Marshall stood beneath the porch with a lasgun slung over his back, watching as one Devout Society brother after another struggled painfully into the hall with help from others.
The ancient church, illuminated by countless candles and lamps, was already crowded with brothers suffering severe injuries. They prayed to their god amid pain and groans.
A golden statue of the Emperor sat cross-legged at the front of the church. Many believers and wounded people had been helped over to its vicinity, where medical staff treated them.
At the same time, beneath the holy light of the Emperor's statue, they received spiritual healing.
Marshall didn't know whether it actually worked, but the brothers no longer seemed to be in pain. It was as if their suffering had left their bodies.
"You look like you don't need treatment, Brother Marshall," Vito said, walking over to the door with a lasgun slung over his back.
"No, I don't. What surprises me more is that you don't either, Brother Vito." Marshall glanced at the lasgun on Vito's back. "You're a good shot. Were you ever in the Planetary Defense Force or the Astra Militarum?"
"No. I used to serve in the Navy Breachers, with the Ultramar Fleet," Vito said, looking at Marshall.
"What about you? You're a good shot, too."
"I was in the local enforcers, but that was a long time ago."
Marshall turned his head to look into the ancient church. Vito raised an eyebrow at him in amusement, then shrugged. "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 the heretics will pay for it, sooner or later." "Of course. But I think we should focus on the problem right in front of us, like this."
Vito pointed into the church. A roar came from one corner, echoing throughout the hall.
"This is all your fault, Henry Moore! Your fault! If your brother Morven had taken the flank, we would've taken the factory by now!"
A bald man with some kind of strange tube attached to his head roared at the man before him—the very gang leader Vito had rescued from the factory.
Henry frowned and fixed the man with a stare. "Watch your words, Mosley! He's your brother, too! Your brother in faith and your brother in the family!"
Everyone's attention was drawn to them. Mosley paced around, waving a finger. "Ever since I got back from the space station, I haven't had a single day of peace! By the gods! You couldn't even take one factory?!"
"One factory? It's one of the Hammer Gang's main strongholds. You know that perfectly well, Mosley. Or have you been away on the space station so long that you've forgotten what's happening on our home world?"
Mosley stopped and glared at Henry, but Henry met his gaze without flinching. The two men faced off, ready to fight.
Vito and Marshall walked over. Mosley looked at them, then growled and stepped back. "Luft is dead. The Underhive Convent needs to choose a new leader. It has to be one of us."
Mosley walked to the center of the church and surveyed the believers around him. "Brothers in family and faith! Today, here, in this holy monastery, we will choose a new leader to guide us toward our ultimate salvation!"
Mosley shouted, "I, Mosley Fox, heard the words of the gods aboard a space station among the stars! They promised me that our ultimate salvation is near! The great gods are coming!"
The believers erupted in a frenzy of cheers.
Vito surveyed the fanatics around him, then glanced at Marshall. Like him, Marshall wasn't shouting.
A teasing smile touched Vito's lips. He looked toward Henry, who had also stepped into the center of the gathering.
"You're saying that you're the gods' chosen mouthpiece, and therefore should be our leader?"
"I am the one chosen by the gods! I heard their voices and saw their forms! I am their messenger!"
Henry looked at Mosley, as if he wanted to say something, but hesitated. Mosley was a member of the family and one of the Underhive Convent's core figures. Henry couldn't openly argue with him in front of everyone.
"A messenger of the gods? Is that what you're claiming, Brother Mosley?" Vito walked forward, took off his lasgun, and handed it to Marshall. Then, under everyone's gaze, he stepped into the center of the monastery.
Mosley stared at the unfamiliar young man, uncertain. "Who are you? What gives you the right to speak here?"
"No, let him speak," Henry said, resting a hand on Vito's shoulder as he looked around at the believers.
"Brothers, this is Brother Vito Constantine. He helped us escape the factory and dealt the heretics a heavy blow!"
Cheers and applause broke out around them. Vito looked at Henry, who nodded in approval, and then stepped into the very center.
"Brothers, Mosley says he is the gods' messenger, that he heard their whispers at the edge of the galaxy. But which of you has never heard their words?"
"Haven't you heard them in your prayers and your faith?" Vito asked in return. All around him, people nodded repeatedly.
"We should rejoice that salvation is near. But in Victoria, there is only one messenger chosen by the gods: the Archbishop."
The crowd murmured, and Mosley's expression darkened. "Are you saying I'm trying to betray the Convent and set up my own faction?!"
"Am I, Brother Mosley? Why would you say that?"
Mosley roared and charged forward, grabbing Vito by the collar. He was incredibly strong, far stronger than he looked. Vito raised an eyebrow, regarding the furious man with amusement.
"I'm a member of the family! How dare you question my loyalty!" Mosley bellowed. Henry strode forward and pulled him away.
Vito landed steadily on his feet. Henry put a hand on his shoulder. "Brother Vito's words are no slander. We must guard against greed and betrayal in our hearts."
Mosley growled at Vito, who raised an eyebrow at him in return, seemingly considering something. But soon he turned to look around at everyone.
"Therefore, brothers, I believe the Underhive Convent needs a leader now. A leader who truly knows how to fight and unite us, someone who knows and understands this place," Vito said.
"Brother Mosley's faith is beyond reproach, but he has been away for too long. I believe we should choose Brother Henry, who has fought alongside us and knows the Underhive, to take on this responsibility."
Vito spread his arms. "Who agrees with me?"
The believers exchanged glances. After murmuring among themselves for a while, many raised their hands. Soon, everyone had raised a hand.
"It's my honor, brothers. And now..." Henry turned to Vito. "Brother Vito, the last surviving member of the Morven Convent, and the greatest hero of the battle for the factory."
"I hope you'll join the Underhive Convent's central chapter. I hope you'll stand with me to defend, build, and spread our faith."
Vito smiled and embraced Henry. The crowd around them burst into cheers, while Mosley glared at Vito in fury.
Mosley muttered under his breath. Vito's lips curved into a faint smile—the smile of a hunter watching his prey walk into a trap.
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