Chapter 217: There Are Still Too Many Bad People in This World |
On the morning of the ninth day after the Primarch's arrival, a light rain began to fall over Astorgius. The patter of raindrops striking metal echoed through the air.
In the city of Chahake, located on this Cardinal World, Raphael and Silin followed a procession of guests to the site of an ordination ceremony. It was a high Altar within the sanctuary of the Grand Chahake Cathedral.
The Altar served as the heart of the cathedral.
It was a massive, vaulted space, roughly shaped like a radiating cross.
The Altar itself was a raised, octagonal platform situated directly in the center of the architecture.
'An octagon?'
"..."
Raphael noted this specific detail, a slight frown creasing his brow.
Eight ornate, tiered stone benches surrounded it, each easily capable of seating a thousand people. The upper structures of the cathedral housed reliquaries containing Relics.
A massive pipe organ towered beside the statue, its metallic pipes pointing straight toward The Dome like sharpened swords. According to the local clergy, this magnificent instrument was known as the Voice of the Seraphim.
The walls were constructed from dark, massive stones. Every single block was meticulously carved with complex scriptures and symbols. They stretched upward, heavy and oppressive, supporting a rounded roof constructed from a Skeleton of Steel and brilliant stained glass.
Multicoloured light spilled through the glass, fracturing into eerie halos as it hit the thick incense smoke, giving the unsettling impression of an indescribable, watchful gaze.
The scent of the incense was overwhelmingly heavy, seemingly intended to mask something else beneath it.
This gave the visiting guests the distinct sensation of standing at the bottom of a fog-filled canyon, with the only clear shaft of light falling directly onto the high platform below.
Unfortunately, the bleak weather Today ensured that the guests were unable to witness such a divine spectacle.
The omens had brought him a haze of blood and conspiracy. Raphael's pupils contracted slightly, his fingertips pressing subconsciously into his palms.
He turned to a red-robed cleric standing nearby and asked.
"When did they start altering this cathedral?"
"Nine days ago."
The accompanying cleric quickly and respectfully replied to the opulent merchant representative.
He was holding an ever-burning taper, carefully lighting the candles arrayed around the guests.
The darkest corners of the sanctuary were illuminated by thousands upon thousands of sacred candles. Those tiny flames merged into a river of stars in the gloom, casting flickering light and shifting shadows across the ancient stone walls.
Raphael and Silin stood at seats close to the ceremony, silently observing the ordination proceedings.
The Primarchs were reasonably satisfied with the overall environment of this Planet, yet there were still many areas that fell short. The sheer filth hidden beneath its glamorous surface continued to disgust them.
Gilded filth was still filth, and to properly purge it, it had to be washed away with blood.
Therefore, slaughter was an absolute necessity.
And they were the ones responsible for carrying out that slaughter.
The process was actually quite straightforward. The Adeptus Astartes would strike first to subdue the targets, then the Administratum officials would step forward to read out the charges, while the Imperial Cult personnel maintained order.
There was no need to worry about the ideological chaos that blind accusations of heresy might cause either, as they rarely relied on the charge of heresy to conduct their trials—
Corruption, dereliction of duty, and treason. These secular crimes were often vastly more efficient to prosecute than a religious Inquisition.
Thanks to Guilliman, when he delineated the powers of the High Lords, he at least established extremely detailed legal codes for every department. Although, under normal circumstances, even the Arbites preferred to just execute the culprits rather than wade through the bureaucratic process.
But right now, those laws provided the absolute best legal foundation for their operations.
And when it came to those directly tied to the lucrative supply chain of Holy Oil production, there was not a single one who was innocent of embezzlement and murder.
Raphael's gaze landed on another source of illumination within the chamber—the servo-skulls circling overhead, bearing flaming braziers.
It was much like legalised euthanasia; those who were 'euthanised' were not necessarily the ones who truly needed the release.
The regulations of the Imperial Cult were written in black and white: only elderly believers who had entirely lost their capacity to work were eligible to sacrifice themselves as raw materials for a series of sacred Creations. In return, their families would be granted generous tax exemption policies.
In reality, however, the number of devout believers receiving these tax exemptions was suspiciously high.
The profits generated from Holy Oil, holy shrouds, and sacred servo-skulls were simply too massive.
The meager wealth an ordinary believer managed to scrape together over an entire lifetime likely amounted to less than a fraction of what their skull would fetch once processed into a servo-skull.
