Imperial Frontier: Underhive Convent

Marshall stood under the porch with his lasgun slung over his shoulder, watching as the brothers of the Devout Society struggled into the hall, leaning on one another in pain.

In the ancient cathedral, illuminated by countless candles and lamps, far too many brothers had already arrived, bearing grievous wounds and praying to the gods amidst their groans and agony.

A golden statue of the Emperor sat enthroned at the front of the cathedral, and many believers and wounded were being helped nearby, receiving treatment from medical personnel.

At the same time, under the divine radiance of the Emperor's statue, they found spiritual healing.

Marshall did not know if it truly worked, but the brothers' faces seemed to lose their look of agony, as if the pain had been stripped from their bodies.

"Looks like you don't need treatment, Brother Marshall," Vito said, walking to the door with his own lasgun slung across his back.

"No, I don't. What surprises me more is that you don't either, Brother Vito," Marshall said, glancing at the lasgun on Vito's back. "Your marksmanship is excellent. Were you a member of the Planetary Defense Force or the Astra Militarum?"

"No, I served in the Navy Breachers, Ultramar fleet," Vito said, looking at Marshall.

"And you? Your aim is quite good as well."

"Local law enforcement, but that was a long time ago."

Marshall turned his head toward the ancient cathedral. Vito raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a playful glint before shrugging. "Attacking the factory head-on was a stupid idea."

"I agree, brother. We paid a heavy price and still didn't take the factory."

"But we will make the heretics pay, sooner or later." "Of course, but I think we need to consider the current problem, like this one."

Vito pointed into the cathedral, where a roar erupted from a corner, echoing throughout the entire hall.

"This is all your fault! Henry Moore! Your fault! If your brother Morven hadn't failed to take the flank, we would have taken the factory long ago!"

A bald man with strange hoses embedded in his head roared, and the man he was berating was none other than the boss Vito had rescued from the factory.

Boss Henry frowned, staring at the man shouting before him. "Watch your tongue! Mosley, he is your brother too! Your fellow believer and family brother!"

Everyone's attention was drawn to them. Mosley paced, waving his finger. "I haven't had a moment's peace since I returned from the space station! By the gods! You couldn't even take one factory?!"

"One factory? That is one of the Hammer Gang's main strongholds, and you know that well, Mosley. Or have you been on the space station so long that you've forgotten how things are on our homeworld?"

Mosley stopped, glaring at Henry, but the latter met his gaze without fear. The two stood on the verge of a clash.

Vito and Marshall walked over. Mosley looked at them, let out a low growl, and took a step back. "Luft is dead. Now the Underhive Convent needs to choose a new leader, between you and me."

Mosley said this as he walked to the center of the cathedral, looking around at the believers. "Brothers of family and faith! Today, here! In this holy monastery! We must choose a new leader, a leader who will guide us to final salvation!"

Mosley shouted, "I, Mosley Fox! I heard the words of the gods on the space station among the stars! He promised me that final salvation is coming! The great deity is coming!"

The believers cheered, a wave of frenzied acclamation.

Vito sized up the lunatics around him, then glanced at Marshall, who, like him, was not shouting.

A playful smile touched the corner of Vito's mouth before he looked at Henry, who had also walked into the center of the floor.

"Are you saying that because you are the chosen mouthpiece of the gods, you deserve to be the leader?"

"I am the one chosen by the gods themselves. I have heard their voices and seen their forms. I am their messenger!"

Henry looked at Mosley, wanting to say something but hesitating. Mosley was a family member and one of the core figures of the Underhive Convent; he could not openly argue with him in such a public setting.

"A messenger of the gods? Brother Mosley, is that what you say?" Vito stepped forward, took his lasgun off, handed it to Marshall, and walked into the center of the monastery under the gaze of everyone.

Mosley looked at the strange young man, hesitating. "Who are you? What right do you have to speak here!"

"No, let him speak," Henry said, pressing a hand on Vito's shoulder and looking around at the believers.

"Brothers, this is Brother Vito Constantine. He helped us successfully withdraw from the factory and dealt a heavy blow to the heretics!"

A round of cheers and applause erupted. Vito looked at Henry, who nodded affirmatively. Vito walked to the very center.

"Brothers, Brother Mosley says he is the mouthpiece of the gods, that he heard the whispers of the gods at the edge of the galaxy. Brothers, is there any among you who has not heard His voice?"

"Have you not heard it in your prayers and your faith?" Vito asked in return. The crowd nodded repeatedly.

"We should rejoice that salvation is coming, but in Victoria, there is only one mouthpiece chosen by the gods, and that is the Arch-Bishop."

The crowd began to murmur, and Mosley's face darkened. "Are you saying I am trying to betray the Convent and set up my own faction?!"

"Did I say that? Brother Mosley, why would you say such a thing?"

Mosley roared and rushed forward, grabbing Vito by the collar. His strength was immense, far greater than he looked. Vito raised an eyebrow, looking at the angry man with amusement.

"I am a family member! How dare you insult my loyalty!" Mosley bellowed, but Henry stepped forward and pulled him away.

Vito landed steadily on his feet, and Henry pressed his hand on his shoulder. "What Brother Vito said is by no means slander. We must guard against the greed and betrayal within our own hearts."

Mosley growled as he looked at Vito, who looked back with a slight arch of his brow, seemingly deep in thought, but he soon turned to address the crowd.

"Therefore, brothers, I believe the Underhive Convent now needs a leader, a leader truly skilled in struggle and unity, a leader who knows and understands this place," Vito said.

"Brother Mosley's faith is impeccable, but he has been away for too long. I believe we should elect Brother Henry, who has fought alongside us and understands the Underhive, to take on this heavy responsibility!"

Vito said, spreading his arms. "Who agrees with me?"

The believers looked at one another. After a round of whispering, many raised their hands, and soon, everyone had their hands raised.

"It is my honor, brothers. And now," Henry turned to Vito, "Brother Vito, the last member of the Morven Convent and the greatest contributor to the battle at the factory."

"I wish to welcome you into the main body of the Underhive Convent. I hope you will stand with me to defend, build, and spread our faith."

Vito smiled and embraced Henry. The crowd erupted in cheers, while Mosley glared at Vito in annoyance.

Mosley muttered to himself, while a smile played on Vito's lips—the smile of a hunter watching his prey walk into a trap.