The two War Maidens stepped slowly into the isolation chamber.
The originally flickering red warning lights in the compartment reflected off their metal armor, outlining silhouettes where sacred and cold intersected.
With their arrival, technical personnel stationed here immediately put away their instruments, exchanging glances. Though their expressions still carried curiosity and doubt, at the maidens' gesture, they said nothing, quickly organizing equipment and exiting the chamber in sequence.
Hum—Whoosh—
Heavy security blast doors closed accordingly, dull metallic echoes rippling through the enclosed space, isolating all external sounds.
The chamber's air seemed to instantly solidify, leaving only the two maidens and those two restrained survivors.
They didn't rush to act, but each stood before the survivors, postures straight as judges in ancient temples.
After momentary silence, they slowly raised their hands, fingertips trembling slightly, as if tracing some transcendent sigils.
The next instant, blazing, pure golden radiance suddenly burst from their palms, like dawn's first light breaking darkness, rapidly permeating the entire compartment.
That light wasn't blinding, but a warmth and purity that penetrated to the bone.
The frenzied ravings pervading the isolation chamber gradually weakened. The dark-skinned man who had struggled like a wild beast suddenly went rigid, then his convulsions slowly ceased, as if pain and madness were driven out bit by bit by the radiance.
The other portly man who had prayed incessantly gradually grew peaceful under the golden psychic energy's cleansing, fanatical expression smoothed over, breathing becoming steady.
Light scattered, leaving only faint afterglow flickering on chamber walls.
Both survivors had lost consciousness, quietly hanging their heads, faces no longer fierce or twisted, as if their souls' depths had been purified by some force.
That tranquility formed stark contrast with previous madness.
The two War Maidens met each other's eyes, gazes profound.
They spoke no words, only exchanging extremely subtle glances, seemingly confirming some predetermined conclusion.
Obviously, their mission wasn't merely "healing," but verifying facts about whether pure psychic energy could dispel so-called "aftereffects" and the Marker's "influence range."
Soon after.
Deep within the Emperor-class vessel, a magnificent compartment slowly revealed itself.
This place was completely different from the earlier cold technological style. Surrounding walls were covered with dark red and black wood grain decorations, pillars carved with coiling dragons and phoenixes, golden lamp fixtures hanging from the ceiling, shaped like palace lanterns from ancient Chinese dynasties.
Tables and screens were black lacquered with gold trim, several ink wash landscape scrolls adorning the space, ink essence flowing under light and shadow with quiet solemnity.
Flooring wasn't metal but imitation ancient bluestone slabs that produced deep, heavy echoes when walked upon.
The entire compartment carried an atmosphere where classical and futuristic intertwined—both solemn and majestic, yet retaining the Empire's magnificent governing presence.
On the main seat, a towering figure sat quietly.
Heavy armor had been removed, replaced by black and white military dress, lines sharp as blades.
Sui Meng sat upright on the main seat, face cold and stern, eyes unfathomable as an abyss.
Holographic screens floating in mid-air constantly flickered, displaying battle reports, intelligence, and latest updates on Shield-7's reconstruction progress.
He spoke no words, yet his fingertips wandered between light screens, as if every detail was within his grasp and calculation.
Silence filled the compartment, only low-frequency sounds when screens switched and data streams' radiance illuminating the contemplation flickering between his brows.
Sui Meng's expression was cold and stern, occasionally raising fingertips to slide across holographic screens floating in mid-air, data and images surging like tides.
Yet he maintained deep contemplation, as if thousands of troops galloped through his mind's depths.
Currently, he focused on a thorny issue—
How to handle this universe's Earth Federation.
According to files compiled by intelligence departments, plus detailed materials provided by his father Samuel Young, Sui Meng had gained thorough understanding of this so-called "federal government."
At first glance, the Earth Federation's scale was massive, controlling vast star sectors, possessing seemingly prosperous industry and enormous fleet formations.
However, after careful analysis, corruption and filth had penetrated almost every joint of this massive machine.
Compared to the UEG from the Halo universe, the Earth Federation was more like a terminally diseased corpse.
