My Life as A Death Guard

Dim and ruined, the crumbling walls stood in silent witness to everything.

Crimson blood trickled down the gleaming longsword.

Drop by drop, it pooled beneath Hades’ body.

That blade was undoubtedly coated with anti-coagulants and other toxins.

Hades knelt on one knee, gritting his teeth, staring intently at the figure before him.

The knife had stabbed directly into the location of his first heart, and he could feel the scalding blood gushing through his body.

A wound lethal enough to kill, yet leaving him teetering on the edge of life and death.

His artificial dura mater began to slowly, irreversibly initiate the suspended animation protocol.

Hades’ pupils contracted. With sheer willpower, he delayed the process.

“Don’t fall asleep, dear.”

A brass-colored gun was slowly pressed against his neck, applying slight pressure, as if in warning.

Black leather contrasted with a checkered fabric of vivid red and green. The peculiar light distortions from a visual interference field caused the hem of his clothing to glow with an eerie blue arc.

“Hello, Predestined One. I am a follower of Him, arriving only to follow the currents of fate and the future.”

On his eerie mask, an exaggerated and grotesque smile was clearly visible.

Of course, Hades knew what he was—

A Harlequin of the Eldar.

The Eldar—once one of the dominant powers of the Milky Way—had lived through an era of unparalleled prosperity and indulgence.

With highly advanced technology, an excess of resources, a stable domain they were content to rule, and the blessings of multiple Eldar gods, they were once the most extravagant race in the galaxy.

However, beneath their long period of stability and bliss, the Eldar’s desire for pleasure only grew stronger.

Under the shelter of advanced technology and absolute security, they began to chase indulgence.

Pleasures that stimulated the senses. Frenzies that satisfied their cravings. A hedonistic tide gradually swept across the entire race.

But unrestrained madness, indulgence plunging into the abyss, would inevitably lead to ruin.

Amid the wild cries of the Eldar’s unbridled desires, emotions accumulated, coalescing into a tangible entity within the Warp.

The first wail tore through the barrier between the Warp and physical reality—Slaanesh seized its dominion.

Thus, among the four great thrones of the Warp, a new master arose.

The birth of Slaanesh tore apart the once-glorious Eldar Empire, reducing it to scattered remnants that would never reclaim their former splendor.

And the Harlequins…

In the final days before the Eldar fell into the abyss of indulgence, a few remained clear-headed. The cunning and perceptive Harlequins were among them.

They worshipped the Eldar Laughing God, Cegorach, and, on the eve of their people’s downfall, used their comedic performances to mock the decadence of their kin.

Under Cegorach’s guidance, most of the Harlequins evaded the apocalyptic catastrophe wrought by Slaanesh, vanishing into the labyrinthine networks of hidden realms, never to resurface in the annals of history.

But in the shadowed reaches of the stars, beneath the brilliance of light, the Harlequins—gifted with extraordinary foresight—still performed upon the stage they had built.

To humanity, however…

Hades clenched his teeth, glaring at that grinning mask. Beneath his power armor, adrenaline and other stimulants were slowly being injected into his bloodstream.

Xenos must be eradicated!

Even with one heart destroyed, Hades suddenly sprang forward. He used his left arm to knock away the gun pressed against his throat—his Obituary slashed through the air with a piercing shriek!

The Harlequin had not anticipated that Hades—already on the verge of death—could still lunge at him. He instantly leaped backward, attempting to evade the attack.

Rather than taking blows, Harlequins preferred to avoid them entirely.

At the same time, a gunshot rang out, but Hades had anticipated it—his heavy shoulder plate deflected the bullet with a sharp clang.

He followed up with a series of brutal strikes—each one faster than the last!

Slash, Thrust, Hook!

The sharp scythe tore through the Harlequin’s garments, and droplets of blood, round like beads, slid through the air before falling.

For the first time, Hades regretted not coating his scythe with poison.

However, the sudden, violent movement sent a surge of blood flooding into his chest.

“Cough!”

His speed slowed. Eventually, he came to a gradual halt.

Hades braced himself with his scythe, refusing to collapse once more.

