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Chapter 75: Khorne: This is good stuff! I love it! More killing!
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 14:44:02 +0000 UTCChapter 75: Khorne: This is good stuff! I love it! More killing!
After quickly organizing the forces of the Ecclesiarchy, the transmigrators immediately began to implement the next phase of their plan. Under Romulus's meticulous planning, food was distributed, and weapons were loaded. As the abundant food and water, mixed with hot tears, were swallowed into empty stomachs, the faithful would take up arms and raise a torch amidst the encircling xenos and Chaos.
The Shrine of the Bloody Rose would be the starting point for the coming operation.
The armed faithful and enforcers of the Imperial Cult were being formed, while the fully equipped Astra Militarum and Astartes forces were mustering. One sundered community after another was reclaimed. One would-be dictator after another was executed. The scattered human population, after a brief but long period of chaos, was finally united under the banner of order.
When fragrant food filled their shrunken stomachs, when warm, wet towels wiped the grime from their skin, and when they looked up at the plan that was now displayed on the walls of the Shrine—a plan that was inextricably linked to their own fate—they knew with certainty:
Chaos and the xenos were nothing but bullshit!
The men who had not been chosen for the crusade wiped down the golden walls and maintained order with their weapons. The women, gathered together, began to transcribe the holy words under the guidance of the faithful, the sound of prayer echoing through the vox-system's pipes day and night.
Before the grand hall, which could hold hundreds of thousands, another batch of the armed faithful had assembled. They would not be the ones to step onto the battlefield to face the enemy directly, but they would defend the fruits of victory won by those who sacrificed.
Watching this scene, Romulus finally understood the absurd mobilization capability of an Imperial Cult that could, in the future Plague Wars, raise a force of several million armed faithful on a planet completely corrupted by Nurgle.
"I'm suddenly realizing that even if we exclude the Emperor's miracle, we still did the right thing, didn't we?"
"It had to be this way," Karna replied, who was mingling with the crowd to assess their condition.
Yes, a good deed is a good deed. Without the twisting influence of Chaos, the result should be a good one. That's right. It had to be this way. The world was becoming clearer, moving from chaos to order. The benefits were numerous. The remaining humans were now united and could focus all their energy on fighting the enemy.
Romulus slapped his own head. In the few months since they had arrived, his thinking had almost been twisted by the Imperium's logic. The experiences of the past few days had truly shaken everyone's confidence.
"My Lord, here is the recruitment list for this batch of the armed faithful," the Bishop said, respectfully presenting the list.
"A five-to-one ratio?" Romulus looked at the list. Compared to the first batch of recruits, the ratio and number of this batch were much higher.
As a compromise to the current situation, the recruitment for the crusade army no longer required military skills. The standards had been relaxed. But willpower and resistance to corruption were still essential. You wouldn't want the comrade squatting next to you in a trench to suddenly start shouting, "For the Allfather, all things must rot," right?
Seeing Romulus's surprise, the Bishop explained, "The fact that they have been able to survive in a world surrounded by Chaos and xenos is, in itself, proof of their value as a coin in the Emperor's purse."
So Chaos and the Genestealers have already acted as an effective screening mechanism, culling the human population? That was a bit too Darwinian. Romulus didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"And thanks to the grace of you, my Lords, this batch of gathered Imperial citizens are mostly from the Upper Hive's enforcer units and gang members. Their combat effectiveness is sufficiently guaranteed."
"I understand." After cross-referencing the data from multiple sources and confirming there were no major discrepancies, Romulus turned to Tyberos. "According to our agreement, the armaments will be delivered shortly."
The way to get the Sharks to care about civilians during an operation was simple. Give them equipment. They were much easier to deal with than most of the hidebound, traditionalist Chapters.
"It is what we must do," Tyberos nodded, already calculating how many more troop transports he should bring on the next mission.
"Hmph," Orlando snorted, looking at Tyberos with disdain for the Sharks' pragmatic style. The Black Templars defended the Emperor's property as a matter of course. They would never demand a reward.