Though the UEG and UNSC had ugly aspects due to power concentration causing conflicts with various colonies, at least within their system, some rational order still existed, sufficient to support massive interstellar colonial structures' normal operation.
But the Dead Space Earth Federation was completely different.
Parliamentary upper echelons had long been controlled by oligarchs and plutocrats, policy starting points weren't humanity's overall future, but privileged classes' pleasure and wealth accumulation.
In simulation images provided by those materials, shocking scenes flashed before Sui Meng's eyes:
Miners labored day and night in planetary extraction areas, safety and welfare almost completely stripped away, their mortality rates falsified as "reasonable losses" in public reports;
Research personnel were forced into certain "experimental projects," often linking these experiments to colonists' lives—once failures occurred, cold numbers would cover up massacres;
Parliamentary internal scheming with factional divisions—anyone daring to expose dark secrets quickly "disappeared," even their families would be erased without trace.
The chill between Sui Meng's brows deepened.
Such regimes were essentially no different from Warp evil gods' corruption—the only difference was one relied on Chaos corruption while the other depended on human greed.
But what truly disgusted Sui Meng to his core wasn't just federal corruption, but the malignant tumor parasitizing it—
Unitology.
In materials transmitted by intelligence departments, Unitology's conduct was almost nauseating.
It operated under "divine revelation" banners while spreading fear and falsehoods.
More infuriating were its countless entanglements with Earth Federation power structures.
Many politicians even permitted Unitology's infiltration of lower classes because this helped them reduce "useless" opposition voices.
Unitology used this to continuously expand, not only manipulating public opinion but secretly promoting dangerous experiments and plans, many related to "Markers."
Thinking of this, Sui Meng's palm suddenly clenched, producing a low metallic percussion.
His anger was almost uncontainable—if emotions dominated, he would gladly order Imperial Martial forces to completely eliminate entire Unitology from roots to bloodlines.
Fortunately, he wasn't reckless.
Moments later, Sui Meng's breathing gradually calmed, eyes returning to composure.
He knew well that pure slaughter would inevitably trigger strong backlash and panic among populations.
Unitology's growth didn't rely solely on lies and conspiracies, but also on federal decay and cruelty that drove countless ordinary people to despair.
When they lost friends and family, struggling in poverty and hopelessness, they chose to attach themselves to such a sect claiming to "bring redemption."
These grassroots believers were essentially victims.
They weren't enemies, but innocent civilians.
If the Empire's iron hooves crushed them together, it would only make the Empire no different from Chaos, ultimately becoming another synonym for tyranny.
He must find a more precise path.
Unitology's leadership—those who truly knew Marker dangers and deliberately promoted human "corruption"—were the real masterminds who must be completely eliminated.
Ordinary believers needed gradual guidance and salvation.
They needed to see the Empire's order and justice, feel true peace and future, rather than continue existing under corruption and deception.
Light and shadow on holographic screens slowly switched, revealing an organizational structure chart of Earth Federation Parliament.
Layer upon layer of relationship networks were intricate, connecting privileged classes, plutocrats, and Unitology's secret channels.
Sui Meng's gaze gradually sharpened like blades cutting through fog.
He had decided that upcoming actions must not only collapse federal regime pillars but sever Unitology's roots.
His fingertips lightly tapped chair armrests with steady rhythm—only precise strikes and systematic cleanup could truly restore order to this universe rather than plunge it into another blood and fire chaos.
In this ancient Chinese-styled compartment, Sui Meng's figure appeared increasingly solemn under golden and ink-black light and shadow—the Primarch like a judgment statue, sitting quietly under the Empire's banner, contemplating how to reshape a universe's future with iron and fire.
Step, step!
At this time, those two War Maidens slowly entered the compartment, their oppressive, solemn presence like flames swept in by wind.
Sui Meng gathered his thoughts from the main seat, expression changing from cold sternness to propriety, his gaze falling on the two.
The two maidens came to the compartment's center, simultaneously kneeling on one knee, hands to chests, calling out quietly and uniformly:
"Your Highness, Primarch."
That call was like prayer in ancient rituals.
Sui Meng nodded slightly, voice deep and powerful:
"How was it?"
