The battleship's internal lighting system simulated the soft light of dawn, dispelling the silence of the artificial night. Kolesa's long silver eyelashes fluttered a few times, and she slowly opened her eyes. Her amethyst-like eyes were initially hazy with sleep, but quickly regained their clarity.
She looked down at the child in her arms; Eiras was still sleeping soundly, her light pink hair disheveled on the pillow, her small mouth slightly ajar, emitting soft, even breaths. The little one had been like a small animal seeking security all night, unconsciously sucking on her nipple. Although Kolesa's heart was filled with tenderness, the continuous, gentle sucking did make her feel a slight discomfort and a faint throbbing pain.
She smiled helplessly and dotingly, carefully, trying not to disturb Eiras, lowered her head, and left a feather-light kiss on the smooth forehead. Then, she very slowly moved her body, like shaking off a clingy kitten, gradually disentangling herself from Eiras's embrace.
Her feet touched the cold floor, and Kolesa stood up, stretching her somewhat stiff, slender waist. She walked to the dressing table that Gaius had specially added for her, picked up an exquisite bone comb, and patiently smoothed her long silver hair, which was like a waterfall of moonlight. Afterward, with a slight shift in her thoughts, the vast, sea-like psychic energy within her circulated as if it had a will of its own.
The uniform dress, specially made for her by the Tech-Sergeant, combining the concise style of the Ultramarines with the elegant elements of the Aeldari, hung on a nearby clothes rack. Guided by an invisible force, it automatically dressed her, as if served by the most attentive maid, with every crease perfectly arranged. The entire process was silent, filled with an indescribable sense of rhythm, perfectly befitting her identity as an Aeldari Governing Psyker.
She looked back at the bed; Eiras merely smacked her lips, rolled over, hugged the pillow that still carried her scent, and continued to sleep soundly.
"It seems Gaius was right; this little one really does sleep in until noon," Kolesa's lips curved into a gentle arc, and she shook her head lightly. Gaius had mentioned before that if there was no mission or if Luna didn't wake her, she would always sleep until noon, then happily go find a large piece of synthetic bread to eat, and then go back to sleep. She didn't disturb Eiras's sweet dreams and quietly left the cabin.
Walking through the slightly quiet corridor in the morning, Kolesa's destination was Captain Cassius's office. According to Gaius's introduction and the unspoken rules within the company, as an Aeldari Governing Psyker "personally appointed" by the First Company Captain and the Chapter Master, and closely related to Sergeant Gaius, she was, to some extent, regarded as the company's "number five person," an unofficial special position known as "the Psyker." Although this position had no explicit codex regulations, it meant she needed to assist the Captain and Lieutenant to some extent with company affairs, especially when dealing with psychic powers, xenos technology, or certain supernatural phenomena.
Just thinking about having to face those data-slates, said to be piled high enough to make Captain Cassius break down, Kolesa felt a chill in her heart. She was accustomed to solving problems using psychic power and intuition, and she truly held a respectful distance from the tedious and detailed paperwork of humans.
As she passed the company's small chapel, she saw the company's Chaplain—a tall monk in black Power Armor, adorned with solemn skull insignias and Imperial scriptures—conducting morning inquiries with several warriors. The Chaplain's black armor, starkly different from the Ultramarines' blue main color, and the skull decorations symbolizing death and devotion, made Kolesa feel an instinctive sense of oppression due to the cultural differences of an alien race, finding it a bit frightening. She subconsciously quickened her pace.
The First Company Warriors she encountered along the way, whether they had just finished patrol or were about to go to training, would immediately stop, stand tall, and give her a standard, respectful military salute upon seeing the beautiful, silver-haired, purple-eyed "Psyker" lady. The initial curiosity and scrutiny in their eyes were replaced by a sense of recognition and respect for "one of their own." Although she was an Aeldari, the help she brought to the Chapter, her relationship with Gaius, and her own powerful abilities had already earned her the initial acceptance of these proud warriors.
Kolesa would also stop, return a gentle and elegant smile to the warriors, and nod slightly in acknowledgment. She was slowly learning and adapting to life and etiquette within the Human Chapter.
Arriving outside the Captain's office, Kolesa gently knocked on the door.
"Come in." Captain Cassius's voice came from inside, sounding… in a good mood?
Kolesa pushed the door open and entered. She saw Captain Cassius sitting behind his desk; perhaps it was an illusion, but the stack of data-slates in front of him seemed a bit shorter than before. He was even leisurely holding a steaming cup of suspiciously colored liquid. Lieutenant Golden stood beside him, reporting something.
Seeing Kolesa enter, Captain Cassius's eyes lit up, as if he had seen a savior. He immediately put down his cup; the liquid inside sloshed, emitting an even stranger odor, and then he put on a smile that Kolesa found somewhat "unscrupulous."
"Ah! Miss Kolesa, you've come at just the right time!" Captain Cassius greeted her warmly. "Golden was just telling me that the company's recent logistics supply list and material distribution plan are a bit chaotic and need to be properly organized and planned. You see, you're now an important member of our company, and I think this important task is most suitable for you to handle!"
As he spoke, he pointed without question to a small table in the corner of the office that had just been cleared and was already piled half a man high with data-slates: "The relevant data and reports are all there! I believe that with the wisdom and ability of a Governing Psyker, handling these trivial matters will definitely be effortless!"
Lieutenant Golden stood to the side, a helpless smile on his face, but he did not speak to refute. Everyone could see that the Captain had finally found a "reasonable" excuse to offload the tedious logistics work so he could continue to enjoy his rare leisure.
Kolesa looked at the pile of data-slates, a hint of trepidation flashing in her purple eyes, but seeing Captain Cassius's "eager" (passing the buck) gaze, she still smiled gently and nodded slightly: "I understand, Captain. I will do my best to handle it."
She walked to the small table and sat down, took a deep breath, picked up the topmost data-slate, and began to try to decipher the dense numbers and material codes on it. For her, this was even more difficult than deciphering ancient Aeldari prophecies.
Captain Cassius, seeing that Kolesa had taken on this "heavy burden," was overjoyed, feeling his breathing become much smoother. He picked up the unpalatable synthetic coffee again, took a delightful sip, and felt that today's beginning was exceptionally good.
However, this brief tranquility did not last long.
Just as Kolesa was buried in the dizzying inventory lists, trying to use psychic power to aid memory and calculation, Captain Cassius's encrypted communicator on his arm suddenly emitted a piercing, high-priority alarm sound!
Captain Cassius's expression changed instantly, and he immediately answered the call.
"Speak!"
The urgent and tense voice of the bridge intelligence officer came from the other end of the communication: "Captain! We have lost all contact with 'Chisys'! They launched a planned raid on the abandoned space station occupied by the 'Bloodclaw' pirates, but shortly after entering the space station, the signal was completely cut off! We tried all backup channels and emergency communication protocols, but received no response!"
The "Chisys" squad was the elite assault team of five experienced Terminator veterans that Captain Cassius had dispatched not long ago, with the goal of clearing out a pirate force that had repeatedly harassed the shipping lanes on the edge of Ultramar.
Upon hearing this news, Captain Cassius's characteristic fiery temper instantly flared up! He abruptly stood up from his seat, the immense force causing the heavy throne to shake and emit a harsh scraping sound. He roared into the communicator with his storm-like voice:
"Lost contact?! You're telling me lost contact?! Find a way to restore contact immediately! Use every means possible! Monitor signals on all possible frequencies! Activate their Power Armor beacons' emergency tracking mode! I don't care how you do it, within ten minutes, I want to hear their voices! Otherwise, I'll go to the bridge right now and personally throw you out of the observation window! Do you understand?!"
His furious roar made the entire office hum, and even the Imperial battle flag hanging on the wall seemed to tremble.
Kolesa, who was concentrating on the data-slates, trembled all over from the sudden roar, and the data-slate in her hand almost fell to the ground. She looked up and saw Captain Cassius's face flushed with rage and the bulging veins on his neck. Unpleasant memories of the Captain losing his temper with her before instantly flooded her mind, causing her heart to pound and making her feel afraid.