"The terms are the same for everyone," Romulus added. The blows they had suffered along the way had been significant; many details needed to be ironed out.
"Yes, my Lord!" Orlando immediately replied with respect.
Tyberos glanced at Orlando and shrugged with contempt. The Black Templars looked down on the Sharks' honorless methods, and the Sharks looked down on the Black Templars' pointless obsession with face. As for why they, as Space Marines, were even here? The ground-based weapon nodes they had captured had already been handed over to the newly armed faithful. They only needed a small number of Tech-Priests to maintain them, which was why they had been able to return to the Shrine to resupply. And once this new batch of armed faithful was deployed, they could use their full strength to capture new nodes, until they had control over the entire Upper Hive's military installations.
At this thought, they subconsciously clenched their fists. Space Marines were used to fighting asymmetrical warfare. To achieve a tactical objective, they often had to sacrifice other things. This feeling of being able to have it all was new to them, but also exhilarating.
They looked down at the armed faithful, who were spontaneously forming ranks under the guidance of the cultists, and looked forward to the next battle.
"Lord Romulus," the Bishop spoke again.
"Speak."
"Is it necessary for you to give a pre-battle speech?"
"...It can be done." Romulus wasn't a fan of such ceremonial affairs, but he understood that it was necessary to boost morale and was beneficial to the overall strategic deployment in the Upper Hive. So he accepted, and was willing to cooperate.
The Bishop's face lit up with joy. He had long wanted the faithful to meet the revered saints, but during the formation of the first batch of armed faithful, the saints had been busy dealing with the complex battlefield.
"But I will not be the one to give it," Romulus said, sending a message to his partner.
In a corner of the Sanctum, the knight who had been observing every detail like a statue, moved.
"Understood," Arthur replied, breaking free from his seemingly otherworldly state. He then strode forward and took off his helmet. As the black canvas of his armor was dotted with a brilliant gold, he became the focus of all eyes. The people at his side made way, regretting that they had not noticed the arrival of such a noble lord.
The crowd watched with awe as the knight ascended the high platform. Compared to the other Angels who liked to mingle with the crowd and had no sense of distance, this knight, who had always maintained a deep and mysterious air, was far more awe-inspiring.
"Children of the Imperium! When your bellies are full, when your bodies are cleansed with pure water, do you still remember your past? Do you know why you are still standing here today?"
"Why must you suffer this baseless disaster? Why must you struggle in the vortex created by xenos and heretics?"
The faithful who were gazing at the knight looked on in confusion.
"Because survival is not your birthright," the knight's tone was not as zealous as the Bishop's, not as rousing as a Commissar's. It was simply calm. A calm statement of fact to people who had only just been pulled from a sea of suffering. "It is a spoil of war that you must seize from the cold galaxy."
"And spoils of war can only be enjoyed by the victors of that war."
When talking to the Imperial high command, one had to be concise, mysterious, and leave room for these strong-willed believers to interpret. That way, as long as you followed the general direction and set a high tone, you could raise morale to a new level. But speaking to a crowd of people from all social classes was different.
"And so we have brought weapons. We have brought the blades to arm your bodies. And so you now stand with me."
"The victory in this war does not lie with me, nor with any single one of you. Only when we stand together, when we realize that this war is about our survival, about everything we know—" The knight held his helmet in one arm. His emerald eyes swept over every person, his resonant voice dispelling the confusion in their eyes. A deep fire burned in his pupils, yet it was not scorching. His face was younger than most of them, yet it inspired only trust.
"When we each do our part, when we march together towards the same goal, which is called victory—"
"Victory will be ours."
He had to be direct enough, confident enough. He had to make them clearly understand the situation they were in, and what they had to do to face it. He had to tell them what he was going to do.
"Now, let us grip our weapons. Let us, together with you—" The knight strode forward, raising his blade high. The sword, overlapping with the statue of the Emperor, was bathed in a faint light, like a raised torch. He walked towards the slowly opening gates.
