If You Are a Mob, Don't Jinx Yourself

Chapter 8: If you are a mob, don't jinx yourself.

Barbarus, Morava Mountain, the peak.

It had been seven years since they escaped.

Over the past seven years, Heller Pass, a small village near the lords' territory, had long since been captured, while the resistance led by Mortarion had relocated to a new stronghold on the northern plains.

The resistance, known as the Death Guard, was developing and growing step by step in an orderly fashion. Initially, they merely organized units to resist nighttime raids, but as time passed, more and more villagers joined them by reputation, and they quickly expanded this new stronghold into the largest human territory at present.

In addition to the passive defense organized at night, the resistance fighters also began attempting to actively sally forth during the dim daylight, annihilating beasts and minor lords near the human activity zones.

And now, the Death Guard, possessing a large number of elite warriors, even launched attacks directly against the lords.

Hades stood on a secluded mountain path, grasping his scythe, a heavily armed girl with a firelock standing by his side.

The girl was tightly wrapped from head to toe to isolate her from the poisonous fog on Barbarus, but her curvaceous figure and long black hair falling down made her gender discernible.

A few strands of black hair hung down beside her gas mask, and the girl raised her gun to shoot from time to time. Following the gunfire, the brains of those puppets fleeing downward in the distance of the path splattered everywhere.

Hades remained silent as he stepped forward with his blade tilted. Blade light suddenly surged, and those puppets that had taken a shot yet still staggered as they ran finally fell over.

"The battle above should be ending soon."

Hades shrugged. The puppets running down were getting fewer and fewer, which proved that the battle between the resistance and Lord Lazar was nearing its end.

"Another tyrant is going to answer for his previous atrocities."

Hades looked back. Even wearing a gas mask, he could tell the girl was smiling, smiling for the upcoming, yet another victory.

Hades dazed for a moment.

The black-haired girl was named Herrela, and she was Hades's combat partner.

Long ago, back when they hadn't relocated their stronghold yet, during a village defense battle, Hades had chopped off the head of a Pus Hound that ate her father with a single stroke of his scythe, saving her younger sister.

After that, only she was willing to team up with Hades for combat.

Only her.

Other people were always unwilling to act together with Hades, and some of them even harbored an inexplicable hatred toward him.

Regarding this, Hades had no idea why.

Neither was his combat skill too terrible, dragging others down; his mastery of the scythe was nothing short of miraculous. Aside from not being able to beat Mortarion, Hades had full confidence in calling himself the strongest scythe-wielder.

Except that he had no way to use guns and some other weapons that carried a bit of technology, which perhaps led to his diminished combat effectiveness.

For some reason, these weapons always malfunctioned as soon as they reached Hades's hands.

When Hades broke the seventh good gun Mortarion handed to him, Mortarion gave him a good scythe with a dark face,

"You'd better go for close-quarters combat."

(Machine Spirit displeasure caused by Blanks)

Yet he had no problems with melee combat whatsoever; why was everyone unwilling to team up with him?

Not only that, other people in the stronghold were always reluctant to see Hades, even though they warmly welcomed and adored Mortarion.

Although Typhon was also not very popular because he was the hybrid offspring of an xeno and a human, Hades had it way worse than him!

To avoid this inexplicable lack of welcome, Hades had no choice but to live in the most remote little house in the stronghold. Usually, aside from Mortarion and Herrela, practically no one looked for him.

Even Typhon stopped looking for him! Clearly, the three of them were the ones who led the resistance back then!

"Sorry, Hades, I just... always feel you're an eyesore."

Was it because his tongue was too sharp, offending people? Or was he inherently unlikable?

Hades admitted that he had been slightly troubled by this matter for a tiny moment, but right after that, he instantly came to terms with it.

Although sometimes he would also dream of following Mortarion to fight the rebellion, becoming a high-ranking commander and then leading people, and all that.

To be honest, though, Hades was not the kind of person crazy about secular power and the adoration of the masses.

He was just a shut-in, liking to stay by himself, doing whatever hobbies he liked unfettered.

So this was pretty good too; no one bothered him, and since everyone looked down on him, Mortarion found it inconvenient to assign him any managerial work. He just dabbled in research by himself, such as continuing the development of his gas masks, and sketching mechanical blueprints on paper—though whenever he touched machinery something went wrong, the machinery he designed was indeed very reliable.

During battles, he would just find a secluded spot, take a scythe, and clean up the remnant enemy troops and stragglers with Herrela.

No intense combat, only leisure and slacking off.

