My Life as A Death Guard (Patreon)

Chapter 88: Stop Showing Off, We Know You Have a Primarch

A combi-plasma incinerator rested quietly on the workbench. Its blue energy coils flickered dimly, signaling to everyone that the weapon was currently uncharged.

The combi-plasma incinerator was a type of plasma weapon, often favored by senior Tech-priests. Its hefty, solid design and encircling coils allowed it to fire plasma hot enough to rival a star.

Most Space Marines didn’t use these weapons because they tended to overheat too easily. However, skilled Tech-priests knew how to soothe the machine spirit—or, more practically, regulate its usage to minimize overheating.

Hades hummed a little tune as he modified the grip of the weapon to better integrate with his servo-pack.

Every Techmarine carried something customized on their back, usually based on personal preference. The most common options included servo-arms for repairs (and conveniently crushing skulls), promethium torches for welding (and blinding enemies), or plasma cutters for slicing through obstacles (or granting foes the joy of decapitation).

The moral of the story? Don’t mess with a Techmarine—they’ve studied for 30 years and likely have at least three extra limbs to show for it.

Hades, however, had a simpler idea. He wanted to mount the combi-plasma incinerator on his back and channel his inner Lion El’Jonson with surprise plasma strikes during combat.

In previous melee situations, he often faced opponents wielding scythes or other intimidating weapons. But now? He’d simply fire a surprise plasma blast from his back and end the fight instantly.

If not for the Mechanicus’s control over power armor’s backpack systems—requiring sacred Mechanicum rites and extensive training—Hades thought every Space Marine could benefit from a mechanical limb or two.

As he worked, the weapon’s machine spirit sent a few jumbled error codes, perhaps protesting the modifications.

While minor weapons like this sometimes housed simple machine spirits, their capacity was limited, usually just enough to express rudimentary “emotions.”

Hades played an override code provided by his mentor, shutting the weapon’s protests down instantly.

Still humming, he continued his happy tinkering. This was paradise: no sudden orders, no unexpected assignments. He could learn and work at his own pace with freely provided tools and materials.

And he even had a free assistant. Jin occasionally brought over parts or tools at Hades’s request, dutifully playing the role of a tool-carrier.

Compared to the battlefield, this was heaven.

<+>

It was mealtime, and Hades reluctantly set the weapon down. He’d even taken the opportunity to paint it.

Following the weapon’s preferences and Hades’s own aesthetics, the gun was now jet black with moss-green highlights reminiscent of the Death Guard. A stark white Death Guard skull was prominently displayed over the energy coils, glowing ominously with every charge cycle as if staring directly at its prey.

As Hades stood up, Jin expertly approached to clean up the workspace.

Unlike most Techmarines, who would simply leave, Hades bent down slightly, giving a sheepish smile.

“Hey, Jin, about getting some food...”

A burst of angry static filled the air. Hades was pretty sure Jin would’ve yelled at him if they weren’t both working under Magos Yordan.

“There is no food, Lord Hades of the Death Guard,” Jin growled, enunciating every word. “Most of Mars’s supplies are allocated to diplomatic personnel, Imperial envoys, or Magi who enjoy eating. Otherwise, food is scarce here.”

Hades blinked. “But you’ve brought me food before, haven’t you?”

Jin froze for a moment but quickly recovered, resuming his usual grumpy demeanor.

“That was... because I thought you could... you might...”

His voice trailed off, growing quieter.

Yeah, Hades thought, probably best not to push him further.

Adopting a serious expression, he said, “Alright, Jin, no worries. If there’s no food, I’ll just ask another Techmarine or someone else.”

He clapped Jin on the shoulder and grinned. “Don’t worry—you’ve stuck with me for this long. If the Death Guard ever return, I’ll make sure to introduce you to everyone.”

Then, slipping back into a cheerful tone, he added, “When you climb the ranks on Mars thanks to us Death Guard, don’t forget me!”

Jin’s cybernetic eyes flickered, and his interface erupted into angry symbols once again.

<+>

The mess hall was unusually lively today, likely due to the arrival of a new batch of Ultramarine Techmarines.

Having chatted with Jin earlier, Hades arrived a bit late. Most Space Marines had finished eating and were now sitting around, chatting casually.

Hades naturally grabbed a bowl from a nearby servitor and decisively sat down in the most crowded area, where a group of Ultramarines and their Cyber-mastiffs were conversing. Even a few Imperial Fists and Iron Hands occasionally joined in.

The veterans, long used to Hades’s antics, barely acknowledged him and continued their discussions.

The new recruits, however, occasionally shot him curious glances.

Hades showed no reaction, spooning his porridge while listening to the ongoing conversation.

It was Severius who noticed Hades's arrival and handed him a box of what looked like biscuits.

“Try some? These are a specialty from Macragge.”

Without hesitation, Hades reached out, grabbed one, and began munching on the biscuit as he listened to the chatter around him.

The group was discussing battles fought alongside their Primarchs or even the Emperor himself. Unlike Hades, most Techmarines spent several years in their respective legions, gaining battlefield experience before being sent to Mars for training.

The Iron Hands were reminiscing about their campaigns with Ferrus Manus. In their eyes, their Primarch was a figure of tempered steel—analyzing the battlefield with cold precision and unleashing relentless firepower upon enemy lines.

At the same time, Ferrus Manus wasn’t merely a distant, calculating commander. After battles, he would visit the wounded, speak with them, and inquire about even the smallest details of the battlefield to better protect his sons in future conflicts.

Alexandran of the Iron Hands was recounting one such encounter with Ferrus Manus in meticulous detail, as if replaying a scholarly report burned into his memory. His delivery was calm and methodical, much like an academic presentation.

Hades, however, could see through him—this was clearly bragging. But unlike other legions, the Iron Hands held a deep respect for their Techmarines due to Ferrus Manus’s love for technology. It wasn’t uncommon for an Iron Hands Techmarine to eventually become an Iron Father, an esteemed position in their legion.

Not particularly bothered, Hades kept spooning his porridge. However, he noticed that the veterans among the War Hounds seemed on the verge of tears.

Meanwhile, the mood among the Iron Warriors seated farther away didn’t look great either.

Hades blinked. Usually, at times like this, he or Severius would step in to change the topic. But today, Hades didn’t feel like it. Instead, he glanced toward the War Hounds, pondering what to say in the future.

Predictably, Severius broke the silence first, steering the conversation.

“I believe that under the Emperor’s guidance, the lost worlds and Primarchs will eventually return to the fold of the Imperium,” he said with conviction.

“Perhaps the next Primarch found will be yours. Don’t lose hope, brothers.”

“Thank you,” sighed Peres, a War Hound.

With the tension eased, Severius decided to pass the baton to someone more suited for a new topic. He turned to Hades.

“The Primarch of the Death Guard has recently returned. Have you had the chance to meet your father, Hades?”

Severius’s intention was to let Hades casually deflect the question, as he, the War Hounds, and the Iron Warriors hadn’t yet shared stories about their Primarchs.

Hades’s spoon faltered mid-scoop.

Hmm. Should he really tell the truth in a situation like this?

“I’m not particularly familiar with our Legion’s Primarch. I haven’t had many opportunities to meet him,” Hades said smoothly, his expression unchanged as he continued eating.

“The Primarch has only just returned, and the Legion’s affairs are still being settled.”

“No need to be overly pessimistic, brothers,” Hades added, addressing the War Hounds.

The War Hounds were disciplined and deeply devoted to their Primarch. While Hades couldn’t summon reinforcements to miraculously descend upon Nuceria, he felt it necessary to at least offer a few words of encouragement to his brothers.