She dared not stay any longer, quickly and clumsily organized the data-slates she was working on and those she hadn't yet touched, hugged them to her chest, then stood up, and gave a somewhat hasty but still elegant curtsy to Captain Cassius, who was still roaring into the communicator, and whispered: "Cap… Captain, I'll go back and process these documents first…"
Having said that, she almost fled, holding the pile of heavy data-slates, and hurried towards the office door.
Just as she stepped out of the office's metal door, Captain Cassius's even more furious roar, even tinged with a hint of disbelief and shock, came from behind her, clearly penetrating the closing door crack:
"What?! You said all their life signals disappeared at the same time?! All dead?! How is that possible?! 'Chisys' is the most elite Terminator squad under my command! Well-equipped, experienced! How could they be completely wiped out by a bunch of disorganized pirates?! Keep trying to contact them! Find out what happened! Immediately send out reconnaissance units! I want to know what happened there!!"
"Clang!" The office door was slammed shut by Kolesa's subconscious force, cutting off the suffocating roar. She leaned against the cold metal door, her heart still pounding, and the data-slates in her arms felt exceptionally heavy.
She looked at the data-slates in her arms, which represented "company logistics," and then recalled the Captain's furious appearance just now. Suddenly, she felt that perhaps dealing with these tedious numbers… was not so difficult to accept after all.
At least, they wouldn't roar at you.
She sighed softly, holding the data-slates, and walked towards her and Gaius's cabin, preparing to continue her "duties" as the company's "Psyker" there. Meanwhile, in the Captain's office, Captain Cassius's rage still burned; a sudden and puzzling loss had instantly wiped away his recently improved mood.
Kolesa, carrying the stack of data-slates that made her slender arms ache, returned to the cabin she shared with Gaius. To her surprise, Eiras, uncharacteristically, hadn't slept in today and was already awake. The little one sat on the edge of the bed, dangling her small legs, her light pink hair like a messy cloud, rubbing her sleepy eyes with tiny hands, looking groggy as if she had been forced to "boot up" before she was fully awake.
Seeing Kolesa return, Eiras lifted her small face, her green eyes still misty with tears, and mumbled, "Sister Kolesa..."
Kolesa carefully placed the data-slate on the desk in the corner of the room, then walked to the bed and sat down next to Eiras. She reached out, gently combing Eiras's messy hair, and softly asked, "Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat? I have some synthetic bread prepared by Lieutenant Golden here. Do you want me to mix some synthetic milk for you?"
Eiras, who was still half-asleep, shook her little head like a rattle. But as soon as she heard the words "big bread," her drowsy eyes instantly lit up like two polished emeralds. Her little head nodded rapidly, as if her previous sleepiness had vanished, and a look of eager anticipation spread across her face.
Kolesa was amused by her rapid transformation, and her purple eyes filled with tenderness. She got up and retrieved the synthetic bread and synthetic milk that Golden had specially prepared for her picky eating, which had a relatively better texture. She carefully broke the somewhat dry and hard-looking bread into small pieces, placed them in a clean bowl, then poured warm synthetic milk over them, allowing the bread to slowly absorb the liquid and soften.
She picked up a small spoon, scooped up a spoonful of soft, milky bread paste, carefully blew on it, and then offered it to Eiras's mouth. Eiras, like a hungry chick waiting to be fed, eagerly opened her small mouth, took the spoon in with an "awww," and chewed contentedly, her face radiating happiness.
Kolesa patiently fed Eiras spoon by spoon, while gazing at the girl who was actually over fifty years old but, according to the Aeldari's long lifespan, had the mind and physique of a human child of five or six. Thinking of how she had lived alone for decades on this vast and cold human warship, Kolesa couldn't help but feel a strong sense of curiosity and pity.
In the Aeldari Craftworld where she once lived, Aeldari children of this age were still under their parents' care, learning basic art, history, and psychic knowledge in beautiful environments, enjoying a serene and poetic childhood. Eiras, however, had long since struggled to survive in her own way in this human world filled with steel, oil, and the scent of war, even becoming a Tech-Sergeant.
"What did she experience before... How did she get here? Where are her people?" Countless questions swirled in Kolesa's mind. But she didn't voice them; she didn't want to rashly uncover potentially existing scars. She simply fed Eiras more gently and meticulously, conveying her care and warmth in this way.
Soon, the small bowl of milk-soaked bread was eaten clean by Eiras. After eating her fill, a strong wave of sleepiness washed over her again. Eiras's little head began to nod, and her eyelids started to droop. Finally, she slumped, leaning directly against Kolesa's soft body, smacked her lips a few times, and began to breathe steadily, having fallen asleep again.
Kolesa looked at her, a little pig who ate and then slept, and couldn't help but laugh. She carefully laid Eiras flat, covered her with the blanket, and lightly kissed her rosy little cheek. Then, she walked to the desk, looked at the pile of headache-inducing data-slates, sighed resignedly, and began to try to understand the dry numbers and material codes with her brain, which was more adept at processing psychic strands and threads of fate.
Meanwhile, at the other end of a distant star system, on the cold and majestic bridge of the nightfall, the atmosphere was solemn and oppressive, as if solidified into ice.
All the Night Lords Warriors, from the high-ranking Captains and Black Guards to the ordinary bridge officers and Night Raptor Warriors, were now kneeling on one knee, their heads bowed, like prisoners awaiting final judgment. Their black armor and dark blue robes covered the cold deck, forming a silent ocean of complex emotions.
Squads of Dark Angels Warriors, clad in dark green Power Armor, with lion-head insignias etched into their armor and eyes as cold as blades, stood like overseers around them. They gripped their weapons tightly, their sharp gazes like searchlights, meticulously scrutinizing each kneeling son of the night, as if evaluating whether these former traitors still hid their fangs. The air was thick with a nearly solid hostility and distrust.
Sevatarion, the prince of crows, also knelt on one knee, but his upright posture still carried a hint of kingly aloofness. He shielded Otani tightly behind him, using his broad cloak and body to block the scrutinizing and oppressive gazes from the Dark Angels. Otani's small body pressed against Sevatarion's cold leg armor, her small hands clutching the edge of his cloak, her face buried in his back, trembling with fear. The aura emanating from those green giants filled her with an instinctive dread.
"Don't be afraid, Otani," Sevatarion's voice resonated directly in her mind, carrying a strange calming power, "Just look at me. Don't mind them. The night haunter is here; he will protect all of us."
His psychic whisper was like a solid barrier, shielding Otani from external fear.
On the other side, Zso Sahaal, the leader of the Black Guard, also knelt on the ground, but his fierce gaze occasionally lifted, scanning his surroundings vigilantly. He firmly protected Koreni at his side, using his still burly body, even injured, as a shield. Whenever a Dark Angels Warrior cast a curious glance at the silver-haired, purple-eyed Aeldari maiden beside Sahaal, who was distinctly different from human girls, they were immediately met with Sahaal's furious, beast-like glare, full of warning and killing intent, as if saying, "Look again and I'll gouge out your eyes!" That fierce gaze was enough to make any Dark Angels daring to approach feel wary and shift their gaze away sheepishly.
In this atmosphere of solemnity and anticipation, Lion El'Jonson, surrounded by the most elite Lion Guard clad in ornate terminator armour, moved like a walking mountain, slowly walking to the center of the bridge, before the shadowy throne of Konrad Curze.
The Lion King's gaze, like two tangible swords, fell upon his brother on the throne, who was barely propping himself up, his face pale, his breathing ragged. He could clearly feel the corrupt and decaying energy, not his own, constantly eroding Curze's essence.
Lion did not waste time with pleasantries, directly asking one of the questions he had raised before and was most concerned about, his voice deep and oppressive:
"Konrad, tell me the truth. Who could have wounded you like this?"
He knew Koz. This brother might be mad, paranoid, and act despicably, but his strength was absolutely not to be underestimated, especially in his favored domains of shadows and trickery. For him to suffer such severe injuries, which even a Primarch-level recovery could not quickly suppress, the identity of the assailant was almost self-evident—it could only be another Primarch, or an entity of similar power.
Koz raised his head, the faint red glow in his sunken eyes flickering weakly against the intense pain from the plague's corruption within him. He looked at Lion's scrutinizing gaze, knowing that concealment was meaningless and would only deepen suspicion. He struggled, and with a dry, hoarse voice, he uttered the name:
"It was... Mortarion."
