Chapter 405: Three Who Await a Visit

Will you, like those petty men, bow before the Primarchs and the demonic gods?

Ilthu Simotrien's questioning voice echoed through the darkness.

Ude Udiya Laski responded with a cold, brittle, dry laugh.

"Do you think I am Belisarius Cawl? No, you ridiculous Belisarius Dora Cawl?"

"Listen—he bears that ridiculous name and actually takes pride in it, claiming it was granted by the Primordial Force?"

The Forge General of Mars spoke with a voice thick with clear anger and contempt:

"And you, Ilthu, you are equally ridiculous, thinking I would be like Belisarius."

"Do you think I would grovel before Robert Guilliman?"

"Do you think I would kneel to a false god who defiles the name of the Primordial Force?"

"Do you think I would abandon the Sacred Treaty of Olympia?"

"No, never!"

A deafening roar surged from all sides of the darkness, as if every wall in the chamber had erupted together,

while mechanical tremors, oil flows, and coil hums rose—there were moments when Ilthu even suspected Ude Udiya Laski intended to run him over with a Rhino troop transport.

"Unless the Omnissiah Himself descends, I will never kneel."

"Unless the will of Omnisiah demands it, I will never abandon the Treaty of Olympia!"

"In the name of the Omnissiah's Triple Power, I will never worship that false god, Dora A-Meng!"

Ilthu Simotrien exhaled slightly,

from the Forge General's tone, it seemed that the Grand Sage Belisarius Cawl, who bowed to Dora A-Meng, had begun preaching on Mars,

Belisarius Cawl's reputation was immense, and this act undoubtedly undermined Ude Udiya Laski's position,

and more fundamentally, the heresy of Dora A-Meng directly clashed with the Adeptus Mechanicus, and his and the Primarchs' interference in Martian politics was unquestionably shaking the Treaty of Olympia.

The Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars and Dora A-Meng were naturally opposed; they could never stand with Dora A-Meng.

What? Could that heretic truly be the Lord of Machines? Could he make all machines submit? Don't make such a joke.

Ilthu looked again into the darkness, at the faint glimmers shining within it, and smiled as he asked:

"If they visit you, how will you respond to them?"

The cogitator array beside Ude Udiya Laski hummed, his thoughts flowing through the conduits,

he cared nothing for the political struggles on Terra, but he cared deeply for his own position—he would never allow the Treaty of Olympia, personally signed by Omnisiah, to be shaken, nor would he allow himself to lose his post as Forge General of Mars,

this was not because he craved the power the position granted, but because he still needed it to supply resources for his work,

he had a task that must be completed—he must repair that broken machine, he must delay the coming of the Final Hour.

Ude Udiya Laski still remembered the fear he felt centuries ago, when he assumed the office of Forge General and learned that the sacred machine was slowly failing,

before he repaired that machine, he could not lose his position as Forge General—not ever.

"Anger."

And a voice laced with fury rose from the darkness:

"The anger of the Forge General of Mars."

"The anger of a devout believer of Omnisiah."

The searing pain on her flesh still lingered, but it was faint now—lighter than what she was destined to endure,

she was born in the garbage heaps of the hive, a place of utter darkness and no light,

she did not know who her parents were, why she had been abandoned, where she was, and no one had ever taught her how to speak,

since she could remember, she had wandered the garbage heaps; she did not even know how her fragile self had survived in that dark, dangerous place,

perhaps even before her consciousness had fully formed, the precognitive ability granted to her had already been active?

She could not say. She did not know. She crawled blindly through the cold, dark garbage heaps like an animal,

until light burned through her nerves and the Will descended before her,

her soul connected with Him, and she knew His condition with absolute clarity,

mad, fractured, deranged, teetering on the edge of self-destruction,

and she also learned what He had planned for her,

His Will was so vast that most humans could not bear it,

He needed an absolutely pure, absolutely empty vessel,

she met that requirement,

no one had ever taught her anything,

she knew no knowledge, desired no change,

she possessed no urge to kill, not a shred of courage,

she had no ties to anyone, had never loved another,

she did not even desire to live—she merely existed, hollow,

she was the perfect vessel, His tool,

a single burn, then ash—that was His plan for her,

yet she agreed, for she had never possessed anything, nor anything to lose,

and besides, He was so bright—even mad, grotesque, terrifying—he was still light,

she loved light, brilliant light, utterly unlike the darkness and filth of the garbage heaps.

Then she became the Fiery Thief, acting according to the prophetic ability He had granted her,

alone, unconnected to anyone, drawing knowledge only from Him, desiring no change in fate, lacking the courage to alter destiny, feeling nothing for anyone, and desiring no life,

until fate itself changed—a sliver of metallic blue slipped into her prophecy, and everything shifted.

Zhou Yun, Dora A-Meng, Lain Rus—she had used many names,

following the prophecy and His guidance, she entered the Underhive with him,

in the original prophecy, in the original design, she alone was to burn out in the Underhive, stopping the Nurgle demons from entering reality,

she had nothing, was born without connection to anyone, and should die without connection to anyone.

