Chapter 114: Kindness Like Airebas

Marcus Brutus was a noble of the hive, of the highest order.

His family was among the oldest and most honored in the hive, as ancient as the Viceroy Flaxus line.

Marcus Brutus himself was over one hundred and sixty years old, a long life under the toxic star of Asford.

Other nobles held deep reverence for this elder.

Of course, age was not the only reason Marcus Brutus was respected.

To other nobles, Marcus Brutus was a noble of gentle dignity, devout yet unobtrusive.

He was stern with enemies but never slaughtered them to the last, kind to his descendants but never indulgent.

He was a devout follower of the Imperial Cult, ever preaching the Emperor’s glory with quiet sincerity.

Even after the Viceroy abandoned the Underhive, turning it into a den of dangerous gangs,

Marcus Brutus still risked his life entering the Underhive to distribute food and heal the sick.

Whenever ignorant fools mocked Marcus Brutus,

he would stubbornly and firmly tell them: “The Emperor’s mercy shines equally upon all, noble and pauper alike.”

“It is the duty of nobles to care for the weak.”

His words often shamed his opponents and moved his supporters to awe.

Marcus Brutus was truly a noble of nobility and devotion—everyone who knew him said so.

Only Marcus Brutus knew what had shaped him:

Tiberius, the true master of Asford, the true heir of the Flaxus line, the Prophet of the Four-Armed God-Emperor.

When Marcus Brutus was young,

he was summoned by the then-Viceroy—Tiberius, and the parents of the Usurper Augustus.

In the pitch-black palace, Marcus Brutus beheld the young Tiberius.

The great Prophet Tiberius, the true Viceroy Tiberius, the noble Tiberius!

That merciful lord showed Marcus Brutus the greatness and mercy of the Four-Armed God-Emperor.

Marcus Brutus wept uncontrollably with emotion.

At that moment, he realized that noble feuds, lavish banquets, and precious luxuries meant nothing.

Only the love of the Four-Armed God-Emperor was real.

He would descend from the stars to embrace all.

Noble or pauper, human or mutant, wise or foolish—

all things upon this world would be gathered into the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s arms, dancing together in a pool like amniotic fluid, merging as one, indistinguishable.

Even now, recalling it, Marcus Brutus could not stop tears of joy.

But the despicable Usurper Augustus Flaxus, consumed by his lust for power, allied with foolish nobles and guards to murder his own parents—and tried to kill Tiberius to seize the Viceroy’s throne.

Fortunately, Tiberius escaped the hands of the despicable Usurper Augustus Flaxus.

The lord slipped into the hive, preaching the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s grace among ever more paupers.

The Usurper then began purging nobles who worshipped the Four-Armed God-Emperor and remained loyal to Tiberius.

He succeeded in eliminating some.

But Tiberius had foreseen this—he used powerful psychic force to suppress part of Marcus Brutus’s memory.

Only many years later did those memories resurface in Marcus Brutus’s mind, revealing to him his true mission.

Today, at last, the embrace of the Four-Armed God-Emperor had descended.

Yet countless foolish Imperial Guard units tried to resist it—and somehow, they held back for a time!

This was thanks largely to the combat prowess of Cadia and aid from certain factions in the Underhive.

The Great Blasphemers “Layne Rus,” “Neos,” “Hogelis Lupabar,” and “Zhou Yun.”

That man with his ever-shifting face and bizarre weapons had indeed appeared on the battlefield.

He had caused the Four-Armed God-Emperor much trouble, slowing His advance.

This could not be. This must not be.

Summoned by Tiberius and listening to the voice of the Four-Armed God-Emperor, Marcus Brutus met the Prophet’s apostles emerging from the pipes.

Those noble pure-bloods, with four arms and sacred purple skin.

With their aid, Marcus Brutus swiftly gained control of many nobles.

He would hold them hostage, under the guise of offering aid, and lead them into the Underhive to join the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s tendrils in a pincer strike against the despicable Imperial Guard.

On his way down from the Upper Hive, Marcus Brutus saw panicked crowds being evacuated.

They were to be sent to Mefas Port, where transport ships would await to carry them away.

But Marcus Brutus had no intention of stopping them—he knew the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s fleet still controlled the stars.

They would find no chance to escape for now, only crowd helplessly in the port.

And once Marcus Brutus eliminated the Imperial Guard, they too would be gathered into the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s embrace.

The thick, amniotic pool,

warm as the womb before birth,

the pool where all would melt, dancing without end.