"Mortarion?!" For the first time, Lion's granite-like face showed unconcealed, genuine surprise, his sharp eyes widening incredulously, "the pale lord who constantly wallows in Nurgle's cesspit, reeking of stench? How did he appear here? And fought with you?"
This news indeed caught him off guard. The Death Guard's operational area was far from the star system where the Eighth Legion had reunited, and Mortarion usually holed up in his plague planet or Warp garden, rarely appearing in the real universe in person.
Countless questions instantly flooded Lion's mind—was it a coincidence? Or an obstruction against Koz's intention to return? Or a new development within the forces of Chaos?
But he quickly suppressed these chaotic thoughts. Now was not the time to delve into Mortarion's motives; the immediate priority was to deal with the fate of Koz and the Eighth Legion.
Lion's gaze once again became cold and sharp. He swept his eyes across the Night Lords kneeling on the bridge, finally returning his gaze to Koz, his voice like a booming bell, clearly echoing throughout the entire bridge and into the ears of every Night Lord and Dark Angel:
"Konrad Curze, and you, sons of the night of the Eighth Legion."
"I, Lion El'Jonson, Lord of the First Legion, hereby declare."
"I have seen your 'sincerity,' seen your disarmament. But this is far from enough."
His words carried heavy weight, like an unquestionable law:
"You need to prove it! Prove it with irrefutable actions and facts!"
"Prove that your desire to return to the Imperium of Man is genuine, and not another despicable deception!"
"Prove that you, Konrad Curze, are capable of controlling and restraining this group of once lawless thugs under your command, who reveled in slaughter and spreading fear, and make them a force that can be controlled by the Imperium, rather than out-of-control beasts that could turn on us again at any moment!"
Lion paused, letting his words deeply engrave themselves in everyone's hearts, and then he gave the possible, yet incredibly heavy, promise:
"If... you can achieve all of this. If you can, through future actions, atone for even a ten-thousandth of your past sins."
"Then, I, Lion King Lion, will guarantee with my name and honor, and agree to your... return."
However, this "return" was not a glorious homecoming, but the beginning of atonement.
"But, you must always remember!" Lion's voice was like clashing steel, cold and cruel, "You will not enjoy glory and hymns! Your names will not be on the walls of Terra's achievements, nor will there be a statue of Konrad Curze in the Primarch's Square! You will become the darkest, sharpest, and most unwelcome sword in the Imperium's hand! A sword forever pointed at the Imperium's enemies, forever striking in the shadows, forever unable to bask in the sunlight... a sharp sword!"
"Your destiny will be to repay the blood debt incurred ten millennia ago with endless battles and the blood of your enemies! Until forever, or... until the moment of your complete destruction!"
"This is the only path you can choose. And it is the only promise I can give you."
Lion's gaze, like a final judgment, fell upon Koz: "Now, tell me your choice, Konrad. Will you accept the fate of this 'Shadow Blade,' or... choose at this moment, along with your Legion, to face utter annihilation?"
The entire bridge of the nightfall was utterly silent. All eyes were focused on the throne, on the night haunter struggling between pain and the crossroads of destiny.
Inside the mansion, the night's tranquility, like fragile glass, was silently shattered by an unseen killing intent.
Four tall, slender figures, seemingly merged with the shadows themselves, infiltrated this temporary residence with agility and stealth beyond human comprehension.
Their movements were as light as ghosts, their footsteps making no sound on the cold floor; even their breathing seemed to blend with the flow of air.
Even Gaius's enhanced keen senses and Dorian's beast-like intuition failed to detect anything amiss at first.
One of the figures, like a slithering viper, was the first to approach Laya's room door.
She didn't force the door open but rather used a special technique to silently pick the uncomplicated lock, then slipped inside.
Inside the room, Laya was not asleep.
She was sitting by the bed, her mind uneasy as she recalled the terrifying experience of the day, her delicate body still trembling imperceptibly.
When the door was silently pushed open and the shadowy figure appeared, she suddenly looked up, but her face did not show the expected surprise and fear; instead, it was a complex expression, as if she had already anticipated it.
Her gaze met the intruder's for a moment; then, she shook her head forcefully, almost pleadingly, her lips moving as if to say something.
But the shadowy figure simply raised a slender, dark-fabric-covered index finger, slowly placing it precisely over her own lips, making an unmistakably clear gesture for silence.
The action carried an undeniable coldness and command, instantly sealing all of Laya's unspoken words, leaving her frozen in place, her face growing even paler.
The intruder no longer paid attention to Laya; her target was clear—to eliminate the Astartes giant standing guard outside the door, radiating an unsettling aura.
She glided like a true shadow towards the exquisite wooden door, her ear pressed against the panel, listening to the heavy, steady breathing outside.
A strangely shaped, poisoned dagger, shimmering with a cold, eerie blue light, silently slid into her hand, and her body subtly tensed, like a leopard poised to strike, ready to launch a fatal attack the moment the door opened.
However, just as her finger was about to touch the doorknob, and all her strength was concentrated, ready to explode—
A sudden change occurred!
"Boom!!!"
With a loud bang, wood splinters flew!
A massive arm, covered in hard chitin and bulging muscles, thick as a normal person's calf, slammed through the thick wooden door without warning, with incredible ferocity!
The large hand, like an iron trap, clamped with lightning speed and uncanny precision around the slender neck of the Dark Eldar Assassin outside the door!
"Ugh!" The Assassin let out a short, pained grunt, and her dagger clattered to the floor.
She was lifted entirely off the ground by that terrifying large hand, her feet flailing helplessly in the air as intense suffocation instantly flooded her brain, and her pale cheeks rapidly turned red from lack of oxygen.
But no matter how she struggled, the fingers gripping her neck were like rooted iron tongs, unmoving, the absolute disparity in strength displayed vividly at this moment.
"I smell…" Dorian's cold voice, filled with undisguised killing intent and a hint of cruel mockery, passed through the hole in the door, like a whisper from the abyss, clearly reaching the Assassin's ears and echoing through the silent corridor, "…your fear."
Then, an even more violent scene unfolded.
Dorian seemed to find the hole not big enough; his other giant hand suddenly grabbed the edge of the broken door panel, and with a sickening crunch of tearing wood, he ripped the entire exquisite wooden door clean off its frame as if it were a piece of thin paper, tossing it aside with a loud crash!
Light poured from the corridor into the room, illuminating Dorian's massive, bear-like physique at the doorway, and the shadowy figure he held aloft with one hand, struggling like a lamb to the slaughter.
"Let me see," Dorian's intact eye and his glowing red bionic eye focused like spotlights on the prey in his hand, his tone full of oppressive force, "what exactly you are."
He extended his other free hand and roughly tore off the shadowy figure's full-body, dark camouflage cloak.
The true face revealed beneath the cloak intensified the fierce glint in Dorian's eyes.
It was a female Aeldari.
Her pale skin was like porcelain under moonlight, her features delicate but with an inhuman sharpness, especially her pointed ears, far more slender than Kolesa's, clearly indicating her identity—not an Aeldari from a Craftworld, but a Dark Eldar from the shadowy realm of Commorragh!
She was now staring fixedly at Dorian with eyes full of terror, disbelief, and venomous hatred, seemingly unable to comprehend how her flawless stealth had been exposed by this seemingly brutish giant.
Dorian lifted the struggling Dark Eldar Assassin, who was trying to scratch his arm with her nails, to eye level, experiencing firsthand the deep-seated abhorrence for xenos that originated from his very soul.
He let out a low growl, like a savage beast whose territory had been invaded:
"Xenos!"
This roar, like a massive stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly shattered the mansion's false tranquility and issued the most direct warning to the other lurking intruders!
The moment Dorian's roar subsided—
"Bang!!!"
Gaius's room door was violently burst open from the inside by an immense force, sending wood splinters flying!
Gaius's tall figure lunged out like a pouncing leopard, his gaze instantly locking onto the other three tall figures in the corridor, whose outlines had just emerged from the shadows and who were preparing to retreat!
Without any superfluous words, Gaius pushed off the ground, which vibrated slightly, and a powerful, heavy straight punch, like a cannonball fired from its barrel, slammed towards the Assassin closest to him!
The Dark Eldar Assassin's reaction was incredibly fast!
