Six Terran months later, Cadia Fortress, Daemon Inquisitorial council chamber.
The roaring engines of the Iron Faith gradually faded outside Cadia Starport's void shield, the scorch marks and dents covering its hull silently recounting the peril of its mission.
Surprisingly, this team, which had ventured deep into the outer reaches of the Eye of Terror, suffered no casualties among its core members, save for a few unlucky servitors and low-level crewmen—a feat considered a miracle in the Inquisition's operational records.
Inside the council chamber, Inquisitor Sima von Kleist's bionic eye gleamed coldly, his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the bone china tabletop, producing an unsettling clicking sound.
In the holographic projection, Toren's Terminator Armor still bore scorch marks from Gauss Weapons, while Knox , as always, stood in the shadows, his face beneath the black robe calm to the point of indifference.
"So," Inquisitor Sima asked, "not only did you return later than scheduled, but the Necron artifact you brought back is also missing its core?"
Toren's Adam's apple bobbed.
Just as he was about to speak, Knox stepped forward, a perfectly humble smile gracing his lips.
"Teacher, allow me to explain."
He replied in a steady voice.
"The Eldar arrived at the ruins earlier than us. They clearly knew the value of the artifact beforehand. When I broke into the secret chamber, an Eldar Farseer had already initiated some kind of psychic ritual, attempting to strip away the core, but it failed."
He spread his hands, palms up, looking helpless: "The core disintegrated from energy overload; I only managed to salvage the shell."
Inquisitor Sima's bionic eye's iris contracted, focusing on Knox 's face, as if trying to peer through flesh and bone directly into his soul.
Knox stood there, as calm as a painting of an ascetic from an Ecclesiarchy holy scripture.
His breathing rhythm and heart rate perfectly matched the "Absolute Honesty" standard set by the Astartes Chapter, his pupil dilation precisely controlled at 12.3%, a textbook value.
This "saint" before him was still as pure as a white cloth just removed from a sacred absolution ritual.
Toren stepped forward at the opportune moment, his Terminator Armor emitting a cautious servo hum: "Inquisitor Sima, if not for Knox 's… special abilities, we probably wouldn't have even brought back the shell."
His wording was cautious.
"The Necron fleet pursued relentlessly, even using the main cannons of their tomb ships."
Inquisitor Sima's eyebrow slightly raised. He pulled up the tactical records; the Iron Faith's void shield readings had at one point dropped below 10%, yet miraculously stabilized at the last moment.
The timing precisely coincided with Knox 's "brief departure from the ship."
"The Emperor's… favor?"
Inquisitor Sima frowned slightly.
Although he had personally bestowed the title of saint upon this disciple, the string of "miracles" during this mission seemed a bit too… coincidental.
It was as if someone had deliberately arranged a shoddy saint's play, too lazy to even change the props.
A flicker of unnatural electrical current sparked in Inquisitor Seema's bionic eye.
Rationally, he knew he shouldn't question it.
The primary objective of this operation was indeed to recover the artifact, but more importantly, to verify the miracle.
Yet, a more primal intuition, like the un-mechanized nerve endings of the Hive City's lower levels, was crawling with uneasy currents up his spine.
Inquisitor Sima's bionic fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the data slate, metal against metal emitting a faint whimper.
He recalled cases filed as "Emperor's Miracles": golden light would flow when a saint's wounds healed automatically, and blessed weapons would chant hymns when slaying demons.
However, the miracles caused by this "saint" always appeared at just the right moment, precisely calculated.
Knox slightly lowered his head, the shadow of his black robe perfectly concealing the upward curve of his lips.
The netherworld emblem on the back of his hand was faintly visible in the shadow of his cuff: "Yes! By the grace of the Great Emperor, I can always feel His divine gaze."
He spoke this lie so frankly that even he almost believed it.
Knox scoffed inwardly, 'Go on, question me, old fox, if you dare.'
'Could you possibly claim the Emperor's protection is false?'
The council chamber fell into a brief silence, filled only by the hum of the servo-skulls circling.
Inquisitor Sima suddenly smiled, a smile that reminded Toren of the expressions of drug dealers in the lower levels of a Hive City.
"Very good."
The old Inquisitor rose from his throne, his metal joints hissing with hydraulic release.
"Months ago, Terra already received detailed records about you, and I imagine this new report…"
He paused meaningfully: "Especially the part about the saint once again displaying miracles, will be of particular interest to them."
A few days later, Knox's private meditation chamber.
The scent of incense condensed into a pale blue mist in the confined space. Knox sat cross-legged on the obsidian floor, his eyes closed.
In the depths of his consciousness, the outline of the Micro-Netherworld was several times clearer than it had been months ago.
The Rift of the Ghost Gate had mostly healed, and the energy converted from the star god shard flowed like bloodlines on its door panels.
The purification system by the River of Oblivion emitted a strange hum, refining the polluted netherworld water into a liquid energy that shimmered with dark golden light.
The power of Nether Energy condensed into a vortex in his Energy center, its concentration enough for any Ecclesiarchy bishop to declare it an "Emperor's Manifestation" on the spot.
"This trip was incredibly profitable."
Knox opened his eyes, the dark golden patterns swirling in his pupils instantly vanishing.
He casually flexed his wrist; the dark golden patterns flowing beneath his skin proved that his physical strength had broken through mortal limits—now, crushing power armor joints with his bare hands should be no more difficult than breaking a twig.
Just then, the adamantium-forged door was suddenly knocked, the rhythm as urgent as a Deathwatch assault signal.
"My Lord!"
The servo-skull's mechanical voice carried a rare electrical crackle: "Grand Inquisitor Sima urgently summons you! The Terran envoy—it's a Custodian Guard!"
Knox 's pupils suddenly contracted.
Custodian Guards—those perfect creations beneath the Golden Throne, the Emperor's living holy relics, each rumored to be the pinnacle of genetic engineering.
They left holy Terra less often than a Chaos Warmaster was likely to repent.
"Tsk, Emperor 's quality inspector is here?"
Knox slowly stood up, his black robe billowing without a breeze, "This is going to be fun."
Daemon Inquisitorial Central Hall.
Inquisitor Sima's bionic eye constantly adjusted its focus, trying to catch the micro-expressions of the Custodian Guard—but failed.
Alessio de Carrion, this golden warrior who had descended to the planet Cadia after months of travel, now stood like a gilded statue in the center of the hall, his master-crafted armor beneath a crimson cloak shimmering with dark golden light under the promethium lamps.
He did not wear his iconic winged helmet, instead revealing a face as perfect as a marble sculpture, but those eyes… Toren lowered his head the moment their gazes met—those were not eyes a human should possess, but rather some existence beyond mortality looking down upon all beings through this perfect vessel.