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

The mechanical roar of the Armoury reverberated incessantly, day and night. Adamantium, ceramite, plasteel—vast quantities of materials were consumed, disassembled, and reArmouryd into instruments of power.

The usually bustling Armoury now only held a few scattered Techmarines. Most of the adepts from Mars had returned to their transport ships. Some bio-adepts and food science adepts, however, had stayed behind, accompanied by their expansive and intricate academic contingents. Settling in orbit around Barbarus, they pursued their Emperor-given mission—or simply their own thirst for knowledge—to transform this peculiar planet.

Hades stood silently beside Master of the Forge Enrique's workbench, watching as Enrique drafted his recommendation letter.

On the thick parchment, black ciphers filled every inch, written in a language that Hades, upon preliminary observation, believed employed at least three levels of binary encryption.

Enrique was fully immersed in his work, his quill trembling slightly as it traced the intricate script. This language required extreme precision. Moreover, invisible to the naked eye, a hidden laser on Enrique's arm engraved additional codes onto the document as he wrote.

Such was the caution of the Mechanicus.

Every Techmarine recommended for Mars carried a unique letter of recommendation. These letters encoded the Techmarine's complete genetic sequence, along with the Master of the Forge's Martian sigils.

Different legions were given unique cryptographic keys and writing protocols by the Mechanicus, ensuring that only the Master of the Forges of the respective legions could pen these letters. This meticulous process safeguarded against any impersonation.

As Enrique wrote, he mused to himself. Even after all this effort, Hades isn't really from our Armoury! Forget Garro, Armouryt Barasine—he was my pick in the end!

Though recent events had been unpleasant, the Armoury Techmarines maintained their composure, being rational individuals trained under Martian Mechanicus doctrines. Their education made them remarkably tolerant of concepts akin to "deities."

Having long negotiated with the Mechanicus adepts, they recovered quickly from the incident, though requests for plutonium-based fuel and incendiary weapons had skyrocketed.

In the aftermath, the other captains had entirely forgotten about Armoury recruitment. So, when the Martian transport ships were about to depart, Hades was the only one who voluntarily signed up.

Look at this—this is the Omnissiah's blessing! The perfect recruit we wanted just walked in!

As if afraid Hades might change his mind and flee, Enrique's quill sped across the parchment, faster and faster, moving so quickly that even under the enhanced vision of an Astartes, it was little more than a blur.

Hades, watching Enrique write, quietly organized his memories, locking the most sensitive ones in his left brain.

And then—he saw it.

In the hallway, a strange, solitary adept of the Mechanicus walked by.

"Uh, Master of the Forge?"

"Hmm?" Enrique replied absently, still immersed in encrypting the letter.

"I once saw a Mechanicus adept walking alone on the fourth deck's left corridor of the Endurance."

"He was walking by himself, with no servitors or attendants around."

Still absorbed in his work, Enrique responded casually, "You must have seen wrong. Adepts are always accompanied, at least by a legion's Techmarines."

Hades blinked, then spoke with greater emphasis, his tone serious.

"I'm certain I wasn't mistaken. It was a lone Mechanicus adept. We crossed paths in the corridor, and then he left."

Enrique's hand jerked to a stop, his quill freezing mid-stroke.

Damn it—the laser engraving's misaligned. I'll have to rewrite it.

But now wasn't the time for writing letters.

Enrique looked up, his expression grave.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"I swear on what I saw."

Hissing quietly through his teeth, Enrique's mind raced.

A solitary adept? Impossible, utterly impossible.

The Death Guard's technology was entirely supplied by Mars. Neither Enrique nor his Armoury had developed any independent tech. Even in past campaigns, when they confiscated xenos technology, it was always reported to Mars.

The technology of the Barbarus system had also been surveyed and assessed jointly by the legion's Techmarines and the Mechanicus.

For these Mechanicus adepts, who already had access to cutting-edge technology, there was no reason for them to investigate the Death Guard.

And an adept who had evaded the Armoury's surveillance, only to appear before a novice? That was... unlikely.

Enrique's gaze drifted to Hades' left brain.

Rumor had it that this recruit's left brain contained technology gifted by the Emperor.

Could it be that the adepts... wanted it?

No! Absolutely not!

Sending Hades to Mars, where he might never return, was unacceptable.

Mars was far more complex than the simple image of a cog-and-eagle. Its factions were convoluted, its adepts tangled in endless rivalries.

Even Enrique's own studies on Mars had been conducted in a semi-isolated environment, courtesy of the Emperor's loyalists within the Mechanicus.

