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Chapter 143: The Cat's Nest and the Scratching Post
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 14:34:33 +0000 UTCChapter 143: The Cat's Nest and the Scratching Post
Zabriel, who had been "doxxed," was covered in a cold sweat.
And those who had not been doxxed quietly breathed a sigh of relief and did not dare to make a sound.
It was like a horror game. Who didn't have a little secret? This kind of public execution was really hard to take.
But Arthur clearly had no intention of letting them go.
"The matter of Caliban back then was very complicated," Arthur said. The white light from the ceiling illuminated his face, making it incredibly clear. His gaze swept over every person. "And as members of the First Legion, every one of you has excellent judgment. I imagine you will not believe my one-sided story. So, I have a method."
Almost everyone, when their eyes met his, subconsciously looked away.
The pressure was too great. That gaze seemed to be clearly telling everyone, 'I know all of you.'
"Here, in front of everyone, you can say what you were doing at the time, what orders you received, and what you experienced."
What is a Fallen Angel?
For the Dark Angels, the definition of a Fallen Angel was not simple. It wasn't just because you had turned traitor or gone missing that you could be called a Fallen Angel. In fact, for the various Space Marine Chapters, disappearing during a Warp-jump and then time-traveling, while rare, was not unheard of.
Even the Dark Angels, when faced with certain members of their Chapter who had disappeared in history but had suddenly reappeared, claiming to be loyalists, would choose to patiently verify their claims. Then, after digging out all their secrets, they would find an unimportant successor Chapter to dump them in, as a way of settling the matter.
And the Fallen Angels, the Dark Angels' definition of them was: all the Dark Angels on the planet Caliban ten thousand years ago.
Whether they were the Lion-loyalists who had boarded with the Lion, or the Luther-loyalists who had participated in the rebellion, or the Terra-loyalists who believed the Lion had rebelled, or even the confused ones who knew nothing of the situation, they were all Fallen Angels.
And the duty of the Dark Angels was to make them repent.
They knew, of course, that among these Fallen, there were loyalists and there were traitors—but it didn't matter.
The duty of the Dark Angels was to keep the secret that a rebellion had occurred on Caliban, not to distinguish the loyal from the traitorous. And they couldn't distinguish them.
Who knew if you had been tainted by something after soaking in the Warp for so long? Who knew what kind of rumors, detrimental to the Chapter, you, who had truly experienced the rebellion, would spread?
When Arthur had first met Romulus, he had suspected he was a Tzeentchian daemon in disguise and had almost drawn his sword to cut him down.
So, since there was no way to identify them, the only way was a one-size-fits-all approach.
But coincidentally, the transmigrators had plenty of ways to identify them. And for the transmigrators, as long as you weren't tainted by Chaos, no matter what your attitude towards the Lion or the Imperium was, you were loyal.
What Arthur was going to do now was to balance the books.
You all suspect each other, right? You attack each other on sight, right?
Excellent. I just have to beat you all down, then make you all confess honestly, and let everyone present know what the other was doing at the time.
In the great hall, the Fallen Angels all hung their heads, their expressions complex. They were either sitting or kneeling, their armor locked, their movements severely restricted. They could make simple movements, but they couldn't stand up at all.
It wasn't that they hadn't thought of struggling, of making this strange lord repent—but the reality was, they were now like a group of students who had done something wrong, waiting for the great judgment of their parents, their faces filled with evasion and unease.
"You can choose to speak for yourselves..." Arthur said, leaning on his sword, as if reading a verdict.
"Or I can help you speak," Ramesses added.
The identities and histories of these Fallen had been more or less screened. He had stolen a bit of blood when they were unconscious. With enough keywords, and with the help of the daemons in his several "parks," the secret-gathering had been very fast. He had packaged it all and given it to Arthur.
And the act of revealing people's secrets drew too much hatred. Even if, with the passage of time, the current Fallen would all clearly know that Arthur knew their secrets, he couldn't just say it out loud like this. Arthur was going to be leading these Fallen in the future. It wasn't suitable for him to play the bad cop.
Everyone immediately turned their murderous gazes to Ramesses.
Are you really not afraid of a Dark Angel's backstab?
We even dare to fight our Primarch! If I can't beat Arthur, I can still beat you?
Sigh, actually, I can't. And I won't be a Deathwing for much longer.
