...
Seeing no one answer his question, the young Tech-priest looked at Ventris and Calgar in confusion, then asked, "You're not thinking of going yourselves to kill a few traitors for fun, are you?"
"Please, can't you change this habit of getting carried away whenever you encounter an object of hatred? Facing the enemy head-on and hacking at them—what class are they that they require a Supreme Commander and a Chapter Master to personally engage?"
Ventris sheepishly defended himself, "From what we've gathered so far, there's more than one Greater Daemon there!"
"I have more than one Titan, too. Can you beat noob?" Gamma gave Ventris a glare.
Then, in an annoyed tone, he said, "Conquest has been learning from you for so long; let him get some practice this time."
Hearing this, Calgar immediately became anxious. He felt incredibly strong right now, but the only "downside" of a favorable situation was that it never gave him a chance to display his personal martial prowess. Now that he had finally found an excuse, only for the opportunity to vanish, it would be strange if Calgar were happy.
"This concerns the honor of the Ultramarines!"
"Wearing your helmet all day, do the Word Bearers you kill even know you're an Ultramarine?"
...
"It's decided then, Conquest, you're in charge this time!"
Conquest, who had been standing in the corner like a wooden man, stepped forward and responded after hearing Gamma's command, "As you command, My Lord."
What does it take to transform a planet with a harsh environment, barren land, where even Tech-priests and Rogue Traders are unwilling to go, into a world that everyone "aspires" to?
The answer is to produce a saint, a "saint" who has fought countless ugly xenos and evil heretics for the Emperor, achieved great feats, and been recognized by the Adeptus Ministorum!
Then his or her hometown would become a Shrine World, established specifically for Imperial Saints and named after them.
Countless fanatical believers, at the call of priests, would donate their last possessions. With their help, magnificent cathedrals would be built on the formerly barren planet. Subsequently, more people would sell all their belongings for a ticket there, or even sell themselves into slavery, trading day after day, year after year of labor for the chance to hitch a ride.
They sacrificed so much just to be closer to the God-Emperor in their hearts; to die there was their greatest wish!
"Who the hell wants to die here!"
A strong warrior, holding a heavy logging gun that others needed a stand to operate, cursed to embolden himself while spraying bullets at the charging heretics and daemons.
Beside him, a thin, clearly ravaged "old man" with a face full of wrinkles, cowered behind cover, timidly firing a lasgun in a faith-fueled frenzy. His fearful face also held envy for his companion's sturdy physique.
"What's the use of not wanting to? We can't go anywhere anyway." The one-eyed man, after slapping his malfunctioning bionic eye a few times, forcibly woke its lazy machine spirit, then used his inherited sniper rifle to shoot down a heretic covered in strange markings.
"Shut up, you damned liar! If you weren't somewhat useful, I'd kill you right now!" The strong warrior cursed, his eyes fixed on the enemy.
"Ha, you need to be fair. I only said there were ships going to Terra, not that my ship was going to Terra." The one-eyed man retorted.
"Bullshit! That's not what you said when you tricked me into selling my property!"
"My exact words were, 'I have a way to Terra.' Whose fault is it that you didn't have enough money, little slave?" The one-eyed man fired his gun while asking the frightened "old man."
The slave, mustering his courage, first glanced at his former captain, now comrade, then at his former feudal world's great noble, now their small squad leader. After much hesitation, he decided to play "deaf."
The one-eyed Rogue Trader saw that even the indentured servants on his ship no longer "respected" him as captain, and felt incredibly depressed. Then he remembered that the merchant ship, passed down for generations, had been reduced to orbital wreckage, making him even more depressed.
"Damn heretics, take this!" the Rogue Trader roared. He wanted revenge for his ship!
But mortal resistance was so powerless before the daemon army. Only the most steadfast and fanatical believers could resist the negative effects brought by the daemonic evil. As the daemon army drew closer to the defense line, the fear in the hearts of the merchant and the slave grew, and their dark thoughts multiplied.