Marcus was moved to the brink of tears.

He was utterly confident of victory.

The Underworld System was now under siege; the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s will enveloped the world, rendering warp travel nearly impossible.

Without warp travel, no one could cross the Shield of the Drill, once the planet’s natural defense, now a cage trapping them all.

The Imperial Guard must be desperate for reinforcements—and would not refuse aid from noble private armies. And hidden among the nobles and their private troops were the four-armed pure-bloods and the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s angels, known as “Licate.”

We will win!

Marcus Brutus thought firmly.

Invisible Licate angels held the nobles, forcing them to shuffle slowly toward the passage from Upper Hive to Underhive.

They passed through the burned streets of District Nine and saw General Drostron and the Great Blasphemer “Zhou Yun” standing at the passage entrance.

The two stood before a line of Cadia warriors armed with laser rifles; the Great Blasphemer “Zhou Yun” wore that ridiculous hat.

The moment Marcus Brutus saw Zhou Yun, a flash of hatred crossed his eyes.

It was this man, this blasphemous scoundrel,

who hunted bishops and commanders, wounded Tiberius,

and became the fiercest obstacle to the Four-Armed God-Emperor’s embrace,

slaughtering the God-Emperor’s angels and stealing His precious biomass.

Blasphemy! Revolting! Pah!

But years of noble training had taught Marcus Brutus to hide his hatred beneath a faint smile.

He stepped forward slowly and spoke to General Drostron and Zhou Yun:

“Honored lords, faithful servants of the Emperor, I am Marcus of the Brutus family, a devout believer in the Emperor.”

Marcus Brutus declared solemnly:

“These are sinners, cowards, who hid in their sanctuaries while the people perished.”

“I bring them to you, and compel them to offer their private armies to aid you against the xenos!”

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This was the excuse Marcus Brutus had long prepared,

to explain why the nobles trembled, and why aid had suddenly appeared.

For Marcus Brutus had forced the nobles to reveal their strength by coercion.

The nobles nodded, trembling.

Invisible Licates hid beside them, threatening them with unseen claws.

Clap-clap-clap-clap—

Applause rang out.

Marcus Brutus watched the Great Blasphemer “Zhou Yun” step forward, clapping enthusiastically at him.

“Magnificent!”

He said with tearful admiration:

“You are truly a noble of greatness and devotion!”

“Your selflessness astounds us—you are as selfless as a Skaven rat!”

“Your piety moves us—you are as pious as the sages who wrote the Holy Scriptures!”

“Your sacrifice fills us with gratitude—you sacrifice like the bald man with the Centaur ring!”

“Your kindness overwhelms us—you are as kind as the good man with scriptures tattooed on his face!”

The Great Blasphemer “Zhou Yun” spoke in words no one could understand.

But Marcus Brutus could tell from his tone

that this was praise, gratitude, admiration.

A flicker of pride stirred in Marcus Brutus’s heart.

The so-called Great Blasphemer “Zhou Yun” was no match—he had fallen for the ruse so easily.

“We are all devout servants of the Emperor, all offering ourselves for His glory.”

Marcus Brutus bowed with the devout Eagle Salute.

“Yes, yes.” The Great Blasphemer Zhou Yun nodded vigorously.

He also performed a devout Eagle Rite, casting a fiery gaze toward Ma Kukesu. Bulutusi.

“Let us sing praises aloud!”

Zhou Yun raised his voice and said:

“Praise the Four-Armed Divine Emperor! Four-Armed Divine Emperor yes! yes!”

Ma Kukesu. Bulutusi nodded instinctively: “Praise the Four-Armed Divine… hmm?”

SSSHHH!!!

A searing laser pierced his chest, scorching his internal organs as if a thousand knives carved them, his blood boiling.

Ma Kukesu. Bulutusi stared blankly at the scene before him,

the laser rifles in the hands of the Cardians levitated into the air, circling around Zhou Yun,

forty or fifty laser rifles hovered beside him, their searing beams firing in a dense torrent.

Even the Lycats hiding in the gaps of light and shadow could not escape this torrent of laser fire.

“Why—” Ma Kukesu. Bulutusi croaked, then collapsed heavily to the ground.

He widened his eyes as he watched the Cardians surge toward the nobles with unnatural speed,

and he saw at the rear of the noble ranks, clusters of searing psychic flames beginning to burn,

in his final moment, Ma Kukesu. Bulutusi seemed to see the face of Augustus. Flax appear upon the battlefield.

(End of Chapter)