The moment Gaius's punch reached her, her body, with a flexibility and agility that defied physics, folded backward as if boneless, narrowly dodging the blow capable of shattering stone!
At the same time, a faint glow flashed in her hand, and a strangely shaped dagger, like a venomous snake's fangs, appeared.
Seizing the moment when Gaius's old strength was spent and new strength had yet to form, her figure flickered like a ghost, instantly circling behind Gaius!
"Screech—!"
The sharp dagger, carrying a cold chill, instantly carved three deep, bone-exposing wounds into Gaius's back!
Dark red blood immediately gushed out, soaking the fabric on his back.
However, Gaius seemed completely oblivious to the tearing pain!
His combat instincts were far beyond ordinary; the moment he was wounded, he powerfully engaged his waist, and using the rotational force, a fierce and swift jab whipped backward like a lash!
But the Assassin's agility was truly astonishing!
With a light backward leap, like a drifting leaf, she once again perfectly evaded Gaius's attack, and a hint of mockery even flashed in her cold eyes.
Meanwhile, the other two Assassins also revealed their weapons—one wielded twin blades, and the other held a long whip shimmering with energy.
Without hesitation, they lunged at Gaius simultaneously from left and right like two black lightning bolts, attempting to use their extreme speed and coordination to instantly eliminate this most troublesome opponent!
Just at this critical juncture—
"Whirr—Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The unique, muffled, and deadly roar of a Bolter suddenly erupted!
Luna's figure appeared at her room doorway, her Bolter already loaded, spitting out scorching flames!
Several Bolter rounds, like invitations from the Grim Reaper, accurately shot towards the two Assassins lunging at Gaius!
However, the speed of the Dark Eldar Assassins once again demonstrated its terrifying nature!
They had already performed evasive maneuvers the instant the Bolter rounds left the barrel, relying on some form of premonition or extraordinary reflexes!
Their figures, like distorted phantoms, brushed past the whistling Bolter rounds by mere millimeters.
The rounds impacted the wall behind them, blasting out charred craters, but failed to harm them in the slightest!
The continuous misses and the entry of Dorian and Luna made the remaining three Assassins instantly realize that continuing the entanglement would leave them no chance of victory, and they might even be completely wiped out.
They were extremely decisive, immediately abandoning any attempt to rescue their comrade captured by Dorian.
One of the Assassins suddenly hurled three throwing knives at Luna, who was aiming!
The knives, with a sharp whistling sound, flew in a triangular formation towards Luna's vital points!
The bionic eye on Luna's helmet flashed red, and a mechanical "blessed arm," which had been in standby mode, instantly sprang out as if possessing its own consciousness, deflecting all three throwing knives with several crisp clangs, sending sparks flying.
But this brief moment of distraction gave the three Assassins their last chance!
Without hesitation, their figures retreated rapidly like melting wax figures, instantly smashing through the window glass at the end of the corridor.
Their forms merged into the dense darkness of the outside night, disappearing without a trace in a few leaps and bounds, leaving behind only chaos and the cold wind, carrying the foul smell of the lower levels, blowing in through the broken window.
The entire process of the raid and counterattack, from beginning to end, lasted only a few short seconds, yet it was intensely suffocating.
Silence returned to the mansion, but the lingering scent of blood, gunpowder, and the faint, cold aura of the Dark Eldar all indicated that everything that had just transpired was no illusion.
Dorian still held the captured Assassin tightly by the neck; she was still struggling futilely, uttering a series of rapid and sharp syllables in Aeldari due to lack of oxygen and rage.
Although the specific meaning was incomprehensible, from her venomous tone and expression, they were definitely not friendly words.
Gaius looked in the direction the Assassins had escaped, his brows tightly furrowed; the intense pain from his back was now clearly perceived, but he paid it no mind.
He had indeed guessed correctly; there were indeed Aeldari on this planet, and they were the more dangerous Dark Eldar, who reveled in plunder and torment!
But what puzzled him was why these Dark Eldar would actively attack them?
Their mission was to investigate the tithe and Genestealers, which, logically, wouldn't touch upon the interests of these hidden xenos.
He estimated that if they hadn't exposed themselves, he might not have discovered their existence until the mission was over.
So, what reason compelled them to take such a huge risk, launching this almost suicidal attack on three Astartes Acolytes?
At this moment, all clues seemed to subtly point to the same person—the eccentric Planetary Governor, Kage Gane, who tried to use Laya to monitor them and seemed to have some connection with the filth of the lower levels.
And this Drukhari Assassin, currently held by Brother Deklan like a chicken, might be the key to unraveling all these mysteries.
They needed to pry her mouth open.
By any means necessary.
The chaos in the mansion temporarily subsided, but the air was still thick with tension and lingering killing intent.
Luna quickly took out a portable, high-strength alloy restraint device from her toolkit and walked over to the Drukhari Assassin, who Brother Deklan was holding like a chicken.
The Assassin was still struggling futilely, her pale face flushed unnaturally with a mix of anger and lack of oxygen, her sharp eyes filled with humiliation and venom, and her mouth constantly uttering sharp, rapid syllables in Aeldari, clearly spewing the most vicious curses.
Luna ignored her curses, her movements precise and efficient.
She grabbed the Assassin's arms, which were twisted behind her back, and firmly fastened the specially made restraint device to her wrists.
With a soft 'click' and a flicker of energy, the restraints instantly locked, and the powerful restraining field ensured that even with the Aeldari's flexibility and strength, she couldn't easily break free.
Seeing the restraints complete, Brother Deklan roughly pushed the Assassin into an empty guest room in the corridor, as if discarding a piece of trash.
The Assassin stumbled and fell to the ground, the restraints preventing her from maintaining balance, but she immediately struggled to sit up against the wall, still staring intently at the people at the doorway with her hate-filled eyes, her incessant Aeldari curses never ceasing.
"Keep an eye on her," Gaius said to Brother Deklan, his voice slightly low due to the pain in his back.
Brother Deklan snorted coldly, crossing his arms and blocking the doorway like a guardian deity, his eyes like searchlights, unreservedly locking onto the prisoner with killing intent.
Luna immediately walked over to Gaius and motioned for him to turn around.
She took out her medical kit, retrieved disinfectant spray and bio-suture glue, and began to treat the three deep, bone-exposing wounds on Gaius's back.
The stinging sensation as the disinfectant spray touched the wounds made Gaius's muscles tense slightly, but he didn't even let out a whimper.
While skillfully cleaning the wounds and applying healing gel, Luna, in her calm, electronic-sounding voice, quipped, "These three cuts are quite deep; when Miss Kolesa sees them after we return, she'll probably be heartbroken."
She tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere with this remark.
Gaius merely twitched the corner of his mouth at her words, offering no response.
His thoughts were completely consumed by the mystery before him.
On the other side, Brother Deklan's anger had clearly not subsided despite capturing a prisoner.
He suddenly turned, strode to Laya's room door, and roared at Laya, who was curled up by the bed, equally pale with fright:
"Speak! Is this your doing, woman?! Did you conspire with that pig-fat Planetary Governor, and call these damned xeno Assassins to kill us?! I knew something was off about you two long ago!
A Planetary Governor living in a golden house, and a secretary playing innocent—not a single one of you is any good!"
His roar was like thunder, making Laya's delicate body tremble violently.
She looked up, her eyes tear-filled, her once exquisite makeup already streaked by tears, making her appear pitiful.
She choked, desperately explaining in a tearful voice:
"No...it's not! Lord Angel! I truly don't know! I don't know anything! I was just...just following Governor Gaine's orders to look after the Lords' daily lives, I...how could I dare to do such a thing?
I don't even know what those...those monsters are..."
Her words were fragmented by fear, filled with helplessness and grievance.
Brother Deklan's eyes were wide, clearly not entirely convinced, and he was about to press further.
At that moment, Gaius's voice came from behind him, carrying a hint of undeniable authority:
"Enough, Brother Deklan."
Gaius had already simply treated the wounds on his back, wrapped them in bandages, and walked back over.
He glanced at Laya, who was startled like a frightened bird by Brother Deklan, and softened his tone, comforting her, "Laya, don't be afraid.
Brother Deklan merely...hates xenos, and the recent battle has clouded his already not-so-bright mind.
