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

The bloated Plague Marine, so swollen that even its power armor was grotesquely distended, finally broke free from its false death-like state. Its limbs twitched unnaturally as it struggled to rise.

Hades gave it no chance. Acting decisively, he fired a shot from his flamer. The scorching ray tore through the air, slipped through the gaps of the psychic cage, and struck the creature squarely at the knee of its left leg.

Flesh burst apart, bright yellow flames erupted alongside fragments of its power armor, and the putrid pus that leaked out was instantly vaporized. The burning stench overwhelmed the room's existing miasma of decay.

The flamer, a relic of the Age of Strife, was more potent than most weapons of its size. It would faithfully ignite and consume any organic material it touched.

Flames raged, incinerating until nothing remained.

However, the creature's regenerative abilities outpaced the fire's destruction. Rotten muscle fibers intertwined rapidly, attempting to restore the burned tissue.

Predicting such resistance, Hades remained calm. He maintained his rhythm, firing consecutive shots, the radiant flashes from the weapon illuminating his helmet.

Simultaneously, he began channeling the Black Domain within him, letting its energy flow steadily into the scythe, Obituary.

"Remove the psychic cage," he ordered.

When the corpse stirred earlier, Fernando had not dispelled the psychic barrier; instead, he had intensified its energy, hoping to restrain and weaken the creature further.

Hades' command caused Fernando to hesitate briefly, but he quickly reversed the flow of his psychic energy. The room's brilliant white light began to dim.

Hades fired several more shots before taking up a ready stance with his scythe, preparing to strike the moment the psychic cage vanished.

However, as the cage weakened, the Plague Marine's flesh suddenly began to swell violently. Realizing that Hades wouldn't give it a chance to rise, the mass of corrupted flesh coalesced into a grotesque mound on the Marine's chest.

On this mound, a slit slowly opened.

A Daemon!

"Greetings," it began, its voice oozing malice.

"For those disdained by the—"

Before it could finish, the last of the psychic cage dissipated, and a pitch-black arc from Hades' scythe sliced through the mound!

The Daemon's words were abruptly cut off. Where Obituary struck, the red flesh and yellow-white fat withered instantly, turning into black ash that scattered through the air.

The scythe sliced through the mass with a smoothness that startled Hades—it felt like cutting through tofu.

?!

This was Hades' full-strength swing, yet the seemingly resilient tissue offered no resistance to Obituary. The unexpected ease almost made him stumble, but his combat instincts quickly steadied his footing.

Fernando, keeping pace with Hades' actions, raised his flamer and fired directly at the severed mound of flesh.

The flames roared to life, and unlike before, the burned sections did not regenerate. The blackened, shriveled flesh looked like charcoal.

Yet, as Hades struck again, the Plague Marine's exposed intestines suddenly reared like a snake in ambush, spraying black and yellow pus toward him!

Fernando immediately cast the strongest psychic shield he could muster over Hades, while Hades dodged and countered with another slash of his scythe.

The viscous black-yellow liquid missed its target, splattering onto the ground. Inside, countless wriggling black tapeworms squirmed in the goo.

Wasting no time, Hades—realizing that the ignorant flesh, restored by psychic energy, stood no chance against his scythe—swung Obituary in wide arcs, attempting to sever the Plague Marine's corpse into several pieces.

Fernando chanted incantations, maintaining the maximum power of the psychic shield that surrounded them both.

However, the exposed flesh of the corpse began to split open sporadically, forming small mouths.

"Cursed ones—"

Hades swung his scythe again, turning another chunk of flesh into black sand.

"The trap is laid, just waiting—"

Fernando aimed his flamer at the opening and fired another burst of flames.

"I've seen through you—"

Once more, Hades swung his scythe downward. This time, he hooked into the small fissure forming on the Daemon's flesh mound and sliced it apart.

"Let me finish my sentence!"

Hades' expression remained stoic as he continued the systematic extermination with his scythe.

A Death Guard like him had no reason to humor the ramblings of a Great Unclean One.

Even if this Daemon were targeting him specifically, what useful information could it possibly share? Most likely, it would try to sow corruption or mock them.

From the Daemon's opening remarks, Hades had already deduced it was addressing him directly.

After all, Nurgle's servants would not refer to other Death Guard as "disdained."

Never trust a Daemon.

This was a truth Hades, as a reincarnated outsider, understood deeply. 

Even if Tzeentch had fed Guilliman nine accurate truths about Nurgle, that was Tzeentch—Nurgle wouldn't play the same game.

Meanwhile, the Plaguebearer felt increasingly frustrated.

Why were these mortals so rude?

From its experience observing mortal destinies, those inhabiting the physical plane always seemed fond of dramatic speeches during battle—cryptic, fate-laden words meant to provoke thought.

The kind-hearted Rainfather had once told it that the Grandfather adored such theatrics. While they were hardly nourishing, they added a certain flavor to the unfolding fates.

The Grandfather loved drama!

Seven-word phrases, seven-character words, seven pauses, seven taunts. It had carefully crafted this performance while wallowing in its swampy home.

This, too, was a cycle of destiny. Why wouldn't they let it speak?

Clearly, that accursed outsider was loathed by the Grandfather!

Still, its purpose was already fulfilled.

<+>

The fragment of the Plaguebearer's essence, housed within the remnants of the Dusk Raider, had drawn close enough to Hades in the physical world. The omnipresent stench of decay had already seeped into his being. Slowly but surely, the fog obscuring his fate was lifting.

Since the False Emperor's tampering had altered this unclean outsider, his unique void-like nature made him difficult to locate directly. His aura disrupted the warp, making his destiny dim and obscure, unlike the clarity of others.

Thus, the Plaguebearer had relied on observing the fates of those around him to approximate his trajectory.

It had been painstaking work, but the Plaguebearer had approached it with utmost diligence.

The Grandfather had entrusted it with a glorious mission. As one of the youngest in Nurgle's family, it was born to fulfill this task. Success would elevate it to one of the Grandfather's most favored servants.

Hades' destiny had an anchor point, a key event that would clarify his past and future.

This was it: forcing the still-developing Hades to confront Nurgle's power aboard the Endurance, flagship of the Death Guard.

Such an encounter would shape Hades' mindset and strategy forever.

Now, the anchor point had arrived.

A small lure was all it needed to draw Hades to the carefully prepared stage—an infested planet, waiting for him.

Its mission complete, there was no longer any need for deceit.

<+>

The Plaguebearer stopped attempting to regenerate its wounds. The bloated corpse of the Plague Marine, fragmented into several pieces, began to swell rapidly. Its power armor, now brittle and corrupted, fell away in chunks.

Sensing the shift, Hades immediately ceased his attacks. He grabbed a massive shield from the weapon-covered wall and placed himself in front of Fernando.

As a Blank, Hades was immune to most of Nurgle's tricks outside physical damage. Fernando, however, was not!

Boom!

Yellow-green pus splattered across the room, covering every surface. Chunks of rotted flesh clung to the walls like grotesque decorations.

The stench was so overwhelming that Hades momentarily blacked out, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.

Truly, this was Nurgle's handiwork.

<+>

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