The slave recalled the abuse he suffered, and the contempt and disgust in the captain's eyes when he inadvertently looked at him. His mind conjured up schadenfreude at the merchant's desperate expression after losing everything.
What expression would he have if I shot him in the back? No! Perhaps I should shoot his leg, so he would fall into the hands of the heretics because he couldn't retreat. One after another, thoughts he dared not even dream of on normal days emerged from the slave's mind. The fear in his eyes was slowly replaced by madness.
The merchant thought that if it weren't for the port authority official's obstruction, he would have long left this hellhole with nothing but churches and graves. His ship wouldn't have been destroyed, and he wouldn't be left with only a broken long gun.
Damn them! They knew this idiot and I had a conflict, yet they put me in the same squad as him. They're clearly targeting me! You all just wait! Since we're all going to die anyway, why not just let these heretics pass? Or better yet, join them. The heretics might even spare my life—the merchant subtly glanced at the "idiot's" back.
Only the strong captain was still fully focused on killing the enemy. In his heart, there was anger at the slave's cowardice, and anger at the merchant's deception, but more than that, there was anger at the heretics and daemons. The abominable, blasphemous things appearing before him made the captain's devout faith even more real and profound.
He regretted his blasphemous thoughts as a child. He had once wondered why His Majesty had never responded to him, and going to Terra was partly to resolve that doubt. But when he, by chance, stepped out of his own world, understood the reality of the galaxy, understood the abomination of xenos and heretics,
and personally witnessed the blasphemous things from stories, he, having abandoned all pursuit of faith and answers, understood:
Without the God-Emperor's blessing, humanity simply could not survive. He had already given everything to humanity; humanity could not ask for more. Humanity should repay His love and grace!
"I am the God-Emperor's wrath! I bring you destruction! For the Emperor, kill!"
The captain's roar awakened the almost lost minds of the slave and the merchant. They suddenly realized the enemy was just inches away. They were terrified by their recent evil thoughts; they had actually considered pointing their guns at their own people!
"For the Emperor! Kill!" The merchant roared, trying to make himself forget everything that had just happened.
"For the Emperor! Kill!" The slave shrieked, trying to muster his courage.
At the same time, in front of the reliquary containing the saint's remains, the Arch-Bishop was piously chanting scriptures praising the Emperor. Behind him, the acolyte who had served him for most of his life tried to speak several times, but ultimately made no sound. Only after the Arch-Bishop finished chanting did he cautiously approach him,
and said:
"Your Grace—"
"Are they waiting for me?" the Arch-Bishop asked calmly.
The acolyte's lips trembled, and it was a while before he replied, "Yes."
"Are you afraid?"
"I..." The acolyte didn't know how to answer.
"Alas, child, you must remember that all humans feel fear. Fear is not terrible; lacking the courage to overcome fear is!"
"Yes!"
The Bishop looked at the child he had watched grow up and shook his head slightly. It was precisely because of the child's lack of courage that he had kept him by his side, teaching him, rather than sending him out. Otherwise, with his aptitude, he could have long ago become the head of the Adeptus Ministorum on some planet.
May the God-Emperor protect him, and may he find his courage before his soul returns to the Throne. The Bishop prayed for the acolyte in his heart, then left the reliquary hall.
Passing through solemn and magnificent corridors, and beyond the last great door, the real world appeared before the Arch-Bishop's eyes. Countless wounded soldiers lay in the auditorium of the central cathedral, and on the stairs, a few Medical Sisters moved wearily among them, squeezing out the last ounce of energy from their bodies.
Lightly wounded soldiers who could still move were organized to carry the bodies of 'soldiers' who had died due to lack of medicine or before receiving treatment. As soon as a blood-stained bed became vacant, a new casualty would immediately fill it.
