Chapter 176: Enemy of the Gods, Friend of the Gods

Blood, fresh and glistening, burned in midair, spanning the entire dome of the Crimson Grand Hall like a wound carved into the fabric of reality.

The holosphere was operating silently, projecting a complex star map into the air.

This star map was exquisitely detailed, every inch meticulously crafted, flawless, depicting the eastern portion of the Extreme Zone.

The scar of blood was the center of this section of the star map.

Within the blood-scar, the twin stars symbolizing the Underworld System burned, indicating that the system had fallen.

Beyond the Underworld System, Bar's sun, Barol, blazed.

Several star systems between them were marked gray—either already invaded by the Hive Fleet or destroyed by Dante's extermination orders.

Dante emulated the methods of the radical Inquisitor Creptman, issuing extermination orders along the Hive Fleet's inevitable path between Bar and the Underworld.

This ensured the Hive Fleet could barely replenish its biomass losses sustained on Bar as it crossed this region.

Dante successfully preserved the Empire's gains in the Underworld, at the cost of countless Imperial citizens' lives.

Even though most of them had no hope of survival under the Hive Fleet's invasion, Dante still suffered for it.

He felt his soul tormented beyond endurance—the Emperor had forged them not to slaughter mortals.

What pained Dante most was that, as Chapter Master, he had no right to show this pain.

For this was the correct course—the Commander Dante could not waver because he had done what was right.

Dante couldn't help but glance at the Blood Knights' Chapter Master, Jore. If it were him—or a Chapter like the Lean Angels that despised mortals—they might have made this decision more easily.

Perhaps because deep within Dante still lived Louis, the salt merchant's son from Bar II.

Dante suppressed his inner anguish, burying the salt merchant's son once more beneath the mask of Commander Dante, and hiding Commander Dante beneath the golden mask of Saint Guilliman.

"That is the Leviathan Hive Fleet."

Dante pointed to the star map in midair.

On the map, countless shadows extended from beneath the galactic plane, invading the Imperium like creeping tendrils, each world they brushed over extinguished and dead.

"Over the years, the Blood Angels Chapter has clashed with the Hive Fleet multiple times. In our last engagement, we obtained precious intelligence on the Hive Fleet—look to the tables before you."

The Astartes, bearing the blood of Saint Guilliman, turned to their tables.

Before them lay a printed booklet, its bold title reading: *The Ork's Guide to Tyranid Biology*.

The Astartes opened the booklet with curiosity.

Most Chapters, having never fought the Hive Fleet, marveled at the grotesque power of the Tyranid lifeforms described within.

Those Chapters that had actually fought the Hive Fleet were stunned by the booklet's meticulous detail and the horrifying truths it revealed.

"This is impossible!" The first to cry out was Chapter Master Malphas of the Bloodletter Chapter.

His Chapter had once clashed with the Hive Fleet.

The Disciples of Blood Chapter nodded in agreement: "It claims… claims that all Tyranid lifeforms are fundamentally a single, greater entity?"

"We have fought the Hive Fleet. We know them—they may seem cunning, but they are fundamentally low-intelligence insects, animals, a mass of flesh and blood formed from individual creatures."

The Disciples of Blood Chapter Master continued:

"Lower-tier organisms are directed by higher-tier nodal beings, with officers and lords among them, linked by some psychic network. Overall, the Hive Fleet is merely a greedy horde of animals, drawn only toward regions of high biomass density."

"But this is wrong. We cannot ignore its nature. Not its true nature."

Dante said calmly:

"The Hive Mind possesses a unified will. The Shadow in the Warp is the effect of its existence."

"It is a single, vast, sentient being. The Eldar call it the Eternal Dragon or the Great Devourer. Countless Hive Fleet organisms were created by it—and created it in turn, just as our flesh gave rise to our souls, and our souls govern our flesh."

He. Everyone noticed Dante's use of the divine third-person pronoun for the Hive Mind.

The air fell utterly silent.

"Do you mean the Hive Mind is essentially a Chaos entity born from the Warp, merely clad in flesh?" asked a Librarian from a Blood Chapter.

"No," Dante shook his head. "I, Mephiston, and the author of this booklet believe the Hive Fleet is a being born in the material universe, occupying an independent position within the Warp. It is filled with endless hunger—existing as the Hive Fleet in reality, and as the Hive Mind in the Warp."

