My Life as A Death Guard

Barbarus, Northern Mountains, Old Base.

Now.

A cloud of dust suddenly burst out from the house.

Cough, cough, cough. Damn, why is there so much dust?

Hades, covered in dust, held a broom and began wildly sweeping in the middle of the room.

After all, it was his room, and there wasn’t much furniture anyway.

As more and more dust filled the room, Hades gave up struggling and started waving the broom around aimlessly.

Let the dust settle on its own, Hades thought nonchalantly as he stepped outside, standing there like an old man with his hands behind his back, lost in thought.

After a month of trekking and hitching rides, Hades had finally returned home.

With the southern Overlords subdued, Mortarion and Calas Typhon had led part of the Death Guard back to the north.

Hades had tagged along at the rear of the northern-bound army, moving at his own pace. Whenever he encountered migrating villagers, he shamelessly asked for a ride.

“Old man, give me a lift, give me a lift~ I’ll help keep an eye out for monsters.”

And so, carrying a pile of miscellaneous things he had looted from the south, Hades returned to his little dilapidated house.

It had been five years since he last came home.

The once-small base had developed into the pearl of humanity on Barbarus.

The base had undergone expansion, with heavy walls seamlessly built from rocks carved out of the mountain.

The main road of the city was clean and bright, paved meticulously with black cement.

The initial city plan that Mortarion had sketched out had now been fully realized.

The combat division, medical division, logistics division, communications division, community division, construction division, and craftsman division all had their proper places in the base.

There was even space reserved for a market and gardens in the future.

Not bad, not bad, worthy of being a Primarch, Hades thought, recalling the nights Mortarion had pulled him and Calas Typhon into all-night sketching sessions.

Those nights were exhausting—after all, a Primarch could bounce back after just one hour of sleep.

Every day, people from different regions flocked to this base, renowned for its “resistance.” Some came because their homes had been destroyed, others were drawn by the fame of the Death Guard, and some sought a fresh start here.

The residential area expanded rapidly, but fortunately, Hades’ house was so remote that it survived the expansion untouched.

Even if it had been demolished, the construction division would have kindly moved his belongings into safekeeping first.

So considerate, Hades mused.

Once the dust had settled, Hades carefully swept up the dust inside his house.

By evening, he had finally tidied up his home a bit.

Hades lit a gas lamp carefully and then dragged the large bundles he had hauled back from the south into the house.

In the lamplight, Hades opened the bundles and started sorting the supplies.

First, he pulled out the dried food rations he had been chewing on the past few days and tossed them onto the stove.

Then came the herbs he had gathered in the south, along with their corresponding seeds and tubers. Hades had tested most of these herbs and found that many of them were effective in filtering out the toxic gases on Barbarus.

A thick stack of carefully insect-proofed maps also emerged from the bundle. Various sizes of parchment were neatly organized by their content and specifications.

Some of these maps were looted from the homes of Xenos Overlords, while others were designed and modified by Hades himself.

In fact, Hades could already draw most of these designs from memory. But out of caution and for the sake of knowledge sharing, he brought them all along.