Chapter 3: Terra, You Have No Water. Emperor, You Have Six Legs

“Look, this is danger,” said the winged figure within the white light.

Good news: the black-clad man before you is a true believer in the Emperor, more faithful than Zhou Yun.

Bad news: the Emperor they worship has four arms.

They are the Tzeentchians, traitors, gene-thieves, vanguard of the Hive Fleets.

Pure-blood gene-thieves from the Tyranid Fleet infiltrate hive cities, infecting and controlling Imperial subjects with their twisted Tyranid genes, breeding entire populations.

They lie dormant for generations within the hive’s darkness, even forming their own social structures and religious beliefs.

Only when the Day of Ascension arrives—when the Hive Fleet descends into orbit—do they surge from the shadows, plunging the entire planet into chaos to make it easier for the Great Devourer to swallow it whole.

These traitors often cluster around strange religious beliefs.

Such as the Emperor with four arms, Saint Guilliman with twelve legs, or Sanguinius with six eyes.

“Your level of heresy matches yours,” sighed the winged figure in the white light.

“Shut up, birdman! My loyalty to the Emperor is witnessed by Luna and Terra.”

Zhou Yun cautiously glanced at the traitor worshippers praying in their meeting, deciding he had no need to disturb their devout devotion.

He moved his steps carefully, hoping to slip away silently.

Like most people on Tot and Asford, he was a worker in the hive, performing grueling physical labor to produce military supplies for the Empire in exchange for the bare rations needed to survive.

On a planet bathed in radiation from a toxic star, teeming with mutants beneath its surface and in the dark, and forced to bear heavy imperial taxes, life was never pleasant.

Endless labor, death looming close, threats in the shadows, gang exploitation, scarcity of supplies—

Before these things, only faith could protect the soul from collapse.

Tot was a devout believer in the Emperor, worshipping the great and merciful Emperor, and under the clan chief’s blessing, he truly felt the Emperor’s presence.

The Emperor with four powerful arms, embracing all humanity across the stars,

Often whispered to him in his ear.

He responded with fervent prayers, begging the Emperor’s embrace to descend upon Asford, this crimson wasteland.

Today, he brought several inexperienced newcomers through a secret passage known only to the cult, arriving at this hidden ruin district,

To preach to them the mercy and nobility of the Four-Armed Divine Emperor, urging them to pray with him—for the Four-Armed Divine Emperor to embrace this planet soon.

“The Divine Emperor was born with four arms, so He could embrace the boundless galaxy, every one of His subjects.”

“The Emperor’s embrace shall come; when it does, it will be our great Ascension from suffering—we shall rise beside His Throne, to dwell with the God.”

Tot proclaimed with fanatic fervor, spreading his arms to reveal his long, bony, mutated fingers.

They were proof of the Emperor’s grace, one of his proudest marks—

“Lord Hierophant,” a newcomer timidly raised his hand from among the rubble.

Tot ignored him; prayers to the Four-Armed Divine Emperor must not be interrupted.

“Praise the Four-Armed Divine Emperor, praise His generosity and mercy—He will deliver us from suffering, cast aside the stars, and lead us to divinity.”

“Lord Hierophant, look behind you,” another newcomer said, panicked.

Tot frowned.

“Don’t interrupt me!” he snapped.

“No, Lord Hierophant, look behind you!”

Seeing all the newcomers pointing frantically at his back.

Behind? What could be behind? Wasn’t there just a massive pheromone tank behind him?

Tot turned his head, confused.

He saw only a man dressed in typical hive-worker attire, sneaking away with furtive steps.

Tot froze. Where was his massive iron tank? Where had it gone?

And who was this man? How had he even entered this ruin district?

Tot’s eyes met the man’s. The air grew awkward.

The man offered a sheepish smile, palms open in a helpless gesture.

“Morning. Had breakfast yet?”

“.”

Tot made a silent gesture behind his back; two followers quietly slipped their hands into their black robes and drew automatic pistols from their belts.

“Who are you?” Tot asked in a low voice.

“I’m also a devout believer in the Emperor—just that my Emperor has six legs.”

Tot paused, startled.

Six-legged Emperor? What heresy was this!

The Emperor clearly had two legs and four arms! Six legs? That was the form of an alien!

Before Tot could react, he saw the man’s ten fingers point directly at him.

“——————Boom! Boom! Boom!!”

The man’s mouth emitted three “booms,” and streams of concussive force shot from his fingers.

Tot felt a shockwave explode against his chest; a thunderous crack echoed as the thin chitinous plating over his sternum shattered.

He collapsed backward, crashing heavily into the rubble.

Behind him, several followers were also flung away; their automatic pistols dropped, heads lolling as they passed out.

“Psyker? From the Ark Gang?” Tot clutched his chest, forcing himself up through the pain.

He had been blessed by the Four-Armed Divine Emperor—his mutations were greater, his body tougher.

Tot reached out, tore away the shredded black robe, revealing his purple-tinged gelatinous skin.

Two malformed arms, curled beside his ribs, unfurled—now four arms pointed at the man before him.

“Die!!!”

He roared, lunging at the man like a giant termite.

But the man suddenly pulled up his shirt and reached into a white pouch on his abdomen.

Then Tot saw the man pull from that palm-sized pouch a pheromone tank seven meters tall.

So the tank was here—Tot realized, midair.

Then he watched the massive Tao steel tank come crashing down upon his head.

Boom————

Zhou Yun reached out and shoved the pheromone tank back into his pocket.

Even a Tyranid-gene-modified body couldn’t withstand the crushing force of Tao steel—the half-breed cultist was flattened into a bug-patty.

“Damn it, that bastard Lagg—why did he sell me this dump?”

Zhou Yun cursed the gang member who’d sold him the location of this ruin district, tricking him.

This ruin district had clearly been a traitor nest for a long time.

“They’ve clearly infiltrated Asford for years, friend.”

The winged figure in the white light reappeared:

“The shadow of the Hive has already coiled around this planet; its tendrils wait to lap up every drop of biomass.”

(End of Chapter)