Those who noticed the Arch-Bishop tried to salute him, but he stopped them with a raised hand. Looking at the 'soldiers' in their magnificent, appropriate, ordinary, or tattered clothing, a trace of helplessness arose in the Bishop's heart.
Emperor, have You truly abandoned us?
This thought was immediately suppressed by the Arch-Bishop, who simultaneously warned himself in his heart: 'Heretical thoughts breed heresy!'
Although he still wanted to stand before the wounded, as he had done several times before, walking among them, boosting their morale, comforting their fears, strengthening their faith, and inspiring their courage, reality prevented him from doing so.
He quickly left the area and arrived at the command center in the side hall. The Arch-Bishop's appearance caused the busy and noisy side hall to suddenly fall silent.
"Thank you all for your hard work. Please continue your work; don't mind me."
"Yes!" x n
After passing through several more corridors, the Arch-Bishop pushed open the door to the conference room, walked to his seat, returned the salutes of the Inquisitor, Canoness, representatives of the Armed Chaplains, Crusaders, and Priests who had been waiting for a long time, then sat down and asked:
"How much longer can we hold on?"
"Based on the current situation, we can hold out for about another week. Any longer, and our weapons will be completely depleted."
"Have there been any responses to our distress calls?"
"None—"
"What are your opinions?"
"Fight to the last moment against the enemies of the Emperor!"
"If we concentrate all our forces and launch a desperate charge, is there any possibility of destroying that Warp Rift?"
"Absolutely no chance?"
After receiving the answer, the Arch-Bishop sighed in his heart, then, changing his usually benevolent expression, spoke with an incredibly fanatical tone:
"This is a trial given to us by the Emperor. Go tell the devout faithful that we will launch a holy war, bringing destruction to all enemies of the Emperor!"
"Distribute all weapons, bring out all food to feed the Emperor's soldiers, and let those blasphemous evil creatures and detestable heretics see what human courage, what faith, what loyalty truly are!"
These words ignited the flames in the hearts of all the Emperor's devout followers present. The atmosphere in the conference room shifted from oppressive gloom to a fervent hatred. Only the Inquisitor understood that this also ignited the countdown for all human life on this planet.
But she also understood that a death throe was better than being wantonly toyed with by heretics and traitors after losing all strength!
The wounded Sister leaned against the broken wall, pointing her gun in the direction of the daemon army. Behind her lay her fallen sisters.
The blasphemous heretic licked the dagger in his hand, stained with the blood of loyalists, and playfully assessed the battle sister, who was out of ammunition and supplies. He said to the heretics surrounding the Sister, "She's out of bullets. Take her alive. I want to taste the corpse emperor's daughter, hahaha."
"Blasphemy! Shame of humanity!" the battle sister angrily rebuked.
"Hahaha, little beauty, don't rush. Save some strength. I love the sound of women screaming."
"Leader, are the ones behind her ours?"
"Get lost! I want all of them, all at once!"
The heretic leader kicked down the subordinate who had just spoken, skillfully dug out the man's eye with his dagger, and, amidst the subordinate's painful wails, threw it into his mouth, crushing the eyeball with his mutated fangs, which were still hung with strands of flesh and blood. Seeing this, the other heretics' previously lecherous eyes instantly filled with deep fear.
The young Sister also saw it. The terrifying scene made her instinctively tremble. At her age and with her qualifications, she was not supposed to wear the battle armor that represented the faith of a battle sister, nor to wield the weapon that represented her courage.
She was merely a probationary Sister belonging to the Order of the Stained Glass, whose daily work involved maintaining the windows of Imperial temples and cathedrals, and making handicrafts in her spare time to give to devout pilgrims.
"I am a daughter of the Emperor! I fear nothing!"
Trembling, the Sister secretly reached behind her. She still had one grenade left, which could take more heretics with her before her soul returned to the Throne, and also ensure that her sisters' bodies and her own would not be defiled by the heretics.
