Vito had never liked wearing a monk's robe. To be honest, he had never understood why religious believers enjoyed making themselves so uncomfortable, as if their self-imposed suffering could make the gods they worshipped spare them a glance. Was this sort of self-flagellation supposed to be any fun?
Although Vito didn't like the Slaanesh worshippers' debauched revelries either. To be fair, they were fun, but they also drained the life right out of you. Your body and soul would be consumed, revel after revel—literally trading your life for a good time. So, yes, Vito wasn't ready to hand his life over to some god.
Vito walked down a long, diamond-shaped corridor. Steel support structures lined the passage, their massive mechanical frames holding up this forgotten corner, buried deep underground and abandoned by the Imperium and human civilization.
Candles and prayer streamers were everywhere. Shrines to the Lord of Redemption stood scattered throughout. Vito walked along the entrance passage of this ancient underground metal cathedral, surrounded by several robed monks like himself. They carried drooping banners and censers filled with smoldering incense.
Clink, clank—the steady rhythm of religious music rang in his ears without pause. The pilgrim procession was making its way through the corridor, and Vito warily watched them from the corner of his eye. There was no need to guess: these people, taller, stronger, and bulkier than ordinary humans, were Tyranid-infected.
There were even two Purestrain Genestealers among them. Even beneath their robes, their bodies were obviously nothing like a human's.
Surrounded by the pilgrims, Vito passed through the long corridor. At the far end, they left the passage and entered the main section of this enormous underground structure.
Vito looked around in mild surprise. It was an immensely grand, spacious, and vast underground temple. Above him, around him, and even below him, tiers of galleries and platforms stretched away. Believers packed every level and colonnade.
Some were human, others Genestealers, and there were even some clearly of the second generation—or Purestrains on the verge of reverting to their original form. They stood together without distinction. Clearly, the Crimson Essence had altered the nerves of the human believers. Like the Tyranid-infected, they could no longer properly recognize the nightmares and horrors before them.
They stayed among these terrifying monsters as if they were the closest of friends. Humans and monsters cheered and praised their god together. In every direction, the place was filled with such unnatural combinations.
The pilgrims proceeded along a main thoroughfare. On both sides, at ground level just below the road, countless believers and Tyranid monsters waved their arms together. Their voices swelled into a furious celebration. Countless sounds blended together: some still recognizable as human, others utterly impossible to identify.
Vito looked toward the far end. There, a vast platform had been carved into and joined to a wall suspended over the abyss. On the platform, inside a shrine, stood a magnificent golden statue of a Tyranid Progenitor.
Its model—the nightmare creature itself—sat cross-legged beneath the statue. The four-meter-tall monster rested on a gleaming golden dais. Its massive, muscular head bristled with fangs, and a long, curling tongue wound inside its mouth. Four terrible claws, sharp enough to slice through Power Armour, rested casually around it. But Vito knew that if the creature wished, it could begin its lightning-fast harvest of lives in an instant.
A group of guards surrounded the Tyranid Progenitor. They were Purestrain Genestealers, clad in armor and crouched on the ground, their claws and powerful limbs making them look like a pack of wolves poised to pounce.
Beside the Progenitor stood the high priest of the Genestealer Cult. He raised his staff and slammed it against the floor. The toll of a great church bell echoed throughout the hall, immediately drowning out all the commotion.
All the believers turned to look toward the absolute heart of the gathering.
Vito and the pilgrims reached the end of the procession. He stood before the Progenitor and the high priest, while the pilgrims spread out to either side, unfurling their banners in arcs toward the believers below.
"Brothers and sisters! Today, we welcome a new redeemer into our midst!" the high priest cried, raising his Force Staff. Clearly, his voice had been amplified by psychic power. He needed no external equipment to carry it throughout the hall.
"Our archangel will bring us a new redemption!" As he spoke, the high priest gestured for everyone to look at the Progenitor. The massive Tyranid monster reared up and lifted both claws, their razor-like talons reflecting a cold glint.
