Matter Decays, the Soul Is Immortal

After regrouping, the team continued onward. According to the intelligence relayed by Ruan Wenbo, the two scouts at the front soon spotted a massive three-way intersection, corroded by rust, at the end of the dim passageway. Above a heavy blast door in the center of the junction, a huge "Gear-Alpha" symbol gleamed with a cold metallic light beneath the emergency lamps.

Without hesitation, they ignored the other two paths leading toward residential districts and chose the central route. Mindful of Ruan Wenbo's particular warnings about "traps" and "disrepair from age," the two point men proceeded with extreme caution. They tested every step before shifting their weight, their Lasguns constantly aimed into the darkness ahead.

Yet after walking for a while, the two Players grew puzzled. As Players assigned to scouting duty, both were exceptionally observant. Ruan Wenbo had clearly said that the Tech-Priest's information included "roads fallen into disrepair." But the passage beneath their feet had plainly been repaired. The workmanship was crude, with ugly welds and patches, but whether by sight or by foot, it felt extremely sturdy.

"Strange. The information was wrong," muttered one scouting Player whose ID was [Fluttering Moth]. "Could that Priest have been an allied intelligence agent? Or was there an error in our Company Commander's retelling?"

"Could be enemies ahead," [No Name Yet] replied. "They repaired the road. Stay alert."

"Mm."

Sure enough, after they advanced another hundred meters with increasing caution, they found people. Rounding a corner lined with steam pipes, they suddenly entered an open space—a small transit plaza. Dozens of people had gathered there, and what surprised the two Players was that, at first glance, every one of them appeared to be an ordinary human, with no obvious physical mutations.

After all, the Cultists they had mainly fought in the Underhive had more or less displayed rotting skin or deformed limbs. Once they learned of Ruan Wenbo's speculation that the Genestealer cult was their primary enemy in the Mid-hive, the two Players had expected to see mutations even more horrifying and twisted than those in the Underhive.

"Strange. Has this place not been infiltrated by Genestealers yet?" Moth asked doubtfully.

"I wouldn't be so sure..." No Name Yet's gaze passed over the crowd and landed on a wall across the plaza. A huge heretical symbol had been crudely painted there in red. It was roughly circular: a savage serpent-like beast occupied two-thirds of the design, its jaws open as though ready to devour the remaining third—a decayed, ruined gear.

Just as they decided they had gathered enough information and were preparing to withdraw and report, a gentle voice suddenly sounded behind them without warning.

"Brothers, why not join us?"

The two Players' bodies instantly stiffened, but as veterans of many battles, they quickly calmed down. Since they had been discovered, they might as well play along. Perhaps they could pry out more intelligence. Besides, they could revive. Death did not scare them.

"Join what?" No Name Yet slowly turned around and asked.

A man in a loose black robe stood smiling at them, most of his skin hidden in shadow. His smile was sincere, but in this dim environment, it appeared particularly eerie.

"Join this gathering, of course." He spread his arms as though embracing the entire plaza. "To celebrate our worker brothers learning the truth, to celebrate freedom, to celebrate liberation—to celebrate the immortality and eternity of the soul."

"We're Astra Militarum," Moth said bluntly, pointing to his unmistakable uniform and body armor.

"So what?" the other man asked, his smile unchanged. "Are the Astra Militarum not workers who have taken up arms? You are just like us, serving the Void Lord. What difference is there?"

"The Emperor does not bear the title 'Void Lord,'" Moth retorted with a frown.

"He does!" The man's tone suddenly became resolute.

"He doesn't!"

"He does!"

"He—"

"We'll join," No Name Yet cut in, stopping the pointless theological debate in time.

The other man immediately brightened. "Wonderful! I'll lead you there, and explain our doctrine to you along the way!"

Then, led by the black-robed man, they passed through the crowd. Along the way, he rambled on about their doctrine. First, he bitterly condemned the corruption and inaction of the upper nobles, condemning them for plunging workers—who were equally the Emperor's subjects—into endless torment and suffering for the sake of meaningless pleasures and bottomless greed.

As he spoke, he extended one hand from beneath his robe. The sight made the two Players' pupils contract instantly. Though their days in this game had accustomed them to the blood and carnage of the battlefield, seeing a hand worn down by overwork until pale bones showed through still left these people from the twenty-first century deeply shaken.

"Even so, we remain loyal to the God-Emperor!" His tone was decisive, brimming with pride and conviction. "The upper classes took the path of betrayal in their pursuit of pleasure, while our faith has only grown firmer through suffering!"

"The upper nobles, out of fear, denounce us as a cult, as heretics... How laughable. How could they understand our will?" The black-robed man sneered. "Whether those Chaos cults or the gangs, they are all cut from the same cloth as the nobles. They too are human, yet desperately wish to cast off their lowly origins as quickly as possible. We, however, are proud of ours."

His voice gradually rose, becoming fervent and fanatical. "The material wealth they crave will eventually decay, and even this universe will one day be erased by entropy! Only by being embraced, reshaped, and having body and soul absorbed by that magnificent, transcendent existence can one attain true eternity—then there will be no more distinction between high and low. Every human will be as close as brothers, advancing for the great and glorious cause of liberating every race in the universe!"

The two Players abruptly snapped awake amid his voice! Only then did they realize that their thoughts had somehow fallen into disorder, and an inexplicable daze had enveloped them. Without question, this was something only psychic power could accomplish.

They looked around and discovered that, at some point, everyone in the plaza had surrounded them tightly in the center. Every person stared fixedly at them with eyes mingling pity and fanaticism.

Then everyone spoke as one, their voices converging into a chilling torrent:

"You rich people! Weep and howl for the disasters that are coming upon you! Your wealth has rotted away, and your clothes have been eaten by moths. Your gold and silver have rusted, and that rust shall testify against you and devour your bodies like fire. In these last days, all you have done is hoard treasure!

"Workers reap your fields, yet you withhold their wages. Those wages cry out in accusation, and the workers' cries have reached the ears of the Void Lord!"

No Name Yet sighed. "There's a Cult Sorcerer... This is troublesome."

Moth nodded. "Self-destruct."

In the next second, two Frag Grenades were activated simultaneously in the middle of the crowd.

Boom—!

The violent explosions devoured everything. Fire and shockwaves tore the fanatical believers to pieces, utterly silencing the grand chanting.