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

The Endurance

Now.

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Hades slowly spooned porridge into his mouth. 

The cafeteria, quiet and empty, was almost deserted as it wasn't mealtime.

Vorx had gone to the duel cage to thrash some opponents. 

He was already a rising star in the southern forces, and with the devilish training regimen of the Seventh Company, his combat prowess had skyrocketed.

Hades suspected that Vorx was targeting some Barbarus northerners. After all, when the Death Guard resistance in the south retreated to the north, some northern troops had picked fights.

But Hades was from Barbarus's north himself, so Vorx didn't say much, only informing him he was heading to the duel cage.

It's not a big deal. Who knows, maybe Vorx would even give Typhon a good beating, Hades thought casually as he chewed his spoon.

Ever since Hades had destroyed that combat servitor, the real recruit training had just begun.

Branka, who had been thoroughly scolded by the Tech Sergeant Alberto, had finally dropped his previous arrogance. 

Although still rough around the edges, he taught Hades everything he needed, not holding back even his more advanced combat techniques.

Most veterans in the company still looked down on the Barbarus recruits, but Hades' feat of defeating the Type-3 servitor had spread quietly.

Every day, Branka would pull Hades to one of the veterans, each specializing in different combat skills, and have them teach him some techniques.

Though most veterans treated Hades with a cold professionalism, doing just enough to fulfill Branka's orders, for Hades—who was clueless about almost everything—it was more than enough.

For example, recently, Hades had been practicing the use of a bolt pistol. A veteran with a noticeable scar on his right wrist had taught him the basics of using and maintaining one.

After teaching the fundamentals, the veteran demonstrated a few times and then threw Hades into the moving target range to train by himself.

At first, the veteran would occasionally correct his stance or timing, but after that, he mostly just watched as Hades fumbled his way through.

Thus, Hades spent his days like this.

In the evenings, during his free time, except for even-numbered days when he had to report to the Tech Sergeant, Hades would just sit in the cafeteria. Besides eating porridge, he actually had a productive habit.

Hades had made a trip to the Third Archive—essentially the legion's library. 

Since high-level texts couldn't be checked out, he picked up a few lower-level books to study High Gothic and Low Gothic languages.

So now, every day at meals, he flipped through these books while eating, learning new words, grammar, suffixes, idioms, and proverbs. His left eye rapidly scanned and recorded everything.

Hades wanted to master High Gothic as quickly as possible. After all, it was awkward to spend the whole day training with half-silent veterans and barely uttering a word himself.

He remembered how Leman Russ, the Wolf King, had mastered High Gothic in just five days. Hades wondered how long it would take him to learn a new language.

But looking at the book filled with countless new words, Hades silently sighed.

"Feels like English class all over again... Time for a nap!"

He shook off the thought quickly, focusing on the task at hand.

Interestingly, Barbarusian had similar grammar to Low Gothic, but its use of unvoiced consonants was much more frequent. Barbarusians even invented many such consonants for their language.

Typically, an excess of unvoiced consonants would make speech less clear and weaken the overall tone, making Barbarusian difficult for outsiders to learn. To other language speakers, Barbarusian sounded like a quick, light stream of water flowing by—fast and incomprehensible.

But why had Barbarusian ancestors chosen such a language? Hades figured it had to do with breathing less. Using unvoiced consonants reduced the need for frequent inhaling, minimizing the intake of air.

In a world like Barbarus, where the air was poisonous, it made sense.

Still, Hades wondered if this linguistic choice had been a deliberate decision or merely a subconscious adaptation.

Knowledge of questionable usefulness gained!

First Day of New Training

During free time, Hades ate porridge in the cafeteria.

Second Day

Hades helped the Tech Sergeant, then had porridge.

Third Day

Some more training and ate more porridge.

Fourth Day

Helped out some veterans, then went to the cafeteria.

Fifth Day

Ate porridge again.

Sixth Day

Hades, you can't keep slacking off like this. After helping out, go check out the duel cage.

Seventh Day

More porridge.

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The Endurance, In an unknown training room.

Now.

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Ugo stood emotionless on the training platform, bright lights shining directly on the raised stage.

The door opened quietly, and the visitor moved swiftly, approaching Ugo without a sound.

"No one noticed you, right?" Ugo asked in High Gothic.

"You should trust me," replied the visitor—or rather, Calas Typhon, in his somewhat broken High Gothic.

Ugo eyed the Barbarusian across from him. He didn't particularly like these newcomers, but he knew that the future of the Legion would eventually be in their hands.

Ugo's plan was simple.

To maintain the Death Guard's psychic knowledge, they needed new recruits—specifically, those with good psychic potential, who weren't too reckless or weak in their psychic abilities. Otherwise, if someone lost control during training, their secrets would be exposed.

Yes, this secret meeting between Ugo and Typhon was to train Calas Typhon's psychic abilities, preparing him for a future in the Legion's Librarius.

Typhon was Ugo's best candidate. He had decent psychic potential, a calm demeanor, and, unlike the other brash Barbarusians, had even taken the initiative to learn High Gothic. His attitude was commendable.

More importantly, Ugo knew Typhon had a special relationship with Mortarion.

If Typhon could help sway Mortarion's disdain for the Librarius, it would be a game-changer.

As Ugo observed the calm-faced Typhon, Calas had his own thoughts.

While Mortarion despised psychic powers, Typhon, who possessed such abilities, knew that this power couldn't be suppressed forever.

It needed to be understood, harnessed, and controlled with discipline—rather than outright forbidden.

Even without learning psychic skills, Typhon knew he could rise to a high position within the Legion, thanks to his talents and his connection to Mortarion.

But for Typhon, that wasn't enough.

He remembered the figure of Hades climbing toward the mountaintop.

It wasn't enough. Typhon thought, determination in his eyes.

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