My Life as A Death Guard

Hailer Pass, Hades’ Home.

The second night after escaping.

Hades sat speechlessly on the ground, carefully wrapping his left arm in bandages. He held a small stick and stared blankly at the roasting horse meat over the fire in the center of the room.

Don’t ask why there’s a fire in the middle of the house—just look at the mud house with half of its entrance wall collapsed, transforming it into a semi-open-air luxury abode! After Hades escaped the pursuit of the Pale Laugher, those eerie creatures, enraged, had demolished half of his house’s wall.

The good news was that the roof over the kang (a traditional heated bed) hadn’t fallen, so it was still livable.

At this moment, Calas Typhon sat on the other side of the fire, his eyes gleaming as he stared at the roasting horse meat.

Mortarion stood at the doorway, gripping a machete like a sentinel.

Mortarion believed his foster father would come to kill them all, so since their return, he had been standing guard at the door.

Hades had tried to persuade him, but it was useless—Mortarion was stubborn from a young age.

The villagers, who had just experienced an attack by the Pale Laugher, were even more terrified when they saw Mortarion standing guard.

Although his concern was valid. If Hades hadn’t read the script, he would be just as vigilant as Mortarion.

Hades glanced speechlessly at the guard at the door and then continued staring blankly.

Calas Typhon, being a hybrid of xenos and human, was usually not welcomed by the villagers. He often wandered near various villages just to find a bite to eat.

Mortarion, on the other hand, was a naive young man who had just been abducted. In short, these two had nowhere to go for now.

Out of personal interest, Hades had brought them to his home.

He poked the roasting meat with a stick, checking if it was done, and then flipped it over to continue roasting.

When they had been speeding away in the truck and approaching the valley, Hades managed to crash it, causing the truck to skid violently.

If not for Mortarion holding him, Typhon would have been thrown out of the truck bed.

“Damn! Were you trying to kill me?” Typhon cursed, trembling with fear, as he climbed out of the stopped truck.

Much later, Hades would realize this was due to Typhon’s untouchable physique.

Afterward, they walked back to the village, encountering some low-level monsters along the way. They rose, only to be swiftly cut down by Mortarion.

How satisfying.

Hades thought silently.

Upon returning to the village, the villagers’ cries deeply affected the trio. After the Pale Laugher’s attack, slavers had come to scavenge—though they didn’t capture many people.

Villagers cried as they bid farewell to the dead and those who successfully escaped cried as they reunited with loved ones.

Originally, Mortarion and his companions, as the key figures in their escape, should have been welcomed and adored by the villagers.

But all they received was fear and rejection.

The villagers whispered among themselves, fearing the high lord’s revenge. Some even suggested killing Mortarion and Typhon and sending their bodies back to the high lord.

Hades silently rolled his eyes. Although the villagers’ mindset wasn’t entirely wrong, their double standards were ridiculous. They only suggested killing Mortarion and Typhon, not considering sending back their own recently returned relatives.

After all, they had all escaped, so why only send back the ones they didn’t know well? Moreover, Mortarion, you’re a Primarch! People should fear you—otherwise, it makes you look weak…

Hades thought again and decided to attribute this to the world’s obsession with appearances.

Logically, there were no unattractive Primarchs, but in reality, each of the twenty-one Primarchs had a different level of approachability. Some, like Sanguinius and Fulgrim, had maxed out charisma, capable of making strangers take them in and raise them just with a smile.

But Mortarion… his charisma was negative. While he might have the chiseled features of a marble statue, his overall aura was terrifying. Tall and thin like a reed, with a pale complexion, sunken eyes, and a hoarse voice—he looked like the Grim Reaper.

People’s first reaction upon seeing Mortarion was to hide, not to swoon like they would for Sanguinius or Fulgrim.

So, the villagers unanimously agreed to kick out the scary, grim reaper-looking Mortarion.

Even though he was an unrivaled hunter, not a werewolf.

Ah, this appearance-driven world.

Still, there were some grateful villagers. The families of those who escaped brought some straw and food as thanks. On their first night back in the village, Hades had used the straw to make a simple bed and cooked some porridge with the food they were given.