My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 489: Here We Go
Inside the crowded hall, a soaring symphony rang out. Violin strings trembled, pouring forth a magnificent melody.
"Oh!"
A noblewoman dressed in heavy, elaborate finery let out a startled cry. It was as if someone had suddenly bumped into her. The ornaments hanging from her hair swayed along with her stumble, glittering like scattered stars.
The gentleman beside her immediately stepped forward to comfort the frightened lady. Smiling sweetly, she raised her glass and responded to the men's flattery in an affected tone.
"Shh."
Beside a grotesque, frozen grin, a finger rose to silent lips.
A tall alien with a hideous smile slipped past the chatting men and women sideways. The hem of the alien's long gown lightly brushed against the woman's cumbersome skirts.
Yet none of them seemed to notice the xenos at all. Like performers in a clown's dance, the alien drifted past unnoticed.
Beneath the dazzling crystal chandeliers, amid the flow of the crowd, the Harlequins' garish and discordant costumes moved like fish swimming through rapids—silent, unnoticed, ignored.
Those who had come to attend the Primarch's coronation banquet raised their cups in celebration. Between clinking glasses, the nobles' foolish power games continued as always. Even if the galaxy collapsed, they could still cower upon their own worlds, trading obedience to the Legions for their decadent lifestyles.
Who ruled, who held power—such matters were never concerns for these local tyrants.
It was no different from their former lives of indulgence and excess. So it had been in the past, so it was now, and so it would remain in the future—for their descendants as well…
Sweet lies and honeyed words dissolved into indistinct moans. As the dancers moved, flowing skirts became finely tanned leather. Flesh pressed against flesh. Beneath ragged hair, pitch-black eyes like those of spiders darted about in delirium.
The leading Harlequin suddenly halted.
Beyond the archway separating the ballroom from the corridor, pink armor crossed back and forth, blocking their advance.
The Aeldari turned back. The lead Harlequin wore garments utterly unlike those of his kin: black cloth streaked chaotically with silver-white and emerald lightning patterns.
He raised a hand and casually made several gestures.
At his signal, slaughter blossomed.
Countless Aeldari hidden within the tide of daemons suddenly erupted into motion. They leapt through the crowded ballroom in broad, theatrical dance steps, thin arms raised high. Monofilament wires spread throughout the hall suddenly tightened.
In an instant, a cold flash swept through the air!
The blood-stained strands recoiled back into the Harlequins' Kisses.
The battle was already over.
Without the slightest hesitation, the Harlequins immediately abandoned the ballroom and charged into the corridors, moving at top speed to eliminate the Emperor's Children guards. Those fools, still unaware of what had happened, were left behind entirely by the Aeldari.
Throughout the hall, the people—or perhaps daemons—stood trembling faintly in place, as though they still did not understand what had occurred.
"My dear?" The woman's voice quivered at the end as she looked toward the nobleman opposite her. His smile seemed slightly misaligned.
Then suddenly, her eyes bulged outward.
Liquefied flesh burst from her body. Agonizing pain exploded from deep within her bones. Before ecstasy could overtake her, the exquisitely dressed mass of meat burst apart into chunks of varying sizes, collapsing to the floor amid screams.
The scattered gunfire of bolters echoed faintly from somewhere farther away. But within the deathly silent ballroom, only liquefied organs and bones remained, while thick, foul-smelling blood spread slowly across the floor.
Dim violet light spilled down from chandeliers draped in human skin.
The blood began to flow in deliberate patterns.
A foot stepped into the blood.
One minute and thirty-five seconds after the advance team departed, the Harlequin escort guiding the decoys—including the Primarch—arrived at the scene. The human decoys stared at the carnage before them in terror, their muscles and stomachs convulsing uncontrollably.
If they looked carefully enough, they might find among the lake of gore the remains of their relatives, lovers, or children.
The people forced themselves onward across the liquefied remains, nerves stretched taut. Intense fear and tension drove them to pray with even greater fervor—for the descent of their god.
"Praise be to Hades."
"I give everything to you—please grant me peace."
"O Hades, extinguish all of this."
"O Hades! Save little Liya's soul—she never meant to come here."
Corax listened silently to the people's cries. Beyond desperate pleas for salvation, their prayers carried heart-wrenching sorrow.
The Primarch turned his head and saw an elderly man with snow-white hair praying to the Lord of the Underworld, begging Him to grant peaceful rest to his fallen family.
Tears shimmered in the old mortal's eyes. He seemed ready to throw himself onto the floor to gather the scattered chunks of flesh, but the Aeldari guarding him shoved him back with a rifle, forcing him onward with the crowd.
Would those utterly corrupted souls ever have a chance to receive true rest?
