My Life as A Death Guard

— Barbarus, Southern Swamp, Wilderness —

— The third year Hades arrived in the south —

The dense white mist swirled, and the deep, soft black soil stretched endlessly.

Between the sky and the earth, there seemed to be nothing but white mist above and black soil below.

In a clearing where the mist slightly thinned, sat a tall figure—

Mortarion, indifferent to the muddy ground, sat directly on the black soil. On his left knee lay an unconscious young man, and on his right knee rested his arm, holding his massive scythe.

He gazed into the depths of the mist, his amber eyes seemingly slicing through the thick fog, staring at a familiar figure.

Hades emerged slowly from the mist, his scythe hanging downward like a ferry’s oar, gently parting the waves of white mist, causing ripples to spread.

When he was four meters away from Mortarion, Hades stopped, the face beneath his mask apologetically smiling, and then he sat down as well.

“Long time no see, Hades.”

Hades looked up and smiled, patting his knee in a familiar gesture that made Mortarion relax a bit internally.

It had been three years.

“Yeah, long time no see, Reaper.”

Mortarion disliked his given name, a fact Hades knew well.

Not only Mortarion disliked it, but he also deeply resented the name his adoptive father had given him.

So the Death Guard called Mortarion “Reaper.”

Reaper, both the harvester of souls and the one who reaps the fields, just like Mortarion himself.

“How’s the southern liberation plan? Hope we didn’t drag you down. Our Death Guard can handle it. I just watched from afar as the cannons fired in volleys, instantly dismantling the first layer of the small overlords’ defenses—”

“Whoosh—BANG!”

Hades gesticulated wildly, leaning on his scythe’s shaft, one hand drawing an exaggerated arc representing the cannon’s trajectory.

Mortarion smiled, having indeed witnessed the cannons’ power.

However, unfortunately, these powerful cannons were ill-suited for mountainous terrain; they could only support operations on the plains.

As for those atop the mountains—they were ineffective.

But—Hades still loved to praise others.

The Death Guard, they truly were Mortarion’s pride.

Those brave fighters, those who took up their scythes to resist for survival, they fought, they resisted, all for a future without fear.

Mortarion instinctively lowered his gaze to the young man leaning against him, the memory of his struggle against fate still vivid.

They were all warriors fighting for themselves, weren’t they?

Mortarion glanced at Hades across from him, who was still boasting about his prowess.

“Hades, can you still not get close to others?”

Mortarion extended his hand, seemingly wanting to touch the invisible field around Hades.

“Hey! No! No, no, no!!!”

Hades’ reaction was swift, backing away quickly, almost tipping over due to his unsteady balance.

Big brother, please, no!

Hades’ heart raced with cold sweat.

If anyone else touched his dark domain, it would just make them feel nauseous, but if Mortarion did—

Big brother, don’t attract other nasty things!

Hades swiftly retreated, disregarding his dignity as he scooted backward.

Seeing Hades’ dramatic reaction, Mortarion withdrew his hand, looking disappointed, his eyes seemingly accusing Hades of rejecting him.

So, it really was like this.

After all this time, had the bond between the three of them drifted apart?

Mortarion remembered when they were still young, drinking and laughing in a dilapidated house, discussing their plans to liberate humanity.

He had boasted that he would fight for humanity’s rebellion to the end, with Typhon egging him on and Hades crawling on the ground, clapping as he crawled.

Mortarion wasn’t drunk, but it was clear that Hades and Typhon were.

“Mortarion! Big brother! I’ll follow you!!! I don’t have any big dreams! Just want a place to draw little figures!”

Little figures? Mortarion still wondered what that meant.

But now, those happy and simple memories had faded.

Typhon was doing well; Mortarion was pleased that Typhon had found comrades who understood him.

Only Hades, because of his unique condition, walked alone among people.

Once they defeat Necare, once there’s no more oppression on this planet, Mortarion vowed to help his friend overcome this cursed condition.

Seeing Mortarion lost in thought again, Hades felt a wave of panic.

No, big brother, don’t hold grudges!!!

“Uh,” Hades scratched his chin, “you know, my condition hurts people. I’m still not used to the feeling of hurting others.”