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

The Endurance

Day 4 of Training.

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Clang!

A loud metallic sound echoed in the vast, empty cafeteria. A bowl clattered onto the metal table.

Hades, a little embarrassed, smiled apologetically at Vorx, who sat across from him. Then, with practiced ease, he took another bowl of white porridge from the servitor next to him.

Well, calling it a "bowl" might be an understatement—it was more like a pot-sized basin.

Thick and slimy to the point of resembling slime itself, the white high-protein porridge swirled slowly, with large chunks of black blocky substances gradually sinking, as if in a swamp.

Hades casually stirred the porridge with a spoon, blending those black calcium-enriched metallic cubes with the white porridge before digging in.

When Hades had been knocked out on his first day and eagerly rushed to the cafeteria after leaving the medical room, he had been greeted by just one dish: this porridge.

He had taken a spoonful, watching as the sticky substance slowly stretched from the spoon.

White, thick, high-protein... Uh, yeah.

It was the only food option. 

The Death Guard, who didn't put much emphasis on food culture, only served the most basic, practical meals.

Hades had reassured himself: It's edible, at least... Plus, the logistics of feeding an entire legion are tough. Can't be picky.

Then, with a resigned sigh, he raised the spoon to his mouth and took a small taste.

Damn, this is surprisingly good!

The simple porridge released a flavor that resembled the aroma of wheat mixed with boiled milk, sweet with a hint of grain. 

His eyes widened, and he quickly scooped up one of the black metal chunks.

Hm!?

It tasted like fruit?!

The seemingly hard metal block, when faced with the immense bite force and corrosive saliva of a Space Marine, became as soft as a strawberry, slowly squashing under the pressure of his jaws. 

The sour and astringent flavor burst in his mouth, blending perfectly with the sweet porridge, creating a sensation akin to eating fresh fruit!

Hades felt like he could flex his muscles right now and burst out of his armor.

Without any hesitation, he dug into his meal with glee, his hunger making the experience even more satisfying.

In fairness, Space Marines' taste buds dull after their transformation. The porridge, in truth, was so overly sweet that it could make normal people gag, and the black metal blocks were bitter beyond belief.

However, growing up on Barbarus, where food naturally had a bitter flavor, Hades instinctively filtered out the bitterness.

Vorx, sitting across from Hades, watched in disbelief as his companion wolfed down bowl after bowl.

Was that... the ninth bowl?

Even the larger Death Guard soldiers only managed five bowls.

Vorx glanced again at Hades' towering figure. 

Despite having reached the typical height of a Death Guard, there was an unmistakable feeling that he could still grow taller.

Hades finally set down his spoon, which he had gripped so tightly that it had bent slightly, after finishing his thirteenth bowl.

"Want to check out the duel pits?"

Vorx asked, looking at the now fully satisfied Hades.

They had been training together for three days now. Through their conversations, Vorx had learned that Hades, like himself, had been training by sparring with combat servitors.

Except, Hades trained even more intensely than Vorx. He often extended his training hours voluntarily.

After a half-hour dinner, they were given an hour and a half of free time.

Once Hades realized this time could be used however he liked, he combined dinner with the afternoon training sessions, extending his combat practice.

Initially, Vorx had stuck to the regular schedule, but Hades' influence gradually pulled him into extending his own training time.

Today, though, for some reason, Hades, who usually immersed himself in sparring, had suddenly suggested they eat earlier.

Already beaten and bruised from training, Vorx had happily agreed.

Now, they had about 40 minutes left of free time.

During free time, most Space Marines usually engaged in one of a few typical activities.

Many would head to the training or duel pits to further hone their combat skills. 

The training pits were for personal practice, while the duel pits were for sparring against other warriors in the legion.

Some preferred more solitary activities, such as maintaining their weapons and armor or studying in the archives.

Has Hades been to the duel pits yet?

Vorx himself had often spent his free time there when he wasn't studying High Gothic in the archives.

"Sure."

The pits? Hades hadn't been there yet. 

Maybe it would be interesting.

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The large hall echoed with occasional shouts of exertion, accompanied by the excited cheers of onlookers. 

Harsh white light poured from the high platforms, casting sharp shadows as warriors fought on the raised platforms, their movements blurring from speed.

Three evenly spaced platforms, resembling large wrestling rings, dominated the hall. Rows of seats for spectators surrounded them.

Many warriors gathered around the duel pits, either standing or sitting, watching intently as every move was made. 

