My Life as A Death Guard

— Barbarus + Southern Swamp —

Hades was lying near a field with his scythe, sleeping in a strange position.

The small, makeshift campfire he had set up had just gone out, with a wisp of smoke still rising.

It was daytime on Barbarus, and nearby farmers were out with their tools, working the fields.

They were chatting and laughing, but all kept a cautious distance from Hades.

He was the strange wanderer who had come south almost simultaneously with the Death Guard.

Initially, the villagers were wary of this mysterious man who occasionally roamed near the village.

He appeared extremely sinister, repulsive even from a distance.

But when the villagers asked the local Death Guard to expel this mysterious man, they were met with silence.

“That man is not a bad person. His name is Hades.”

Even so, the villagers remained cautious, avoiding him whenever possible.

Soon, they understood the silent truth behind the Death Guard’s words.

When the screams of the night faded away, villagers hitching their carts for the morning’s work were greeted with an unbelievable sight—

Scattered limbs, blood splattered everywhere like rivers, crops trampled into chaos.

The terrified expressions frozen on the shattered heads of a group of Xenos.

A strong stench of blood wafted from the field.

And next to this hellish scene, a man was lying with his scythe, half-propping his head, snoring loudly.

Silver blades still smeared with thick blood, the hooded man seemed drenched in blood, soaked in the thick crimson fluid. His limbs bore visible cuts.

He was Death!

The villagers, shaking with fear, stared in shock, while the man seemed disturbed by the noise—he woke up, slightly surprised.

“Ah, sorry for ruining your fields, haha, uh… really sorry. I was trying to lure them out, but it didn’t work.”

The man laughed awkwardly, seemingly trying to ease the tension.

Clearly, his attempt failed.

“I’ll help you replant! Really! I’m very sorry!”

The world must be a lie, thought the villager with the cart, fainting as he watched Death apologize.

After that, the villagers, with a mix of respect and fear, began referring to the mysterious man as “The Revenant.”

Of course, they didn’t dare accept Hades’ apology or compensation.

In fact, they even regularly brought extra grain to the strange Revenant.

Whenever he was away, they would leave a bag of grain tied to a dead tree near the little camp he had set up.

The Revenant spent most of his days sleeping to conserve energy for the night’s battles. Occasionally, he would sit with his huge scythe, quietly watching the villagers work.

Curious children would sometimes stand at a distance, observing the strange man.

If their parents were busy with farm work and didn’t notice their kids, the braver ones would try to approach him.

The Revenant seemed pleased to have the children around. He would pull out a handful of roasted wheat, wave them over, and invite them to join him.

But no child ever made it to his side.

Without exception, those brave children would feel dizzy and breathless as they neared the Revenant. Crying, they would run back, leaving the Revenant sitting alone.

The man awkwardly scratched his head, silently put away his roasted wheat, and continued sitting by the field, watching the children cry as they ran away.

Their parents, meanwhile, watched the Revenant from a distance, filled with fear.

Whenever the crying children returned, their anxious and scared parents would give them a quick smack before holding them tightly, soothing them with repeated back pats.

In the distance was the silent Revenant; nearby was the bustling human world.

It was always like this.

==================

Initially, the Death Guard who arrived in the south had considerable complaints about Hades.

Why should their hard work building defensive villages be overshadowed by a man who roamed alone at night, killing enemies?