Chapter 434: Who Will Forgive?

"I am merely a penitent seeking to atone for my sins."

The icy gleam of Caliban's broadsword instantly illuminated the dim cabin; the man in the black robe slowly raised the blade, holding it horizontally before him, its reflection revealing a face gaunt as if enduring ten thousand years of torment and self-torture—a deep, bearded visage like that of a forest knight.

His voice was low, hoarse, calm—but beneath that calm surged something terrifying, like a mad lion stalking in darkness, waiting to sink its fangs into its prey's flesh.

Simultaneously, the black robe, as if woven from shadows, stirred without wind; beneath it, four emotions—deceit, rage, stagnation, envy—twisted and writhed, piercing through his skin and flesh, stabbing into the depths of his soul, blessing him, cursing him, corrupting his spirit and body.

Leina had felt this before—on the Ice Moon Klasus, facing Abaddon; this man had been blessed by all Four Gods—he was the Chosen of the Four. The realization sent chills down Leina's spine.

"I am the Deputy Commander of the First Legion's Dark Angels, the First of the Fallen Angels, a vile traitor, Sir Lu Se of the Caliban Knights."

He did not move his sword, but its icy gleam now pointed at Leina.

"Who?" Leina asked, bewildered.

The knight's title—this man, this possibly Astartes figure—was long, and sounded significant.

But Leina did not understand: Did the Astartes even have a Deputy Commander? What were the Fallen Angels? What was the Caliban Knights?

Faced with Leina's question, Lu Se froze; he opened his mouth slightly, his tongue moving several times before uttering a single phrase:

"You're a mid-to-high-ranking official of the Imperium, aren't you?"

"Have you never read the history of the Great Crusade?"

"I was once the second-in-command of the Dark Angels! I raised Lai En!"

At Lu Se's accusation, Leina felt a flash of guilt.

Zhou Yun had indeed given Leina several newly written historical texts from the Scholastica Rationalis on the Great Crusade.

But those massive tomes gave Leina a headache.

The simple little stories told by the Ecclesiarchy suited him better.

Of course, guilt was guilt—but Leina's hand didn't slow for a second.

She swiftly reached for the vial hidden at her waist.

It was the Siegfried Bath, granting her thirty minutes of invulnerability.

Leina didn't need to defeat this man Lu Se—she only needed to hold out until Zhou Yun—

Before she knew it, Lu Se stood before her; his Caliban broadsword had already slashed, tearing through Leina's cloak, severing the belt holding the Siegfried Bath, and sending the vial filled with crimson liquid flying.

The technique was flawless—barbaric, powerful, terrifying, like the fang of a cold, wild lion.

The Siegfried Bath shattered midair; its crimson fluid spilled uselessly onto the deck, none of it touching Leina.

So fast—almost rivaling Lord Guilliman. But how was that possible?

Leina had no time to think; she unleashed her psychic energy without restraint, slamming it toward the black-robed knight Lu Se.

But Lu Se stood like a black monolith in a storm—unmoving, unyielding, unshaken.

"Your psychic power is strong."

"But that's all."

"I received much from the Gods."

Pain flared in Leina's side; the Caliban broadsword had struck again, carving into her flank, threatening to split her in two.

Leina let out a savage roar; her psychic surge slammed against reality itself, the backlash hurling her body backward and sparing her from being cleaved in half by the colossal blade.

"Impressive. You dodged."

Lu Se sincerely praised Leina:

"Do you know? Lion's swordsmanship was taught to him by me from childhood—I was his first fencing master."

As he spoke, pride crept into Lu Se's voice.

Leina said nothing; ignoring her wound, she poured all her psychic energy into Lu Se.

But Lu Se merely flicked his blade with minimal motion, effortlessly deflecting her psychic hammers—each heavy enough to topple a Greater Daemon.

"I'm not truly an Astartes. I'm too old for full augmentation—only partial enhancements."

"But as I said, if you can restrain your desires, if you are not corrupted by them, you can master the Gods' blessings and become immensely powerful."

"I even matched Lai En—before Caliban's fall, we were evenly matched."

"Like a father and his gifted son, like comrades-in-arms, like kin to kin."

Lu Se rambled, his words carrying a faint but terrifying madness.

Leina said nothing—she slammed her psychic energy toward Lu Se with full force.