"Of course, if someone's story is slightly different from the facts, I will also try to correct it."
Facing a group of Fallen Angels who were hissing at him, Ramesses wasn't the least bit afraid. He straightened his bone-white armor.
And at that moment, these Fallen Angels noticed a detail. At the same time, an undisguised surprise appeared in their eyes.
Too new.
Among the people present, besides those who had been cut down one by one by Arthur, there were also those who had been attacked by the Deathwing Terminators. The attacks of the Deathwing were not unbeatable. Although the terrifying power output, which was far beyond the performance of the armor in their memory, was difficult to fight against, many of them had left their marks on it.
However, now—they looked at these Deathwing, who were hidden at their sides like soulless corpses and had not attracted their attention. A total of 260 of them. And every one of their suits of armor was brand new.
The Dark Angels were very sensitive to wargear. Because in the Legion era, their everything had been taken care of by the logistics department. Especially after becoming Fallen Angels, every time they began to maintain their armor, they couldn't help but subconsciously miss the old days. At that time, it was normal for everyone to change their armor several times in a battle. In fact, everyone had three sets of armor on standby.
One set of ceremonial armor, for recording honor and for social activities. In their spare time after a battle, they would stay in their dormitories and inscribe their merits on it in cipher.
One set of combat armor, for dealing with daily battles, and in a state of being ready to be replaced at any time.
One set on standby, to deal with emergencies.
Their logistics seem to be very complete.
A Dark Angel who had been in the Ironwing subconsciously swallowed.
"Are you ready?" Ramesses's demonic voice sounded, interrupting their thoughts.
Almost all the Fallen Angels, except for Zabriel, broke out in a cold sweat. They now understood Zabriel's feeling.
What if he really says something?
"I am ready," only Gareth was the first to raise his hand and say, very directly.
This made the focus of the Dark Angels' gazes change again.
Is he mad?
Does he have no fear? Does he have any common sense? Does he have no secrets?
The momentary silence made Gareth take a deep breath. He began to organize his words.
"Gareth. Born in Edinburgh, Caliban. Selected as a reserve for the Fourth Knightly Order in 002.M31. Formerly a member of the Knights of Orkney, a mentor of the Lothian Hermitage, champion swordsman of the Fourth Knightly Order, Firewing reserve..."
Romulus felt a headache just listening to the string of various organizations. The thought of having to help manage such a group of divine beings made it even more painful.
And Gareth also began to recount his experience.
"During Luther's rebellion, [PM: 4:32 - 07.21 - 014.M31], I was stationed near the Order of the Knights of Order, as an honor guard, preparing to welcome the arrival of Lion El'Jonson."
"[PM: 6:21] The surface was bombarded. The honor guard, without any preparation, lost 41 men."
"Two days later, [AM: 11:56], the fortress I was in was breached. We began to engage in close combat with the landing forces."
"A week later, [AM: 8:29], the planet was hit by an Exterminatus order. The fortress I was in was swept into a Warp-storm."
"626.M41, specific month unknown, I and 142 comrades left the Warp. The fortress crashed on the primary world of Optus. During this time, I began to work in the mining industry, until now."
"Since the beginning of Luther's rebellion, I have killed a total of 4 battle-brothers and over 8,460 mortal auxiliary troops."
"Report complete."
Gareth quietly recounted his experience, then awaited the verdict. He had kept a little something back. He hadn't mentioned the various organizations he was currently in.
Arthur nodded in approval. "Next."
"?"
Numerous question marks instantly appeared above the heads of the Dark Angels.
Wait, that's it?
What about your plans, your evil master you serve, your little secrets?
That's enough to pass?
"Me!" Cypher quickly raised his hand and immediately spoke. "Cypher, duel champion. During Luther's rebellion, I was responsible for boarding the Knights of Order—"
His words were cut off by Ramesses. The voice, modified by psychic power, was unusually low, as if from the abyss. "Cypher, Knight Commander, name inherited from a mentor of the Order of the Broken Crown. Sent to Caliban at the same time as Astelan, responsible for monitoring Luther's actions. During the Great Betrayal, was under the command of Lord Cypher..."
As the words fell, Cypher's face grew paler and paler.
Zabriel instantly turned his head and gave Cypher a death-glare.
Wait, you too, brother? No wonder you're so enthusiastic about killing the Caliban locals. You're afraid of being recognized, right?