But the likelihood that Hades had been targeted...

Enrique stared at Hades for a long moment before asking cautiously,

"Hades, were you recommended for Mars, or was it your own decision?"

Alarmed by the question but maintaining a façade of innocent eagerness, Hades replied naturally, "I volunteered. Why, Master of the Forge?"

Enrique, choking on his own apprehension, hesitated before stammering, "Hades, the problem is that you're the only one applying to Mars this time. The numbers are too few—it's impractical to arrange."

What?!

Hades' mind reeled. I went through so much trouble to secure approval from everyone, and now you're blocking me?

No way. With the Sisters of Silence still aboard the fleet, Hades felt now was the safest time to leave. Otherwise, the opportunity might never come again.

Besides, this was Malcador's task. He had to go!

Mustering all his determination, Hades stared at Enrique with an intense, desperate gaze, his voice filled with conviction.

"I'm sorry, but I truly want to leave this time. If I miss this chance, I might never have another."

Enrique clenched his teeth. It had been a long time since he'd encountered such a promising candidate for mechanical studies. He knew Barasine didn't want to let Hades go either, but...

No, no Astartes has ever died in Mars training. The worst outcome is becoming a Dreadnought. Hades should be fine... right?

After a long deliberation, Enrique finally pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. The dark green watermark spread across its surface as he took a deep breath and began writing again.

"Hades," he said firmly.

"Yes?"

Enrique hesitated, then spoke indirectly, wary of technologies capable of memory extraction.

"When you're there, even though the Armouries are semi-open, avoid wandering into the wastelands."

"Understood."

Hades nodded, watching Enrique continue writing.

"And... since the Death Guard is only sending you, try to connect with Techmarines from other legions."

"I recommend seeking out tech-marines from the Imperial Fists or the Iron Hands. They usually undergo extensive training within their Legions, and their rapport with the Mechanicus is excellent," said Enrique, setting the sealed recommendation letter down. "You can also consider the Salamanders; they're kind and reliable warriors, and they might look out for you if things go south."

"However," Enrique warned, "be wary of the Iron Warriors. They can be volatile. As for the Dark Angels, just show respect and keep your distance—they often operate outside the Mechanicus' purview. And whatever you do, avoid the Space Wolves. They're unpredictable."

Hades nodded as he absorbed the advice.

Enrique continued, "The Blood Angels, War Hounds, and Ultramarines are all disciplined and honorable. While their technological expertise isn't particularly advanced, their culture of duty and camaraderie is something to admire."

Finally, Enrique leaned in and whispered gravely, "Stay together with the others. Never wander off alone, no matter how curious you may get. Mars is a labyrinth of politics, allegiances, and mysteries. If you must train in technology, immerse yourself in your studies. Avoid the wastelands at all costs."

He paused, his voice softening. "Hades, this is more than a journey. It's a test of survival. Guard yourself well."

Enrique handed the sealed letter to Hades, the wax imprint of the Death Guard's sigil still warm. His final words lingered: "Good luck, lad. If it ever becomes too much, apply to return early."

<+>

The corridors of the Endurance echoed with heavy silence as Hades prepared for departure. When he emerged, his fellow recruits, now comrades, lined the hall. One by one, doors creaked open, and the recruits saluted him with unwavering Aquila gestures—an unexpected show of respect for their formidable peer.

"Honor to the strong," someone murmured.

A booming voice shattered the solemn moment. "Back to your bunks! High-intensity drills at dawn!" barked Branka, the veteran sergeant. Despite his harsh tone, Branka strode toward Hades, his expression softening. He pulled the younger warrior into a firm embrace.

"You've done more than you know," Branka said, a rare grin spreading across his weathered face. "Now go and make us proud."

<+>

The Mars-bound transport ship, its massive hull adorned with the sigils of the Adeptus Mechanicus, loomed amidst the Death Guard fleet. Its engines roared as it prepared to pierce the void.

Hades stood at his cabin's observation window, gazing at the passing stars and the titanic ships of the Death Guard's fleet. The Endurance, Terminus Est, and Reaper's Scythe slipped into the distance, their hulking forms swallowed by the inky blackness.

As the Mars transport accelerated toward the Mandeville Point, reality shimmered. The Gellar fields engaged, forming a barrier against the horrors of the Warp. The ship entered the turbulent, kaleidoscopic currents of the Immaterium.

Goodbye, Barbarus. 

Goodbye, Death Guard

<+>

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