But the cunning leader did not approach her. Blood loss blurred her vision, and weakness caused the courage she had painstakingly mustered to recede. "Haha, little beauty, are you waiting for me to come over?"
The heretic's words gave the Sister a bad premonition, and the next second, that premonition became reality.
"Hahahaha, did you think I wouldn't notice your little movements?"
This sentence filled the Sister with despair. She didn't know what to do: throw the grenade at the heretics, or use it to spare herself and her sisters from defilement?
"Merciful Majesty, please tell me what to do?"
The desperate Sister prayed to the god she believed in, but the god did not respond. At this moment, a flicker of doubt arose in the consciousness of the Sister, whose mind was already blurring.
She didn't understand why, after all she and her sisters had done, he wouldn't even look at them!
This flicker of doubt also caused her body, which was already at its limit, to completely give out. The grenade slipped from her hand. She tried to grab it, but her body no longer obeyed, and she could only watch helplessly as the grenade rolled further and further from her feet.
"No!"
"Hahahaha, little beauty, I didn't expect you to be so proactive. It seems you can't wait either."
Watching the constantly approaching heretics, the Sister desperately cried out, "Why?"
"Why what?" The confused heretic thought the Sister was asking him.
Just as the Sister's faith was about to collapse, lightning and mist appeared between the heretics and the Sister. A tall figure in Mars-red power armor emerged from the portal.
Just as the Inquisitor shed her self-restraint and revealed her true, demonic nature, joining the fervor, the conference room door suddenly burst open. The comms officer, responsible for distress calls, shouted:
"My lords, help has arrived!"
The sudden news caused the expressions of the fervent crowd to freeze. The Inquisitor silently picked up the jacket she had discarded on the floor and put it back on without a trace.
The Sister asked the Gamma Warrior who was treating her, "Are you an angel sent by the Emperor to save us?"
"We are the Gamma Legion," the giant replied, carefully controlling the force in his hands as he pushed the nanotherapy agent into the Sister's body.
The Sister, whose consciousness was not very clear and who had never left the convent, did not understand that the word "Legion" was a kind of taboo in the Imperium, nor did she know that there was never an "Gamma" designation among the Emperor's Angels of Death.
She only knew that the angel, who existed only in paintings and statues, had saved her. The drastic emotional swings, her weakened body, and the excitement of being rescued made this Sister, who was skilled only in handicrafts and very shy about speaking to people, utter words she would never normally dare to say:
"Sir Angel, could you tell me your name?"
"My name is Basa, and I am not an angel. I am an Gamma Warrior," the Librarian Candidate corrected.
"But Sir Angel, you are glowing."
"That's an illusion caused by your blood loss. Close your eyes, and you won't see it."
"I won't."
Women are such a hassle. I was going to give you a nutrient injection to help you recover faster, but I'll switch to a sedative instead, to avoid all these questions. Thinking this, the new recruit put the syringe back into the medical box and took out another one.
Some people didn't know the meaning of "Gamma Legion," but others did, such as the Arch-Bishop, the Inquisitor, and everyone else in the conference room at that moment.
Their expressions were very conflicted now.
"We—" The Arch-Bishop spoke two words and then stopped. He didn't know what to say either. By all accounts, they should have cursed these heretics who saved them, treated their help as worthless, and then fought both the heretics who wanted to destroy them and the heretics who wanted to save them.
"Arch-Bishop, perhaps we should observe the situation first. There might be some misunderstanding," the Inquisitor suggested, feigning loyalty. She truly didn't think there was any misunderstanding; the number of Astartes appearing on the front lines far exceeded that of a standard Astartes Chapter.
"Hmm," the Arch-Bishop also agreed, feigning loyalty. He, too, didn't think there was any misunderstanding; where would xenos come from in a proper Imperial force? But having been 'ignited' once already, the Bishop couldn't be 'ignited' again so quickly. His old bones couldn't take such a toll. Besides, with Titans on the other side, he couldn't win anyway, so let the heretics fight the heretics for now.
