My Life as A Death Guard

The clock in the room continued its duty with a steady tick-tock, the dim yellowish glow slowly sighing across the darkness.

Hades glanced silently around the long table at the seven captains seated there, their faces expressionless and severe as they gazed back at him, waiting for his response.

Hades remained silent.

He understood them.

The gradual replacement of Terrans by Barbarusians was an inevitable outcome for the Legion; rather than resist, it was wiser to secure a representative now to minimize the losses.

And they had chosen Hades.

However, could it really be that mere satisfactory observation would allow them to willingly hand over a portion of control to him?

There was likely some hidden complexity behind this offer.

This was as much a bargaining chip as it was a leash.

If Hades accepted, he would likely be bound to the Terran faction and gradually embedded within the command structure.

But even without the Terrans’ request, Hades could likely reach this level on his own, thanks to his capabilities and Mortarion’s regard.

More importantly—

Hades himself had no such ambition.

Becoming part of the command structure wasn’t as simple as directing from the battlefield.

It involved communication with superiors, coordination with peers, allocation of internal resources, and managing subordinates’ concerns.

These weren’t idle careerists he’d be overseeing but actual combat soldiers.

If he truly entered management, it would consume vast amounts of time and energy, tying him down as little more than a workhorse.

Until he achieved real accomplishments, these veteran soldiers would likely have choice words for him.

They would grant him appearances and work but withhold actual authority.

It really… wasn’t necessary.

Moreover, during the Great Crusade, internal management authority in the Legion wasn’t all that significant, as most of the command simply executed the orders of the Imperium and the Primarch.

They were the management layer, not the decision-making layer.

The decision-making layer would be the new structure Mortarion himself would establish.

If Hades truly wanted to raise a force of his own, his best option would be to seek Mortarion’s approval to oversee the development and recruitment on Barbarus.

Therefore, there was no need to entangle himself with the veterans.

Toward these veterans, Hades maintained a stance of respect and support, with an approach of collaboration.

He sought the veterans’ support and understanding, guiding them at key points and subtly hinting at how they could adapt.

Out of personal regard for the future and admiration for the veterans, Hades was undoubtedly going to approach Mortarion to persuade him to retain most of the Terrans.

And Hades only needed to be the one observing from the sidelines, monitoring the situation, providing early warnings, and ensuring safety measures were in place.

Contrary to Barasine’s interest-driven strategy, Hades intended to play the “sentiment” card!

Long ago on Barbarus, Hades wielded no direct command, yet people would willingly follow or assist him, even if only catching a distant glimpse of him.

He demonstrated his ability and conviction, and they extended their trust.

Hades had always played the “sentiment” card!

So, a straightforward gain laden with conditions and binding limitations wasn’t something that would sway him.

He looked at Barasine, offering a humble smile.

“Thank you, but I’m not particularly interested in control over the Terran forces.”

“However, out of respect and admiration for the Terran troops, I’m willing to go to Mortarion and attempt to persuade him.”

Sigh…

Barasine couldn’t help but sigh.

This didn’t seem like an act.

If Hades were pretending, he would have deflected or modestly expressed his lack of capability.

If he were truly driven by greed, he would have inquired into the details of the offered management rights.

But Hades did neither, even going out of his way to dispel any doubts they might have.

So it was true, then. They really had discovered a hidden gem.

Clicking his tongue, Barasine thought, ‘Why did Garro notice Hades first?’

Could someone like this truly exist—someone willing to set aside their native star’s mindset to accept a culture that had not been friendly to them?

And considering Garro had initially assigned Hades a rather challenging task, his experience upon joining the Legion hadn’t been exactly ideal.

Surely no one could be this free from grudges.

But… Barasine looked over at Hades.

Indeed, such a person did exist.

What Barasine didn’t know was that, as an outsider, Hades had little attachment to notions rooted in “territory.”

More importantly, Hades already knew the tragic and inspiring tales that lay ahead for these loyalist veterans.

But Barasine knew none of this.

All he could tell was that Hades was playing the “sentiment” card, so he would have to respond in kind.

They would have to return this sentiment.

And to maintain their relationship with Hades, they needed to keep him close.

Barasine’s heavy voice broke the silence.

“I have to admit, your attitude has surpassed our expectations.”

“We also appreciate your willingness to learn and understand our culture.”

“But we can’t let you approach the Primarch on our behalf without showing our sincerity as well.”

Barasine paused, seeming to consider his next words.

“If there’s anything you discover, or something you’d like to do and need assistance with, feel free to reach out to us.”

“As long as it’s within reasonable limits, we’ll be able to support you.”

He glanced around at the captains seated along the table.

“We believe in your desire to help, so if there’s ever anything you feel we should be warned about or advised on, just come to us directly.”

Hades’ heart leaped slightly.

‘So this is what it’s like dealing with perceptive minds’—they had practically guessed what he’d been hoping for.

Their proposals aligned closely with his expectations.

So he didn’t hold back.

“Thank you very much.”

Then, hesitating slightly, Hades continued.

“In that case, for our future actions, may I know what each of you has planned?”

With Hades’ affirmative response, the room’s tension eased.

Barasine seemed to exhale a relieved sigh, his once-tense body relaxing as he folded his arms.

“The moderates and the pragmatists will stay put, while the radicals will be grouped together for the next campaign, led by myself and Tetsus, the captain of the second company.”

Casualties were inevitable.

Hades knew this was bound to happen, yet hearing it spoken so matter-of-factly… it stirred something within him.

Noticing Hades’ surprise, Barasine gave a tired smile. His once solemn and calm face now looked older.

“You’re close to the Primarch. Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.”

“But you’re the leader of the moderates.”

Barasine turned his gaze back to Hades, as if to commend him for noticing the intricacies within the Terran forces.

“I’m only here because I happened to be in this position.”

“Besides…”

A faint light flashed in Barasine’s eyes.

“To personally abandon one’s former comrades… I doubt anyone could do so lightly.”

Silence.

A tremendous silence pressed down once again.

But this time, no one spoke.