Colluding with Heretics

Rovi quickly grabbed the communicator from the table.

"Alpha Priest, shut off the valve to Irrigation Canal Three immediately! Hurry!"

Alpha's puzzled voice came through the communicator. "If we shut it off now, that field of wheat will wither."

"Execute the order!" Rovi roared. "Unless you want your Machine Spirit to drink poison!"

Just then, a muffled explosion sounded from the east.

Immediately afterward, a piercing alarm tore through the night sky.

"Enemy attack! We're under attack!"

Rovi's heart tightened.

"Buck, take your men to the Eastern Sector. Remember, leave no survivors."

"Understood."

Buck gave a savage grin and turned to rush out.

Rovi did not follow him.

He knew his role perfectly well.

He was not a warrior. He was the one manipulating the chessboard from behind the scenes.

He turned toward the control console, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he pulled up the surveillance feed from the Eastern Sector.

The image was blurry and filled with static.

But he could still see that the intruders were not rampaging around like ordinary thugs.

They had gathered at the entrance to the irrigation canal, and several of them were pouring black canisters into the water.

That was no ordinary poison.

Even through the screen, Rovi seemed to sense the sinister aura radiating from the black liquid.

It was a blasphemy.

Nurgle's Gift?

Or some kind of genetic virus?

Rovi did not know.

He only knew that once that stuff flowed into the wheat fields, the food supply for fifty thousand people would be ruined.

This land itself might even become a wasteland.

"Kais... you really are insane."

Rovi clenched his teeth, a fierce glint flashing through his eyes.

Since you wanted to play big, then I'll play this to the end with you.

He took a black ring from his chest—the token Governor Alicia had given him.

He inserted it into a hidden slot on the control console.

"Authorization confirmed. Special Advisor Rovi."

A cold mechanical voice rang out.

"Activate the Purification Protocol," Rovi ordered.

"Warning: This protocol will result in the destruction of all life in the Eastern Sector. Confirm?"

"Confirm."

As Rovi pressed the red confirmation button, the Number Two harvester parked in the Eastern Sector warehouse, which had only recently been refitted, suddenly lit up red.

Its engine let out a roar, and its massive Serrated Roller began spinning idly.

Then, like an awakened steel beast, it smashed through the warehouse doors and charged toward the irrigation canal.

Eastern Sector Irrigation Canal.

The Black Robe Cultists were busy pouring the last canister of black liquid into the water.

"Hurry up. This is the good stuff we got from the followers of the Pious Father."

The leading Black Robe Cultist urged them in a low voice. "Just one drop will turn this wheat field into a garden of rot."

Suddenly, the ground began to tremble.

A bone-chilling rumble came from the darkness.

"What's that sound?"

The Black Robe Cultists stopped what they were doing and looked toward the source in terror.

Two blinding beams of light instantly engulfed them.

Then, they saw a moving Steel Mountain.

The modified Harvester had no driver.

It was remotely controlled—or rather, driven by the dead command Rovi had programmed into it.

Without the slightest hesitation, it charged straight into the crowd.

Like a meat grinder, its sharp Serrated Rollers instantly dragged several Black Robe Cultists inside.

Blood, shredded flesh, and fragments of black robes sprayed everywhere.

Their screams never had the chance to leave their throats before they were swallowed by the roar.

The remaining Black Robe Cultists were frozen with terror.

They tried firing their Autoguns, but the bullets only threw up a few insignificant sparks against the heavy armor plating.

The Harvester did not stop.

It crushed through the crowd and charged directly toward the entrance of the Irrigation Canal.

Then, it performed an action no one had expected.

It activated the spray nozzles on its roof.

What came out was not desiccant, but high-purity Promethium Fuel.

"Boom!"

Flames surged up in an instant.

The Harvester turned itself into a burning bomb.

It swallowed itself, the Black Robe Cultists, and the black liquid that had just been poured into the water in a sea of fire.

The extreme heat instantly evaporated the water and burned away that strange black substance as well.

Rovi stood before the control console, watching the screen filled with white static.

It was the final image captured by the camera before it melted from the heat.

"Sacrificing one machine in exchange for the safety of the entire Granary."

Rovi spoke softly, lightly tapping his fingers against the table.

"That's a very worthwhile trade."

The next morning.

The fire in the Eastern Sector had been extinguished.

The stench of charred corpses filled the air.

Rovi stood before the ruins, looking at the Harvester that had been burned into scrap metal.

Buck stood behind him, his face somewhat pale.

"Twenty-three people in total," Buck reported. "All burned to ash. We found some strange things at the scene."

He handed Rovi a scorched piece of metal.

It was a fragment of a Talisman.

It had already warped out of shape, but the twisted runes on it could still be made out.

Rovi took the fragment. The moment he glanced at it, a sharp pain pierced his fingertips.

The aura of the Warp!

He swiftly threw the fragment into the nearby Isolation Bag.

"Seal off the information," Rovi ordered. "Tell the public it was an accident. A machine malfunction caused the fire."

"And these people?"

"They were thieves stealing grain. They burned to death in the fire."

Rovi turned, his gaze falling in the direction of Supervisor Kase's office in the distance.

The curtains were tightly drawn.

"Kase has crossed the line." Rovi's voice carried a chilling resolve. "He not only wants to kill me, he wants to drag this entire planet into the abyss."

Colluding with heretics.

That was an unforgivable capital crime.

Whether under Imperial Law or Rovi's own rules for survival.

"Buck."

"Here."

"Form up." Rovi smoothed back the hair tousled by the morning wind. "Bring your men, and fifty thousand 'Farm Workers.'"

"Where are we going?"

"To the Executive Council."

Rovi strode forward, his leather boots crunching over the charred earth.

"To deliver Supervisor Kase a 'grand gift.'"

At that moment, the first ray of sunlight pierced the Hive City's heavy cloud cover and fell upon Rovi.

The light carried no warmth.

Instead, it brought a piercing chill.

Morning mist hung over Granary Seven.

This was not some poetic countryside fog.

It was the filthy haze unique to the Hive City's lower levels—

A mixture of industrial exhaust, the lingering stench from Corpse Starch processing, and damp air belching back from the sewers.

Against this murky gray backdrop, a silent procession advanced.

There were no slogans, no clamor. Even their footsteps had been deliberately softened.

Fifty thousand "Farm Workers" clad in coarse gray clothing marched in ruler-straight formations behind Rovi.

In their hands, they carried freshly sharpened sickles, hoes, and wrenches.