My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 463: Interlude — The Card Room
+This is just a game, but I think you'll like it.+
Inside the cramped little bar, a sharp-faced man spoke. He sat across from his opponent at a greasy table. He wore a leather cap adorned with a long blue feather.
The man spoke slowly, his voice slick and suggestive, smiling as he stared at the person opposite him. Across the table, a long-haired man in a linen shirt kept his lips tightly pressed together, saying nothing.
Upon his head, a golden laurel crown gleamed.
The bright light shone only on the small table; everything else was swallowed by darkness. From within that darkness came ominous barking sounds.
+My dear,+
The man with the blue-feathered hat burst into laughter. Spreading his arms, he looked cheerfully at Neoth.
+How are you feeling now?!+
He suddenly leaned forward, pressing himself onto the table, covering his chips with his hand. The blue-and-white chips clattered loudly in their stacked piles.
+Once you sit at the table, you need to be prepared.+ The man said ingratiatingly. He tentatively reached toward the chips on the opposite side, but Neoth remained completely still. The man abruptly pulled his hand back, the golden flames on it fading away.
Neoth finally shifted his gaze away from the largest card he had been staring at.
At the center of the table, a card had already changed.
The originally pitch-black, square card, once inlaid with orderly silver threads and golden lines, had completely cracked apart. Fractures spread across it as blackness churned within, extending probing, unconscious tendrils outward.
This card was no longer the "Lord of the Underworld" / "Head of the Silent Sisterhood" from the Emperor's hand.
The text upon it twisted as if alive, recombining into new characters—
"Oblivion — The Fool."
The man let out a shrill burst of laughter. With his laughter, the surrounding darkness began to tremble.
Neoth cast a subtle glance toward the darkness. Now, only the two of them remained at the table—they had given it a chance.
Fixing his gaze on his opponent, Neoth spoke softly:
"You want mutual destruction?"
Of course, when humanity had no hope left, he could pour all faith into H black domain, allowing it to complete its final ascension into the underworld.
If Tzeentch truly dared to let the black domain devour all of humanity's hope, Neoth would not hesitate for even a millisecond to flip the table and use H to erase the Warp.
At that point, the only victor in this world would be the Necrons.
+No—no, no, no, my friend!+
The man wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.
+That would be no fun at all! You see—I'm not like those others. I never play a game whose ending is already decided!+
+I know—+
He said ambiguously, looking at Neoth as though he were his greatest source of amusement.
+I know you're a gambler, a madman. As long as there's even the slightest chance of winning, you'll keep playing, won't you?+
+We've been too indulgent with you before, Neoth,+ The man said as he leaned back, his hand reaching into the darkness. A threatening growl came from within, and something darker than the darkness itself was being drawn closer.
+Of course, you must bear the risks. From the moment you chose to use it, you needed to be prepared for it to bite back.+
Neoth remained outwardly calm, but something in the darkness was watching him. It felt completely different from the usual casual, lighthearted gaze—this time it made him slightly uneasy.
+Just look at you—and us. Haven't we raised it well?+
Neoth stayed silent. He remained silent for a long time. Now, the "Astronomican," representing "Terra," had already gone out. A fog shrouded Terra, and his power ensured that the Four Gods would not quickly discover it.
Neoth had not accounted for Fenris.
Or perhaps, he trusted the Wolf King—trusted Magnus, who was being kept in check by him.
In the fate Neoth had foreseen—as a powerful psyker, the Crimson Sinner's destiny was bound to Cadia. He carried the key to reversing the odds, even if… even if within his uncertain future there was a risk of being tainted by Chaos.
A powerful psyker, with a chance of being stained by Chaos at Cadia.
In Neoth's calculations, that position belonged to Magnus.
From the Emperor's perspective, the black domain, guided by Tzeentch, would go on to trouble the Legions—this meant the Primarchs would need to hold the line.
As long as Malcador and his group found a way to reach Cadia and successfully awaken the Lord of the Underworld, the situation would become clear again.
Or perhaps… Neoth pondered, the Four Gods might collapse internally, the other three unable to withstand the pressure, sealing the black domain within Cadia.
"Pass."
Neoth said, holding his position, waiting for his opponent to play.
Across from him, the man holding a fan of cards smiled. His cunning eyes stared at the cards in his hand:
"Fenris," "Eye of Magnus," "Foolishly Loyal Wolf," "Fratricide."
Even before the Burning of Prospero, as early as the Council of Nikaea, he had already arranged this "surprise"!
When Prospero was burned by the Emperor, when the pact he had made with Magnus was violently torn apart, the "Prospero" card in his hand had automatically transformed into "Fenris."
Their fates were destined for this!
The man laughed. Grand, sweeping schemes—he wanted those. Small, intricate setups—he wanted those too. That was who he was.
He could hardly wait to see the look of shock and fury on the Emperor's face—perhaps with a trace of sorrow mixed in.
Their variable was dead! Tzeentch shrieked. With only themselves left, the board would only become more and more favorable to Tzeentch!
And the prophetic ambiguity brought by the black domain—Tzeentch thought, he absolutely adored it!
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Tn: I updated the story daily, but if you want to see more chapter of this story ahead of time, please go to my Patreon.
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