"Fulgrim, Sanguinius, come home, it's time to eat!"
Caelan looked up and called toward the crimson sky. The twin angels, giggling as they chased each other through the air, fluttered their tender wings and dove down one after the other, landing lightly in the courtyard.
They sat side by side on their chairs, shoulders pressed together, their small hands neatly placed on the table.
Even compared to other death worlds, the living environment on Baal Secundus was exceptionally harsh.
It's wilderness was home to dangerous predators like blood hawks, man-eating frogs, and Baalite Fire Scorpions, but compared to worlds with carnivorous trees, explosive poison toad, or sea beasts stretching thousands of meters long, the predators of Baal Secundus could almost be called gentle...
But the most brutal aspect of this world was that the land itself had become a deadly enemy.
What had once been a fertile world was now only an endless desert. Radiation, like invisible venomous snakes, lurked in every grain of sand, and every wisp of wind.
The survivors who lived here had become a strange kind of nomadic people, relying on radiation meters passed down from ancient times to cautiously avoid high-radiation zones, desperately praying that their patchwork radiation suits would keep them alive.
There was almost no land left that could be cultivated. Radiation had completely mutated Baal Secundus ecosystem, no grading system could make sense of it anymore.
Therefore, survival depended on hunting .
However, Baal Secundus' environment was fatal to any life.
Its brutal environment had given rise to equally lethal creatures, beings that survived merciless natural selection and adapted to radiation, chemical pollution, and extreme climates.
Any life that could survive on Baal Secundus inevitably carried radiation. Not only did hunting carry risks, but eating also carried risks.
If you ate, radiation would accumulate in your body.
If you didn't eat, you would starve to death in a few days at most.
To survive, some tribes even resorted to eating mutants, or pure-blood humans. In fact, they preferred the latter, since pure-blood humans carried less radiation and fewer side effects.
Fulgrim elegantly cut a piece of blood hawk meat with a knife and fork, then fed it to Sanguinius.
Sanguinius, not to be outdone, also cut a piece of jerky and fed it to Fulgrim.
Three days earlier, a flock of blood hawks had tried to raid the village, only to have their wings torn off in the blink of an eye by the twins, sending them plummeting to the scorched earth like tattered banners.
The villagers helped turn them into jerky, which they have been eating ever since.
Unfortunately, blood hawk meat was tough and dry, hardly a delicacy.
Water was no better.
On most worlds, a human would die of thirst after three days without water.
But on Baal Secundus, drinking water could turn a person into a desiccated corpse in an instant, because you couldn't tell if you were drinking water or thirstwater.
Thirstwater looked like ordinary water, but it was alive, with rudimentary intelligence.
Once swallowed by a thirsty creature, it would drain all moisture from whatever it touched.
So one could imagine that any seemingly safe water source on Baal Secundus hid lethal danger.
Glistening puddles, trickling streams in rock crevices, even rushing rivers could all be contaminated.
Even if a source was safe yesterday, it might be "parasitized" by thirstwater today.
Ironically, polluted water was often safer than clean water, because thirstwater preferred purity.
That was why the people stored water in tribal tanks, and only water from those tanks was considered safe.
Even then… not always.
Fulgrim and Sanguinius swallowed the last piece of jerky. Four small hands rested on the table edge, but their eyes were fixed intently on the cup of water in front of Caelan.
The liquid in the cup quivered slightly, as if sensing danger, quietly shrinking towards the opposite rim of the cup, trying to avoid the twins' burning gaze.
Caelan eyes suddenly sharpened. He turned his head slightly, his voice low, "Karin. Who brought today's water?"
Karin dropped to her knees, shaking violently, her lips drained of color. "N-no… not me, my lord."
"That's why I'm asking who it was!"
Caelan's gaze cut into her like a blade. Karin didn't have the courage, or the opportunity, to do this.
As the priestess serving the 'god', she lived and ate in Caelan's residence with no chance to contact external water sources.'
But thirstwater didn't appear in the village's water tank on its own.
It had to be brought in by someone.
And in the village, only hunters could freely enter and leave.
The liquid in the cup continued to tremble uneasily, as if aware of the danger closing in.
Karin's voice broke. "I-it was Gibson... he said it was a holy offering for you."