There were even more outrageous cases where an individual and all their immediate family members were granted tax exemptions, yet the actual financial benefits of those exemptions fell squarely into the pockets of the relatives of high-ranking Imperial Cult officials, purely to subsidize their extravagant lifestyles.
"Something is wrong here. I suspect Daemons are at work."
Raphael kept his voice incredibly low, barely moving his lips.
"We have completely failed to uncover any leads on the Bishop. That alone goes far beyond the realm of common sense."
Silin responded under the guise of bowing her head in prayer, their subtle psychic camouflage perfectly masking their exchange.
If it defied common sense, then it had to involve Daemons.
"Those useless fools in the Ordo Hereticus."
Silin gritted her teeth in frustration.
The Purifier Squad had been tracking the individual in charge of this place for quite some time, yet it constantly felt as though they were chasing a phantom mist. Every single operation only netted them inconsequential pawns, leaving the true mastermind safely at large.
If a Planet that the Primarch considered satisfactory still harboured this many hidden dangers, wouldn't a Planet he deemed unsatisfactory be completely beyond salvation?
"The Ordo Hereticus produces heretics, and the Ordo Xenos produces Xenos—"
Raphael chuckled softly through their Psychic Link, his mental voice dripping with irony.
"Even the Throne World still houses massive quantities of skull Relics perfectly capable of summoning a Kong Nue daemon army. It is hardly surprising that a Cardinal World is swarming with heretics."
Speaking of which, he couldn't help but shake his head, deeply feeling just how remarkably fortunate his own life had been.
When he was a child, owing to his status as a stable psyker, Lady Aglaia had personally brought him to live on a Paradise World. Later, he had readily sacrificed his own chance at survival to save his brothers and sisters. Yet, by some twist of fate, he survived and was forged into one of the Ever-Burning Wings under Lord Karna's command. He had never once been forced to brush shoulders with heresy.
What was so appealing about heresy, anyway? He was perfectly content with his current life.
He had well-defined enemies to slaughter and a crystal-clear Faith to protect. He didn't have to live like those miserable wretches in the Ordo Malleus, perpetually wandering the precarious edge of Chaos, knowing that a single misstep would send them plunging into the abyss.
"Where did you pick up that kind of talk?"
Silin shot him a sidelong glance, a flicker of sheer helplessness flashing in her eyes.
That sort of uniquely acerbic sarcasm was distinctly out of character for Raphael's usual demeanour.
"Lord Rameses told me."
Raphael replied flatly.
According to his vivid descriptions, after discovering that Terra was practically hoarding massive quantities of Kong Nue skull artifacts disguised as Imperial Cult Relics, the Custodian representative, Lord Navradaran, spent that entire period acting like an active volcano constantly on the verge of erupting.
Every time he penned a letter back home, he would open it with a stream of profanity almost as lengthy as his own incredibly long name, forcing anyone who read it to marvel at the sheer, profound depth of a Custodian's vocabulary.
Thank The Emperor that they were currently in no shortage of essential supplies like Holy Oil.
"Stop mimicking him, and absolutely do not repeat that to outsiders."
Silin's voice carried an unmistakable tone of resentment. It immediately reminded her of Erika, the girl she had grown up with.
That girl had been completely corrupted by now. She spent every waking moment relying on her soul-piercing eyes to relentlessly dig up everyone's deepest secrets, and then she would flawlessly imitate Lord Rameses's condescending tone to relentlessly mock them.
"You are not Lord Rameses."
If Silin hadn't been able to grab Erika and initiate a Psychic Teleportation to flee the scene every single time, she had no idea how that girl would have even survived this long.
"Right."
Raphael nodded with utmost seriousness.
"Should we report this?"
He asked.
"The report has already been filed. The rapid response force is in position, and Lord Titus is currently en route. We have ample backup reserves."
Silin confirmed once again. Thanks to their innate psychic talents and the robust Warp security protocols meticulously established by Lord Rameses, they were able to perform their roles with unprecedented efficiency.
"Excellent. Emergency protocols are approved."
Raphael gave a curt nod.
Following their brief exchange and mutual confirmation, the two immediately resumed their close observation of the sanctuary's unfolding events.
On the surface, the two accompanying clerics were merely watching the sacred ceremony with unyielding devotion.
Yet, in reality, Silin's psychic energy had already silently woven itself around every single brick and stone beneath the Altar, while Raphael's combat precognition rapidly simulated countless potential attack trajectories down to the very millisecond.