I believe this matter has nothing to do with you."
His words, while seemingly comforting Laya, were actually a form of probing, and at the same time, an unreserved jab at Brother Deklan.
Brother Deklan rolled his eyes at the side, muttering discontentedly, but he didn't continue to shout.
Gaius's reassurance somewhat stabilized Laya's emotions.
She sniffled, lowered her head, and whispered, "Thank you...thank you, Lord Angel."
However, deep within Gaius's seemingly gentle gaze, a cold scrutiny persisted.
He no longer paid attention to Laya, instead turning his gaze towards the room where the Assassin was being held.
His massive figure, still muscular despite being bandaged, stepped inside with steady strides.
Luna, Brother Deklan, and the still-shaken Laya also followed, blocking the doorway.
Inside the room, the Drukhari Assassin was still sitting against the wall.
Seeing the group enter, especially when she saw Laya, who appeared particularly disheveled and vulnerable after being roughly handled by Brother Deklan, her eyes, filled with hatred and defiance, flickered ever so subtly, almost imperceptibly, as if a fleeting, extremely complex emotion passed through them—surprise, a hint of undetectable...concern?
Even a fleeting moment of annoyance?
This fleeting detail, like a faint spark in the darkness, was precisely and accurately captured by Gaius's sharp, hawk-like gaze!
Indeed!
His conjecture was confirmed!
This Assassin knew Laya!
They were by no means unrelated!
Laya's previous reactions, her elegance that was out of place in the lower levels, her 'lack of surprise' at the appearance of the Dark Eldar, and now the subtle change in the Assassin's eyes when she saw her...all pointed to one possibility—Laya, the Planetary Governor's personal secretary, likely had some unknown connection with these Dark Eldar!
Perhaps, she herself might even be...
Countless thoughts raced through Gaius's mind, but his face remained impassive.
He needed evidence, he needed to get conclusive information from this Assassin.
He gestured to Luna.
Luna understood, took a portable universal translator from her toolkit, and after a simple calibration, aimed it at the Assassin.
This device could capture and translate the languages of most known sentient species; although it might not be perfectly accurate for the ancient and complex Aeldari language, it was sufficient for basic communication.
Gaius looked down at the Assassin sitting on the ground, and through the translator, asked his first question in a cold and authoritative voice:
"Tell me your name.
And who sent you?"
The translator converted his words into a static-filled, peculiar Aeldari utterance.
The Drukhari Assassin looked up, glanced at Gaius with eyes like poisoned daggers, and a sneer of extreme disdain and contempt curved her lips.
She immediately turned her head away, her lips tightly sealed, clearly expressing her defiance and arrogance with her silence and posture.
Gaius was not surprised by her reaction.
These Dark Eldar from Commorragh were known for their cruelty, cunning, and extreme arrogance, viewing other races as inferior beings, and would not easily yield.
He continued to ask, his tone carrying the oppressive quality characteristic of an interrogator:
"Why did you attack us?
Our mission here has nothing to do with you Dark Eldar.
We were unaware of your existence, and we had no actions targeting you.
Or...is it that the one who assigned you has something to hide, fearing we would uncover something, and so was impatient to silence us?"
His questions went straight to the core, attempting to agitate the other party and once again subtly pointing the finger at the possible mastermind—Planetary Governor Gaine.
However, the Assassin still acted as if she hadn't heard, maintaining her arrogant, standoffish demeanor, not even bothering to give Gaius another glance.
Her pale face was etched with the sentiment, "Too disdainful to converse with you barbaric apes."
Gaius looked at her unyielding demeanor and let out a soft, cold huff through his nostrils.
"Very well," his voice deepened, as if containing the calm before a storm, "Maintain your silence and arrogance.
However, I will make you speak.
In a way you absolutely will not want to endure."
His words echoed like a cold vow in the small room.
Having said that, Gaius no longer wasted time and directly turned, gesturing to Luna and Brother Deklan.
The group no longer paid attention to the silent prisoner and exited the room one by one.
Before leaving, Brother Deklan glared fiercely at the Assassin, receiving an even more venomous look in return.
The heavy metal door was closed and locked from the outside by Luna, leaving the Drukhari Assassin alone in darkness and silence.
Outside the door, Gaius's gaze was cold.
He knew that conventional interrogation methods would have limited effectiveness on these Dark Eldar Assassins, who were subjected to brutal training and possessed strong wills.
They needed more effective methods, or to find a breakthrough from other angles.
And the Assassin, left alone in the room, leaned against the cold wall, her wrists tightly bound by the restraint device.
She didn't know what awaited her, but in her sharp eyes, besides defiance, a subtle, almost imperceptible...gravity quietly flickered.
These 'barbarian apes' seemed not as simple as she had imagined.
The next morning, artificial light filtered through the observation window's simulation system, bringing a false warmth to the cold metal mansion. With Luna's assistance, Gaius somewhat stiffly donned his finely crafted Mark X Power Armor. The faint throbbing from the wound on his back reminded him of the fierce battle last night, but this did not affect the clarity of his thoughts or the resolve of his actions.
Once the Power Armor was fully sealed and the system self-check passed, Gaius immediately contacted First Company Captain Cassius, who was aboard the Macragge's Honour, via an encrypted channel.
"Captain, Sanx reporting," Gaius's voice came through his helmet's speaker, steady and clear.
"Speak," Cassius's voice replied, with a morning hoarseness, but still full of power.
"Last night, we were attacked by unidentified individuals. It has now been confirmed that the attackers were four Dark Eldar Assassins. After engagement, three were repelled, and one was successfully captured. She is currently imprisoned in our temporary residence."
Cassius was silent for a moment on the other end of the communication, evidently somewhat surprised by the news. "Dark Eldar? How could they appear on an industrial world?"
"That is precisely the crux of the matter, Captain," Gaius continued. "Based on the available clues and the reaction of the captured Assassin, I highly suspect that Planetary Governor Kage Gane is colluding with these xenos and is involved in some unknown secret activities. However, the direct evidence we currently possess is insufficient. Furthermore, the most important Imperial tithe has not yet been paid. Considering the priority of the mission and to avoid alerting them, we have not yet taken direct action against the Planetary Governor."
He paused, then added, "Laya, the Governor's secretary responsible for monitoring us, is also currently under our control. Her behavior also presents numerous suspicious points."
A brief silence fell on the other end of the communication, with only the faint sound of Cassius's fingers tapping on a table, indicating he was rapidly weighing his options.
After a few seconds, Cassius's voice sounded again, with an undeniable decisiveness:
"Sanx, the situation has changed. Mission priorities are adjusted as follows: The primary objective is to ensure that the Planetary Governor pays the Imperial tithe in full and on time. This is our basic accountability to the Administratum. Under this premise, gather as much conclusive evidence as possible of Gane's collusion with the xenos. I will immediately report to the Chapter Master and request that he contact the Xenos Inquisition, and if necessary, even utilize the power of the Ordo Hereticus, to take over and deal with the potential deep-seated corruption on this planet."
His words clearly defined the operational boundaries and subsequent support for Gaius's squad.
Then, his tone became even colder and harder, with the cruel pragmatism of a battlefield commander:
"You captured a Dark Eldar, didn't you? Good. I authorize you to use all necessary means to make her talk. I repeat, all means."
Cassius's voice came through the communicator, with a metallic, icy quality; every word seemed to carry the scent of blood:
"I do not care how unscrupulous the process is. I only want results. I want to know why they are here, what their connection to the Governor is, and what exactly they are plotting. Understood, Sergeant?"
This was almost explicit authorization, allowing them to use any method, including torture, to obtain intelligence. In the last sentence, the First Company Captain's tone carried a terrifying ruthlessness, willing to sacrifice everything to achieve his objective.
Gaius did not hesitate. He straightened his body, and though Cassius could not see him, he still performed a fist-to-chest salute, his voice resonating:
"Understood, Captain! For Ultramar!"
The communication ended. Gaius stood in place, his gaze deep beneath his helmet. The First Company Captain's authorization gave him freedom of action, but it also meant they were about to step into an even darker realm.
