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Chapter 36: The Red Angel's Chains
"These machines regard us as criminals," the Raven observed, his obsidian eyes fixed upon the encircling automatons.
He perched upon the Emperor's shoulder with casual interest, watching as the enforcement units continued their mechanical chorus of warnings.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is a world that has surrendered all authority to artificial judges."
The Emperor's thoughts touched the Raven's mind like whispered thunder. 'And what manner of being is this Citizen 13145209527? Does he truly own an entire world?'
The Raven's memories turned to the diplomatic exchanges at the fleet's arrival—the same sterile phrases repeated without variation or understanding.
When their warnings went unheeded, the enforcement units attacked with programmed precision.
The Custodian Guard responded with the swift brutality of their calling, power fields igniting along the edges of their guardian spears. Within heartbeats, the machines lay in sparking ruin.
"Violent resistance to lawful enforcement detected. Requesting additional units from central authority."
The final automaton's transmission ended as a Custodian's blade found its neural core. Soon, more formidable enforcement would arrive.
"Are you from the void beyond?"
A figure approached cautiously—a man encased within a transparent breathing apparatus despite the perfectly breathable atmosphere.
One of the Custodians moved to intercept, answering with military precision.
"We come from distant stars."
The stranger nodded as though this revelation carried no weight. "I observed fleet movements in orbital space through the data-networks. Most assumed it was fabricated entertainment, but clearly they were mistaken."
He paused, studying the golden giants with curious detachment. "Have you come to claim dominion over this world?"
"We seek only to return humanity to its rightful unity," the Custodian replied with practiced diplomacy.
"The distinction matters little," the man said with a dismissive gesture. "I hope you succeed in your endeavor."
The Raven's curiosity was piqued. He spread his wings and alighted upon Constantin Valdor's shoulder, prompting the Captain-General to continue the interrogation.
"You know nothing of our intentions, yet you offer blessing to potential conquerors. Do you not fear we bring devastation in our wake?"
The man's expression remained utterly neutral.
"My possessions are negligible, my connections nonexistent. Whether you transform this world into paradise or damnation changes little for one such as I. Perhaps it merely shortens a life already devoid of purpose."
"What has become of this world?" Valdor pressed, his tone carrying the authority of millennia.
"Observe what surrounds you," the man replied.
"This is capitalism evolved to its ultimate expression. The foundational law of our society declares private property sacred and inviolable above all other considerations."
"Every resource—every molecule of air, every drop of water—belongs to someone. Usage requires payment. The very ground beneath your feet demands tribute."
'The privatization of existence itself,' the Raven mused darkly. 'How utterly grotesque.'
The stranger continued, oblivious to the corvid's silent commentary.
"Automated systems maintain our legal framework with absolute impartiality. Rich or destitute, all face identical judgment before their artificial courts."
"Your transgression against Citizen 13145209527's holdings triggered their response. Payment would cease their pursuit, though I counsel against such folly. Better to reduce this world to ash and cinder."
"Will none resist such conquest?" Valdor inquired.
The man's eyes widened before he erupted in bitter laughter.
"Resist? Ninety-nine percent of all wealth belongs to Citizen 13145209527. Why would we die defending another's property?"
Logical to the point of nihilism, the Raven thought with grudging respect.
"Perhaps we might engage in discourse?"
A spherical projection device descended, casting the holographic image of a well-dressed individual before the Imperial party.
"I am Citizen 13145209527, proprietor of this world's abundance," the figure announced with practiced smoothness.
"I have submitted documentation to the Enforcement Authority adding you to my guest registry and compensating for damaged property."
"The automated systems will no longer perceive you as threats."
"How accommodating," the stranger said with acidic amusement. "Does terror drive such generosity?"
Citizen 13145209527's expression soured slightly.
"Your hostility is unwarranted, citizen. My ancestors began with a modest enterprise in personal hygiene products and expanded through legitimate enterprise."
"Every acquisition was lawful, every transaction recorded and taxed appropriately. Yet you regard success with venom. Should prosperity be punishable by death?"
"I bear you no envy," the man replied evenly. "I merely suggest these visitors claim what little I possess along with your considerably more substantial holdings."
The hologram's face darkened with indignation. "Such counsel is unconscionable—inciting honorable individuals to commit theft against a law-abiding businessman. No civilized society tolerates such villainy."
At the Emperor's unspoken command, a Custodian stepped forward. "What would you have our Lord do?"
"Acknowledge the legitimacy of my holdings," Citizen 13145209527 said without hesitation.
"Pledge your protection of property rights established through generations of lawful commerce. In exchange, I offer absolute loyalty to your regime."
"Thus you achieve conquest while I retain the fruits of ancestral labor."
Nuceria
Arena of the Damned
Hundreds of servo-skulls danced through the polluted air above the killing floor, their crimson photoreceptors recording every moment of carnage for the entertainment of the masses.
From the stands came the bestial roar of thirty thousand voices raised in bloodthirsty approval.
They had witnessed something magnificent—a display of martial prowess that would be spoken of for generations.
Angron and his adoptive father Oenomaus stood amid the corpses of their enemies, chests heaving with exertion.
Gore painted their scarred flesh while the crowd screamed for more.
"Another triumph for the Red Angel!" the announcer's voice boomed across the arena.
"But the noble spectators hunger for a greater spectacle. Let them witness the birth of a true champion!"
The crowd's approval became deafening as they understood the implication.
The two gladiators who had fought as brothers, who shared the bond of father and son, would now face each other unto death.
"No!" Angron's voice cut through the cacophony like a blade. "I will never raise arms against him!"
"No?" A servo-skull descended until its artificial eye was level with the Primarch's bloodstained features.
The voice that emerged from its vox-grille was cold as the void between stars.
"You were bred to bleed for your betters, slave. Your existence has no value beyond our entertainment—a hound trained to fight and die at its master's whim."
"A disobedient hound requires correction until it remembers its place."
The mechanical voice paused as the crowd's anticipation reached fever pitch. "Citizens of Nuceria, what fate awaits a slave who defies his purpose?"
"THE NAILS!" Thirty thousand voices united in terrible harmony. "THE NAILS! THE NAILS! THE NAILS!"
Angron's hands clenched into fists as he stared up at the blood-drunk masses.
In that moment, something pure and noble within him began to die—not from the butcher's devices they would soon implant, but from the simple, crushing realization of what humanity had become on this world.
He had been noble once. Compassionate. A protector of the weak and defender of the enslaved.
But Nuceria would not suffer such goodness to exist.
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