A frenzied cheer answered it. Humans and nonhumans alike screamed wildly below, their chaotic praises rising in an endless din. The high priest watched the congregation with satisfaction, then motioned for them to quiet down. To everyone's amazement, the fanatics actually fell silent.
It was obvious that he had used his psychic senses to influence these Tyranid Node Creatures. The Crimson Essence was indeed quite effective, just as the information Vito had obtained had suggested.
Vito glanced to one side. Henry was here too, standing at the edge among a group of high-ranking leaders. Yet Henry seemed more rational than the others. He wasn't shouting or acting deranged.
Instead, he looked at the Progenitor with a conflicted, uncertain expression. Well, that's interesting.
Vito turned back to the Progenitor. The massive monster was looking at him too, its enormous mouth opening and closing slightly before him. The many golden ornaments hanging from its body swayed with its movements.
"The great Patriarch has received the will of the gods! They—our salvation—is on its way! The divine host will come from beyond the stars! We are about to complete the Path of Redemption!" the high priest cried fervently. His words were met with even more frenzied cheers.
The believers shrieked hysterically, and the most feverish atmosphere engulfed the entire gathering. When they heard that their god was about to arrive, it seemed to trigger the release of some kind of pheromone, driving the fanatics with the same frenzied instinct as wild beasts.
Vito was certain the highest-ranking Tyranid Node Creature present was releasing the pheromone. At that moment, it was obviously the high priest; the other likely candidate was the Patriarch. Hmm. This Tyranid hierarchy is really interesting, isn't it? You don't need to persuade anyone, make them understand, or even give an order. You only need to stir the instincts of those below you with emotional resonance.
As before, the high priest didn't need to say anything to persuade them. He merely raised one hand, and the frenzied crowd fell silent. They quieted so quickly it was hard to believe—even for Vito.
"And today, we welcome a brother: Brother Vito Constantine." The high priest pointed at Vito. Like a victor in ancient Terra, Vito raised both arms to the cheers and applause of the crowd below.
"We welcome him as our brother, to walk the final path of redemption with us." The high priest raised his staff and looked toward the Progenitor with what could only be called reverence. "Our god! Our guide! Grant him enlightenment!"
The Progenitor slowly opened its mouth. Its long, curved tongue slid out, the sharp injector at its tip dripping with viscous fluid. This was the means by which it could achieve the most complete genetic infection. The first Tyranid-infected on this planet had been born this way.
"Step forward, brother. Receive your blessing," the high priest said joyfully. Vito looked at the Progenitor, then glanced at the Purestrain Genestealers on either side. After a moment's thought, he took a few steps forward and came to stand before the enormous monster.
The Patriarch's injector gradually drew closer to Vito's chest. Everyone watched as the Progenitor prepared to complete the injection and infection. One quick jab was all it would take to inject the infective material into Vito's chest and assimilate him in a short time.
Vito watched the injector approach, closer and closer, until he could almost feel its warmth. He raised his eyes to the Patriarch, looking into its bright eyes.
An explosion rang out. A violent blast erupted in one corner of the hall, drawing the attention of every believer, the high priest, and the others. Through the dense smoke, countless laser beams and bullets burst forth.
Countless believers were slaughtered on the spot. A group of armed men charged out of the smoke, weapons of all kinds in their hands. Their leader had a Bolter tucked under his arm. He blasted the head off the nearest believer with a single shot. "Kill these Devout Society bastards! All of them!"
Mal Hammer roared. His men and the Syndicate boys streamed in behind him, unleashing a torrent of destruction on the crowd. Marshall was among them, charging into the battle with a Lasgun in hand. He looked toward Vito and gave him a slight nod.
The high priest turned, about to say something, but all he saw was a flash of plasma lightning—the bolt fired from the Plasma Gun concealed in Vito's wrist. Vito smiled at him.
"Right on time, wasn't I?" Vito grinned as the plasma bolt crackled toward its target.
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