Lu Se deflected it again, lightly: "This does nothing to me—"

Suddenly, the steel deck beneath Lu Se collapsed; before he finished speaking, he plunged into the deep pit.

Leina breathed lightly; all her attacks had been bait and misdirection.

Her sole purpose: to buy time for the battlecruiser's machine-spirit, forcing it to expend every last ounce of strength to carve this hole—so Lu Se would fall directly into the cold void.

"You're excellent."

"Is this direct communion with the machine-spirit? The Emperor's gift? Or simply this battlecruiser's machine-spirit being unusually powerful and docile?"

Shadows spread like mist behind Leina; Lu Se stepped calmly from within them.

"Impressive. Had I been the man I once was, your plan might have succeeded. But now I have new aid—from the Warp."

Pain lanced through Leina's back; blood streamed down. She collapsed, all strength drained from her body.

"This is the Poison of Life," Lu Se said, holding a dagger.

It was called a dagger, but clearly designed for Astartes—nearly a short sword in Lu Se's hands.

"My friend, Tiefeng of the Fourteenth Legion, gifted me this blade—may he rest well."

"He claimed this blade, named the Poison of Life, could kill anything—even a Primarch."

"But I never used it against the Lion. I never killed Lai En."

Lu Se mumbled, then hung the dagger back at his waist and drew his Caliban broadsword again.

"It won't hurt much. Nor will I leave you a corpse—not even ashes. I know the One can resurrect the dead."

"Do you have any last words?"

"Traitor."

Leina's body was weak; before her eyes bloomed a gentle, comforting white light:

"I see the light of the twenty-second century. I did what I could."

"My soul returns to the twenty-second century. What of you?"

"Who will forgive your sins, Traitor?"

Lu Se's expression twisted into terror; his Caliban broadsword, wreathed in violent Warp energy, swung down at Leina.

Ashes were crushed into finer dust, swept away into the Warp's torrent and vanished.

Lu Se's face was cold, twisted with madness; he struck his colossal blade against the battlecruiser's hull.

The Warp's power surged through the ship, corrupting its engines with overwhelming force; aided by the demons aboard, the vessel began to spiral like the others, crashing toward the Iron Ring encircling Mars.

Having done this, Lu Se and the demons vanished again into the shadows, as if they had never been.

The sky ignited; a segment of the Iron Ring was struck, ignited, and shattered by countless flaming meteors; fire burned in the void, illuminating half of Mars.

One-sixth of the Iron Ring was torn clean away.

Three sky-piercing ladders, rooted deep into the ground, buckled and collapsed under the strain.

Mars's entire sky was blanketed by a storm of steel, iron, and fire.

Smaller fragments and shattered voidships were first captured by Mars's gravity, piercing the atmosphere, screaming toward the crimson land below.

Workers, overseers, and Forge-Priests on Mars screamed in terror.

At that moment, a figure wearing a cowboy hat, a revolver at his hip, and coils of colorful rope wrapped around his arms suddenly appeared on the red-sand-covered ground.

"Yebi Flow: Rope-Spinning Galaxy."

Countless threads sliced across the heavens.

The people of Mars stared, stunned, as the threads layered overhead, wrapping every falling fragment and shattered voidship, forming a shimmering river of silver across the sky.

Simultaneously, the severed segment of the Iron Ring could no longer resist Mars's immense gravity—it too began plummeting toward the atmosphere.

Zhou Yun opened a pink-tinged wooden door beyond the atmosphere, standing before the blazing Iron Ring.

In his hand, he held a crimson cloak.

He whipped it out; it struck the Iron Ring as it plunged toward Mars's atmosphere.

The Iron Ring recoiled as if struck by a soft cloth, veering away into the deep void.

The survivors on Mars watched in awe; many fell to their knees, praising Omnisiah.

Belisarius Dora Kao, the Grand Sage, noticed this; clad in a crimson robe, he swiftly stepped beneath the golden metallic statue of Saint Doraemon and shouted through his internal amplifier:

"Praise, people of Mars!"

"This is the Primordial Force—Miracle of Saint Doraemon!"

"Praise, chosen of the Machine God!"

"For the Primordial Force—Saint Doraemon—has descended upon Mars."

"But remember: the Primordial Force is not a god!"

(End of Chapter)