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

Aboard the Imperator Somnium

three months before the modification surgery.

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In what was once a luxurious and fragrant sanatorium, the room was now filled with the unique toxic gas of Barbarus.

These gases had been specifically collected by servitors sent to Barbarus, compressed, and then mixed with the air of the Imperator Somnium in a calculated proportion before being released into this large, spacious sanatorium.

The room's occupant, Mortarion, sat beside the bed, quietly flipping through a thick book.

He wasn't wearing a gas mask; compared to Barbarus, the concentration of these gases is barely noticeable, it's more like a pleasant breeze.

Mortarion was dressed in simple white casual clothing, the loose and comfortable fabric draped over him, revealing bandages and medical gel underneath.

The entire room contained only a bed, a workbench, and a massive bookshelf filled with books. Nothing else.

Mortarion had demanded that all the ostentatious items be removed; he simply couldn't appreciate the intricately carved, gold-flashing decorations or the carpet sewn from thousands of silk threads that praised the warriors' achievements.

Waste, complete waste, and a self-satisfied display of one's taste.

Mortarion couldn't understand the Empire's behavior, but he accepted the mission given to him by the Emperor.

After he had decapitated Necare and then passed out, it was the Emperor, supposedly his biological father, who saved him and Hades.

When Mortarion awoke, that golden figure slowly approached him.

He showed Mortarion the scale of the Empire, how many human worlds were struggling under the rule of xenos.

He invited Mortarion to liberate those humans suffering in the depths of despair.

He promised Mortarion a vast and powerful space army, and the opportunity to transform the people of Barbarus.

"Mortarion, my child, join us."

Without a doubt, Mortarion agreed to the Emperor's offer.

The terms were too tempting, the display of power too overwhelming, leaving Mortarion with no other choice.

In front of the Emperor, submission was the only option.

No one had a choice.

Maybe this person called the Emperor was a good man?

Such naive and absurd thoughts filled Mortarion's mind.

For these few months, Mortarion had been peacefully recuperating in the sanatorium.

The massive star rings under construction rotated above Barbarus.

His Death Guard had been taken to these rings, where they would undergo Imperial modifications to become Space Marines, Mortarion's true blades.

Mortarion had seen those Imperial units called Space Marines; they were simply unbelievable.

Their robust bodies were unattainable by ordinary mortals, their reflexes beyond human limits, their memory exceptional, with battle experiences passed down through generations, and they were equipped with power armor designed specifically for war.

If Mortarion had been given seven such warriors on Barbarus, he could have pacified all the xenos on the planet within a month.

Just thinking about leading such an army in the future made Mortarion somewhat excited.

He would lead these powerful warriors to rescue humanity from the hands of the xenos...

Ding

The soft sound of the sanatorium door interrupted Mortarion's thoughts.

Someone was here.

Perhaps it was another scientist coming to check on his injuries, Mortarion thought impatiently. 

He had long since recovered, and these injuries weren't worth such a lengthy recovery process. 

He didn't want to spend any more time recuperating; he wanted to see his army.

But as the door slowly slid open, and a faint golden light shone from the other side—

The person entering wore simple clothing: a plain brown linen top and loose pants that highlighted long, slender legs. 

Fine gold threads were embroidered along the edges of the clothing, and a golden olive wreath rested quietly on black hair. Every movement exuded elegance and nobility.

—It was the Emperor.

Mortarion didn't move, stubbornly pretending that the person who entered was just a medical staff member, continuing to feign reading.

He didn't want to salute.

The Emperor walked in and frowned slightly, displeased. 

The once luxuriously decorated sanatorium was now stripped to the bare essentials, with the elegant and ornate golden sculptures removed, the carpets that praised the warriors' deeds taken away, and the various furniture that ordinary people loved for relaxation gone.

The room was even filled with toxic gas!

The Emperor couldn't help but frown again, clearly displeased with Mortarion's arrangement.

But he quickly regained his calm, even showing a hint of benevolence in his expression. 

He walked over calmly, ignoring Mortarion's little defiance, and sat directly beside him on the bed.

Only then did Mortarion reluctantly lift his head.

"Good afternoon, Father."

"Good afternoon, Mortarion." The Emperor then looked around the room.

"Is this air your... personal preference?"

"Yes, Father, I don't quite like the air here."

Mortarion said calmly, with a justified tone.

The Emperor nodded slightly, continuing in a calm manner, "Child, I hope you pay attention to your public image."

During his first walk outside the sanatorium, Mortarion had ignored all the Custodes saluting him.

Mortarion did not respond.

"As a future leader of a legion, you must set a good example for the Imperial forces."

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind, Father."

The Emperor seemed to have lost the patience to continue the conversation. 

He gestured, and a Custodes carrying a tray walked in.

The Emperor took a specially designed syringe from the tray.

His golden eyes looked at Mortarion, "Your friend, Hades, was severely injured and is still undergoing treatment."

"And for his modification surgery, we need some of your blood."

Hades, his close friend, his right-hand man—Mortarion was deeply concerned for him. 

In his last memory, Hades was on the brink of death, unlikely to survive.

Without hesitation, Mortarion extended his right arm and rolled up his sleeve.

The Emperor maintained his perfect expression, calm yet divine and benevolent, as he precisely inserted the needle into the Primarch's firm skin. 

Blood slowly began to flow.

As Mortarion watched his blood being drawn, he asked, "Is this to specifically cultivate a set of modification organs?"

Mortarion had learned from his extensive reading of Imperial texts that the Space Marines' modification surgeries involved the implantation of organs containing Primarch genes.

"Yes, you're very perceptive, my child."

The Emperor's cold voice echoed as he looked down, silently observing the needle.

The blood had been drawn.

Mortarion eagerly retracted his arm, and the puncture wound quickly healed thanks to his Primarch-level regenerative abilities.

"Will he be alright?"

Mortarion still remembered the power Hades had displayed before his near-death; without Hades, he wouldn't have succeeded.

But that power—what was it exactly? 

It didn't quite match the characteristics of an untouchable that Mortarion had read about.

The Emperor looked up, his golden eyes devoid of emotion as they locked onto Mortarion's amber ones—

Mortarion's expression suddenly turned blank.

In just a moment, the Emperor looked away, and Mortarion felt as though nothing had happened.

Mortarion silently watched the Emperor leave before lowering his head to resume reading.

Ding

The door closed.

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No worries, Mortarion didn't lose his memory.

In fact, the Emperor does have a soft spot for Mortarion. I think it's because Mortarion's stance aligns particularly well with the Emperor's tastes.

Mortarion: Extreme human supremacist + extreme xenos hater + materialistic war god.

Speaking of a materialistic war god, after Mortarion ascended to demonhood, he even tried to explain science to a Great Unclean One of Nurgle, leaving it utterly speechless.

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