But he—she had formed a shallow bond with him,

for the first time, she learned that between the cold, tidal darkness and the searing, blinding light, there existed a strange, fascinating metallic blue,

again and again, she immersed herself in the prophecy—in it, perhaps she had eaten his sunflower seeds hundreds of times, perhaps devoured hundreds of servings of roasted fungi and worm jelly, listened to his jokes hundreds of times,

yet when she actually ate sunflower seeds, roasted fungi, and worm jelly, she still found them delicious; when she truly heard his jokes, she still barely held back her laughter.

When she stood at the moment foretold, at the moment of imminent burning, she discovered with astonishment,

she had gained a strange, new knowledge—she began to desire a change in fate,

she mustered a sliver of courage, named courage, and walked toward her sacrificial destiny,

for the first time, she felt emotion and attachment, gained a little joy from companionship,

for the first time, she clung to life, wished to live just a little longer.

She had been corrupted by him,

she could not help but pray to Him, to him, praying someone would save her.

In the end, he answered her prayer, sparing her from her destined end.

"Lady Lenna." A voice with an Asford Low Gothic accent spoke beside her.

The girl beside Lenna was Ye Ruite, found by the sisters in the Underhive, possessing some psychic talent, skilled in the Emperor's Tarot,

Magda the High Sister tasked her with caring for Lenna, who often fell into coma or sleep, and also served as Lenna's decoy during daily affairs.

"You've been waking up more often lately," Ye Ruite said, delighted.

Lenna merely nodded slightly—she was not good at speaking,

in fact, in her life, she had spoken to hardly any humans except Him and Zhou Yun.

As for her awakening, His power was transforming her body, allowing her to bear more of His strength and Will—but this transformation had gradually stalled recently.

Around the time the Lion's Gate erupted in battle—did He no longer need a vessel to house His Will?

Yet Lenna could no longer be called the perfect vessel she once was; she had been corrupted by Zhou Yun, no longer a pure vessel, but now possessed extra thoughts.

"Him." Lenna moved her stiff, unused throat and asked Ye Ruite in a dry tone.

Ye Ruite was accustomed to Lenna's halting speech: "Lady Mo Wen has submitted all the forms to Lord Guilliman—Lord Dora A-Meng should arrive soon."

"Mm." Lenna nodded slightly, blinked her eyes.

For safety, she rarely left this room in the convent; sometimes Lenna felt as if she had returned to the dark garbage heaps of the Underhive,

but fortunately, the Battle Sisters always gladly indulged Lenna's childish, simple, ordinary little hobby,

Lenna rose from her bed, fumbled in the dark, picked up a welding mask, and handed it to Ye Ruite, who swiftly fitted it over her face,

Lenna herself lifted the welding mask, placed it over her face, and walked to the workbench in the corner of her room,

on the workbench lay a thick steel plate, beside it the Battle Sisters' custom-made rhenium flame cutter for Lenna,

Lenna raised the rhenium flame cutter with her arms, covered in faint burn scars, and the searing flame roared in the dark room,

the fire column struck the heavy steel plate, spraying blindingly bright sparks,

Lenna loved light—the brighter, the better,

this was also why she loved the Fiery Thief—the sparks it spat were so dazzling,

especially when she saw the steel melt and a streak of metallic blue flash through the fire, Lenna's mood would lift immeasurably.

In the deepest, darkest, coldest, most sealed cell of the Inquisition's dungeon,

Iskandar Kayan, his limbs broken, eyes gouged out, psychic energy drained, bound tightly in chains, stirred slightly.

He was once the second-in-command of Abaddon, one of the Black Legion's top leaders, a powerful Thousand Sons sorcerer,

but he turned himself in to the Inquisition and was imprisoned in this black cell,

all for the sole purpose of pronouncing to the Inquisition, to the Empire, and to the Emperor of Mankind their fated end,

the Warlord of the Black Legion, Abaddon, shall ride the Crimson Path to Terra, slay the False Emperor, and destroy the Empire,

this is the destined end, the inevitable fate of the Empire, and he shall be Abaddon's messenger and the forerunner of the Crimson Path.

Pronouncing this doom upon the Empire was the task Abaddon gave to Kayan,

the End Times are unchangeable, and he is the forerunner who pronounces this fate to the Emperor.

Thus, Kayan feels no despair at his current state—he knows Abaddon will come to rescue him soon.

Together they shall laugh atop the ruins of the Imperial Palace, celebrate their great deeds, and toast to brotherhood.

Ssssshh, hah. My ass itches.

Kayan shifted his buttocks,

when will Abaddon reach Terra? It must be nearly here, surely the Soul of Vengeance is already bombarding the Palace.

After all, Abaddon never lies to his brothers! The age of the Primarchs is over, and nothing can stop Abaddon's advance.

Thinking of this, even Kayan—whose limbs were shattered, eyes gouged out, psychic power drained, and bound in darkness—could not help but straighten his chest.

A silent, passing Inquisitor on patrol noticed Kayan's movement,

without a word, he seized a heavy iron hammer from the wall beside him, stepped to Kayan's side, and smashed it down hard upon his raised chest.

Crack—

(End of Chapter)