My Life as A Death Guard

Half a Month Later

Mortarion stood with a grim expression, staring at the sky.

Above the gray and murky atmosphere of Galaspar, the roar of incoming engines grew louder.

They were the arbiters sent to evaluate the Death Guard’s first campaign.

Irritated, Mortarion tapped the shaft of his scythe. Their timing was less than ideal—because, according to the Apothecary, Hades, who had been in a state of suspended animation, was about to wake up.

Ten days ago, Mortarion had been watching the Galaspar system collapse under the onslaught of the Death Guard with satisfaction.

Once they had seized control of Galaspar’s primary hive city and executed its Lord Comptroller, mopping up the remaining terrified, fleeing troops had been an easy task.

When word spread of the tyrant’s beheading, no further resistance arose.

Mortarion found solace in witnessing the complete obliteration of the order the tyrant had struggled to maintain.

But his satisfaction did not last long.

A distress astropathic transmission from a distant star sector arrived almost simultaneously with an incoming transport fleet. Before Mortarion could react, a passing Mechanicus convoy had already shoved a small vessel into his possession.

“We were ordered to deliver a Death Guard Techmarine, but when we found him, his condition was… less than ideal. The assigned Magos is deceased.”

“However, since Magos Korklan had past dealings with our Forge World—”

“—we administered necessary medical treatment to the survivors and demanded no compensation for what they discovered.”

“Enclosed are full recordings of their retrieval and post-rescue interactions.”

A frazzled Tech-Priest had clearly been pushed forward to deliver this message. Upon arrival, they rapidly relayed their report to Master of the Forge Enrique, who had come to receive the Magos.

A heavily encrypted data file was transmitted.

Then, after unloading the cargo bay and hurriedly finishing their words, the Tech-Priest piloted their vessel and fled at full speed.

A deep sense of foreboding settled in Enrique’s gut as he stared at the ship’s cargo bay.

The automatic doors slowly hissed open—

A half-dead, unconscious Hades.

A tattered, barely functional Tech-Adept.

A pile of dismembered Magos corpses.

A Blackstone Obelisk, freshly unearthed and still caked in soil—(it was painfully obvious the oversized cargo bay had been designed solely to transport this).

And finally, a woman sealed within a stasis field.

Enrique felt his vision darken, but even so, he immediately called for the Death Guard’s Apothecaries and the Legion Master.

Which was why, despite the mountain of post-war paperwork awaiting him, Mortarion now sat in the private medical bay, his expression unreadable.

Before him, several Apothecaries moved busily, the slow drip of cold fluid from an IV bag echoing softly.

Mortarion had considered summoning additional medics, but Death Guard Apothecaries were in short supply after the grueling Galaspar campaign.

“Standard suspended animation, my lord.”

Apothecary Leo finally stepped before Mortarion, whose imposing presence radiated a do-not-approach aura.

Mortarion remained silent, exhaling through his respirator with a sculpted stillness.

“Hades’ second heart was pierced by a blade-like weapon. Afterward, he forcibly injected himself with a stimulant, causing further damage to his cardiac system.”

Mortarion still recalled Hades’ last report—it had merely described a simple research expedition.

His gaze bore into the pale, nearly corpse-like figure of Hades, drained of blood.

Leo’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“In addition, Hades is suffering from moderate exhaustion, critically low blood sugar, and minor intracranial hemorrhaging on the right side of his brain.”

Mortarion slowly blinked. Across from him, Leo, as if fearing for his life, hurriedly continued speaking.

“The good news is that, after replenishing essential nutrients, Hades can be revived through a controlled awakening procedure.”

“But we will need time.”

This was reassuring news. Satisfied, Mortarion dismissed the Apothecary, allowing him to return to his duties.

He then slowly turned his head and locked eyes with the Tech-Adept, who had been desperately trying to shrink into the shadows of the medical bay.

“You are Hades’ assistant, aren’t you?”

Mortarion’s voice was as heavy as the reaper’s scythe itself.

“Explain.”

The Tech-Adept, still trying to compress their body as much as possible, suddenly sparked with a burst of electricity.

“I expect a clear explanation of what happened.”

Jin felt like he was just a hair’s breadth away from death.

<+>

Planet Sigma-373, a few days ago.

<+>

A dry wind howled.

Jin had set his life-support systems to the lowest power setting. Leaning against the deeply unconscious Hades, he waited for rescue.

He had no idea how long he had been waiting when a shuttle—marked with the sigil of the Adeptus Mechanicus and an emblem belonging to a nearby Forge World—slowly descended in front of them.

They were saved.

At least, that’s what Jin thought. But in reality, not entirely.

With his shattered, barely functional mechanical body, he forced himself to stand and negotiate with the Tech-Priests on the other side.

To the Tech-Priests from another Forge World, the current situation was a jackpot.

A dead Magos, his memory storage modules still intact.

Fragments of xenos technology.