Accompanied by the soaring hymns of the Imperial Cult's choir, the Voice of the Seraphim relentlessly blasted out heavy, religiously rhythmic notes.
The grand ceremony had finally reached its absolute climax. At this pivotal moment, the deafeningly high-pitched blare of the organ abruptly ceased. All that remained was the dead silence of the assembled guests and the steady, rhythmic dripping of the rain outside.
Everyone's gaze uniformly snapped towards the master of the cathedral—Bishop Jephthah, who had just suddenly materialised atop the high platform.
The surrounding atmosphere instantly grew palpably tense. Amidst the persistent rustle of the falling rain, the distinct, sickening sound of blades slicing through Flesh and Blood began to continuously echo in the background.
Jephthah stood proudly in the very centre of the raised Altar. Within the Vox-caster System, the voice of a superior officer—flawlessly forged by the rapid response force—began to sing praises of The Emperor's blessings upon His devoted servant, blasting through the crystalline communication Vox-caster.
His actual superior had already been quietly eliminated; the corruption festering within the Imperial Cult had always vastly exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. A deacon strutted to the edge of the platform, ushering the Mortals—who had unknowingly been entirely subjugated by the incense mist—forward, bringing them directly before Jephthah.
The Bishop stared down at the unfolding scene with immense satisfaction. He was merely one final step away from successfully completing his ultimate ritual.
A cherub, entrusted with the sacred anointing, fluttered down from the air and hovered before the Bishop. It smeared Holy Oil—radiating an eerie, luminescent blue glow—across Jephthah's forehead, before firmly affixing a Purity Seal onto his extravagantly ornate robes.
The spectral blue light flared brightly, thoroughly intermingled with a bizarre, unnatural brilliance. Now, the Bishop could no longer hide the sheer, ecstatic joy of his imminent, unholy ascension.
The two agents, who had been actively waiting to strike, abruptly held their breath. They simultaneously heard it: a chilling echo bleeding from The Warp, seeping through the very cracks in the stone like the agonized wailing of an infant.
"Silin!"
Raphael couldn't help but urgently warn her.
They had instantly dropped their psychic camouflage the very moment Jephthah appeared, yet they found themselves completely blocked by an invisible, impenetrable wall of dark Warp energy.
"I have been trying to halt the ritual!"
'Just how many people has this bastard butchered?'
Silin cursed vehemently in her mind. Finally, relying heavily on the crucial guidance of her Aeldari mentor, she forcibly channeled her psychic might to tear a ragged rift straight through the ritual's defensive perimeter.
Thrusting one hand downward, she ruthlessly linked her spatial gateway directly to the violent thunderclouds raging in the sky above.
Just as Jephthah was about to stand tall and deliver a grand sermon to the completely mesmerised guests, a deafening thunderclap violently rolled directly over their heads. A blinding flash of lightning struck, instantly shattering the magnificent stained-glass roof with an earth-shattering bombardment.
It was a raw, unfiltered lightning strike.
But the continuously roaring thunder did not end there. Unexpectedly, an even louder, infinitely more piercing crash detonated through the air.
Another apocalyptic bolt of lightning was violently channeled straight into the sanctuary. Mixing with the ferocious, howling winds, it unleashed a savage tempest of razor-sharp glass shards, sweeping mercilessly toward the entirely unresponsive guests.
Immediately following the brutal impact, the flaming servo-skulls plummeted from the ceiling, violently knocked completely out of the air by the immense shockwave. The countless sacred candles that had just recently been lit throughout the sanctuary's interior were snuffed out in a single, devastating instant.
An oppressive darkness swiftly engulfed the cathedral. As the raw, natural forces of the material universe violently flooded the room, the guests' minds were brutally ripped from their incense-induced stupor. Agonised screams instantly erupted, mixing chaotically with terrified, panicked roars.
Yet, in the very next second, this chaotic pandemonium came to a dead, unnatural halt.
The vivid blue flash of a stasis bomb ignited the dark. Time itself was forcefully frozen in that exact moment, perfectly suspending the flying droplets of blood and the deadly trajectories of Bolt Shells in mid-air.
Meanwhile, in the congregation hall situated beneath the main cathedral, the heavy main doors had already been forcefully blown apart. The resulting shrapnel and debris had completely crushed the surrounding Chaos heretics, but the remaining enemies inside, severely warped by the horrific influence of Chaos, rapidly recovered their lethal combat capabilities and brutally returned fire.