Cypher, stared at by Zabriel, stuck out his neck and glared back.
What are you looking at? You're a traitor too.
And you!
He then began to death-glare the other members on the ship.
To these comrades who had been through thick and thin for so many years—Cypher's sense of distrust reached its peak at this moment.
He is, Zabriel is too...
Everyone who said they were boarding with the Lion were all Caliban locals?
You're good at hiding, aren't you.
The hands hidden under the table had already begun to clench and unclench.
'I have never seen such an interesting Chapter in my life,' Ramesses thought, laughing his head off. If the Blood Angels made you feel a bit pitiful, then the Dark Angels were, at a glance, all divine beings.
If anyone else had encountered such a thing, they would have wished to forget all their secrets and take them to the grave. But he was not afraid. He just wanted to open the boxes of these Fallen and have a laugh. This universe was already so rotten. If you didn't find some joy in the suffering, you really couldn't survive.
And opening the boxes of these divine beings came with no burden at all—damn it, fighting to the death over such a small matter. If this were the White Scars, it wouldn't even be an issue. And besides, these guys couldn't beat him anyway. Arthur was an exception, but in the Warhammer universe, a psyker was truly a master.
Ramesses curled his lips and began to speak at length. And most of the people there could only listen to the sorcerer's account, their faces growing paler and paler, and then they looked at Arthur with a pleading gaze.
Arthur was unmoved. He had read the histories of all of these people. The Caliban locals had no idea what was going on. The ones who had come down from the ships were loyal to the Lion, needless to say. He didn't even know what these Dark Angels were afraid of. Were they so easily triggered?
And the final result was also beyond the expectations of all the Fallen.
As Ramesses continued to supplement, and as some of the Fallen gave up and recounted their own stories, the Fallen Angels finally discovered the real problem. Because it seemed there was no real problem. The ones who came down were the unlucky ones who had been bombed into traitors by their allies. The ones below were the unlucky ones who had no idea what was going on. Everyone was just following orders. In fact, most of them had no idea what was going on. They just saw someone attacking them and simply fought back. Not many of them had a concrete understanding of the rebellion.
As for the credibility, if the man in the middle could find several hundred Fallen Angels to act with them, then they would also accept it.
"Askelon, Knight Captain, has not joined any Order. Is the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, an apprentice of the Knights of Silence, an outer circle member of the Ravenwing, a Grand Master of the Ravenwing's third assault group..."
Askelon, after hearing this, simply gave up. Ramesses hadn't even had time to apply pressure before he, like a deflated ball, confessed everything: his identity, his mission, his whereabouts during the rebellion, and his actions after leaving the Warp. His tone was filled with a weariness, as if these secrets had been weighing on his heart for too long and he had finally found an outlet.
The nature of the Dark Angels and the Blood Angels was completely different. The Dark Angels were too independent. Everyone was excessively mature, almost able to handle a matter from beginning to end on their own. They particularly trusted their own judgment. On the same matter, because they possessed different information, they would often come to completely opposite conclusions. And then, because they each were certain of their own conclusions, they would even come to blows over it. In this respect, the only ones who could compare with them were probably the Alpha Legion.
However, when a matter was confirmed by enough evidence and had been authenticated by a sufficiently authoritative source, they could also, through their own thinking, come to their senses.
Arthur looked at this group of Fallen. The more they checked their accounts, the more they had an expression of "That's it? We've been fighting to the death for ten thousand years over this?", as if they had all collectively eaten shit, their faces filled with a mixture of confusion, remorse, helplessness, and speechlessness.
The Caliban locals hadn't even seen the Lion's face. They simply believed that the Lion had launched a slaughter against them. And the Lion's faction also thought it over. Damn it, the Lion was on the planet. How could the planet have blown up?
In fact, what had happened on Caliban, although it was a major event, shouldn't have caused such a mess. The main problem was that explosion on Caliban, which had directly blown the Lion away. This was too serious, so serious that even within the Dark Angels, it was a taboo subject.
The fleets, the various Orders, the various Inner Circles, the various Knightly Orders that had experienced this incident at the time all had their own stories. There were too many layers of套娃, making it seem like there was some great secret. In fact, everyone was just confused. And because of the explosion on Caliban, a lot of the internal information was completely cut off, which made it even more unclear.
In the end, everyone was in danger. Everyone saw everyone else as an extremist. In the end, they all went mad.
