Barbarus, Southern Swamps.
Hades was hugging his scythe, sleeping in a strange position near the farmland. In the crude little camp he had just set up, the fire had only just gone out, trailing wisps of smoke.
It was daytime on Barbarus. Nearby farmers had come out with their tools to work the fields. They chatted and laughed, yet with unspoken agreement, all kept well away from Hades.
He was the strange wanderer who had headed south almost alongside the Death Guard.
At first, the villagers had been quite hostile toward the mysterious man who wandered around the village from time to time. He looked utterly ill-intentioned; merely seeing him from afar was enough to inspire disgust.
But when the villagers asked the Death Guard stationed there to drive the mysterious man away, they received only unanimous silence.
"That man isn't a bad person. His name is Hades."
Even so, the villagers still cautiously avoided him.
But later, they came to understand the truth behind the Death Guard's silence.
As the screams of the night gradually faded, the villagers driving their carts out to farm the next morning saw an unbelievable sight—
Severed limbs and scraps were scattered carelessly across the ground. Blood had been splashed everywhere, flowing in streams. The wheat shoots had been trampled into a mess, while expressions of disbelief remained frozen upon the shattered heads of aliens.
A choking, fishy stench drifted from the wheat fields.
And beside this wheat field that looked like a painting of hell, a man hugged his scythe, propping up his cheek as snores rose around him.
Sticky crimson blood still dotted the silver-white blade. The hooded man seemed to have been soaked in blood himself, drenched in thick gore, while several clear scratches marked his limbs.
He was Death!
The villagers, so terrified that they were trembling violently, stared in shock at everything before them. The man seemed to have been disturbed by the noise—he woke from his sleep with a somewhat surprised look.
"Ah, um, sorry for ruining your wheat field. Haha... uh. I'm really sorry. I was trying to lure them out, but it didn't work."
The man gave an awkward laugh, as though trying to ease the atmosphere.
Clearly, he failed.
"I'll help you plant it again to make up for it! Really! I'm very sorry!"
This world must be fake. He actually saw Death apologizing. Before he passed out, the villager driving the cart thought exactly that.
After that, the villagers began calling the mysterious man "the Lost Soul" with equal parts respect and fear.
Naturally, they did not dare accept Hades's compensatory apology.
Not only that, they regularly brought this strange Lost Soul surplus grain and food. Whenever the Lost Soul went out, the villagers would plant a dead branch beside the little triangular shelter he had built the day before, then tie a bag of food to it.
The Lost Soul spent most of his daylight hours sleeping, conserving his strength for the battles of the night. But sometimes, he would hold that enormous scythe and sit silently on the ridge between fields, watching the villagers farm.
Some children would curiously watch the strange man from afar. If their parents were busy farming and failed to notice their children, the bolder ones would sneak closer.
The Lost Soul seemed quite happy to have children come play with him. He would take out a handful of roasted wheat, sit where he was, and wave them over.
—but not a single child had ever successfully reached his side.
Without exception, whenever those bold children approached the Lost Soul, they would grow dizzy and unable to breathe. They would run away crying, leaving the Lost Soul sitting there alone.
The man awkwardly scratched his head, silently put away his roasted wheat, and continued sitting at the edge of the field, watching the crying children run away while their parents watched the Lost Soul fearfully from afar.
Whenever a crying child ran back, their anxious and frightened parents would inevitably give them a quick smack, then pull them close and stroke their backs over and over to comfort them.
In the distance sat the silent Lost Soul; here was the warmth of ordinary human life.
It was always like this.
The Death Guard who had first arrived in the south had no small number of complaints about Hades.
Why should they work so hard building defensive villages, only for that man who wandered alone at night killing enemies to steal all the glory?
At most, he could reap three groups of wandering monsters in one night and protect three nearby small villages, while the Death Guard had fortified all the nearby medium and large human settlements.
Some troublemakers suggested that the Death Guard should also take the initiative to attack at night. After all, this was not the north; the monsters in the south were weaker.
A strange gleam flashed in Calas Typhon's eyes as he approved the proposal of a group of skilled, eager fighters.
However, this five-man squad was attacked on their very first night. Though they successfully repelled the slave-catching party drawn in by the scent, three of them were seriously wounded.
At the summary meeting afterward, Calas Typhon slowly paced around the sand table.
"As you have all seen, Hades truly possesses the ability to survive in the wilderness on his own."
"Although I know everyone present dislikes him, we are all members of the Death Guard. Our goal is to defeat those Alien Lords who enslave the people."
"The Death Guard has never sought empty fame. The meaning of our existence is to liberate humanity."
"And Hades—"
Calas Typhon stopped walking. After a pause, he looked at the Death Guard captains seated in a circle around the room, silently listening.
"He can ease the pressure the lords place on us. After all, another purpose of our journey south is to unite the other human villages, so that we can devote more time and energy—"
"—to talking with those village chiefs unwilling to cooperate with us."
Typhon calculated in his mind. Some southern villages, after submitting to the aliens, would be granted certain technologies as rewards, including poison-resistant techniques and weapon technologies.
Yet as time passed, those Death Guard who had once harbored complaints also fell silent.
Hades took the initiative to approach Typhon, the Death Guard leader, for a talk. He intended to go to a nearby mountain and kill a lord.
"Have you gone mad?! Do you really think you can kill a lord alone? Do you really think that lucky break was your own strength? You're not Mortarion, Hades! Don't be stupid!!!"
Typhon shouted incredulously at Hades across the room. For some reason, Hades insisted that they remain beyond a certain distance from one another.
"I haven't gone mad. I'm certain I can do it. I've already assessed it thoroughly."
Hades's black eyes beneath his hood stared brightly at Typhon.
Typhon's heart trembled. He took a deep breath and continued.
"Hades... Hades, Hades, I... I know I've always disliked you before. Yes, I disliked you. But back then, the three of us escaped together."
"We are the Death Guard, comrades-in-arms. Though there have been frictions between us... we are still friends, aren't we?"
Typhon looked back at Hades.
Hades said nothing. He merely nodded faintly, and the hood once more shadowed his eyes.
"So listen to me. Don't go, all right? Don't go."
"You're not Mortarion. On Barbarus, no one besides him can do this."
Hades stood. The things on his body clinked with his movements. He gave Typhon a slight bow.
"Thank you for your concern, Typhon. I'm also glad that we are still friends."
"But I have made up my mind."
After that, Typhon saw countless severed alien heads.
Damn, that monster.
Holy shit! I got signed! I'm a newcomer! I'm a total newbie! Holy shit! I got signed!!!
Holy shit!!! Brothers and sisters, please, please, please bookmark it and keep reading! It's my first time writing!!! I'll work hard!!!
If there's anything bad about it, please point it out!!! I'll do my best to fix it!!!
By the way, the cover I uploaded got screwed, sh*t
Before you continue