The two immediately rose, one maiden stepping forward, posture upright, psychic afterglow still flickering in her eyes.
Her tone was steady yet carried warning undertones:
"Your Highness, our psychic energy can indeed dispel Marker mental corrosion on ordinary people. Those survivors whose minds were disturbed by the imprint have recovered normally after purification.
One point has also been verified—
Humans who suffered necromorph attacks have deeper mental trauma.
Even with the Marker itself sealed, they still retain irreversible disorders, like some physical-level erosion. This isn't merely psychological problems, but more like aberrations where energy and matter intertwine."
Speaking thus, the maiden's gaze was cold, seemingly reminding this wasn't simply a disease eliminable through medical technical means, but deeper disaster.
A shadow of contemplation appeared between Sui Meng's brows.
He didn't rush to respond, but remained silent momentarily before lightly nodding, tone coldly decisive:
"I understand. This matter cannot be taken lightly. You may withdraw."
"By your command, Your Highness, Primarch."
The maidens bowed in salute, then slowly exited the compartment.
With the compartment door's closing hum, the grand chamber returned to silence, leaving only Sui Meng.
At this moment, the entire space seemed even more vast, silence seemingly capable of swallowing breath.
Sui Meng turned his gaze back, staring at holographic screens before him, data streams like rushing rivers converging into clear situation images.
He began more composed calculations.
Based on existing survivor numbers, signal remnants, and federal emergency protocol inertial responses, he could almost certainly conclude that Earth Federation vessels would inevitably arrive near Shield-7 shortly.
They wouldn't allow a flagship-class engineering giant like the Ishimura to completely lose contact.
Moreover, those upper politicians and plutocrats had quite likely already viewed this incident as part of political gaming and interest conflicts.
This meant Imperial Martial Legion would inevitably face direct confrontation with Earth Federation forces.
Sui Meng's fingertips lightly tapped table edges, sharp light flashing in his eyes.
Initial confrontation might not immediately escalate to full war, but it was destined to become a fuse—the first thunder of the Empire's curtain-raising in the Dead Space universe.
"Earth Federation..."
Sui Meng quietly spoke these four words, tone carrying both cold laughter and killing intent.
In his thinking, the Earth Federation was merely a shell hijacked by decayed power and fanatical cults—its existence was desecration of human civilization.
If the Empire was to establish itself in this universe, the first battle must make opponents clearly understand that true order and power brooked no provocation.
He pressed a button, holographic images switching to fleet deployment charts.
Imperial Martial ship groups floated outside Shield-7's orbital perimeter like cold blade edges among stars, each cruiser's firepower distribution and coverage angles appearing methodically in his mind.
Moreover, while planning this approaching conflict, another thought lingered in his heart—
His father's entrustment.
In intelligence Samuel Young personally delivered, one name was clearly indicated: Isaac Clarke.
'If you encounter him amid chaotic situations, observe closely.'
These words still echoed in Sui Meng's memory.
He had pondered his father's words' deeper meaning countless times...
Just an engineer—what made him worthy of father's special mention?
He wasn't even an officer, not a scientific giant, merely an ordinary technical personnel.
But if father specifically mentioned him, it necessarily meant hidden truths remained unrevealed. Though Sui Meng had doubts, he never questioned his father's judgment.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, staring at constantly flickering rescue craft identification on screen.
He called up information about Kellion rescue craft, browsing names like "Kendra Daniels," "Zach Hammond," finally stopping at "Isaac Clarke."
His fingertips paused momentarily on this name, gaze darkening.
"Engineer..."
He murmured quietly, voice carrying subtle inquiry and incomprehension.
But quickly, cold sternness again covered all hesitation.
Since father had indicated it, what he must do was observe, verify, then protect or control when necessary.
In the compartment, only holographic light and shadow flowed in his eyes, reflecting his iron-cast profile.
Soon, he would face the Empire and Earth Federation's first test, and that conflict's aftershocks would necessarily determine the entire universe's future pattern.
As for Isaac Clarke, that seemingly ordinary engineer—perhaps he was the key fulcrum to leverage everything?
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