The Imperium's Frontier: A Hymn of Loyalty

The Imperial Administratum headquarters—well, the moment you can hear that name, it means you have arrived in a territory firmly under the control of the Imperium. Such structures are as ubiquitous as the lasguns of the Astra Militarum or the hymns of the Ecclesiarchy, scattered across every loyal world, large or small.

On almost every world, there stands such a building. It is one of the largest and most magnificent structures locally, built in the very heart of the Imperial city, usually modeled after the Administratum headquarters on Holy Terra as a massive cathedral-like edifice.

Countless towering Gothic spires and arched vaults are distributed throughout, with crystal glass and grand statues adorning every corner. The Imperial Aquila emblem hangs forever high above the golden gates of the entrance.

This building is so immense—this is an Administratum headquarters located on a sector capital hive world—that it is vast, so vast that "huge" is not enough to describe it.

It is practically a city, a city within a city. Its complex and sprawling internal network of corridors, halls, and chapels would leave any outsider hopelessly lost without an Administratum guide. Even then, no one could claim to know every corner of this millennium-old structure.

At the very center of this mega-structure, above the main body, lies a vaulted dome. Beneath that dome, carved with countless exquisite patterns and surrounded by high towers, is the core of the Administratum and the true heart of the entire Victoria System.

The Sector Government council chamber is located here. Beneath that magnificent, massive dome, there are tiers of seats arranged in circles, rising from low to high.

Whenever the Victoria System government needs to decide on important matters, this place is filled with officials from every department. Today is no exception.

Between crystal murals and marble walls, countless officials of all ranks gather. They hail from all the vital departments of the Victoria System: the Administratum, the Departmento Munitorum, the Planetary Defense Force, the Ecclesiarchy, the Astropathic Choir, the Adeptus Mechanicus, and so on.

There are even personnel from departments that might not be as significant but still hold a seat. These power-brokers of the Victoria System gather in small groups, conversing intensely.

In the open space at the center of the circular chamber, Governor Luwen stands with several other department heads. These leaders of the secret society all wear expressions of distress and annoyance.

"Has any of you received news of the Patriarch? Or of the Bishop?" the female Minister of the Administratum asks. She appears agitated, unable to sit still.

"No, nothing. No news at all. We only know we were attacked, and it was the work of the Hammer Gang and the Syndicate," the Grand Marshal of the Planetary Defense Force states firmly. He raises his hand and clenches his fist. "I would bet my life on it, brothers and sisters, it was definitely Sher! It must have been him who helped those Underhive bastards raid the gathering."

"But the question is, how did Sher know about the gathering? It was a secret occasion. No one but us knew the specific location, and the family members would never betray the Genestealer Cult," the representative of the Ecclesiarchy Archbishop says without hesitation. Clearly, he does not doubt his brothers in faith for a moment.

"Then how did he know? Is there a traitor among us?" the Grand Marshal asks, puzzled. The golden ribbons on his epaulets flutter on his chest. His frame is incredibly burly, taller than anyone else present.

Clearly, the Tyranid genetic component has made him so robust, and the others all show similar traits to varying degrees, such as being taller, more sensitive, or possessing striking appearances.

The Minister of the Administratum, in particular, is undeniably beautiful. Perhaps part of it is due to the specialization of Tyranid genes. I have heard that some Genestealer Cults use such methods to insert these socialites and noblewomen into the upper echelons of the Imperium to control intelligence, pass messages, and spread infection.

Others operate in the brothels, clubs, and bars of the Mid Hive, spreading infection through sexual contact. Often, this is the very reason a world falls into a Tyranid rebellion.

Luwen frowns slightly in thought. His hesitation draws the attention of the apostate Bishop of the Ecclesiarchy. He looks at Luwen, "Brother Luwen, have you discovered something?"

The Bishop's words cause everyone present to look at Luwen. The Governor glances around at the group and shrugs slightly, "A few nights before the gathering, Vito Constantine went to the Shaman Club after meeting with me."

"The Shaman Club? What was he doing there?" the Minister asks guardedly. Clearly, they all notice the issue, but Luwen appears indifferent, as if he is not worried at all—though it is hard to tell if he is truly unconcerned or just feigning it.