Caelan frowned. "Who's Gibson?"
Karin froze, then answered shakily. "My lord… the first person you seized with divine power when you descended upon the tribe, that was Gibson."
"Oh. Him."
Caelan suddenly remembered, barely.
He wasn't one of Caelan's students. Why would he remember some passerby's name?
"Do you know where he lives?"
Karin shuddered. "Yes…"
"Lead the way. Don't worry, I won't punish others indiscriminately."
"Yes, my lord."
Caelan's deep voice carried undeniable authority. Karin felt as if she had been pardoned and rose trembling.
But she never dared to look up as she led the way.
She didn't plead for Gibson. No one would.
Anyone who offended the god deserved death.
If not for the god's mercy, Gibson would have killed everyone in the village. Who would be foolish enough to defend someone like that?
The twins hovered beside Caelan, wings pure as snow beneath the crimson sky.
Villagers along the way knelt in reverence; they knew nothing of what had happened.
Only one warrior gripping a hunting rifle had his pupils shrink violently, hurriedly lowering his head, his guilt plain as day.
Caelan pointed at him. "What's his name?"
Karin's breath hitched for a moment. "Torren, my lord."
"He's an accomplice. Bring him too."
Before the villagers could even look up from their shock, Caelan's psychic power had already transformed into an invisible hand, pressing Torren heavily into the sand.
The villagers trembled as they escorted Torren forward.
When they arrived before Gibson's mottled metal shack, Gibson actively pushed open the door.
Seeing the hostile crowd, he knew his scheme has been exposed. He straightened and spoke righteously:
"I did it alone! It has nothing to do with anyone else. Don't involve the innocent!"
"Innocent?" Caelan laughed. "You want to play the hero?"
"You false..."
Gibson's eyes burned with fury. He wanted to accuse the false god, but an invisible hand choked his throat, allowing only rasping breaths.
"I know you're in a hurry," Caelan said calmly. "But slow down."
He turned to the trembling Torren. "Tell me, who else was involved?"
Torren's legs buckled. He collapsed to his knees, face deathly pale. "My lord… I was wrong."
Sanguinius showed no pity. Torren didn't truly realize he was wrong, he just knew he was about to die.
"Give me the names," Caelan said coldly.
"N-no one else… my lord. Just us."
Albert arrived late, pushing through the crowd and collapsing into the sand. "My lord, we were wrong!"
Caelan laughed in disbelief. "Wrong about what?"
Albert's withered forehead pressed against the scorching sand. He hemmed and hawed but couldn't say.
Because he had no idea of the details, only assuming those two reckless young men had offended the god's majesty.
"Don't confess blindly," Caelan said. "You almost got everyone killed. Get up. Karin, help him."
Caelan was still reasonable; he wouldn't slaughter everyone.
Karin tremblingly helped Albert's withered arm up, leaning close to the old man's ear to whisper, "Gibson tried to harm our lord with thirstwater."
Albert's cloudy eyes widened in horror, his face draining of color.
'How dare they? How they offend god?!'
"My lord…" Albert legs trembled as he knelt again. He truly didn't know!
"This isn't your fault."
Caelan lifted him gently with psychic force. "Bring all the hunters who went out with them."
"Y-Yes, my lord."
Caelan's mercy brought hot tears to Albert's eyes. 'The god did not vent his anger on the tribe because of Gibson's crime. Was there any god more tolerant than him in this world?'
Albert stared at Torren and Gibson with bloodshot eyes. 'These damned traitors had nearly doomed the entire tribe with their actions.'
There were twenty-four hunters who went out with Gibson and Torren. Now they all knelt before Caelan, accusing each other of their movements yesterday, piecing together the truth.
The hunting party had many tasks: hunting, searching for water sources, patrolling the surroundings for danger, marking high-radiation zones on maps and planning the next migration route, and scouting for mutants in the area.
So they usually explored in groups of three, heading in different directions.
Torren and Gibson were in the same group. The third was Mills.
"So where is Mills?" Caelan asked.
Albert trembled. "My lord, during the hunt yesterday, the team was ambushed by mutants. Mills… died protecting the others."
"Protecting whom?"
