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Warhammer 40K: I Don’t Want to Be a Tin Can!

This is a translation- Original Author: Night Tales by a Dim Lamp In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war. The Emperor walks among men, striving to restore the glory of the Imperium. Yet, the fate of humanity has long been toyed with by the malevolent Chaos Gods. In this tumultuous future, there is naught but endless darkness and warfare. That is, until the appearance of a Deathwatch Marine named Hades. As the threads of destiny intertwine, can this outsider change the tragic fate that awaits countless souls? The gods place their bets. Yet, Hades remains oblivious to all of this. At present, he's weeping like a snotling that's had its toe stepped on. "Emperor's mercy! Why am I in the Warhammer universe?!" "And why in Terra's name am I a Deathwatch Marine?!" "Is it too late to bash my head in and respawn?!" A comedic tale where a nerdy, unserious protagonist finds himself in the grimdark Warhammer world, oscillating between moments of sheer terror and bouts of uncontrollable sobbing.

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Chapter 50: Confidence in a Can

Aboard the *Endurance*, in the single training room of the Seventh Squad.

Now.

Hades, scythe in hand, was rapidly dodging the slashing attacks of the combat servitor opposite him.

The massive six-bladed combat servitor rained down blows like a storm, its chainsaw roaring, relentlessly targeting Hades. But Hades, with swift movements, parried the incoming chainsaw with his scythe. Sparks flew as the two weapons clashed, disappearing amidst the whirlwind of blades.

For a moment, man and machine were locked in a stalemate, their afterimages dancing around the room. Sometimes the servitor gained the upper hand, forcing Hades to retreat, and at other times, Hades, having predicted the servitor's next moves, would counterattack, regaining control.

The room was filled with the sounds of clashing metal, with no other distractions. Hades's eyes widened, his mind focused solely on the six roaring chainsaws in front of him.

The scene he had witnessed days ago in the dueling cage seemed to replay before his eyes. In what felt like slow motion, Hades saw the servitor's sequence of attacks.

This was it!

Shifting his weight slightly, Hades took a small step to the right, narrowly avoiding a swift blade. A confident smile crept onto his face. To him, the servitor's once rapid attacks now seemed to play out in slow motion, full of openings.

Mimicking the stylish moves he had seen from the veterans in the dueling cage, Hades sidestepped another attack, switched his scythe to his other hand, and executed a flashy spin with it.

Then, leaning forward, he disrupted the servitor's rhythm. Despite exposing his massive body to the servitor's attack range, Hades showed no fear.

Because the next strike would be its end!

As if sensing Hades's intent, the servitor's chainsaws roared down, as if trying to embrace him.

Silent scythe met roaring chainsaw.

The chainsaw's roar began to fade, its once rapid rotation slowing down. The servitor's red light on top blinked frantically, like a silent plea for help. But within seconds, the blinking slowed and eventually went dark.

Hades stood in the center of the training cage, his scythe hanging by his side. Before him, the now-still combat servitor stood, less than three steps away.

The servitor wobbled for a moment, then, with a loud crash, split in half from a cut at its waist!

Hades, looking at the servitor that had tormented him for over a week, felt a rush of satisfaction.

It had taken him a whole week to progress from being utterly defenseless, chased around the training cage, to being able to parry a few blows, to completely predicting the servitor's attack patterns, and even stylishly spinning his scythe. He had been chased and beaten for four days!

Seeing the fallen servitor, Hades thought he could now approach Veteran Blanca and move on to the next phase of training.

As Hades casually shook his scythe, intending to flick off any residue, he realized he had been fighting a machine and didn't need to. However, as he shook the scythe, cracks began to appear on its blade, spreading like breaking ice.

Unbeknownst to Hades, a regular training scythe couldn't even scratch a Type 3 combat servitor. He had instinctively found the servitor's weak point and, using brute strength and speed, had managed to cleave through it.

The training room door burst open, and Veteran Blanca strode in, followed by a Tech-Priest with a multi-functional backpack.

As they entered, the door vibrated, and the scythe in Hades's hand shattered.

The Tech-Priest's helmet lights blinked rapidly as he looked at the bisected servitor in the cage.

He placed a hand on Blanca's shoulder, communicating in binary, "Explain?"

For the first time, Hades saw Blanca freeze.

So, the situation was this.

Hades cautiously sat next to Blanca, both men looking somewhat awkward. The Tech-Priest, whose name was Alberto, paced back and forth, rapidly speaking in Low Gothic.

Blanca initially tried to argue, but his responses soon became mere murmurs of agreement.

Master Forgemaster Enrik entered the room, and upon seeing his teacher, Alberto immediately ceased his complaints and saluted.

Enrik glanced at the training cage and quickly grasped the situation. Impressive, he thought, for someone to damage a Type 3 to this extent.

Enrik addressed Hades, "Hades, you must compensate for your destructive actions."

"However, considering the oversight of your superiors, this isn't entirely your fault."

"Therefore, I've decided on a light punishment. On every even Terran day, during your free time, you will assist in the forge for two months."

Hades looked at Enrik, feeling something was amiss.

The chapter ended with a cheerful note from the author, wishing readers a pleasant journey through the story.