Chapter 76: Kong Nue: Looks Good, Loves to Watch, Hurry Up and Slash! |
After swiftly organizing the Ecclesiarchy's forces, the Transmigrators immediately began working on their next plan.
Under Romulus's meticulous planning, food distribution commenced and weapons were loaded. Once sufficient food and water had been swallowed down alongside warm tears of gratitude, the believers would take up arms and raise their torches amidst the encirclement of Xenos and Chaos.
The Sanctum of the Bloody Rose would serve as the starting point for their subsequent operations.
The Armed Zealots and law enforcement units of the Ecclesiarchy were being established, while fully armed Astra Militarum and Adeptus Astartes forces massed together.
One fractured Community after another was reclaimed, and one aspiring dictator after another attempting to carve out petty fiefdoms was executed. After enduring a period of chaos that felt simultaneously brief and agonizingly long, the scattered remnants of humanity were finally united under the banner of order.
When fragrant food filled their shriveled stomachs, when warm, damp towels wiped the grime from their skin, and when they looked up at the Operation Plan framed on the walls of the Sanctum—a plan deeply intertwined with their fates—they clearly understood one thing.
Chaos and Xenos were complete Bullshit!
Unselected men scrubbed the resplendent walls and wielded weapons to maintain order. The gathered women, guided by the clergy, began transcribing holy texts, while holy prayers echoed unceasingly day and night through the Sound Array Whistle.
Before the magnificent hall capable of holding hundreds of thousands, another batch of Armed Zealots completed their assembly.
Observing the scene before him, Romulus finally understood the absurd mobilization capabilities of an Ecclesiarchy that, during the Plague Wars of Future Generations, could raise millions of Armed Zealots on a planet corrupted by Nurgle.
"I just realized that even if we exclude the factor of The Emperor's divine manifestation, it seems we've still done the right thing?"
"It should be so."
Karna, who was mingling within the crowd to inspect the condition of the populace, replied.
Exactly. A good deed was a good deed. Without the twisting corruption of Chaos, the resulting outcome ought to be positive.
Yes, it should be so.
As the world shifted from chaos to clarity, the benefits were overwhelmingly apparent. By binding the surviving humans tightly together, they could now dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to fighting the enemy.
Romulus slapped his forehead. Over the past few months since his transmigration, his mindset had almost been twisted by the Imperium's dogma.
Their experiences over the past few days had truly left everyone feeling a bit insecure.
"My Lord, this is the recruitment roster for the current batch of Armed Zealots."
The Bishop respectfully presented the list.
"Five to one?"
Romulus reviewed the roster. Compared to the first wave of recruits, both the proportion and the total numbers in this batch were significantly higher.
Out of compromise with their current predicament, the recruitment for the Crusade Force no longer held high expectations for the candidates' Military Skills and had relaxed the standards. However, factors like Willpower and Anti-Corruption Capability still had to be rigorously considered.
After all, no one wanted to be crouching in a trench only for the comrade beside them to suddenly shout, "For the Benevolent Father, all things rot!" right?
Sensing Romulus's astonishment, the Bishop explained,
"The very fact that they have survived until now in a world besieged by Chaos and Xenos proves their immense value as Imperial Currency."
Meaning that Chaos and the Genestealers had acted as an intense filtration mechanism, already sifting through humanity?
That was far too Darwin.
Hearing this, Romulus did not know whether to laugh or cry.
"Moreover, thanks to the blessings of you lords, this gathered batch of Imperial citizens consists mostly of upper Hive City law enforcement and gang members, so their Combat Power is adequately guaranteed."
"I understand."
Romulus cross-referenced the data, and after confirming there were no significant discrepancies among the various sources, he turned to Tyberos beside him and said,
"According to our agreement, the armaments will be delivered shortly."
The method to make The Sharks willing to consider civilians during their operations was quite simple.
Just issue them equipment.
Compared to the vast majority of Chapters with dogmatic mindsets, they were far easier to deal with.
"It is what we should do."
Tyberos nodded, calculating in his mind to bring a few extra troop transports for the upcoming mission.
"Hmph."
Orlando glared at Tyberos, unable to suppress his disdain for The Sharks' pragmatic methods.
As Black Templars, it was only natural and right for them to defend The Emperor's property; they would never demand any rewards for it.
"Everyone receives the same treatment."
Romulus continued.
The setbacks they had suffered along the way were rather severe, and many details still needed to be addressed.
"Yes, My Lord!"
Orlando immediately replied with reverence.
Tyberos cast a sidelong glance at Orlando and shrugged dismissively.
The Black Templars despised The Sharks' apparent lack of Honor, while The Sharks scoffed at the Black Templars' tedious obsession with vanity and Honor.
As for why they, as Adeptus Astartes, were here.