Arthur felt that a certain metaphor was very fitting: this was a group of frightened cats. But there was no old cat to comfort them, so they could only become spiny-backed dragons, hissing at each other. After hissing for a long time, it became a habit. When they met, they would subconsciously scratch at each other.
Some of them hadn't even figured out how they had fallen to this state. They just assumed the other was a traitor, that the other must have some ulterior secret. I will make the traitor repent!
And the other side was basically just as confused, not knowing anything.
An oppressive atmosphere filled the air, as if even breathing had become heavy. Arthur's gaze swept over these Fallen Angels. Their faces were filled with complex emotions: remorse, anger, confusion, and even a hint of relief.
In fact, the only ones who had truly rebelled were Luther and his core leadership, and Astelan's group who believed the Lion had betrayed them.
Counting the twenty thousand men the Lion had brought with him to board Caliban at the time, of these fifty thousand Astartes, it was hard to say if even five hundred had truly rebelled. Many of the new recruits Luther had enlisted had grown up on the legends of the Lion, hoping to participate in his grand crusade, only to be met with the Lion's cannon fire and the butcher's knives of their allies.
To be honest, the Lion during the Great Betrayal was truly a divine being. Even Arthur couldn't help but感慨. No wonder Astelan was always comparing him to Horus and Guilliman, secretly and openly mocking his own Primarch. If the Lion hadn't launched a full-scale bombardment at the time and had just led his troops to the monastery, the Caliban civil war wouldn't have even started.
The accounting activity proceeded very quickly, with the increasing cooperation of the various Dark Angels.
In the end, Zahariel sat in place, completely bewildered. His gaze swept over Cypher, Askelon, and Zabriel, one by one. His expression gradually changed from confusion to shock, and finally settled on an indescribably complex emotion.
So of the four of us on the relic-cruiser, I'm the only one who actually boarded with the Lion?
What about the trust between people?
A sense of betrayal welled up in Zahariel's heart.
I should have just let you three die in the mouths of the xenos back then!
"It was Lion El'Jonson who betrayed us," Gareth growled, having completed his account and finally confirming that he had not rebelled. His voice was filled with a long-suppressed resentment. That resentment, like an invisible wave, instantly resonated with countless people. Even Cypher, who had been planning to "loyalize" him, was infected.
It was too unjust. Just because of this, it had turned into this.
"The Lion never betrayed. It is you who betrayed His Highness. And His Highness never gave the order to destroy Caliban. He was on Caliban at the time," Zahariel said in a heavy voice, his tone firm, but deep down, he already vaguely felt that half of this was the Lion's fault. Secondly, there were real traitors in the Legion!
But even so, he couldn't back down. Lord Arthur hadn't spoken yet. This matter couldn't be decided prematurely.
"We never betrayed!" Gareth glared at Zahariel, his eyes burning with the flames of anger. His voice was low and hoarse, as if squeezed from the depths of his chest.
He had watched his father grow old under the rule of the Imperium, had watched his mother grow weaker and weaker. So he had trained himself hard, had absorbed knowledge from the Knight-squires, hoping to bring about a change after becoming an Astartes.
And there had been a change. At least his family had become better after he had become an Astartes. Lord Luther had allowed them to visit their families after completing their daily training, because besides training, they couldn't even leave Caliban.
Of course, Gareth didn't care about this. He didn't want to be an Astartes in the first place. There was nothing wrong with spending more time with his family.
However, all of this had been annihilated under the Lion's cannon fire.
"It was the Lion who betrayed us!" Gareth roared, his voice filled with an endless anger. He subconsciously wanted to stand up, but found that he could move.
He then glared at Zahariel, his fists clenched, as if he were about to charge forward at any moment.
Zahariel also found that he could move. He quickly glanced at Arthur, a question in his eyes.
Gareth also immediately cast his gaze over, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions: anger, unwillingness, and a faint hint of expectation.
"No killing," Arthur said with a wave of his hand, controlling the Deathwing to release their restraints. Romulus had written a small program. It was no problem for him to make these Deathwing squads display normal combat effectiveness, it was just that their upper limit was not good.
Gareth could no longer hold back his anger. He stood up, leapt onto the table, and began to charge, swinging his fist at Zahariel.
The center of the round table hall was very empty. They could fight freely.
