On the data-slate, a pink light flickered to life. Solene looked at the screen with a face full of confusion.
The expression was far from what Raynor had anticipated. He immediately turned the screen around, only to find a looping animation of a heart.
Damn it, why is it this one! Raynor cursed inwardly.
After a few awkward coughs, Raynor finally played the actual footage.
The video began with the battlefield of the Forbidden Wall. A few Ork Lootas were huddled around a pile of scrap metal, hammering away. No one noticed the silver figure flashing through the shadows.
In the next second, a green psionic blade sliced through the gloom. The Lootas collapsed into the snow without even letting out a scream. Immediately following that, human soldiers in the distance fell silently as black flames ignited without warning.
Every frame of the video showcased a "perfect silencing" carried out by Solene herself. Her movements were swift and cold—the silver Eldar-style light armor, the Reaper's scythe in her hand, the black flames.
The video finally froze on a frame of her about to turn and depart. On her breastplate sat a rose emblem of red and silver—the symbol of the Puritan faction of the Inquisition. It was the faith etched into her very blood and marrow, yet it looked utterly irreconcilable with the Xenos equipment she wore.
Solene's pupils contracted violently. Her lips parted slightly, but she couldn't utter a single word. An Inquisitor's greatest pride was always standing on the moral high ground, looking down upon heretics. But now, her own evidence of guilt was laid bare before her, nailing her to a pillar of shame.
Raynor gently withdrew the data-slate, his tone flat: "Finished watching?"
Solene did not answer, her eyes staring blankly ahead, lost. Raynor leaned in close, his purple eyes meeting hers.
"Miss Inquisitor, your mentor, Abel Varro... he doesn't know you're using such heretical methods, does he?"
Solene's heart skipped a beat, and her breathing became rapid. Abel Varro—this name was the obsession in her heart. He was a Grand Inquisitor who had spent his life fighting Xenos and Chaos, harboring a deep loathing for anything tainted by heresy. And she was his most prized disciple, the "purest sprout" he often spoke of.
Seeing her face turn instantly pale, Raynor spoke with a touch of malice:
"He is so orthodox. If he knew that his most prized disciple wore Xenos armor, wielded Xenos weapons, and used black psionic flames to incinerate the subjects of the Empire..."
He paused deliberately, letting the terrible imagery take root and sprout in Solene's mind. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... he would be quite troubled, wouldn't he?"
"No... no, he wouldn't..." Solene finally found her voice. Her mind conjured the image of her mentor, those steady grey eyes. Pure. He said she was the purest candidate for the Inquisition. If he knew the truth, what would those words become? Shame? Deception? Betrayal? The thought made her whole body go cold.
Raynor continued: "Perhaps... he might even turn against you as an enemy."
The moment the words fell, Raynor and Sarah on his shoulder burst into a "Jie-jie-jie" cackle of laughter. Raynor released his mental control over her and began to admire his masterpiece alongside Sarah.
Solene's psychological defense line collapsed completely. Her tears broke through the dam, scalding drops sliding down her cheeks. She could no longer maintain the pride of an Inquisitor; her shoulders shook violently as she let out helpless whimpers.
The Inquisitor who held the power of life and death had vanished, replaced by a girl whose most painful scar had been lanced. She vented the fear she had suppressed for years in the cold compartment. She slid down the wall, kneeling on the cold metal floor, her voice hoarse beyond recognition:
"I beg you... please stop talking. Please don't tell him..."
Raynor and Sarah tilted their heads in synchronization. He didn't respond immediately, letting Solene kneel and cry for a dozen seconds, allowing the despair and fear to ferment in her heart. Then, he leaned down, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look up.
In those proud rose-red eyes, only a thick, inseparable plea remained.
"If you don't want your mentor to know about this~" Raynor's gaze was icy. "Then obey my every command. Do you understand?"
Upon hearing the words "obey my every command," the plea in Solene's eyes was instantly replaced by rage. She gritted her teeth: "In your dreams, you despicable heretic! Just wait, the God-Emperor will judge you!"
She thought Raynor would be furious and use even more cruel methods to coerce her. But Raynor didn't; he simply let out a light sigh and released his hand. Then, he raised his hand and delivered a heavy slap across Solene's face.
A sharp crack echoed in the cramped compartment. Solene was struck so hard her head turned aside; her cheek instantly swelled, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.
Solene was stunned—not because of the pain, but because of Raynor's eyes. There was no mockery or triumph in that gaze, only a cold fury resulting from being insulted.
"Heretic?" Raynor's voice was frigid, devoid of his previous playfulness. "Go ask the nobles, the soldiers, the civilians of Brevis, and even the wildmen outside the city."
Raynor turned back, his purple eyes shining with a blinding light. "Who is the true heretic?"
He strode to Solene, grabbed her by the neck, lifted her from the floor, and pinned her against the cold wall of the compartment. Solene's breathing became difficult, her face turning flushed, yet she stared death at Raynor.
"See if they think it is I—the Governor who accepted the Emperor's baptism, who gave them food, led them to victory over the Greenskins, and protected Brevis—who is the heretic."
Raynor's other hand suddenly ripped open her breastplate, revealing the Blackstone amulet hidden inside, its surface swirling with a dark purple luster.
"Or if it is you—the 'spy' covered in Xenos tech, who only knows how to hide in the shadows and play dirty tricks—who is the heretic!"
He threw Solene heavily back onto the floor. Raynor pulled out his sidearm—a relic bolter. The frame was carved with the wings of the Emperor, and a "Purity Seal" was stuck to the grip. He reached out, tore off the seal, and slammed it onto the Blackstone amulet on Solene's chest.
The moment the two made contact, golden sparks ignited, and the prayers on the seal emitted a dazzling light. Golden flames covered the Blackstone amulet, letting out a sharp hissing sound.
Solene's eyes widened as she watched the golden fire burning on her chest. She was at a loss. It was at this moment that at the edge of Raynor's vision, a familiar pale-purple system interface popped up:
[QTE: Choice at a Critical Moment]Your actions have completely shattered the target's psychological defense line.A bond path can now be established. Please choose:
[Option A: Shine my boots! (Comrade/Vassal path)]
[Option B: Be a good girl and listen, or I'll tell your mentor (NTR/Blackmail path)]
Raynor's gaze lingered on the options for a second, and a wicked smile curved on his lips. He chose...
[Option A]!
Raynor lifted his military boot and extended it in front of Solene:
"Shine my boots." (Spoken in French-accented vernacular)