When the battle was almost over, he could occasionally chat with the girl and whatnot.

Regarding this, Hades expressed—

So damn good.

With no more monsters running down, Hades walked back to Herrela's side, thrust his scythe into the ground, and leaned against his waist to chatter.

"This match was fought pretty quickly too. I originally thought Lazar would be quite tough to fight."

"Apparently that guy was quite proficient in witchcraft based on intelligence reports beforehand."

Those proficient in witchcraft were hard to deal with. They didn't have anyone proficient in witchcraft on their side, and Typhon hadn't made his Psykers identity public, so the resistance fighters could only stubbornly stack physical true damage.

However, they possessed existences like Mortarion whose single scythe strike dealing true damage could blow your health bar off the charts, making combat much simpler.

One had to admit that without Mortarion, ordinary humans would find it hard to rival these psychic lords.

Until now, their fighting pattern was still Mortarion fighting the enemy elite monsters while mortal resistance fighters fought the grunts, assisting Mortarion along the way by sniping and providing fire support.

Mortarion could be said to have changed the battlefield situation all by himself.

He truly was a primarch.

"Victory belongs to humanity after all. We can win."

Seeing Hades relax, Herrela also lowered the gun she had been holding all along, smiling as she looked at Hades,

"My sister went to help out the last time supplies were collected, and we were allocated a bit more cheese. I baked some cheese flatbreads. Do you want to come to my place later and I'll share some with you?"

To be honest, Herrela's culinary skills were truly mediocre. The things she made could only barely be classified under the "non-toxic" tier.

You might as well give the cheese to me and I'll cook for you; stop ruining the ingredients.

Hades wanted to cry without tears, but he didn't dare say it out loud. Herrela was currently one of his few good friends, and he didn't want to ruin the relationship.

Thus, every time he would swallow massive amounts of "non-toxic" food with tears in his eyes.

Feeling the scorching gaze from the opposite side, Hades silently swallowed back his mental complaints.

"Okay, I like everything you make. That mushroom soup last time was pretty good too."

Good my ass?! Was there not a layer of purple unknown liquid floating on top of that thing?!

"Okay, my sister has plenty of cheese flatbreads left, I'll pack them all up for you by then."

"You always eat so happily, and I'm happy to make them for you."

Herrela lowered her head a bit shyly, gently drawing circles on the gun stock with her finger,

"When Lord Mortarion overthrows the rule of all tyrants, and when supplies are no longer allocated according to need, I'm going to open a diner."

"I'll be the chef, Hades. Do you want to come help me prep?"

At this moment, Hades did not catch the subtext; his power of complaint was burning fiercely.

Big sis, with your cooking skills, shouldn't I be the one wielding the ladle as head chef?

Besides, don't jinx yourself with flags that look like you might bite the dust the very next second?!

As if in response to Herrela's flag, the temperature around them plummeted abruptly. Puddles on the muddy ground began to freeze, and a layer of frost rapidly crawled all over the ground.

Not far up the path above them, space began to warp, and a claw stained with blood and bone fragments reached out from within.

In an instant, a battered monster, approximately the size of a small car, appeared before them. Its basketball-sized eyes were locked firmly onto Hades and Herrela, and a stench exhaled from its blood-fed maw.

Damn it, it's psychic teleportation!

Hades could feel Herrela's body beside him stiffening instantly.

"Herrela."

Hades said in a low voice.

"I'll hold it off in a moment. You run upward quickly and go report to Mortarion that Lazar escaped to this path."

Hades assumed the starting stance with his scythe.

"Don't worry about me, I'll stall for a while, and I'll run later too."

"Hurry and report, otherwise everyone's going to die."

Below were the rest of the resistance members. Hades was certain that if he let Lazar run down, it would be a one-sided massacre against the resistance.

He intended to stall for a bit. If he was lucky, he would stall until Mortarion arrived for backup.

—If he wasn't lucky, he would drag out the time as much as possible, and then fake his death or jump off a cliff to escape or something.

However, this would likely cause his already poor interpersonal relationships to deteriorate further.

Mortarion, you better step up and get here fast; don't make me fake my death to escape, that's too humiliating.

The cornered monster let out a roar and lunged toward Hades. Its thickly distorted claws viciously slashed toward Hades's head!!

Hades let out a shout, blocking the incoming dual claws with his scythe. The force impacted him so hard his arms went numb, and the scythe shaft, specially reinforced with fine steel, actually sparked from the collision and friction!!!

"Run! Herrela!"

"Run!!!"

(Placing a Barbarus sister here)