The Word Bearers warband, named "Eye of Chaos," was in an equally poor state of mind. Hiding behind cover, the warband leader looked at the frolicking robots, the Titan Legions, and the Astartes, who outnumbered them by dozens of times, feeling a sense of déjà vu, as if he had returned to the Great Crusade.
"Have you figured out where they sprang from?" the leader asked anxiously. He couldn't help but be anxious; the enemy's firepower was too strong, and he truly couldn't withstand it.
"Their communications are highly encrypted; we can't decipher them."
"Useless!" the leader cursed upon hearing his subordinate's reply.
"Sir, what should we do?"
I'd also like to know what to do! There's a fleet blockade in the sky, and Titans blocking the ground. What can I do?! Thinking this, the leader couldn't help but glance again in the direction of the Warp Rift.
He saw a dozen heretic Titans, each no smaller than a Warlord-class Titan, forming a circle, 'circle-kicking' a Great Daemon in the middle that wasn't even as tall as their shins—their ankles. Beside them, a group of smaller Reaver-class Titans watched the spectacle, while simultaneously using firepower capable of leveling a mountain with a single shot to clear out the daemons on the ground.
And one Titan, noticeably taller than the others, was boredly tapping this and smashing that with the giant club in its hand, giving the impression of a child hitting ants with a stick.
The Lord of Change's corrupting influence on hearts and minds, and its evil methods of twisting machine spirits, were completely ineffective against these Titans. The overwhelming psychic flames and psychic lightning were also blocked by various shimmering shields.
The swiftness of the Keepers of Secrets was only good for dodging in the face of the Titans' powerful firepower. Even if they managed to get close to a Titan, they would be sent scurrying, clutching their heads, by casually kicked-up architectural debris. The scent that could make humans lose themselves was utterly useless against steel.
Invading the prey's thoughts and senses, penetrating every psychological defense, giving them the desired illusory stimulation, and arousing the prey's inner desires to lead them astray—these were what the Great Daemons excelled at. But this time, their opponents had none of these weaknesses.
The millennia-old veteran, who had fought countless great wars, couldn't understand: was it truly necessary to deploy an Apocalypse-level Titan Legion for his small warband?
The leader felt that even if he managed to escape with his life, he shouldn't ever think about summoning daemons as enforcers again. His reputation in daemon circles was already ruined.
"Hehehe, found you."
The electronic voice from outside the cover made the Word Bearers hiding inside their hair stand on end. They frantically tried to flee, but it was too late. In the face of the blast wave from the explosion, they were like dolls in a child's hand. After a moment of dizzying disorientation, they lost consciousness.
When the leader regained consciousness, he was horrified to find himself held in the hand of an Iron Man, six or seven meters tall.
"Who exactly are you people?" the Word Bearers asked, spitting blood.
The Iron Man said to the Word Bearers, who looked at him with hatred, "We are the Iron Men."
The war on the Sanctuary World, aside from the Ultramarines' objections, was satisfactory to everyone else.
Their displeasure wasn't just about missing the chance to fight the Word Bearers; what truly irked them was that the surviving traitors were 'protected' by xenos.
Yes, the Aeldari protected the Word Bearers. As for why?
The reason was simple: they had been too aggressive in luring demons, and their previous baiting methods had significantly increased the chances of coming up empty-handed. So, they planned to learn the latest techniques from advanced teams within the Eye of Terror.
Since it was top-secret, they couldn't explain it to the Ultramarines. As a result, Calgar and his men now had serious grievances against the Aeldari. Yvraine received many glares, and the little Tech-priest frequently heard Calgar and Ventris's sarcastic complaints.
"Gamma, I feel like your ears have gotten longer lately!"
"Gamma, you'll definitely grow to two meters in the future!"
"Gamma, the Custodes say there's a fruit called a banana on Ancient Terra, yellow skin and white inside. Do you know about it? Can you make us some to try!"
