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Chapter 42 - Chapter 42: Planetary Governor

"Hold the gates! Don't let those wretches in!"

"For the Midnight Phantom!"

Boom!

The jeweled adamantium hall resounded with the mingled cries of panicked nobles and the battle shouts of warriors. Explosions tore through the tranquility of the Spire, echoing like thunder beneath its gilded vaults.

Scarlet las beams wove a web of death through the gothic arcades, shattering priceless frescoes and stained glass. Splendid tapestries were drenched in dark blood, the lies of the Spire's "peaceful age" shattered by the raging roar of revolution's fire.

Nothing could halt the warriors' advance. And if something tried, Curze would sweep it aside.

The nobles had fortified every corridor of the palace. Heavy gun and lasgun batteries laid down interlocking fire, a storm that could crush any mortal charge.

But before Curze, their defenses crumbled like dry biscuits.

By the time the Midnight Phantoms stormed in, the carefully prepared lines had been reduced to rubble and corpses.

The warriors surged across the still-warm pools of blood into the throne hall. Upon the throne sat a noble, eyes wide with hysteria.

"My family has ruled this land for generations! Power is my birthright! And you, filthy peasants, dare try to wrench it from me with violence?"

"Hear me, rabble! This is my kingdom, mine!"

With a deranged smile, the noble revealed the crimson button on his throne's armrest. A single press would bring the entire spire crashing down.

He knew it would not save him, but at least the rabble would die with him. His family's wealth would never pass into their hands.

"Another nuke," Curze muttered coldly. "Your methods of destruction are always so tediously alike."

A pale hand clamped around the noble's throat, lifting him from the adamantium throne as if he weighed nothing.

The man kicked helplessly in the air. His carefully maintained face flushed purple with suffocation. His outstretched fingers clawed for the button, but though only inches away, it was as unreachable as if across a chasm.

Curze's long white fingers tightened. The vertebrae cracked like overstrained wood, like the bud of a flower snapping open.

When the pale hand released him, the once-arrogant ruler dropped like a broken doll. His head lolled at an unnatural angle, dead eyes still fixed upon the crimson button.

The surviving nobles were herded into the hall, their silken finery torn and disheveled.

"You've taken the whole city already. What more do you want?" one of them asked. He was young, trembling like the rest, but still forced himself to meet Curze's gaze. He had nothing left to lose.

His family's glory had drowned in blood. He was no more than a lone candle flame in the wind, knowing it would soon die, yet burning stubbornly in one last flare of dignity.

"Taken?" Curze's shadow loomed over them. "We did not beg for your charity. We claimed this city with revolution and blood."

"I want justice. A new order."

"This is your justice? How many more must die?" the young noble shouted.

"How many die does not depend on me," Curze replied, "but on whether you obey the law."

"And what will your law bring? Cruel justice, or a tomb of order? How noble of you, monster!"

The youth's defiance stoked the guards' fury, one nearly raising his rifle butt to smash the noble's skull. Curze's glance stopped him.

"Posius," Curze whispered his name like a blade. "The possibility I see in you is the only reason you still draw breath. Cruelty is for the guilty. A tomb is their final rest. Now choose: the grave, or cruel justice."

Posius trembled violently, then lowered his head in surrender.

"You will be this world's governor."

"Me?"

Dorothy froze, pressed into the throne. Her wide, pleading eyes darted to Caelan for rescue. But Caelan only spread his hands.

"This is Curze's kingdom. I have no right to interfere with his choice."

Of course, Dorothy had known Caelan was no help; he always stood on Curze's side.

She raised her head, mustering her courage. "You are the king. Why make me governor?"

"I am Nostramo's king," said Curze, "but my kingdom is not Nostramo alone. The galaxy holds countless worlds waiting to be saved. When I leave, someone must govern this world, uphold order, and guard justice. Teacher Dorothy, no one is more suited than you."

"Leon could do it!"

"Leon leaves with me. He is my warlord."

"Then Philly- "

"She is too young. And I dislike her."

Leon, who had escorted Dorothy here, had no complaints. Philly lowered her head, not in anger but in guilt. She knew why Curze disliked her, but was that truly her fault?

"But can I really do it?" Dorothy asked softly, her voice heavy with doubt.

Her time with Curze had been brief. At best, she had taught him a few lessons in the underhive. He had never seemed especially interested.

She knew her flaws, too idealistic, while Caelan's lessons had been far more practical.

Yet she was compassionate. Even when she disagreed with Curze and Caelan, she never opposed them openly.

Curze too respected her, despite thinking her naive.

And that was why, after the revolution, with Nostramo in ruins, an idealist was precisely what it needed.

"Do not belittle yourself, Teacher Dorothy," Curze said. "You are a woman who could have been my mother."

Dorothy froze. She glanced at Caelan. 'Is this really what you taught him?'

Caelan only looked proud. It was exactly what he had taught: the Primarchs must learn to speak their hearts. And Curze had remembered.

And indeed, Dorothy had been something of a mother to him, a role neither Caelan nor Neoth nor Erda could ever fill.

"We won't leave right away," Caelan said gently, patting her shoulder. "The war isn't over. Until you can stand alone, we'll be here."

"Then… I'll try," Dorothy whispered. She was still unsure, but less hesitant now.

It would be her first time. She could only hope she would not fail.

Colored light from the stained glass bathed the three of them. The warmth of it all stung Philly with jealousy, until she mustered her courage and stepped forward too.

She wasn't trying to break up this family. She wanted to be part of it.

Leon followed after her without thinking. He wasn't the clueless child he once had been.

Curze had killed his father. Was it not only fair that he should give him another?

.....

If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.

[email protected]/DaoistJinzu

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