It was because the land-based weapon nodes they had conquered had already been taken over by the previously dispatched Armed Zealots. Now, only a small number of Tech-Priests needed to be stationed there to maintain operations, allowing them to return to the Sanctum for resupply.
Furthermore, once this current batch of Armed Zealots marched out, they could dedicate their full strength to assaulting new nodes until all the military installations in the upper Hive City were under their firm control.
This realization made them subconsciously clench their fists.
The Adeptus Astartes usually engaged in asymmetrical warfare, meaning they frequently had to sacrifice certain objectives to achieve specific tactical goals.
This novel feeling of being able to seize everything was refreshing, yet intensely exhilarating.
They watched the Armed Zealots below, who were spontaneously organizing their formations under the clergy's guidance, eagerly anticipating the next battle.
"Lord Romulus."
The Bishop spoke up once more.
"Speak."
"Would it be necessary for you to deliver a pre-battle sermon?"
"...That is fine."
In truth, Romulus was not very fond of such superficial ceremonies, but he understood that it was crucial for boosting morale and beneficial to the overarching strategic deployment across the upper Hive City.
Therefore, he accepted the proposal and was willing to cooperate.
The Bishop's face lit up with pleasant surprise.
He had long wanted the congregation to familiarize themselves with the highly revered Saints. Unfortunately, when organizing the first wave of Armed Zealots, the Saints had been entirely preoccupied with navigating the complex battlefield.
"But I won't be the one speaking."
Romulus sent a message to his companion.
Standing in the corner of the Sanctum, the knight who had been observing every detail like a motionless statue finally stirred.
"Mhm."
Arthur responded with a grunt, immediately snapping out of his otherworldly trance.
He strode forward and removed his helmet. As a radiant stroke of gold graced that pitch-black canvas, he instantly became the focal point of the room, drawing the captivated gazes of countless onlookers.
The people beside him quickly parted to make way, simultaneously regretting their failure to notice the arrival of such a noble lord.
The crowd stared in awe as the knight ascended the high platform.
Compared to The Angel, who preferred mingling with the crowd and possessed no sense of distance, this knight—who constantly maintained an aura of profound mystery—was always far more awe-inspiring.
"Citizens of the Imperium, as your bellies are filled with food and your bodies are cleansed by pure water, do you still recall your past? Do you truly comprehend why you are still standing here today?"
"Why must you endure such senseless disasters? Why must you struggle within the maelstrom churned up by Xenos and heretics?"
The believers gazing up at the knight all revealed expressions of profound bewilderment.
"It is because survival is not your inherent birthright, but a spoil of war that you must seize from the frigid Galaxy."
The knight's tone lacked the fervor of a Bishop and the fiery passion of a Commissar. It contained only tranquility.
Calmly, he stated a cold, hard fact to a people who had only recently escaped their torment.
"And only the victors of war possess the right to claim the spoils."
When conversing with the upper echelons of the Imperium, one needed brevity and mystery. It required giving those individuals with unwavering Faith the mental space to infer their own profound meanings. That way, merely aligning with the general direction and setting a lofty tone was enough to elevate morale to unprecedented heights.
However, speaking to the common masses—a chaotic blend of every social class—was entirely different.
"Therefore, we have brought weapons. We have brought blades to arm your flesh, and so, you now stand together with me."
"The victory of this war does not lie with me, nor does it lie with any single one of you. It is only when we stand united, when we realize that this war dictates our very survival and everything we have ever known—"
Resting his helmet in the crook of his arm, the knight's emerald eyes swept over everyone's gaze. His resonant, metallic voice shattered the doubts in their eyes.
A profound fire burned within those pupils, yet it did not feel scalding or oppressive.
His visage appeared younger than the vast majority of those present, yet it inspired absolute conviction.
"When we each fulfill our duty, when we march together toward that singular goal called victory..."
"Victory will undeniably be ours."
It needed to be direct and brimming with confidence. It had to make them acutely aware of their dire circumstances, and instruct them precisely on how to confront those circumstances.
It had to show them exactly what he was going to do.
"Now, let us grip our weapons tight, let us march alongside you—"
The knight stepped forward and raised his weapon high. The Sword and Imperial Icon overlapped, bathed in a faint, radiant light, looking for all the world like a hoisted torch.
He walked toward the slowly opening grand doors.
The Armed Zealots spontaneously parted to clear a path, their eyes locked onto that brilliant light.
They had waited for this moment for far too long, biding their time amidst the ruins, struggling for life in peril-laden alleyways.
They had all been waiting for the descent of hope.
"Go forth and seize the right to survive!"
The knight advanced with slow, measured steps.
"For The Emperor, for humanity!"
"For The Emperor, for humanity!" they chanted in unison.