"There is no precedent!" the Librarian cried in terror. "No evidence!"

"There is precedent," Dante said. "Mephiston told me there is—but he cannot reveal it to anyone."

Dante fixed his gaze on the Librarian and shook his head. "And he faced the Hive Mind—and lived. He told me its nature: a single mind, a powerful Warp entity, strong enough to shield itself from the Dark Gods' power and the Emperor's radiance."

"Moreover, the Hive Fleet's journey to Bar itself is evidence. The barren scar of red contains no opportunity to replenish vast biomass. It came here, directly toward Bar—there must be another reason beyond feeding."

Dante noticed the glances from his blood kin—shock, doubt, terror, confusion.

Never had Dante longed more for Mephiston to be here. Mephiston held absolute authority on Warp knowledge—he could silence all doubt.

Dante could only parrot him, repeating the truths Mephiston had told him.

"Dante." Jore of the Blood Knights spoke sharply: "Where did this booklet come from?"

Instantly, every eye turned to Jore, then to Dante.

Yes—where did this booklet come from?

Its descriptions of Hive Fleet lifeforms were too precise—from every biological weapon to every Tyranid's behavior.

The author must be a biological sage who infiltrated the Hive Fleet itself—how else could they know such details as the fact that the Brain Spore derives from Eldar gene-sequence, the Warp nature of the Hive Mind, or even that most low-tier Tyranids lack dermatitis?

Dante could even claim the author was the Hive Mind itself—and the Blood Chapters might believe him.

"Another Warp entity—perhaps, like the Hive Mind, ascending from or about to ascend into the material universe, claiming an independent position within the Warp."

!. Read

"Mephiston believes it competes with the Hive Mind."

Dante kept his tone as calm as possible.

"You mean," Jore of the Blood Knights let out a low laugh, "we will fight a god—and receive aid from another?"

"." Dante stared silently at Jore. Mephiston had taught him how to answer this question: "Do you have a better name for them?"

Every soul in the chamber drew a sharp breath. Even Jore's gaze toward Dante held shock.

"What is its name? The one that conflicts with the Hive Mind?" Jore asked in a low voice.

"." Dante looked at Jore slowly. "Doraemon."

Behind Dante, unseen by all, the figure of Bai Guang fluttered its wings gently.

A faint blue glow rippled from its light, as if responding to the name Doraemon.

Barol had sunk below the stars; the scar of crimson filled the sky, staining the night a dripping red.

Mephiston and the Gene-Thieves walked across the desert beneath the stars, their bodies bathed in crimson light, becoming blood-colored silhouettes.

The Gene-Thief Chieftain, Four-Clawed Dante, had revealed his massive form.

His towering height of six to seven meters was terrifying.

Mephiston assessed his strength.

Even he, to utterly kill this Gene-Thief Chieftain—who had grown stronger for centuries—would need seven or eight seconds.

After all, maintaining such intense cognitive distortion drained his psychic energy.

Mephiston observed the Gene-Thief Chieftain without trace. Since he had revealed himself, he must be close.

Suddenly, the Gene-Thief Chieftain halted, lifting his triangular head.

"The Land of Divine Descent has arrived!" proclaimed the Gene-Thief High Priest, Mental-Mephiston, his voice filled with joy.

Hot sands blew past, and before Mephiston and his followers, a steaming, seed-like capsule appeared.

It lay slanted on the wavelike dunes, its purple carapace shimmering in the crimson light.

Crack—hiss—

A tearing sound rang out; a viscous, wet fissure opened at the capsule's apex, its slimy seams spasming and widening, as if symbolizing a false birth—the descent of a twisted thing.

A tall, slender, razor-sharp creature crawled from the rift, staggering toward Mephiston and his followers.

"The Living Saint, Saint Guillilie, is born!" cried the Gene-Thief High Priest, kneeling upon the yellow sand.

But after a few steps, the creature suddenly spread its four claws—far smaller than a normal Lictor—raised its alien head, and opened its maw wide; the thick membrane covering its skull tore away.

From its throat came a furious roar; its exposed, massive brain tissue emitted blinding psychic light.

This Lictor subspecies—Mephiston had never seen it before, but had read of it in *The Ork's Guide to Tyranid Biology*—slowly turned its head toward Mephiston.

(End of Chapter)