He could still detonate one more bomb…

His consciousness blurred, but he held on, waiting for the right moment.

Across from him, the Harlequin—who had been performing according to a predetermined script—was thrown off rhythm, standing in irritated silence, no longer engaging in absurd and exaggerated theatrics.

As though the performance had gone awry, other backstage members began stepping onto the stage to assess the situation.

The flickering lights of the visual interference field revealed a total of six Harlequins in Hades’ sight, each wearing distinct attire.

[He is the Predestined One. We cannot allow him to act beyond the prophecy.]

[Deviation means change. End this quickly.]

One Harlequin shook his head in discontent.

Then, he stepped forward toward Hades again—but this time, he maintained his distance.

“Hello.”

He spoke once more.

“We are not your enemies.”

Absurd. Ridiculous!

“By His inspiration, we are here to deliver guidance regarding your future.”

“Please, trust the prophecy.”

His voice, melodic and solemn, echoed like a chant as a set of tarot-like cards appeared in his hands.

He drew a card and flashed it before Hades.

+ What should you believe in? Humanity. +

+ What should you be wary of? Your own kind. +

The blue card glowed faintly before flipping, turning gray.

+ What do you seek? Seek nothing. +

+ What do you not seek? That shall be what you seek. +

A red card flashed briefly, then spun—its surface distorting into chaotic hues.

Then, as the Harlequin attempted to draw a third card, he performed as if it were stubbornly stuck within the deck. With an exaggerated flourish, he yanked it free—only for it to slip from his grasp and fall onto the ground.

A pure black card, devoid of any markings, lay still as the fallen Harlequin lifted it high.

+ When your left ear itches and your right ear starts to ache, run. Run as fast as you can. +

The words made no sense compared to the ones before.

Then, the Harlequin flipped the card. Still black.

+ Bon appétit. +

With those final words, the Harlequin rolled backward and sprang to his feet in an extravagant motion.

He bowed flamboyantly toward Hades.

One of the Harlequins tossed what seemed to be a healing spray toward Hades, ensuring that he wouldn’t die. Then, the entire troupe took a synchronized bow, closing their performance.

In the chaotic depths of this frenzied city, they vanished through the hidden Netway they had prepared beforehand.

Having heard the Eldar’s cryptic prophecy, Hades could no longer suppress the progression of his suspended animation state.

His eyes slowly closed as he forced himself to remain standing, slipping into darkness.

A dry wind blew softly.

—Time passed.

A faint blue glow flickered across Jin’s display screen.

“Krrrk!”

His engine forcibly restarted.

Jin, his body heavily mechanized, possessing four backup processors and three artificial brains, slowly rose from a pile of corpses.

Those idiotic xenos actually thought his brain was his core?

He staggered forward, making his way toward Hades, who still stood upright, braced against Obituary.

Mechanical parts occasionally broke off from Jin’s body as he moved.

Carefully, he laid Hades down and began emergency treatment.

The planet-wide atmospheric anomaly, triggered by the activation of the Obelisk, had now dissipated. Jin’s distress signal had been successfully transmitted.

After securing Hades, Jin limped onward toward the fallen Magos Korklan.

The Magos’s body had been severed at the waist. The charred impact of a direct shot to his central processor was unmistakable.

Even before he had been bisected by the Decayer, his biomass storage unit had already burst.

Even without the Xenos’s final strike, the Magos would have been doomed.

Jin stood in silence, staring at the shattered remains of the Magos Korklan.

Before he had lost the ability to dream, this scene had played out countless times in his nightmares.

The Magos who had abused him, who had treated him as a mere tool—was finally dead.

Fixing his gaze upon the fallen Magos, Jin unlocked the compressed file that had been sent to him.

It was transmitted in the very moment the Magos was struck down by the Decayer’s whip.

The first line of data entered Jin’s processor:

[This contains all my current research on anti-psionics.]

You’ve followed me for so long. You are capable of continuing this work.]

[For the Omnissiah. For the Machine God.]

…Hah.

Too bad the Magos had long since removed Jin’s tear ducts.