They surged forward in his wake.
Over a hundred thousand people converged into a mighty torrent. Their formations were completely disorganized, and their individual auras varied wildly in strength.
Yet, they all chose to march onward.
Keeping pace with that upright knight, following the Glorious Astartes, and trailing behind the Stern-Faced Cadian Veterans.
Everything from their past had been reduced to ash and rubble, but they were still breathing.
They could still enjoy sweet, fragrant food and the comfort of warm water. Chaos and the Xenos would brutally rip all of that away.
They would fight tooth and nail against them, simply because they had to defend their right to live as human beings!
They commenced their great march.
Crunch!
Tremors rippled through the ground. Just as a bewildered Slaanesh Sorcerer ascended from a Rift into the upper Hive City, he looked up only to see crimson Sisters wielding chainswords, who had clearly been waiting for a long time.
'Damn it, hasn't this place already been conquered by the Chosen of the Gods?'
In an instant, he—or perhaps she—drew the Serpent Staff from their waist, but the chainsword roaring with the God-Emperor's fury was already upon them.
"Die!"
Slash, strike, shred!
The arm swinging the chainsword did not hesitate in the slightest at the sight of her wondrous physique, and the roaring metallic teeth did not pause for even a fraction of a second at the scent of her intoxicating musk.
Boom!
A Blade-Flyer erupted with a stream of flames over a dozen feet thick, instantly submerging the incoming demonic tide. The searing fire gnawed a path of molten lava right through the mass of flesh and blood.
Leading the charge, the Adeptus Astartes shattered any force that dared to resist.
The massive tide of heretics was violently torn apart, chopped to pieces, and meticulously segregated.
When the straggling remnants finally emerged from the baptism of artillery and blades to draw near, what awaited them was an endless, seemingly boundless ocean of Armed Zealots.
'Yes, we will be victorious.'
The zealots hoisted their Warhammers—weapons not yet tempered by the fires of combat—and raised their Flamers, which blazed with The Emperor's majestic wrath.
'Yes, we will seize our right to survive.'
A bloody mist permeated the air as brilliant flames continuously flared to life.
When the Xenos and heretics finally refocused their attention on humanity, all that remained for them was sheer, unadulterated shock.
The helpless prey they had ruthlessly tormented and crushed between their fingers had vanished without a trace. In their place stood a warrior clad in heavy armor—a moving, impenetrable mountain.
Marching forward with a slow, yet utterly unstoppable momentum.
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"Just like that!"
The Blood God, who had been closely monitoring this planet all along, cast His gaze down upon the spectacle.
He watched as the machines of war ruthlessly crushed through flesh and bone, turning the very ground into a tapestry of scattered blood.
He watched the crimson Sisters plunge fearlessly into the demonic hordes as raging infernos continuously erupted.
He watched countless Armed Zealots march forward with boundless courage, dragging a brutal, scarlet trail through the colossal Hive City.
Roaring as He locked His gaze onto the battlefield, He observed this valiant march and directly bestowed His twisted blessings upon these people who were harvesting such bountiful blood and skulls in His name.
The Blood God never cared from whence the blood flowed; He cared only that it flowed.
Through the ethereal connection of His blessings, the Blood God's gaze locked onto the knight weaving through the throngs of cultists.
The knight led the charge at the very front, every single strike ruthlessly and efficiently reaping the blood of those around him.
'Oho, an unexpected delight!'
That crisp, utterly decisive combat form made the Blood God grip the armrests of His throne tightly.
This was one of the hidden treasures hoarded by the Accursed One—an absolute master of the blade, an unmatched duelist.
Yet, the Blood God was still somewhat dissatisfied.
First, the knight's heart was entirely too cold and detached. His sole purpose for butchering his enemies was far too pure—so pure, in fact, that the Blood God could not sense even the slightest flicker of emotion from his slaughter.
Second, this knight did not direct his Faith toward Him. The Accursed One, having already swallowed one bitter pill in the past, seemed to have completely severed the knight's connection to the Warp.
'Let me see where the crimson angel is.'
The Blood God shifted His gaze, eager to continue prying into the mortal realm.
But immediately after, that invisible, impenetrable shadow enveloped His sight once more.
Everything was shrouded in a dense fog once again.
The Blood God violently smashed His fist against His throne, causing torrential Blood Rain to violently cascade down across the demonic realm once more.
'Curse you, Accursed One!'
Haa!
As the skulls beneath His feet began to fracture and crumble, He exhaled a scorching breath of fire. He then focused His intent gaze entirely on the core of the ritual that had amalgamated trillions of Souls.
'I must be patient.'
He waited for the exact moment the Rift would be torn wide open, and then He would plunder the Accursed One's prized collection.
The God of Strategy was never lacking in patience.