The atmosphere inside the mansion remained oppressive. After last night's fright and subsequent interrogation, Laya had completely lost her initial composure and meticulously maintained facade. She was huddled in a corner of the living room, her face pale, her eyes unfocused, her delicate body trembling slightly from time to time, like a rabbit terrified by a shotgun. Her exquisite makeup had long been washed away by tears, revealing a young but fear-stricken true face underneath.
Among the three, only Luna's attitude towards her was relatively gentle, without Gaius's cold scrutiny or Dorian's undisguised rough hostility. When Luna walked over with a cup of warm water, Laya clutched at her like a drowning person, suddenly throwing herself into Luna's Power Armor-clad embrace and bursting into tears. Her tears quickly soaked Luna's chest armor.
Luna's body stiffened for a moment. She was not accustomed to such intimate contact, especially from a suspicious mortal woman. But looking at the girl in her arms, who was crying almost to the point of fainting, her Tech-Sergeant's brain, accustomed to logic and analysis, judged that this might be an opportunity. She gently patted Laya's back, not pushing her away, and mused that perhaps after her emotions had stabilized, she could try to extract some information from her. A person in a state of collapse often has the weakest defenses.
Meanwhile, Dorian had found an "entertainment" activity that suited his mood and helped him pass the boring time.
He found the universal translator that Luna had adjusted, hung it on his ear, and then, like an iron tower, sat grandly at the door of the room where the Dark Eldar Assassin was being held. He did not immediately go in to use "all means" for physical torture, but chose a method that was more "interesting" to him—mental taunting and torment.
Facing the inside of the room, through the translator, he began a continuous verbal assault lasting several hours, using his rough, booming voice:
"Well, well, well! Look who it is? Isn't this the great Commorragh 'survivor,' that little bitch under Vect, that piece of trash?" Dorian's voice was filled with undisguised contempt and sarcasm. "Decades ago, I thought you bugs hiding in the shadows, along with your filthy lair Commorragh, had been completely pulverized into dust by our Imperial artillery! Who would have thought, who would have thought, that there are still a few fish that slipped through the net, still hopping around here? It seems we didn't kill enough back then, letting you bastards run out again to disgust people!"
His taunts were extremely malicious, specifically poking at the Dark Eldar's pain points and historical scars.
"What? Couldn't make it in Commorragh, so you ran to this godforsaken industrial world to find a sense of existence? Or is it that your shady little skills are only fit for serving as dogs for those greedy, fat Governors in a place like this?"
"Look at you, being carried around by me like a little chicken, feels great, doesn't it? Don't you Dark Eldar pride yourselves on unmatched speed and cunning? How come you can't even dodge one of my punches? It seems the rumors are all just hot air; you only know how to bully unarmed civilians!"
All sorts of highly insulting, dredging-up-the-past, and belittling taunts, like never-ending sewage, continuously poured into the Assassin's ears through the translator.
At first, the Dark Eldar Assassin could retort with even more intense and malicious Eldar words, trying to regain ground verbally, her pale face flushed with anger. But Dorian didn't care what she cursed; he just responded with louder, cruder, and more cutting taunts.
As time passed, this one-sided, meaningless shouting match gradually drained the Assassin's mental energy. She began to choose silence, lowering her head, tightly closing her eyes and mouth, trying to resist the noise pollution with disregard. But the constant, jarring taunts, distorted by the translator, still pricked her nerves like needles, challenging her pathological pride as a Dark Eldar.
Seeing that the Assassin no longer responded, Dorian not only did not stop but intensified his actions. He even stood up, walked in front of the Assassin, and lifted his large foot clad in heavy military boots, kicking her not too hard, but not too lightly. Although it would not cause serious injury, the sense of humiliation was incredibly strong.
"What? Playing dead? Don't you Dark Eldar love to toy with your prey's emotions? Now it's your turn to taste it? Feels good, doesn't it?"
The Assassin's body trembled from the kick. She suddenly looked up, her sharp eyes almost spitting fire, her silver teeth clenched, making a grinding sound. She was clearly at her breaking point with rage; if looks could kill, Dorian would have died countless times over. But bound as she was, she was helpless, and this feeling of powerlessness only deepened her humiliation.
Dorian enjoyed this feeling. He was not in a hurry to inflict physical torture. This process of slowly tormenting and trampling the dignity of a proud xenos psychologically gave him an unusual sense of satisfaction and pleasure. It vented his deep-seated hatred for xenos more effectively than simply beating her up.
Five hours passed, and Dorian was still at it, like a tireless repeater, constantly changing his taunts. Inside the room, the Dark Eldar Assassin's tense willpower was slowly being eroded by this continuous mental torment. Her silence, rather than pride, was a fragile defense in the face of powerlessness.
Gaius and Luna did not interfere with Dorian's actions. They knew that for certain enemies, such seemingly "low-level" methods could sometimes break through their psychological defenses more effectively than severe torture.
The process of prying open that mouth had quietly begun in a way that seemed absurd but was actually fraught with hidden dangers.
Dorian's hours-long, mind-polluting barrage of taunts had just concluded when a heavy, rhythmic footfall and the low hum characteristic of mechanical operation echoed from outside the mansion.
Through the surveillance feed at the entrance, Luna saw an Adeptus Mechanicus Archmagos, cloaked in red, his body heavily augmented with machinery, multiple mechanical arms slowly dancing in the air, standing outside the mansion's main gate. He was surrounded by several Tech-Priests, similarly deeply modified and carrying various precision devices of unknown purpose. Behind them were hundreds of Adeptus Ministorum Guard soldiers, neatly arranged, armed with standard-issue lasguns, their eyes vacant but their movements unified. They quickly fanned out, completely encircling the mansion, evidently to guard against the escaped Drukhari Assassins returning.
Luna immediately went to greet him. She engaged in a brief but efficient binary language exchange with the Archmagos, complex encoded data flowing rapidly between them.
Luna clearly conveyed the situation: crucial intelligence needed to be extracted from the captured Drukhari Assassin—including her origin, purpose, and connection to the Planetary Governor. The core requirement was to ensure the target remained alive and conscious, capable of providing useful information. As for the specific methods, it was explicitly stated that authorization had been received from superiors to use "any necessary means," and that the Astartes would no longer directly intervene in the subsequent process.
The Archmagos's "face," hidden beneath his hood and complex optical sensors, showed no expression, but his binary response carried a cold, unsettling sense of "pleasure":
"[Received. Target: Xenos individual. Priority: Intelligence acquisition. Constraints: Maintain vital signs and basic cognitive functions. Authorization level: Unrestricted. Understood. Astartes Acolyte, the omnissiah will not disappoint you.]"
The fragmented, emotionless binary voice seemed to foreshadow a form of pure, rational torment, transcending mere physical pain.
After the communication, Luna led the Archmagos and his Tech-Priests towards the room where the Assassin was being held. She casually "invited" Dorian, who was still lingering at the doorway, out. Although Dorian was a bit disgruntled, seeing the Adeptus Mechanicus with so many strange devices, he knew the "main course" was about to be served and grumbled as he made way.
Gaius also entered at this time, having re-donned his helmet, the red glow of his eye lenses sweeping over the room. He took a more precise, intricately wired advanced translator from the Archmagos and connected it to his helmet's comms interface.
He walked up to the Drukhari Assassin, who was bound and seated on the floor, still glaring at him with defiant eyes despite Dorian's prolonged mental torment. Through the translator, his processed, emotionless voice spoke again:
"This is your last chance. Speak, or not?"
His voice was devoid of inflection, as if merely stating an established fact.
The Assassin raised her pale face, the same mocking and disdainful curve still on her lips. She didn't even bother to respond verbally, simply turning her head sharply away again, giving the clearest answer through silence and posture—bring on whatever methods you have!
Gaius looked at her defiant stance, and the last shred of reluctance he felt due to her being female completely vanished. He said no more, only shaking his head slightly in resignation, then turned and gestured to Luna.
The two no longer lingered, walking directly out of the room and leaving the subsequent "work" entirely to the Adeptus Mechanicus Archmagos and Tech-Priests.
With Gaius and Luna's departure, the atmosphere in the room instantly became even colder and... inhuman.
The silent Tech-Priests immediately went to work. With precise and efficient movements, they mercilessly dragged the Assassin from the floor, re-binding her hands behind her back with specialized metal shackles that shimmered with energy patterns, then connected the shackles to a mechanical hook descending from the ceiling.