Albert's eyes turned red as he stared at Gibson and Torren. "You two traitors, you killed Mills!"
"Yes! I killed him!" Gibson shouted, veins bulging. "He found out and wanted to report it! If he wouldn't join us, I had no choice!"
"Shut up, traitor!"
Albert smashed his cane across Gibson's face.
"It's you who should shut up!" Gibson roared at Caelan. "He's not a god, he's a filthy mutant!"
"Who told you that?" Caelan asked calmly.
"No one! I could tell at a glance!"
"You're surprisingly perceptive."
Caelan's playful praise left a trace of confusion on Gibson's face.
Didn't he deserve rage for that insult?
But Gibson couldn't comprehend Caelan's thinking.
What defined a "mutant"?
By genetic standards, was there any pure human left in the 30K era?
Perpetuals, Psykers, Primarchs, Astartes, Custodes, Blanks, were mutant.
The entire galaxy was full of mutants.
To Caelan, "mutant" was neutral term, not an insult.
Even psychic power was mutation.
Caelan wasn't angry about the insult.
He was angry because someone tried to kill him.
"Dad, here."
Sanguinius handed Caelan the cup of water, not a drop spilled.
Caelan tapped the cup. The liquid writhed violently.
"Do you know what this is?"
"Thirstwater," Gibson replied stubbornly.
Caelan forced the cup to Gibson's lips.
The thirstwater surged into his throat like a starving beast.
Gibson's scream died instantly.
His skin collapsed, cracked. His bones shattered like dry branches.
The thirstwater seeped out, splitting into countless droplets, trying to escape into the sand to hide.
However, psychic power had already woven an invisible net. No matter how the scattered liquid lifeforms struggled, they were eventually pulled back into the air by an irresistible force.
The droplets coalesced back into a trembling globule of water, larger in volume than before.
This was also one of thirstwater's few flaws: their mobility was poor. Otherwise, there would long have been not a drop of true water left on Baal Secundus.
Caelan gazed at Gibson's desiccated corpse, suddenly asking softly, "Why did he want to kill me?"
"Because he was stupid," Sanguinius said innocently.
"Because he was evil," Fulgrim's eyes were icy. He thought Gibson died too easily.
"And because he was afraid." Caelan reached out and ruffled the their hair.
"Fear is like thirstwater, it drains a person's sanity. He was too afraid, and extreme fear makes people make the most irrational choices."
"He was stupid, but not utterly so. He knew I would bring change to this village, and he feared that such change would be harmful. That fear is why he dared to act.
"He was evil, but not wholly evil. In his own mind, he believed himself righteous. He tried to kill me to protect the village."
"What does this show?"
Sanguinius spoke next, his voice childish yet sincere. "That all things have many facets, and that the causes behind events are often complex and entangled. To seek the truth, one must free oneself from black-and-white thinking and avoid the trap of one-sided judgment."
"Well said." Caelan smiled approvingly at the angel, then turned to the other child. "Fulgrim, what about you?"
"He had to die!"
Caelan understood the reasoning. He simply didn't care.
Whatever the motive, wrongdoing demanded a price. Whoever dared to touch Caelan would be slain, no exceptions.
Caelan pinched the little angel's cheek. "You're right. That's why I killed him."
"One of the core traits of human nature is hypocrisy," Caelan continued calmly. "When something does not concern them, people speak with moral certainty, as though they were saints. But the moment their own interests are threatened, their selfishness reveals itself. The logic beneath it all is simple: everyone has their own home to protect."
"Even one as seemingly selfless as your father, the Master of Mankind, willing to burn his own life for humanity, is, in his own way, a hypocrite."
"So do not resist your nature blindly. Learn to understand it. Whether you choose to reconcile with it or struggle against it, only through understanding can you make the right choices."
He gestured toward the globule of thirstwater, held immobile by psychic force. "Like this water. The people of Baal fear it and flee from it but that too is understandable. They are mortals."
"But we are not. We must see not only its danger, but its essence."
"Because we possess the ability to do so. And where there is greater power, there must also be greater understanding."
The people stared in terror at the suspended thirstwater, yet they feared even more the god and angels who could command it so effortlessly.
.....
15 chapter ahead in [email protected]/DaoistJinzu