This made the little Tech-priest avoid them, wishing for another group of Word Bearers to appear immediately just to shut the Ultramarines up.
Taking the Sanctuary World brought Gamma more than just these troubles; how to manage this Sanctuary World was also a headache for him. For the Adeptus Ministorum on the dozen or so recovered planets, Gamma didn't make things difficult for them. They continued doing what they had always done. The Emperor had already provided the little Tech-priest with a bloody lesson through his own experience: the Imperial Truth was unworkable; ordinary people needed faith to protect their souls.
Therefore, Gamma merely arranged for artificial intelligence to supervise the funds the Adeptus Ministorum collected on these worlds and abolished the Adeptus Ministorum's cruel and terrifying punishments. Although the Adeptus Ministorum priests had some reservations about this, faced with his absolute military might and having learned about the Great Rift and the grim realities of the Imperium's dark side, they did not incite believers to oppose Gamma.
The little Tech-priest also intentionally severed the connections of the Adeptus Ministorum on each planet. A disorganized Adeptus Ministorum posed no threat to him. However, if the Sanctuary World were incorporated into Gamma's sphere of influence and management system, with its special status and those fearless fanatics, there was no telling when they might rally and attempt to restore 'imperial rule.'
Gamma, who hadn't yet figured out what to do, finally decided to put it aside. After the Word Bearers' actions, only a few tens of millions of people remained in the entire Sanctuary cult. Building a fully automated factory would easily ensure the Sanctuary World's food and medicine supply. He would let them govern themselves for now and arrange things once he had a plan.
But the tree desires stillness, yet the wind will not cease. Gamma thought this way, but it didn't mean the Sanctuary World's high-ranking officials, led by Archbishop Difan, thought the same. Although they were wary of the sudden emergence of 'heretical forces,' after interacting with the human officials dispatched by Gamma, the idea of a 'holy war' lingered in their minds.
"What? They want to join the expedition to reclaim the Imperium's dark side!" Gamma's expression was as if he had seen a ghost.
"Yes," the human official Gamma sent to the Sanctuary World replied, lowering his head.
"Tell them to stay put on the Sanctuary World. What a nuisance."
...
The human official's silence made Gamma realize the other party had something to say, so he asked, "If you have something to say, just say it. Have I ever punished you for speaking out of turn?"
"Of course, Your Highness has always been very lenient with us!" the official explained nervously.
"Then hurry up and speak; I still have to go play later." The incompetent ruler showed no guilt or pretense about his idleness.
The official hesitated and said, "Your Highness, your subordinate believes that Archbishop Difan's words have 'some' merit."
Gamma tilted his head, looking at his subordinate with surprise. These officials, who managed human worlds with the help of artificial intelligence, were all elite humans carefully selected by Order. They were outstanding in ability, firm in will, not extreme in thought, and very rational in their approach to problems. By all accounts, they should have had nothing in common with those fanatics.
What did Difan say that could earn the approval of these human officials? Curious, Gamma asked, "How did he manage to convince you?"
...
Let's follow the official's recollection and return to the Sanctuary World in the past. After the official briefly introduced the situation to Archbishop Difan and other high-ranking officials.
The Inquisitor pointed directly and sharply at the instrument that had just been displaying various data and said, "If I'm not mistaken, there's no machine spirit in this instrument; it's an abominable intelligence!"
"It is and it isn't," the official replied frankly.
This answer also made the atmosphere in the meeting tense. The prohibition against abominable intelligence was personally issued by the Emperor. To openly and unashamedly display such a thing in front of the Adeptus Ministorum's fanatics was akin to calling the God-Emperor a liar and his words empty in their faces.
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"Everyone, don't be so nervous. I'm not saying this to insult you, but to express sincerity, to show that His Highness Gamma bears no ill will towards you."