With a 'click,' the hook tightened, and a powerful force instantly pulled the Assassin's tall, slender body taut, her feet almost leaving the ground. She was suspended in mid-air like a suffering icon! This posture was extremely painful; her entire body weight pressed on her bound arms and shoulder joints, quickly bringing intense numbness and a tearing sensation. She couldn't help but let out a muffled groan, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead.
Next, the Tech-Priests swiftly closed and locked the room's metal door. One of them produced a device, installed it on the door frame, and activated it, producing a low hum—this was an efficient acoustic isolation field generator, ensuring that no sound from within the room would escape.
Having completed all this, the Tech-Priests, like surgical assistants finishing preparations, silently retreated to the edge of the room. They connected their various precision instruments to a power source. Cold probes, sensors, injectors, and some oddly shaped tools of unknown purpose slowly rose under the control of mechanical arms, aiming at the Assassin suspended in the center.
The entire room instantly transformed into a silent interrogation chamber, or rather... a laboratory, filled with futuristic technology.
The Archmagos, who was in charge, slowly paced before the Assassin. His multiple optical sensors, hidden beneath his red robe like compound eyes, flashed with cold red light, scanning the Assassin's body up and down as if analyzing a precision instrument awaiting disassembly.
A low, fragmented binary laugh, devoid of human emotion, emanated from his vocalizer, mixed with mechanical static, making it particularly chilling.
"[Hiss... Target vital signs stable... Mental resistance being assessed... Psychic fluctuations faint... Meets interrogation criteria...]
His dancing mechanical arms, like the tentacles of an octopus, flexibly adjusted the parameters of the surrounding instruments.
"[Then... let us... begin...]"
Only then did the Drukhari Assassin's eyes, which had maintained an almost obsessive defiance and indomitable spirit, finally begin to crumble, replaced by a deeper, primal terror stemming from the unknown and rational horror! She looked at the cold, gleaming probes and instruments of unknown purpose, at the Archmagos's lifeless "gaze." She realized that what she was about to face was likely no longer simple physical pain or mental humiliation, but rather a cold and thorough "analysis" that viewed life as a mere subject of study!
She wanted to struggle, but her suspended posture and the energy shackles rendered her immobile; she wanted to scream, but her dignity made her bite her lip fiercely, only a desperate gurgling sound escaping her throat.
However, her terror came too late. The Archmagos's mechanical arm had already grasped a syringe filled with clear liquid and precisely pierced a blood vessel in her neck... A silent purgatory had already descended.
Meanwhile, aboard the distant Macragge's Honour, the ship's internal time had entered a simulated night.
Kolesa had just finished her daily routine communication with Gaius in her cabin. Although Gaius had only briefly reported his safety and hadn't mentioned specific dangers or injuries, hearing his steady voice still brought Kolesa immense peace of mind.
She put down the communicator and walked to the bed. Eiras was already waiting for her like a kitten expecting to be fed, her eyes wide with anticipation. Kolesa smiled gently, got into bed, and embraced Eiras's small, soft body.
The little one snuggled contentedly in her arms, found the most comfortable position, and soon her breathing became steady as she fell into a deep sleep. Kolesa looked down at Eiras's peaceful sleeping face, and then recalled Gaius's voice, her heart filled with tranquility and warmth. She gently kissed Eiras's forehead, then closed her eyes, holding the small warmth in her arms, and drifted off into a sweet dream.
Outside the ship's passageway, the simulated deep night sky, dotted with artificial stars, was serene and peaceful.
And on distant Dratamidas, in the room enveloped by the acoustic isolation field, a cruel contest of intelligence, will, and cold rationality had just begun. On one side was the Xenos soul, clinging to ancient arrogance and pain; on the other, the "intellect" of the Adeptus Mechanicus, stripped of all emotion and moral constraints, existing solely to achieve its purpose.
The outcome, it seemed, was already predetermined.
Kolesa opened her eyes just as the battleship's internal lighting system switched to the soft, simulated dawn mode.
She carefully shifted her body, gently disentangling Eiras, who was wrapped around her like an octopus.
The little one mumbled discontentedly in her sleep, turned over, and continued to slumber, clutching the blanket that still held Kolesa's warmth.
Kolesa quietly got up and walked to the desk.
The stack of logistics allocation data-slates that had given her such a headache yesterday still lay there like silent mountains.
She picked up the top one, looking at the dense array of material codes, quota numbers, and distribution flows, and couldn't help but rub her still aching temples.
She finally understood why iron warriors like Chapter Master Marius Calgar and Captain Cassius, who faced endless Orks, Tyranids, and even Chaos Daemons without fear, would show expressions of near collapse and utter disgust when confronted with such mountains of administrative documents.
Compared to the straightforward slaughter on the battlefield, this kind of paperwork, requiring extreme patience, meticulousness, and logical thinking, was indeed another form of more grueling torment for Astartes Acolytes accustomed to solving problems through strength, intuition, and tactical prowess.
"Hmph..." She exhaled softly, forcing herself to concentrate, and began to try to use psychic abilities to aid memory and calculation, sorting through the chaotic data.
Her fingertips glided across the data-slate, a faint psychic glow seeping into it like flowing water, helping her understand and categorize information more quickly.
Her efficiency was significantly higher than yesterday's pure mental effort, but it still left her feeling mentally exhausted.
The only thing sustaining her was the steady voice of Gaius in their communication and the news of his impending return.
"The day after tomorrow... he'll be back the day after tomorrow..." Kolesa murmured to herself, a flicker of anticipation and soft light in her violet eyes.
This thought, like a sweet spring, slightly alleviated the fatigue brought on by handling tedious administrative affairs.
She lowered her head again, immersing herself more deeply in her work.
Meanwhile, in the living room of the mansion on Dratamidas, heavily guarded by the Adeptus Ministorum Guard, the atmosphere was much more somber.
Gaius, Dorian, and Luna sat together.
Gaius and Dorian sat side-by-side on a reinforced bench, while Luna sat opposite them in a single chair.
All three had removed most of their Power Armor, wearing only basic combat suits.
Gaius was recounting his earlier discovery to the two of them:
"In the upper level, when we first arrived, I caught a glimpse of several suspicious tall figures out of the corner of my eye," he recalled the scene, his tone steady.
"They wore heavy cloaks, completely obscuring their forms, blending into the crowd.
At the time, because the priority was to make contact with the Planetary Governor, I didn't pay much attention, assuming they were just eccentric nobles or oddly dressed individuals."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Dorian and Luna: "Now it seems my intuition at the time was correct.
Those figures were very likely the Drukhari Assassins who attacked us last night.
They had already infiltrated the upper levels of the Hive City, monitoring everything."
Luna listened quietly, her helmet already removed, revealing a face whose expression rarely fluctuated.
She pondered, then raised her own question, her voice carrying the analytical quality characteristic of a Tech-Sergeant:
"There's a logical contradiction.
Planetary Governor Kage Gane, why would he risk colluding with the Dark Eldar?
If he submitted the Imperial tithe on time and in full, maintaining outward loyalty and order, then the regular forces of the Adeptus Mechanicus Guard and the Sisters of Battle would never have detected the deliberately hidden Eldar presence.
His position would be as solid as a rock, without any risk."
She frowned slightly, continuing her analysis: "Gaine's actions seem like he's playing with fire.
But from another perspective, is his deliberate withholding of the tithe and cutting off contact with the Administratum precisely to create an 'opportunity'—an 'opportunity' that would inevitably draw the attention of the Imperial high command, especially potentially attracting Astartes Acolytes like us on special missions?"
Her gaze sharpened: "Perhaps he intends to use the arrival of the Astartes to achieve some... unspeakable secret purpose?
For example, to kill with a borrowed knife?
Or, is our appearance itself a part of his plan?"
Gaius listened intently to Luna's analysis, slowly nodding: "Your conjecture makes a lot of sense.
Simple collusion with xenos might bring short-term benefits, but in the long run, the risks are enormous.
If he deliberately lured us here, then the hidden motives behind it are even more complex and dangerous."
He glanced at the tightly closed door of the room where the Drukhari Assassin was held, his brow furrowed: "The Adeptus Mechanicus's interrogation has been going on for over ten standard hours, and not a sound has come from inside.
