Chapter 150: Nios Daxiong

The mornings of Barwei II are always cold and beautiful,

a scarlet scar stretching across the sky like a ribbon, dyeing the smooth dome entirely rose-red, hanging low over the entire world,

but as time passes, Barol, the sun of Bar and its satellites, emerges from behind Barwei I, bringing the full dawn to Barwei II,

painting the entire world a deep, unrelenting crimson, bathing the desert's dry stones in its glow.

The water seller Uji cursed the foul weather and climbed off his bed made of stacked transport trays,

but no matter how terrible the weather, he had to hurry to Angel's Descent Town to secure a good stall—otherwise others would snatch them all, and his family would starve.

He had scavenged ancient relics from the ruins of this Bar satellite, mostly useless chunks of iron whose purpose was long forgotten, yet still worth a few coins,

when Uji was younger, he had been an expert at exploring ruined cities,

but now he was old, his strength faded, and such work should have been done by his son—a strong, healthy young man.

But.

"Get up! Didn't you hear the morning bell?!" Uji roared, kicking hard against a transport tray,

the tattered blanket atop it stirred, and his son flailed his arms wildly, jolting awake in terror.

The fool had another nightmare, Uji glared at his idiot son with near-malice,

he had sent his son to the Adeptus Astartes' selection, yet the Chapter returned to him only a fool.

The boy trembled as he stood up, following his father to urinate into the water purifier.

"You little beast, if you spill even a drop outside, I'll send you to witness the Emperor's mercy—and be rid of you forever."

Uji spat in frustration.

"Be gentle with him—he's your son, my daughter's son."

A frail, hoarse voice emerged from beneath the third bed's blanket:

"If you cannot love this child, at least remember his mother."

"His mother was once the wisest seer of the tribe; this child inherited her wit—this is not his fault."

An old woman peered out from beneath the blanket, fiddling with a set of Emperor Tarot cards.

She was Uji's mother-in-law, his wife's mother.

But Uji's wife had long since died.

"We all know whose fault it is."

Uji nearly exploded, then lowered his voice sharply, as if afraid of being overheard:

"I think we all know—it's the angels' fault."

"By Saint Guilliman!" The old woman's hand trembled as she shuffled the cards: "That's heresy—has your soul been cursed by the Black Angels?"

"He was a strong youth when he went for selection, yet they returned him to me as a fool."

Uji gritted his teeth:

"Who else can I blame? Whose fault is this?"

"Fate," the old woman continued shuffling the Emperor Tarot: "He was destined never to become an angel—so he returned."

"He didn't return," Uji muttered, glancing at his vacant-eyed son, unwilling to accept him as his own.

The old woman ignored Uji, continuing to shuffle the Emperor Tarot in her hands,

the plastic cards scraped across the scratched glass, producing a grating, teeth-on-edge rustle,

she studied the images on the cards, then began to shuffle and cut again.

Uji wanted to interrupt her, snatch the deck away—but he dared not,

the Emperor Tarot was an Imperial ritual; refusing it was itself blasphemy.

"An ill day," the old woman murmured, the cards covered in strange symbols,

Uji could not decipher their meaning—he had always suspected his mother-in-law was a witch.

"Scarlet mist," the old woman whispered.

Then Uji saw, in the distance across the desert, a thick, blood-colored vapor rising—particles laden with radiation and toxins swirling within.

Red mist, a unique phenomenon of Barwei II, born from its toxic oceans; if it passed over the ruins of old cities destroyed by nuclear weapons, it carried even deadlier radiation.

Uji cursed aloud—the radiation alarm warned him it was madness to cross this fog,

such thick red mist could swallow any traveler whole.

The old woman still shuffled her Tarot cards,

she and her daughter—Uji's wife—both came from an ancient desert tribe on Barwei II,

it was said her bloodline traced back to the clan that witnessed the angels' descent.

"The Emperor upon the Throne, the Burning Planet, the Machine God, Death."

The old woman's voice nearly choked as she stared in disbelief at the cards in her hands,

the cards symbolizing the Machine God and Death flew out simultaneously from the deck,

The Emperor upon the Throne, symbolizing hope,

the Burning Planet, symbolizing impending disaster,

the Machine God and Death—what did they signify?

The old woman stared fixedly at the two cards that had emerged on their own,

faintly, she saw the images on them shifting,

the figure of the Machine God emerged from countless writhing gears—a blue cat,

the figure of Death appeared in darkness—a blue cat as well, but beside it stood a boy wearing glasses.