Three Adeptus Astartes and over a dozen members of the Order of the Bloody Rose violently tore straight through the enemy formation the very millisecond the heavy firefight erupted.
On both sides of the shattered doorway, elite Stormtroopers swiftly utilised the collapsed pillars and heavily damaged holy statues to construct makeshift barricades. Their volkite blasters aggressively carved searing red streaks through the absolute darkness, laying down devastatingly precise suppressive fire for the rapidly advancing vanguard squads.
They had successfully pinned the vile heretics down in this very spot.
The tide of the battle appeared to be heavily tilting in the Imperium's favour. Time was undoubtedly on their side.
With every passing second, even more Imperial reinforcements were rushing to the scene. Even the direct arrival of the Primarch himself was merely a matter of time.
However, these deranged heretics were clearly not going to just sit there and wait to die. They were pathetic, wretched lives entirely consumed by Chaos; they had lost everything and willingly sacrificed their very Souls to the Evil Gods. The closer they came to total annihilation, the more their utter madness would drive them to gamble everything on the vile, malevolent powers of The Warp.
Crackle!
A blindingly pale arc of psychic lightning suddenly tore across the battlefield. The freezing, unnatural chill of The Warp instantaneously swept through the entire hall.
Two Battle Sisters were completely unable to dodge in time. The very instant the horrific lightning pierced their bodies, the wildly berserk Warp energy thoroughly annihilated their Flesh and Blood, freezing them perfectly in place mid-charge while a deeply unsettling, unnatural white frost rapidly crawled across their power armour.
"It is a psyker. Their psychic classification is extremely high."
Raphael rapidly assessed the situation.
After viciously grabbing Jephthah by the throat and confirming that the Bishop was nothing more than a hollow puppet, Raphael mercilessly crushed the man's skull. Utilising the lingering soul fragments to rapidly pinpoint the enemy's true location, he turned sharply back to Silin and commanded.
"Silin, the portal."
Upon receiving Raphael's direct order, Silin immediately clenched her hand toward the empty air in front of her. The spatial portal viciously tore open a massive rift, forcibly ripping apart the heavy main doors that the vanguard forces below had been relentlessly battering against.
Thank The Emperor for Lord Rameses's brutal, unforgiving training. At the very least, their profound professionalism as psykers vastly outstripped those pathetic rogue elements who had to blindly fumble their way through the dark.
"There is a Daemons portal inside. My psychic energy cannot penetrate any further."
Silin's voice abruptly grew incredibly tense. The horrifying darkness within her psychic vision was acting like thick, viscous pitch, utterly blocking her mental probes.
Deep purple psychic sparks aggressively flared at her fingertips as she desperately attempted to push the spatial portal forward, but it felt exactly as if she had slammed directly into an invisible, utterly impenetrable wall.
"That is enough!"
Raphael's booming voice detonated like a crack of thunder.
The servo-motors of the Blood Angel's power armour unleashed a deafening roar akin to a Battle Cry. He violently transformed into a blindingly fast scarlet blur, brutally shredding through absolutely every single enemy in his path until he successfully regrouped with the Purifier Squad waiting below.
He then fearlessly led his battle-brothers directly into the massive hall originally intended for the worship of senior believers.
Or rather, it would be far more accurate to describe the room as a slaughterhouse.
The instant they charged into the hall, a sickeningly putrid stench of decay—so overwhelming that even the heavy incense could no longer mask it—violently assaulted their senses.
The former worship chamber had been completely transformed into a literal abattoir by the heretical cult.
Flayed corpses and a massive Banner completely saturated with fresh blood hung macabrely above the central prayer podium.
Massive piles of stone pews had been haphazardly stacked near the hall's entrance like discarded children's blocks. These sacred objects, which were originally meant to provide rest for devout believers, had now been blasphemously repurposed into makeshift barricades and cover for the Chaos cultists.
Gigantic bonfires blazed violently along both walls leading straight to the Altar. The towering flames burned a hazy, unnatural blue, constantly shifting and changing shape.
Within the intense infernos, severely charred, blackened figures chained to iron pillars screamed in unending, unimaginable agony. Their violently distorted wails seamlessly intertwined with the ferocious crackling of the flames, creating a profoundly horrifying, blood-curdling symphony.
Raphael proudly raised his holy sword high. His thunderous voice echoed with absolute, unyielding authority throughout the entirely desecrated hall.
"For humanity!"