And Zahariel barely parried the fist, but was hit in the chest by his opponent's swift, shifting elbow strike. He retreated several steps. His previously indifferent eyes immediately became grim.
This new recruit was not simple.
But knowing his opponent's level did not mean his own level had improved.
After a few moves, Zahariel was grabbed by the neck by Gareth and was being hit in the head with a powerful elbow strike. This unknown model of armor was incredibly hard. The force of the impact was too great, and it didn't cause any damage.
Brilliant, brilliant.
Ramesses watched with great interest, not regretting that he had instigated Arthur to release the armor's permissions. They should have had a fight long ago. This matter couldn't be resolved without a fight. And with them watching over them, no one would die.
"Will this cause any problems?" Romulus couldn't help but ask, watching Gareth who was frantically elbowing Zahariel.
"They know their limits," Arthur reminded him.
Gareth's close-combat level was very high. In Arthur's eyes, he should be about the same as Cypher, just lacking the experience of a battlefield slaughter. So he could beat Zahariel to a pulp in a close-combat fight.
But that was all. Even the control of his strength was still at the level of a Firstborn Space Marine. This meant that they themselves could also recognize the problem.
Arthur had secretly performed the Primaris Space Marine surgery on these Fallen Angels and had removed their own gene-seed. His clinical level was now very high. He could even remove the seed from the chest with ease. Although the subsequent implantation of the additional 3 surgeries didn't actually use this, it was more to give these Dark Angels a sense of crisis and to stimulate their interest in researching the Primaris surgery.
As for the organ cultivation, one could only say that the Eldar really had something when it came to the application of psychic power. Ramesses had hit the jackpot. At least for now, the transmigrators could use these technologies with zero risk. The local side was still pending verification.
THUMP!
Zahariel was thrown with an over-the-shoulder throw, his body slamming heavily on the marble floor, creating a web of cracks.
"Again." He struggled to get up, his eyes burning with an unyielding fire, and swung his fist hard at Gareth.
However, Gareth just lightly sidestepped and, in the same motion, tripped him with his foot.
Zahariel lost his balance again and fell heavily to the ground.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Gareth mercilessly got on top of him, his fists raining down like a storm, smashing into Zahariel's face and body.
Zahariel felt that he was being beaten very badly. In fact, it was very bad.
His head was buzzing, his vision was a bit blurry, but he surprisingly found that he still had strength left. He didn't know how, but he clearly felt that ever since his last serious injury had healed, his body had actually become better.
The surrounding Fallen Angels formed a circle, watching this scene with cold eyes.
The unlucky ones from the local faction had a fervent look on their faces, their eyes shining with excitement, wishing they were the ones doing the beating. And the people from the Lion's faction had a look of indignation on their faces, their fists clenched, as if they were ready to rush up and get even at any moment.
"If you want to fight, go up and fight. The space is large. You can fight however you want," Arthur's cold voice sounded, breaking the brief silence.
As his voice fell, the locking device on their armor "clicked" open, and everyone's power armor was instantly freed.
The Dark Angels were just lacking a fight. They were always tensing their nerves and not fighting. And when they did fight, it was to the death. Arthur knew this very well, so he simply let them vent.
"The only rule is, no killing."
He dropped this line and turned to leave, only symbolically leaving a few Deathwing.
The entire council chamber immediately erupted.
A fiery flame ignited in the eyes of the Fallen Angels. They tacitly stood up and then selected their opponents. The air was filled with a thick smell of gunpowder, as if a single spark could detonate the whole place.
"Repent, traitor!"
Cypher roared, grabbed Askelon by the head, and pushed him to the ground. Zabriel picked up a bench from under him and unhesitatingly smashed it on Cypher's head.
"I am eternally loyal, traitor!"
Zahariel broke free from Gareth's suppression, and with a lunge, tackled Cypher to the ground.
"Lion El'Jonson is the traitor!"
Gareth sneered, and casually grabbed an unfamiliar face from the four of them and gave him a sound beating.
All the Fallen Angels were like they had gone mad, venting and brawling together.
Fists, knees, elbows, and even chairs and table legs were all being aimed at each other's exposed faces.
However, despite the chaotic scene, everyone had a sense of proportion.
Because they had all confirmed one thing—
Luther, and those Dark Angels in orbit who had arbitrarily shattered Caliban, were the real traitors!
"Brilliant, brilliant."
(End of Chapter)
