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

The Endurance, Dueling Cage.

Now

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Bright white light illuminated the dueling cage, casting a soft glow in the pitch-black duel hall.

The two combatants stood ready, prepared for battle.

A scythe faced off against a longsword.

A hum filled the air.

Domingo, the veteran from Terra, immediately lunged with his longsword, showing no mercy as the blade flashed straight toward Huznir on the platform.

Huznir raised his scythe to block, but as if Domingo had already predicted his move, he suddenly accelerated, bypassing Huznir's defense and delivering a sudden slash. In just a blink, red lines appeared on Huznir's arm and neck!

One strike!

Had Domingo's sword been fully sharpened, Huznir likely wouldn't be standing on the dueling cage now.

The match was over!

Frustrated and unwilling to admit defeat, Huznir shot Domingo a resentful glance, but the burning sensation on his shoulder and neck, like searing chains, reminded him that he had lost.

Without a word, he jumped off the platform.

Domingo, meanwhile, stood motionless like a stone, showing no intention of leaving.

Among the Barbarus crowd, some were silent, while others were disgruntled. The gathering murmured and stirred, but no one dared step up to challenge.

Huznir was one of the top three regular victors of the dueling cage, and many in the crowd had been defeated by him before, knowing they were no match.

But the only one who could possibly defeat Huznir—Vorx—had suddenly vanished. He was often seen watching duels but, for some reason, was absent today.

The veterans from Terra remained silent, though some disapproved of Domingo's behavior. For now, all they could do was wait.

The primarch's towering figure stood unmoving, like a skeleton enveloped in smoke. The smell of poison subtly stung the nostrils of everyone present.

With his hood, gas mask, and swirling mist concealing his face, it was impossible to tell what Mortarion was thinking.

He, too, was waiting.

The atmosphere was tense, and the stir among the Barbarus crowd gradually quieted. Silence once again blanketed the hall.

Veteran Domingo stood proudly and silently on the platform, like a stone knight guarding a treasure, waiting for any challengers bold enough to approach.

Footsteps broke the silence.

Calas Typhon slowly stepped forward. Without a word, he walked onto the platform. He glanced at the weapon rack and drew the same scythe used by the two Barbarus fighters before him.

Typhon moved to stand opposite Domingo, raised his scythe, and assumed his stance.

Domingo once again raised his sword, calmly facing Typhon.

The primarch remained still.

The duel began with another hum.

Domingo continued his previous strategy, launching the same longsword thrust, aiming to defeat the rookie before him as quickly as possible.

He wasn't worried about Typhon countering based on the previous match's tactics. In most battlefield duels, brute strength and speed are what mattered—combat techniques were reserved for evenly matched foes!

These recruits, who hadn't even completed a full Terran year since their augmentation surgery, were far from matching the battle-hardened veterans unless they were exceptionally gifted.

But Typhon showed no fear or contempt. He smoothly parried the thrust with his scythe and blocked Domingo's follow-up strike with even more speed.

The entire sequence was fluid, unlike the two recruits who had fought before.

Domingo was slightly surprised. 

A dark horse—one who'd appeared out of nowhere.

But this wouldn't change the outcome of the fight!

Domingo didn't retreat, instead pressing the attack, staying close to Typhon. His sword moved like a serpent, trying to find an opening in Typhon's defenses.

In contrast, Typhon's scythe, long and broad, became awkward at such close range. Its wide arc was ineffective for close-quarters combat, leaving Typhon to use the scythe's handle to block Domingo's relentless strikes. 

The handle felt cumbersome against the thrusts of the sword.

Typhon tried to create some distance, but Domingo gave him no room, sticking to him like glue, not giving Typhon a chance to reset.

Compared to the previous Terra veteran, Corinna, Domingo was much more aggressive. His oppressive aura bore down on the recruit.

It was clear to any observer that if this continued for just a few more moments, Typhon would surely be defeated.

But Typhon showed no signs of panic, continuing to laboriously block Domingo's attacks with the scythe's handle.

'Arrogant brat.'

Domingo remained composed, maintaining his attack rhythm, speeding up slightly with each strike—

Finally, he saw an opening.

Domingo's sword moved down, then swung up in a hooking motion. 

He abandoned his defense, aiming the tip of his sword straight for Typhon's heart.

In the heightened intensity of the duel, time seemed to slow down. Domingo could see the cold gleam of his sword reflected in slow motion—and—

A faint layer of frost suddenly appeared on the sword!

What?!!!

Domingo's eyes widened in shock. His veteran instincts told him to pull back, but it was too late—his thrust was already in motion, and withdrawing it wasn't so simple.

Suddenly, he felt the pressure around him increase dramatically! 

His movements stalled for just a fraction of a second. 

Looking up at Typhon, Domingo saw a faint, knowing smile playing on the recruit's lips.

This guy's a psyker!

Though Domingo immediately tried to adjust, in a fight this fierce, a brief moment was enough to decide the outcome. Typhon seized the opening, his scythe sweeping upward from below, bypassing Domingo's arms and driving into his chest—

The duel was over!

As Typhon's scythe tip touched Domingo, both fighters froze.

Domingo's sword was just an inch from Typhon, but Typhon's scythe had already made contact with Domingo's chest.

That unsettling coldness quickly dissipated. 

It seemed no one except the two fighters had noticed the brief surge of psychic energy.

Domingo's pupils trembled. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but when he looked into Typhon's face—

There was no joy or smugness there—only a serious, respectful expression.

This guy had hidden his abilities well!

Wait a minute... the techniques this recruit used were similar to those of the Death Guard's strategium!

How could that be?

Domingo was bewildered, but on the dueling cage, his defeat was undeniable. He had no choice but to retreat into the crowd, his face clouded with shame.

A murmur spread through the Terran veterans.

Typhon stood there, not showing any intention of continuing to fight, unlike the previous combatants. Instead, he turned and walked toward the weapon rack.

The Barbarus crowd erupted in cheers at the sight of his victory.

The primarch remained as still as ever, but the incense burner hanging from Mortarion's body lightly clinked. The small, clear sound was quickly drowned out by the crowd's noise.

"Calas... my friend, is this what you wanted all along?"

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