The Archbishop was much calmer than the others. He raised his hand, signaling them to calm down, and then said, "When I was young, I followed merchant ships to preach on heretical planets beyond the light of the Star Beacon. I've seen many things more heretical and blasphemous than this. I believe you bear us no ill will, but young man, can you explain 'it is and it isn't'?"
"Thank you for your understanding. According to His Highness Gamma's classification, data entities that are out of control and hostile to organic life are abominable intelligence.
Controllable data entities that can be used by humans are called artificial intelligence or AI," the official explained.
"Oh, I see. From your words, I gather that His Highness Gamma is well aware of the dangers of AI. How does he ensure that AI will not become an abominable intelligence?" Archbishop Difan asked gently.
"I don't know the answer to that question, but I trust His Highness!"
"So, all the AI you use come from him?"
The official's heart tightened. He noticed the keenness of thought and quick reactions of the kind, elderly Archbishop before him, which did not match his aged appearance at all.
"Yes, our control over AI is extremely strict. Aside from His Highness Gamma, anyone who privately researches and develops artificial intelligence will be severely punished, and we regularly educate all citizens about the dangers of AI losing control."
This statement made the Inquisitor and the Canoness's furrowed brows relax somewhat. Although the opposite side was a heretic, they were not *that* heretical. At least they had not openly rebelled against the Imperium, still acknowledged themselves as part of the Imperium of Man, and still maintained respect and faith in the Emperor. They violated a taboo but acknowledged the Emperor's prohibition.
To be honest, this suddenly emerging heretical force gave the Sanctuary World's high-ranking officials a strange feeling. They had one foot in the Imperium and one foot in heresy.
At this point, the Inquisitor spoke again: "According to your description, this His Highness Gamma has conquered the Aeldari, is gradually reclaiming the lost human worlds in the Imperium's dark side, and has also obtained permission from Lord Regent Guilliman?"
"I know these messages are truly astounding. The loss of half the Imperial territory, the return of Primarchs from myths—I was stunned when I first heard these. But the Great Rift is in the sky, and we can no longer see the light of the Star Beacon. The reality is here; we have no choice but to believe it," the official said with a bitter smile.
The heavy topic silenced everyone. After a long while, the Archbishop asked again, "Can you tell us about His Highness Gamma?"
"Of course—"
Difan and the others noticed that a familiar fervent expression appeared on the official's face, followed by a look of internal struggle, and his gaze towards them became somewhat strange and thought-provoking.
"What, is there something inconvenient to say? If so, you don't have to tell us," the Archbishop said understandingly. After much hesitation and exchanging glances with his companions, the official said, "If I tell you, I'm afraid you won't be able to accept it, and you might even react excessively. This is something His Highness doesn't want to see."
How heretical must they be for us to react excessively under the might of a Titan?! The high-ranking officials of the Sanctuary World wondered.
"I assure you we won't do anything, and given our current situation, what could we do?" After saying this, Archbishop Difan turned to the others and said,
"Do you agree with what I said?"
Seeing the high-ranking Adeptus Ministorum officials nod in agreement, Gamma's official finally spoke: "This has a lot to do with His Highness Gamma wanting you to be autonomous. The reason is simple: he's worried about conflicts of faith."
This made Difan and the others even more puzzled. In the visual data shown to them earlier, the Adeptus Ministorum in Gamma's controlled worlds was not suppressed, nor was there any forced promotion of the Adeptus Mechanicus faith. The officials before them also bore no religious symbols. So where would a conflict of faith come from?
"The Aeldari believe His Highness Gamma is a god, an existence similar to the Emperor!"
This sentence, like a clap of thunder, made Difan and the others' pupils contract sharply. They now understood where the conflict of faith came from.
"Blasphe—"
"Bang!" The Archbishop slammed his hand on the table, stopping the Canoness's words and silencing the others with his gaze.