The boy's eyes were half-lidded with sleep, yet in his hand he held an old-fashioned pistol, its muzzle pointing beyond the Tarot—as if nothing could escape its bullets.

The old woman recognized the image of the blue cat,

refugees from the Mingfuxingxi had brought this new faith, worshipping the blue cat as a saint, calling him Saint Doraemon, proclaiming him Death, the Machine Spirit, the Devourer of Swarms, Hope and Salvation.

But within three months, these worshippers of Saint Doraemon had split into two utterly opposed factions—though the old woman did not know the details,

was this Tarot omen about that?

Yet another intuition seized her heart—she spoke almost instinctively:

"Death is coming! Death is coming!" Uji stared at his mother-in-law, bewildered and terrified.

Then, through the noisy hiss of the mist, he heard footsteps approaching,

Uji frantically pulled a crude firearm from beneath layers of tattered blankets, aiming it at the sound.

Sweat drenched his forehead—no one should be able to walk through radiation this intense.

"Death," the old woman said dryly, "you dare try to bring death to Death?"

"Shut up!" Uji snarled,

they were close to Angel's Descent Town, under direct rule of the Blood Angels—but in foggy weather, raids occurred, and worst of all, the figures emerging from the mist were sometimes not human.

Uji watched the figure in the mist, who seemed to scoop up a handful of Bar's sand.

"An Ultramarine and a Word Bearers argue."

"The Ultramarine grabs a handful of sand and throws it in the Word Bearers' face: 'This is the Perfect City!'"

"The Word Bearers retaliate, throwing sand in the Ultramarine's face: 'This is Kaos!'"

"At that moment, a Thousand Sons bursts out weeping, shielding the sand: 'Stop! Stop! Don't throw my brothers!'"

The figure chuckled as if telling a joke:

"Another?"

"A group of environmentalists condemn the Space Wolves for wearing wolf pelts; the Space Wolves retort: 'No, there are no wolves on Fenris!'"

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"Huh? Someone there?"

The figure finally noticed Uji and began walking toward him.

Uji raised his crude rifle, aiming it at the approaching figure.

"Come closer and I'll shoot!" Uji shouted.

"You cannot stop Death! Death is drawing near!" Uji's mother-in-law, the old woman shuffling the Emperor Tarot, cried out trembling.

"No!" Uji shouted in near-fury,

he noticed the figure carried no weapon.

"Don't rush—I'll tell you a joke."

The figure spoke lightly, showing no fear of Uji's crude rifle:

"A group of Loyalist Astra Militarum soldiers encountered Orks in battle; their bullets ran out quickly."

"So their Commissar Aric ordered: 'Just make 'Bang! Bang! Bang!' sounds with your mouths—it's enough.'"

"And the Orks fell one after another."

Uji stared, dumbfounded, as his crude rifle was suddenly knocked from his hands,

as the figure uttered "Bang! Bang! Bang!", his rifle seemed genuinely struck by bullets.

A figure stepped slowly from within the weapon,

a man in a plain yellow T-shirt, wearing glasses, with short hair, his eyes half-lidded with drowsiness, his expression calm and gentle.

"Neighbor, I mean no harm," the man said, waving his hand.

Behind him, the old woman trembled uncontrollably—the man before her was the exact, enlarged version of the boy on the Death card.

"Who are you?!" Uji stammered.

"Death! He is Death!" the old woman shrieked: "He is the gun barrel of death, the Child of War, the End and the Finality."

The man glanced curiously at the old woman, his gaze lingering for a moment on the Emperor Tarot in her hand.

"Old fellow, you can call me"

The man smiled lightly:

"Neos. Daxiong, a ten-year-old elementary student passing by, skilled in sleeping, masturbation, braiding ropes, and child education."

"This is fucking ten?!" Yu Ji quickly picked up the earthen rifle from the ground and retreated beside his truck.

His idiot son had somehow positioned himself in front of him; Yu Ji promptly shoved him back into the truck.

The man wearing glasses, who claimed his name was Neos. Daxiong, watched this scene with interest, then gently adjusted his glasses and asked:

"Old fellow, is this Bal Prime? Has Dante, the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, returned?" the man asked with a smile.

"No, this is Bal Two, a satellite of Bal," Yu Ji replied warily.

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(End of Chapter)