I wonder how it's progressing."
Although the Captain had authorized any means necessary, the waiting process was still agonizing.
"However," Gaius's tone shifted, a cold glint in his eyes, "we don't seem to have to wait entirely passively.
Perhaps we can find a breakthrough from another direction."
After speaking, his gaze, like a precise probe, turned to the corner of the living room.
Laya was huddled in a chair there, her arms tightly wrapped around herself, her face pale, her eyes unfocused, still immersed in immense fear and lingering dread, her delicate body occasionally trembling slightly, like a disheveled canary ravaged by a storm.
Gaius suddenly spoke in a cold, warmthless tone:
"Laya."
Laya trembled violently, like a startled rabbit, raising her head and looking at Gaius in terror.
"You seem very afraid," Gaius's voice was flat, yet carried an invisible pressure, "You should know that extreme fear, like a lighthouse in the dark, easily attracts... certain whispers that shouldn't exist."
His words were pointed, both stating a fact and exerting psychological pressure.
Upon hearing the word "whispers," Laya's body trembled even more violently.
She stammered in a tearful, trembling voice, hastily explaining: "No... no! Lord Angel! I... I'm just... just scared by what happened last night... I don't know anything..."
Her defense was pale and powerless, her eyes darting away.
Gaius stood up; his nearly three-meter height, even without Power Armor, carried immense oppressive force.
He strode to Laya, looking down at the trembling girl, his shadow completely enveloping her.
"Since you remain here, feeling such fear and discomfort..." Gaius's voice was still cold, as if stating a pre-ordained fact, "Then, I think, my brother and I wouldn't mind personally escorting you back to your residence.
How about it, Laya?"
His offer seemed considerate but was actually full of probing and aggression.
He wanted to see what secrets were hidden in the "nest" of this suspicious Planetary Governor's secretary, who seemed to have some connection with the Dark Eldar.
Laya, upon hearing this, suddenly looked up, her eyes filled with disbelief and extreme hesitation.
She naturally knew better than anyone what secrets were hidden in her home—secrets that absolutely could not be exposed to these Angels of the Emperor!
But at this moment, facing Gaius's unyielding gaze and Dorian's undisguised, fierce stare like a predator eyeing its prey, how dared she utter a single "no"?
She didn't even dare to imagine the consequences of refusal!
Immense fear overwhelmed everything.
She bit her bloodless lower lip, and finally, as if resigned to fate, nodded with extreme difficulty, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "...Alright... alright... Thank you... Lord Angel..."
Gaius keenly caught her fleeting hesitation and the deep panic in her eyes.
This further solidified his judgment—this trip was sure to yield discoveries!
He wasted no more time, turning to Luna and giving a decisive order:
"Luna, immediately equip me and Dorian with Power Armor.
We will 'escort' Laya back to her residence."
"Understood." Luna immediately stood up and walked to the temporary maintenance bay to prepare the equipment.
Dorian, hearing this, grinned, revealing a smile mixed with excitement and cruelty.
He could finally leave this stifling place, and it seemed he would have a chance to stretch his limbs, which suited him perfectly.
Laya watched them move quickly, her heart filled with despair.
She knew that once these Angels entered her home, certain deeply hidden secrets would probably no longer be able to be concealed.
The gears of fate were pushing her into an abyss she could not control.
Just as Gaius's squad was preparing to take proactive action and investigate Laya's residence, in the Planetary Governor's mansion on the uppermost level of the Hive City, within the extremely luxurious golden living room, another bizarre and decadent scene was unfolding.
Planetary Governor Kage Gane, his corpulent and bloated body, was deeply ensconced in a wide throne carved from a single piece of warm jade.
He was not, as he had promised, frantically scrambling to collect the tithe, but rather indulging in pleasure.
In his arms, he held a female Dark Eldar, scantily clad, with only a few pieces of shimmering, faintly glowing metal and sheer fabric covering her body.
Her pale skin contrasted starkly with Gaine's greasy fat, her pointed ears twitched slightly, and a lazy yet dangerous smile played on her face, like a venomous snake coiled on a pile of gold.
In the center of the living room, several dancers, draped in sheer veils and with alluring movements, swayed their bodies to decadent music, their eyes numb and hollow, as if they were merely manipulated puppets.
Gaine watched with great relish, his eyes, squeezed into slits by fat, gleamed with greed and lechery, seemingly having long since cast the Imperial tithe and the Astartes' warnings to the winds.
His behavior precisely confirmed Luna's conjecture.
His deliberate withholding of the tithe and cutting off communications was not foolishness or oversight, but a meticulously designed, malicious trap.
His goal was precisely to use the Imperial bureaucratic system's reaction mechanism to lure an Astartes squad to Dratamidas.
And his specific target was none other than Dorian.
What was chilling was that he seemed to have an extraordinary "confidence" in this, certain that the squad sent would be Dorian's.
The source of this confidence was not based on logical deduction or intelligence analysis, but stemmed from a seemingly inconspicuous presence beside him.
A man in simple servant's attire, who had been standing humbly by the throne, silently refilled Gaine's empty wine glass with a wine as crimson as blood.
Just as he raised his hand to pour the wine, his wide sleeve slipped slightly, revealing a small, eerie patch of dark blue bird feathers on the inside of his wrist, as if naturally grown on his skin.
Even more chilling was that, under the illumination of the living room's brilliant crystal chandeliers, this servant's shadow cast on the floor was not his own humble, stooped form, but a twisted, grotesque, terrifying humanoid daemon silhouette with a two-headed long neck!
The shadow twisted silently, as if possessing an independent life, exuding a blasphemous and evil aura.
Clearly, this servant was no ordinary mortal.
It was he who provided Gaine with the "prophecy" that "Dorian would surely come," and very likely played a role in facilitating it.
Just then, Gaine, growing excited, suddenly rose from his comfortable throne, his corpulent belly jiggling.
He let out a triumphant and arrogant laugh, reaching into the pocket of his lavish robes and grabbing handfuls of finely minted gold coins, scattering them wantonly among the dancing girls like sowing grain.
"Rewards! Everyone gets rewards! Hahahaha!" He laughed wildly, reveling in the pleasure of dominating others with money and spending lavishly.
However, the moment he stood up, his body blocking some of the light, his shadow cast on the jewel-encrusted wall behind him underwent an extremely bizarre, soul-shaking transformation!
It was no longer the bloated, corpulent human shadow, but the outline of a tall, muscular warrior in Power Armor!
The shadow's posture was filled with power and ferocity, and above its helmet, two distinctive, upward-curving vertical decorations stood prominently—the identifying features of the World Eaters Legion!
This eerie shadow flashed by, and as Gaine's body moved and the light changed, it quickly reverted to his corpulent silhouette.
But this fleeting glimpse had already revealed the terrifying essence hidden beneath this greedy facade.
Kage Gane, this seemingly vulgar and corrupt Planetary Governor, his soul had long been corrupted or even possessed by the power of Khorne!
He might once have been mortal, but now, he was more like a vessel carrying Khorne's will, a priest who screened and offered sacrifices to the blood god!
The servant with the blue feathers on his wrist silently took a few steps closer, approaching Gaine, who was still laughing wildly and scattering money.
His voice was deep and hoarse, as if countless grains of sand were rubbing together, carrying a strange calmness that seemed to perceive fate, and he softly said:
"The time has come, my Lord.
The show... has begun."
His words were like the signal for the final curtain to rise.
All the groundwork, all the waiting, all the conspiracies, pointed to that warrior favored by the blood god, whose heart harbored endless ferocity and a desire for slaughter—Dorian.
They had gone to great lengths to lure the Astartes; their true goal was not investigation, not taxes, but to complete the final test, or rather... the sacrificial ritual, for Khorne's new Chosen in this meticulously orchestrated "show."
And at this moment, Dorian, unaware of any of this, was rubbing his hands together, following Gaius, escorting the uneasy Laya to her residence, which might hide more clues.
They thought they were the hunters, but unbeknownst to them, in the deeper shadows, a massive net targeting Dorian had quietly opened.
The pointer of fate swung wildly between the whispers of Chaos and the iron laws of the Imperium.
A storm centered around Khorne's Chosen was about to erupt over Dratamidas, this seemingly ordinary industrial world.