The official, seeing this, wore an expression that said, 'I knew this would happen.' After Archbishop Difan brought the situation under control, he looked at the official with a grave expression and said,
"Young man, you must have been a follower of the Emperor before. You know very well what that statement means. Do you also endorse the lies of those xenos?"
"Archbishop, I am merely stating a fact. His Highness never demands that humans worship him, nor does he permit the construction of any churches related to him."
Difan's eyes widened, and he asked incredulously, "Are you saying he only accepts the worship of the Aeldari?!"
"Yes!" the official said, gritting his teeth, clearly filled with envy, jealousy, and hatred towards the Aeldari.
Humans are strange creatures. The grass is always greener, what others have is better, and wanting what's in the pot while eating from the bowl is an instinct embedded in human genes.
When the word "Yes" reached the ears of the high-ranking Adeptus Ministorum officials, a thought popped into their minds: Why?
For a moment, Difan and the others felt that Gamma might as well have been completely heretical. As a human, he only accepted the worship of xenos, not humans. What did he mean? Was he looking down on them?
Silence once again fell upon the meeting room. After another long while, it was the Inquisitor who broke the quiet. He said,
"I see that His Highness Gamma has greatly improved the living conditions of the populace. Since it's no secret that the Aeldari worship him as a god, then ignorant common folk privately believing—"
"Will be detained on charges of spreading heretical faith."
At this point, Archbishop Difan, disregarding the Adeptus Ministorum's reputation, asked, "Haven't there been any less-than-firm priests who placed his statue in a church for people to venerate?"
"Upon discovery, they will be stripped of their priestly status and handed over to the local Adeptus Ministorum leader for processing."
Damn! What does this mean? He doesn't want to be a god, and he doesn't even want to be a saint?!
Are humans inferior to xenos? Unacceptable!
The little Tech-priest, unknowingly, had subjected the Sanctuary World's high-ranking officials to a form of PUA, leaving them with a strange, ineffable feeling.
Under the influence of this peculiar psychology, the Archbishop said in a somewhat comforting tone, "I think His Highness Gamma does this to control those xenos. He does this because he doesn't want people who don't know the truth to misunderstand, leading to the spread of heretical beliefs. You should understand his painstaking efforts and repent in time—"
"His Highness has Custodes by his side! They have never refuted the Aeldari's claims!" The official dropped another bombshell.
The name "Custodes" seemed to possess a certain magic. The Archbishop was stunned for a long moment before his lips trembled as he asked uncertainly,
"From Terra?"
"From the Imperial Palace, and Tribunes!"
"Is that true?"
"It couldn't be more true; the Emperor's perfect creations cannot be faked!"
"Are there no dissenting voices among the Aeldari either?"
"They've doubled down!"
…++…
The news was too explosive for the old Archbishop to handle. The meeting had to be paused so that a Medical Sister could help him calm down.
After Gamma's people left, Difan, who had just been barely breathing, sat up abruptly and looked at the stunned crowd with a serious expression, saying,
"The situation is far beyond our imagination. We must find the truth, no matter the method!"
"Archbishop, what do you mean?" the representative of the Warrior Priests asked uncertainly.
"Gamma, the Custodes, the Primarchs, the Great Rift—everything they spoke of must be investigated!"
Upon hearing the Archbishop's demand, the Inquisitor said, "But according to their account, His Highness Gamma wants to keep us isolated from their system. He doesn't need us at all."
....
"This is treating us like Grox, how hateful!" the Canoness said with resentment.
"Grox are raised for meat; he probably has no interest in our flesh."
Just as the fanatics, trapped in a prisoner's dilemma and powerless, were at their wits' end, the Archbishop said, "I already have an idea, but this idea, if not handled carefully, could lead to heretical beliefs. So I need your opinions, and even more, your full cooperation!"
While others were still pondering, the Inquisitor, who considered himself the last line of defense for human purity, had already made his decision and said,
"Your Grace, please tell us your plan. Even if it means falling on the path to truth, it's better than living in ignorance!"
"Good."