Whenever a fighter pulled off an impressive maneuver, the crowd would break into applause and cheers.

However... despite the lively atmosphere, the hall was clearly divided. 

On one side, loud Barbarus slang filled the air, while on the other side, shouts in Low Gothic could be heard.

The central platform seemed like a dividing line between the two groups.

Hades raised an eyebrow. 

This is expected, but still interesting.

Vorx naturally started walking toward the Barbarus side, but Hades, after a moment's thought, turned and headed toward the pit where the Terran-born veterans gathered.

"...Hades?" Vorx called softly, confused.

Hades glanced back, gave a small smile, and motioned that he wanted to see the other side. Vorx looked surprised but quickly resumed his usual calm demeanor, saying nothing as the two split up.

As Hades approached the pit surrounded by Terran veterans, they continued watching the fighters, ignoring Hades completely.

That was fine by him.

Hades found a quiet spot, sitting unnoticed in the corner, and began to observe and analyze the fights in the arena.

He knew that his own sparring sessions had hit a wall. 

For the past three days, he had been on the receiving end, adapting to his newly augmented body. But now, even though he had mostly gotten used to it, he still couldn't perform at his best.

The reason was simple: Hades' old fighting style was no longer suited to the potential and abilities of his enhanced body.

His attacks were too conservative, his movements too cautious, and his strikes still aimed to trade power for precision. 

His defensive stance remained overly protective, guarding against hits that, in his former state, would have been fatal.

But now? Hades was no longer the fragile fighter who would be taken out by a single well-aimed blow. 

His powerful body could withstand fierce attacks, and his reinforced vitals could be risked in exchange for exposing an opponent's weakness.

That's why Hades needed to observe others—veterans with bodies like his, warriors who had fought for years with such resilience and strength.

He expected the Barbarus-born fighters would stick to their old methods, with perhaps some variation to accommodate their new capabilities. But the Terran-born veterans, for Hades, represented high-quality combat, something he could learn from.

Every bout, every move, every gesture was something Hades could analyze and study.

Unnoticed by anyone, he sat in the shadowy corner of the arena, the red glow of his left eye occasionally flickering as he watched.

<+>

The Endurance, in a hidden conference room.

Now

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Captain Barasine of the First Company had a conflicted expression as he looked at Fernando, the current Chief Librarian of the Death Guard.

"If you disagree, I can help you propose a meeting with the Primarch," Barasine offered.

Fernando—the Chief Librarian of the Death Guard—gazed deeply at Barasine.

"Thank you for the offer, Barasine," he replied. "But I know that Primarch Mortarion's decision is the right one."

This... Barasine still found it hard to believe.

Ever since Primarch Mortarion's return, the Librarians of the former Dusk Raiders had been sidelined.

The Primarch had made it clear that the Death Guard had no place for the "witchcraft" of the Librarians. There would be no further expansion of their ranks, and they would no longer play a key role on the battlefield.

When the last Librarian died, the Death Guard would formally disband the role entirely.

Barasine had hoped for a smooth transition under Mortarion's leadership but was fully aware of the critical role Librarians played in a Legion. 

When he had failed to convince the Primarch, he had turned to Fernando, hoping to seek advice or, at the very least, ensure the old Librarian held no grudge against the Primarch.

Yet Fernando's reaction was far beyond what Barasine had expected.

"But why?"

Why, as Chief Librarian, would Fernando not only accept this decision but even support it?

Fernando closed his eyes.

"The Primarch's decision is correct. All the Librarians agree."

Before he could finish speaking, the door to the conference room suddenly burst open. A figure clad in power armor adorned with arcane symbols glared angrily at Fernando.

"Why did you betray us?! Betray all the Librarians?!"

"Stand down!"

The once-weary Barasine suddenly bellowed, and the intruding Ugo instantly fell silent.

Fernando opened his eyes, his voice calm but commanding.

"You have no right to question me, Ugo."

"Go report to Torres for punishment."

Ugo's face twisted with frustration and resentment, but the psychic pressure Fernando quietly exerted made him reluctantly leave, grumbling a curse in Low Gothic as he exited.

"Apologies for the disturbance." Barasine turned back to Fernando, weariness and guilt written on his face.

"I expected some backlash," he admitted with a slight smile, "but I didn't expect your response."

Fernando smiled tiredly as well. 

Yes, many would question his decision.

That is, at least, until they see what he had seen.

Until they see the sight of the twisted, bloated, floating flesh of once human in the derelict space hulk.

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