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

Barbarus, Northern Mountains, New Forward Base.

Now.

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Thick fog spread slowly over the murky black earth of Barbarus, accompanied by the faint light of dawn. In the distance, the intermittent cries of carrion birds echoed.

The toxic gas outside the small outpost was noticeably denser than inside. Pale yellow fog rolled incessantly, and any movement within it would stir the mist into billowing waves.

Herila stood at the entrance of the outpost, holding a flamethrower in one hand, with another strapped over her shoulder, and a dagger tied to her waist. Her bulging bag was filled with ammunition.

She wore a full-face gas mask, her brown eyes peering through the glass at her two teammates.

Kuzza and Tylar were checking their gear. Like Herila, they wore full-face gas masks and were fully armed, each carrying a scythe with two daggers strapped to their waists.

"We're ready. Let's move out."

Liss, who had come to see them off, nodded. She wore a deep green headband soaked in herbs.

"Listen up, everyone. Your mission is to deliver this map, marked with specific enemy ambush points and supply locations, to the frontline command post in the rear."

"To avoid alerting the enemy, we can't send a large contingent to transport this document. Since our outpost is at the forefront of the human and xenos territories, a large force would be easily detected, increasing the risk of ambush."

"For safety's sake, we will dispatch three teams from different frontline outposts at different times, each following a different route to deliver this document."

"You are the third team."

"But that doesn't mean you can relax. In fact, this time we're facing a Overlord much stronger and craftier than any we've encountered before."

"Make sure you deliver the document! Do you understand?!"

"Understood!"

The three stood at attention, saluting in unison.

Liss took a step back, looking over Herila and her two teammates.

"Good. You're our outpost's finest close-combat warriors and sharpshooters. I trust you can complete this mission."

Saluting the three warriors, she signaled for the heavily secured wooden gate to be slowly opened.

And so, they set off.

The landscape blurred by as they passed. The murky, foul yellow fog rolled endlessly, with no visible landmarks other than the scythe symbols left behind by the Death Guard.

They marched swiftly. Kuzza scouted ahead, Herila walked in the middle, and Tylar watched for any threats from behind.

The intelligence was safely tucked away in Herila's bosom. .

Disaster, however, descended from the sky.

A sharp sound sliced through the air, followed by a roaring blood-red fireball that tore through the yellow mist!

It was an explosive fireball!

"Take cover!!!"

The three of them sprinted, trying to escape the blast radius—

But after the first fireball—

—hundreds more followed, roaring down upon them—

A thunderous explosion erupted, destruction came swiftly, and life was wiped out.

Herila awoke to a ringing in her ears.

She wobbled as she stood, pushing off two charred corpses that had fallen on her.

Yes, when they realized they couldn't avoid the attack, Kuzza and Tylar had thrown themselves on top of Herila.

The reason was simple: Herila was carrying the intelligence.

No matter who carried the intelligence, the end result would be the same.

The other two would sacrifice themselves to protect the one with the document.

The ringing persisted, but there was no time to grieve. Herila was exposed and needed to move immediately.

Her gas mask was shattered, allowing the yellow mist to seep in. She hastily wrapped the mask with bandages, slowing the gas's infiltration.

A sharp pain shot through her left calf. Looking down, she saw her white bone protruding through the skin, piercing her flesh.

Blood was gushing out uncontrollably.

Gritting her teeth, Herila quickly applied a tourniquet, then cut off a piece of the scythe handle with her dagger and grabbed a bandage.

Herila gripped one end of her calf with one hand and the other near her knee with the other.

Crack!

The unnaturally fractured calf was set.

"Ouch—damn it!"

Herila rarely cursed, but this time she did.

She then placed the scythe handle against her calf, tightly binding it with the bandage to stabilize the broken leg.

The ringing in her ears subsided slightly, but Herila's lungs burned with pain, and the agony from her broken leg threatened to send her into unconsciousness.

She couldn't afford to pass out—she had to deliver the intelligence!

One of her flamethrowers was broken. She discarded the damaged one, loaded the other, and without a second thought, began limping onward.

I'm sorry, my comrades. I will deliver this intelligence.

Your sacrifices will not be in vain.

Blood trickled down her leg, leaving a dotted trail behind her.

Herila started to feel dizzy, but to her relief, she was used to dizziness and could manage.

A faint barking sound came from within the mist.

Plague hounds?!

Ahead was a tall, dead tree. Without hesitation, Herila dragged herself up to the top of the tree.

The bark's thorns pierced her injured leg again, but she ignored the pain.

Herila steadied her gun, aiming into the distance.

Based on the barking, she estimated there were six to seven hounds.

Herila slowed her breathing, hoping to let the toxic gas seep into her lungs more slowly—

When the first small black dot appeared in the yellow mist—

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out!

The first bullet pierced the unlucky hound's nose, lodging itself in its brain. The next two shots hit another hound in the right eye and the front leg as it ran.

The charging hound immediately tumbled to the ground, whimpering as it rolled, kicking up dust.

The following plague hounds were startled, with the two leading hounds even stumbling over the fallen one's corpse.

She pulled the trigger again.

Bang! Bang!

Two more plague hounds fell, dealt with.

I miscalculated, Herila thought, licking her cracked lips and brushing back the stray hairs by her ear with a faint smile.

The enemy must have assumed that the survivor of the bombardment was a strong melee fighter, so they sent in these close-combat specialist hounds.

These plague hounds could be extremely troublesome when they outnumbered their target.

A single misstep could be fatal.

But what they didn't expect was that it was me—a seemingly weak sharpshooter who couldn't possibly survive the bombardment—that lived.

This is why humanity will eventually prevail.

You selfish, brain-dead xenos creatures!

You'll never understand the spirit of humanity!!!

Four hounds remained. Realizing the opponent was a sharpshooter, they began zigzagging in a confusing pattern.

With good luck, Herila could shoot them all before they reached her.

With bad luck, at least one or two would attack her.

Bless me, Hades.

I want to live. I want to deliver this intelligence. I want to see you again.

I want to survive until the day peace arrives.

Bless me.

Hades.

Bless me.

People of Barbarus.

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