented vision, data streams were visibly flowing from her severed limbs into the Imperial Knight’s systems.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

At first glance, she appeared as nothing more than a human target dummy—but the faint glow of the ion shield flickered around her body, subtly distorting the air.

What— what is this?!

Omnissiah, protect us!

But there was no time for shock.

Magos Korklan swiftly commanded the Skitarii troops to evade while rapidly analyzing the enemy’s design.

A small relief settled over him—it wasn’t a fully armed Imperial Knight. This one was cruder, more rudimentary in construction.

Perhaps due to its bizarre piloting method, the top of the mech lacked any turreted weaponry.

Its only armaments were:

Two Chainswords and a Rapid-Fire Cannon

And yet—Korklan couldn’t believe it—the black crucifix atop the machine was crafted from Blackstone.

Worse still—the white-haired woman was a Null.

A Null—among a warp-infused army?!

How could Daemons, creatures of the Warp, wield a Pariah?!

Korklan felt like his entire understanding of reality was unraveling.

With the Imperial Knight’s sudden assault, the Skitarii forces had no time to retreat, let alone counterattack.

And with the dense swarm of undead at its feet, they couldn’t deploy melta-based weaponry without killing their own troops in the crossfire.

[RETREAT! RETREAT!]

Seeing the victory probability drop to zero, Korklan made the only logical choice—to order a full dispersal retreat. There was no way his soldiers could delay the Imperial Knight, not even for a second.

The colossal war machine charged straight for the plaza!

Korklan had already begun compressing and uploading his knowledge into the most durable data-storage units he had.

Though he had once loathed the idea of others handling his accumulated wisdom, he now had no choice.

Someone must remember this madness.

But then—

Hades, still focused on repairing the obelisk, suddenly tossed something toward Korklan—interrupting his data compression.

“It’s up to you. Sorry.”

Korklan stared at the weapon Hades had thrown.

The needle on his probability calculator shifted—just slightly.

But it didn’t matter.

Korklan continued compressing his life’s work, preparing for transmission.

Meanwhile, in the distance, the undead horde had begun a new summoning ritual.

The sound of buzzing flies filled the air.