Chapter 70

When he stepped out of the rundown inn, the mechanically pious, known for his calm demeanor, was so enraged he erupted in binary curses at the foolish, rigid inquisitor.

To be honest, Alvin had never seen a mechanically pious man so furious.

Even when Tack had insulted him, calling him “Gear Boy,” Aruman had never been this enraged—clearly, his resentment toward that inquisitor ran deep.

Aruman swore by Om Messiah that he truly wanted to grab the inquisitor by her collar and shout: “Does your mind contain nothing but evidence? Can’t you show any flexibility?”

But unfortunately... he knew that if he truly did that, he’d be met with a blast grenade.

From a personal standpoint, Aruman could understand the inquisitor’s cautious attitude.

After all, not every inquisitor can act with such swift decisiveness, crushing cults in their cradle before they spread widely.

In fact, unlike what many imagine,

inquisitors nominally have no formal hierarchy, yet internally there are clear ranks—newly appointed inquisitors rarely wield the power they’re assumed to have.

Simply uttering a single order to mobilize the Imperial Guard or even the Imperial Navy? Pure fantasy.

Even the Department of Internal Affairs and the Department of Military Affairs—the Empire wouldn’t be so foolish as to grant such immense authority to a newly sanctioned inquisitor.

This is a classic misconception.

Because not every Imperial inquisitor’s name is: Eisenhorn!

And Winnie Winslet... in Aruman’s understanding, her most defining trait was being Charles Granthor’s direct disciple.

Clearly, Winnie Winslet is a newly appointed inquisitor!

Even with Granthor as her mentor, the power and influence she can command are far inferior to her master’s.

Newly appointed inquisitors, under normal circumstances, lack the authority to mobilize any Imperial military force without sufficient evidence.

A inquisitor’s influence largely depends on personal reputation.

Inquisitors who abuse their authority, lack discretion, and constantly talk of burning heretics are typically executed by the Inquisition itself within short order.

Thus, personal reputation is vital for an inquisitor—after all, you can’t expect the Empire or planetary viceroys to trust an inquisitor who only talks of burning heretics.

Winnie Winslet lacks seniority and has virtually no personal influence.

If you must speak of influence, unless she invokes her mentor “Granthor’s” name, not a single Imperial Guard unit, Navy force, or Adeptus Astartes chapter will pay attention to a newly appointed, utterly inexperienced inquisitor—unless “evidence is conclusive.”

But from their earlier conversation, Aruman keenly sensed that Winnie Winslet was unwilling to leverage her mentor Granthor’s influence.

After Aruman finally vented, Alvin sighed half-helplessly: “Father Aruman, what should we do next?”

Aruman fell silent for a moment, as if struck by an idea, then suddenly stopped walking and turned to stare at Alvin.

Logically, Alvin should never be able to read the words “malicious intent” from a mechanically pious man’s expression.

Yet Aruman’s fixed gaze made Alvin feel a cold draft brushing the back of his skull.

“Uh...”

Alvin paused for a few seconds, tentatively asking: “Father Aruman, have you thought of a plan?”

“There is one plan... but it’s dangerous.” Aruman hesitated, wrestling internally over whether to reveal it.

“If we can eliminate the cult early, I’m willing to take some risk.” Alvin answered without hesitation.

It wasn’t that he feared death—rather, if the cult was allowed to grow, the risk would only escalate; better to fight back than wait passively for doom!

Besides, even if real danger arose, he could always flee to the Marvel universe for a few days.

“You truly mean it?” Aruman halted, as if seeing Alvin for the first time; his normally low, gravelly voice grew sharply serious: “Understand—this isn’t a joke. If you carry this out, the risk won’t be trivial!”

Yet facing Aruman’s stern tone, Alvin’s demeanor remained utterly calm.

He looked at the serious Father Aruman, smiled lightly, and said in a relaxed tone: “Father, even if I do nothing, is there no risk?”

Under a destroyed nest, no egg remains whole.

Once the cult’s power infiltrates the hive and tears open the material universe with evil rituals,

the forces of the Chaos Gods from the Empyrean will pour forth—no matter the final outcome, no matter who wins, the cost will be the entire hive reduced to ruins.

Worse yet, if the Chaos and the Empire fight too fiercely and awaken the Necrons slumbering in their tombs, a three-way war could erupt—likely... the entire planet’s surface would be scoured by macro-cannons; calling it “barren” would be an understatement.

To prevent these horrors, Alvin resolved—even at risk—to contain the cult’s growth and prevent the war from escalating.

So as not to awaken those... slumbering Necrons.

After witnessing Alvin’s “resolve,” Aruman was visibly stunned, even stirred to a flicker of admiration: “I never expected someone from the Underhive could be so loyal to the Emperor—after ten thousand years, glory still flows in your blood!”

He had assumed Alvin, born in the Underhive, could never possess such courage.

But now he must correct himself—the boy may come from the Underhive, yet his courage and loyalty to the Emperor prove... the blood in his veins has not betrayed the glory of ten millennia past, nor the great name it bears!

Loyalty—he is too loyal!

In Aruman’s gaze toward Alvin, an unbidden heat had taken root.

“Huh?”

Alvin was utterly bewildered, unnerved by Aruman’s “fiery” stare, as if bitten by lice.

What did he mean: “glory still flows in your blood after ten thousand years”?

“No, nothing.”

Aruman offered no explanation, instead abruptly changing the subject: “My idea is simple—she wants evidence? Then we’ll give her evidence.”

“You mean... for me to find the evidence?”

Alvin reacted instantly, guessing Aruman’s plan.

“Correct. Re-infiltrate the Underhive and gather proof linking the Hammer Gang to the cult.”

Aruman nodded slightly, outlining the plan: “Then the inquisitor will have sufficient evidence and justification to mobilize Imperial forces.”

“No problem. Leave it to me, Father Aruman.”

Alvin didn’t hesitate—he accepted the dangerous mission outright.

Fortuitously, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s “Electrostatic Veil” was perfect for infiltration—just scan a face, put it on, and it perfectly mimics their appearance.

“One thing to warn you,” said Aruman, draped in his rust-red robe, his tone grave: “No matter what happens, protect your safety. And you have only seven days—return to the Midhive by then, evidence or not. Understood?”

Alvin understood the safety warning, but the seven-day limit puzzled him: “Father Aruman, why seven days?”

“Because seven days from now... is the Emperor’s Ascension Day.”

Aruman gripped his mechanical scepter, his eyes glinting coldly: “Galken Hadley has announced he will officially name his successor as planetary viceroy on the Emperor’s Ascension Day.”