Corax could not bear to look any longer. His gaze shifted toward the masses of flesh that had still been writhing moments ago. As a faint layer of darkness descended upon them, the disturbing presence within them vanished, and the entire hall was swiftly shrouded in a dim gray haze.
That only made Corax feel even more uneasy.
Even now, the Primarch still deliberately avoided using that title. Deep within his heart, a warning persisted: the "Fool" was by no means a minor threat to a Primarch.
Like a storm drawing near, the Primarch felt that restless pressure closing in. Around Corax, the tearful prayers rose and fell in uneven waves, blurring into a buzzing hum. The hazy seductive violet rapidly faded away, replaced by an emotionless, cold, numbing gray-white.
This was the omen before the storm's arrival.
This was but a single glance cast by Him.
Corax glanced toward the Aeldari urging the decoys onward. Without the slightest hesitation, the Primarch's form vanished instantly—like a shifting shadow beside a flickering candle, disappearing without a trace.
A Harlequin who had caught hold of the Primarch's presence turned his head. He glimpsed a fragment of Corax's shadow, but it quickly fled.
The Harlequin said nothing. Instead, he contacted Unicorn—the one playing the role of the Lord of the Underworld.
"He ran. Location: the hall on the first deck of the lower levels."
"Leave him."
At the other end, Unicorn calmly replied while lowering the scythe that had just severed an Emperor's Children warrior's head.
They had no spare forces left to restrain a Primarch. And expecting a Primarch himself to conduct Warp prayers was absurd. The Harlequins only needed to lure Corax aboard the Pride of the Emperor. After that, everything would be left to the irresistible lure of the Primarch's soul itself.
Unicorn lowered his scythe.
Hades… Hades… O Hades…
Deep within his heart, he called upon that sacred name.
Warm blood-tears streamed down the narrow, crowded corridor. Countless mutilated remains of the Emperor's Children were piled into the corners. Together with the bleeding walls, they released cries that sounded half like weeping, half like laughter.
Yet with another flicker of sight, those corpses with sprouting tentacles and crablike claws merely lay motionless, while the flowing blood emitted a decadent fragrance.
This place had been far too deeply corrupted by the Warp.
Unicorn realized that if the Primarch's ascension ceremony truly succeeded, then part of the Pride of the Emperor would literally sink into Slaanesh's palace.
The thought did not discourage Unicorn.
On the contrary, fanatical joy pounded together with the borrowed heart beating violently within his chest.
This place's connection to the Youngest Queen was so intimate. Schemes, power, all of it faded into insignificance before the Lord of the Underworld. His strength was so brutally direct, yet so overwhelmingly generous…
The Dark Prince could no longer escape.
Unicorn wanted to release a piercing shriek of laughter, but the role he played would not permit such abandon.
The Aeldari stood there steadily, staring at the tightly sealed doors before him. Beyond them rang the grandiose praises of an Emperor's Children announcer.
Unicorn knew what likely awaited on the other side of those doors—perhaps a perfect imitation of Slaanesh's Six Circles. Perhaps part of it had already sunk into the abyss of desire itself…
Flesh. Human skin. Mind-clouding narcotics. Layer upon layer of intertwined bodies.
He could imagine it. Of course he could.
Yet Unicorn felt no surprise. It was merely the lingering shadow of the ancient Aeldari empire once more.
Amid the rotting corpses, Unicorn adjusted his garments. His heart pounded, reminding him how the true god would act.
With solemnity, he stepped forward.
His companions followed behind him.
And behind them all, the starving god that would never know satisfaction was approaching.
They had already won.
The Lord of the Underworld had already taken notice of Slaanesh, Unicorn thought. To the Lord of the Underworld, this unfamiliar psychic presence must shine like a radiant jewel glittering within the black galaxy itself.
And for such a hungry being, He would surely come to pursue this beautiful illusion.
As for himself—
Smiling, Unicorn pushed open the doors. Before him surged a power that made his soul scream. Behind him lingered a gaze that froze his spirit to the core.
As for the rest, he only needed to laugh at Slaanesh with all his strength before his sacrifice.
Praise Cegorach!
Praise Hades!
Unicorn pushed open the doors. For an instant, the words leaving his mouth seemed to overlap with the god he had devoted himself to imitating.
"Traitor!" He shouted the word loudly.
But in the next moment, the magnificent music and brilliant light beyond the doors dazed him briefly.
He saw Fulgrim standing atop the grand platform, accepting the crowd's adoration, casually casting a glance toward him.
"Long time no see… brother."
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Tn: I updated the story once every 2 days, but if you want to see more chapter of this story ahead of time, please go to my Patreon.
Latest Chapter: Chapter 525: The Erasure[1]
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[1] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl/posts/my-life-as-death-164167815
[2] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl/posts/my-life-as-death-164167815