For those who valued knowledge as highly as gold, there was no way the Tech-Priests would let them off easily.

But Jin knew how to handle this.

Using information he had gathered while assisting Hades, he bluffed his way through. He leveraged Magos Korklan’s shuttle as a bargaining chip, striking a deal with the Tech-Priests.

The Tech-Priests likely hoped to extract something valuable from Korklan’s shuttle, but Jin knew there was nothing there.

The good news? This particular Forge World wasn’t overly obsessed with xenos technology. As a result, they readily helped package up the Blackstone Obelisk for him.

And so, disheveled and battered, Jin returned.

All he hoped for now was that the Death Guard would at least spare him a few mechanical components to repair his mangled frame.

But now…

Jin looked up at the towering Primarch, staring him down with an intense, soul-piercing gaze.

Hades, wake up! Hurry up and wake up!

Talking to a Primarch is too terrifying!!!

<+>

The Primarch’s heavy footsteps thudded through the corridor.

Waiting outside the Medical Room, First Company Captain Vorx immediately fell in step beside him, continuing his report on post-war operations.

Behind them, the silent Deathshroud Terminators moved in formation.

The former First Company Captain, Barasine, had suffered a severe ambush—attacked in a narrow passageway by a heavy mining drill. Gravely wounded and unconscious, he had been placed within a Dreadnought chassis, now permanently slumbering.

Thus, Barasine’s personally appointed Vorx had stepped up to replace him.

But clearly, Vorx was not yet a fully seasoned Captain—which was why Garro, leader of the Grave Wardens, had temporarily taken over parts of the First Company’s command.

Between the dead and the wounded, the entire Death Guard was stretched thin.

They were completely overwhelmed.

Even Mortarion had no choice but to leave the Medical Room and return to work.

An entire star system awaited post-war occupation.

The Death Guard had to ensure that no resistance would arise again. The Legion had been scattered across various planets in the Galaspar system, managing the aftermath.

At first, the Imperial bureaucrats, who had screamed for the system’s lockdown, had been hesitant.

But the moment they heard the Death Guard had secured Galaspar, they rushed in—tax collectors and Mechanicus survey fleets, swarming like vultures.

Greedy, oily, ever-smiling Imperial administrators now chattered incessantly, attempting to negotiate governance with the Death Guard.

Like flies.

Mortarion thought, disgusted.

But the Death Guard’s duty was only to purge armed threats and dismantle tyranny.

Taxation and governance?

That was the problem of Imperial bureaucrats.

So, despite his deep reluctance, Mortarion still had to engage with them.

Or rather, he delegated the job— handing it off to Garro.

As leader of the Grave Wardens, Garro’s usual responsibilities were light. Even after taking on part of the First Company’s duties, he could still handle more.

Mortarion promptly ignored Garro’s increasingly overworked state.

The Death Guard was desperately short on manpower, Mortarion thought grimly.

At first, he had considered assigning Calas Typhon to some of these tasks.

After all, back on Barbarus, Calas had helped manage the southern regions on his behalf.

Compared to Calas, Vorx was still somewhat inexperienced in administration.

But Calas already had his own work.

After the battle of Galaspar, the Death Guard had suffered heavy losses and urgently needed reinforcements.

Caught up in the aftermath of the battle, Mortarion was naturally unable to personally travel to Barbarus for recruitment.

At that moment, Calas Typhon approached him and offered to return to Barbarus to assist with recruitment.

Mortarion agreed without hesitation.

Looking into Calas’s deep, dark eyes, Mortarion suddenly realized that it had been a long time since they had spoken as friends.

After all, the aftermath of the previous psyker incident had indeed created a rift between them.

“How was it?”

Mortarion was referring to the battle of Galaspar, but Typhon knew exactly what he meant.

Typhon remained silent, his deeply set eyes showing that he was lost in thought.

Unlike Hades, who openly displayed his emotions, Mortarion always found Calas’s expressions difficult to read. He preferred to keep them hidden beneath his sunken eyes and beard.

“We have taught them a lesson. We have ended the order of this tyrannical civilization.”

“Just as we did on Barbarus.”

Finally, Calas smiled lightly.

“I’m glad the Death Guard can play such a role in the Great Crusade. I suppose this is what you intended as well, Mortarion.”

The words of reassurance from an old friend slightly eased Mortarion’s exhaustion from the past days of endless toil.

“Yes, that’s right.”

He murmured, and Calas took the opportunity to make his request.

“You’re too busy, Mortarion. You’re always too busy.”

“I want to help. Let me return to Barbarus.”

That beautiful, deep green planet—ever since he had awoken that day, an inexplicable longing for it had lingered in Calas’s heart.

“Alright.”

Mortarion finally agreed.

A direct order from a Primarch required no further approval. While everyone else was busy running in circles, the Death Guard’s recruitment ship to Barbarus had already set off.

<+>

Ferrus and Vulkan will show up next chapter^^