The armed faithful spontaneously made way, their eyes fixed on the bright light. They had waited too long for this moment, waiting in the ruins, struggling in the perilous alleys. They were all waiting for the arrival of hope.
"—seize the right to survive!"
The knight walked forward at a steady pace.
"For the Emperor! For Mankind!"
"For the Emperor! For Mankind!" x N
They followed.
Over a hundred thousand people formed a torrent. Their ranks were not neat, their auras of varying strength. But they had all chosen to march forward. To follow the ramrod-straight knight, to follow the glorious Astartes, to follow the solemn-faced Cadian veterans. Everything from their past was now in ruins, but they were still alive. They could still enjoy sweet food and warm water. And Chaos and the xenos would take it all away.
They would fight, simply because they had to defend their right to live as human beings!
They began to march.
CRACK!
The ground trembled. A Slaaneshi Sorcerer had just emerged from a fissure into the Upper Hive when she looked up and saw a host of crimson-clad Sisters of Battle, waiting for her.
Damn it, wasn't this place already conquered by the chosen of the gods?
In an instant, she, or he, drew the serpentine staff from their waist, but the chainsword, roaring with the God-Emperor's fury, was already upon them.
Die!
Cleave, strike, shred!
The arm wielding the chainsword did not hesitate for a second at the sight of her beautiful body. The roaring teeth did not pause for a moment at her alluring musk.
BOOM!
A Glaive spat a jet of flame several meters thick, engulfing the daemonic tide before it. The trail of fire chewed a molten path through the flesh.
The Space Marines at the forefront of the charge shattered any force that dared to resist. The massive heretic tide was torn apart, cut down, and meticulously dismembered. When the remnants finally reached them, through the baptism of cannon fire and blades, they saw an endless sea of the faithful, waiting for them.
Yes, we will be victorious.
The faithful raised their warhammers, which had not yet been tempered by the fires of war, and held high their flamers, which burned with the Emperor's great wrath.
Yes, we will seize the right to survive.
A blood-mist spread. Bright flames rose.
When the xenos and the heretics once again turned their gaze upon humanity, all that was left was astonishment. The prey that had been so easily toyed with in their hands was gone. In its place was a warrior clad in heavy armor, a moving mountain.
Slowly, and unstoppably, he advanced.
Yes, yes, yes!
Just like that!
The Blood God, who had been watching this planet, turned his gaze upon it. He watched the war machines roll over flesh and blood, the ground covered in gore. He watched the crimson-clad Sisters charge into the daemonic tide, flames rising. He watched the countless faithful march forward with boundless courage, dragging a crimson trail across the massive hive.
He roared and cast his gaze down, bestowing his blessing upon this group who had brought him blood and skulls.
Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows. He only cares for the blood.
Through the connection of his blessing, the Blood God's gaze fell upon the knight who was weaving through the cultists. The knight charged at the forefront, every strike efficiently reaping the blood of those around him.
Hah, an unexpected prize!
That clean, efficient style made the Blood God grip the edge of his throne. This was one of the Anathema's hidden treasures, an expert in the art of the blade, an unparalleled duelist.
But the Blood God was still not satisfied.
First, this knight's heart was too cold. His purpose in killing was too pure, so pure that the Blood God could not sense any emotion from it.
Second, this knight did not worship Him. And the Anathema, having been burned once, seemed to have severed the knight's connection to the Warp.
Let me see where the crimson angel is.
The Blood God shifted his gaze, trying to see more. But then, that unseen shadow enveloped the scene once more. Everything was shrouded in mist again.
The Blood God slammed his fist on his throne, and a torrential rain of blood fell upon his domain once more.
Damned Anathema!
"Hmph~" The skulls at His feet began to crumble. He let out a breath of fire, then turned his focused gaze to the core of the ritual, where a trillion souls were gathered.
Patience.
He would wait for the moment the rift was torn open. Then, He would snatch the Anathema's collectibles.
The God of Strategy never lacked for patience.
(End of Chapter)
