"What a tragedy. The Imperium you serve has never cared about you. Look at what they've done."
"They erased all traces of your existence, denied your loyalty to the False Emperor, and even branded you traitors."
"Oh, my poor cousin. Forget glory—even every trace that you ever existed has been replaced by your own successors."
In the silent, secret passageway, Arthur pushed a cart forward. Ramesses walked ahead with a psychic field active, while decadent whispers carried by psychic transmissions followed behind them.
Maintenance work had already begun in the area where they had fought. The two of them now needed to take this guy to a specially prepared little black room and begin the interrogation.
The Word Bearers' combat strength, deployments, objectives, the whereabouts of the Nemesis Chapter, and the current state of the planet's surface—those were all things they needed to know.
"Ah, how pathetic. You don't believe in the False Emperor, you don't believe in the gods, you have no Legion, no Primarch. What meaning is there in your life?"
Arthur was immensely glad he had cut off this guy's mouth. Otherwise, it felt like Blackstone Fortress would be flying over his head the next second.
The second thing this bastard had said had been "Dark Angels." Arthur had instinctively looked around to see whether there were any unfamiliar survivors nearby.
If that got out, he could forget about having a peaceful life for the rest of his days.
And these Chaos traitors really did have filthy mouths.
"Do you know that hiding your identity and helping the Imperium makes you look exactly like a skin-and-bones dog still carrying bones back to its master?"
After recovering from his brief shock, the Word Bearers Sorcerer began spewing mockery like an overturned basket.
Arthur was getting annoyed.
Unfortunately, aside