"A date, my dear Minister. It is no secret that he is involved with that information broker from the Underhive, Silver Snake." "By the Lord of Redemption! Luwen! That bitch is an information broker! And don't you know who owns the Shaman Club?!"

The Grand Marshal growls in anger, but Luwen smiles dismissively. He points to the medal on the Grand Marshal's chest, "Which of us hasn't been to Philus's club? You, him, me, and our subordinates have all been to his clubs. That little punk controls more than half of the clubs and venues in the Upper Hive."

"If anyone who visits his clubs is branded a traitor, then we should all be executed." Luwen's words force the hot-headed Grand Marshal to back down; the curses he was about to unleash are choked back. Luwen looks at this strong but witless idiot with disdain.

"Then do you think Vito betrayed us, brother?" the Bishop says, softening his tone, seemingly to bridge the awkward and tense atmosphere. Clearly, he is very skilled at this.

Luwen takes a deep breath and then shakes his head slightly, "No, he didn't know the location of the gathering at the time. He only learned of the venue that very day. He didn't even see any of us when he went to the club. He doesn't meet the prerequisites for betrayal."

"I know Vito will betray us sooner or later. He is a schemer, an ambitious man. But at this moment? He is on the verge of holding great power, becoming the emperor of the Underhive. If he wanted to betray us, he would wait until he had secured that power, not now. Does anyone here really think he could consolidate the Underhive Convent after this and then stand against us?"

The group nods in approval. Indeed, Vito Constantine does not yet have the ability to split the Underhive Convent. Although he is exceptionally capable, he currently lacks the power to revolt under their noses. He must know this himself; he is a smart man and would not do something so foolish.

However, the Minister appears somewhat confused and anxious, perhaps due to the psychic feedback from the missing Patriarch. She rests her chin on her hand, lost in thought, "Could Constantine be an agent sent by the Sector Government? If so, he wouldn't need to worry about seizing power."

Luwen shakes his head slightly, "Our allies in the Sector Government haven't sent back any news. For so many years, Sher has filed countless reports, and haven't they always been suppressed by us? I don't think he could convince the Sector Government to act this time."

"Besides, if his superiors, the Lord Arbiter of the Sector Adeptus Arbites, decided to intervene, our friends within the Sector Adeptus Arbites would know, and the news would have reached us. But we have no such information, so I don't think it's the Sector Government."

"Then who could it be? Could it be Terra?" The Grand Marshal's question sounds more like a joke, making the others laugh. Eventually, even he joins in.

Yes, Terra, the world of the Golden Throne on the other side of the galaxy. Could the light of The Emperor truly shine this far? Would He really care about this frontier system?

"I cannot sense the Patriarch. Its psychic signal has vanished, but I believe it is still alive," the Chief Astropath of the Astropathic Choir says in a mystical tone. Her blind eyes are covered by a blindfold—perhaps because she is here for a meeting, and one shouldn't keep startling everyone, right?

"But where is the Patriarch? We cannot sense it, and no one has found it," the Grand Marshal asks urgently. His enthusiasm is commendable; the instinct derived from their genes makes them exceptionally concerned about the whereabouts of the Great Patriarch. Everyone is the same; they are restless, filled with impatience and panic.

This is a trait of the Tyranids, and also a weakness. You see, genetic instinct is often beyond the control of thought and reason.

Luwen shakes his head slightly, looking at his fellow conspirators, "Our people are already gathering information. The fact that the Great Patriarch is still alive is enough. Although the cult has suffered heavy losses, we are still numerous. As long as we remain safe, we can reorganize our strength."

The group nods in affirmation. Yes, as long as they are alive, it is enough. The Hydra has only had two heads cut off, while the other seven remain, and they will soon make this monster grow more heads.

Provided they stay alive, right?

The doors of the council chamber are suddenly thrown open. The group looks over, and everyone in the hall gazes toward the golden doors. Among them are several officials being driven into the hall. They are shoved in roughly, some even thrown, their posture quite disheveled.

Under the gaze of the crowd, a dozen Adeptus Arbites enforcers walk into the hall, armed and ready. They wear silver breastplates and full gear, each carrying a large-caliber lasgun branded with the symbol of the Adeptus Arbites.

The enforcers drive those near the door inward, using rifle butts, feet, and fists. The unfortunate officials are violently pushed deeper into the hall. The enforcers seal the doors, while others walk to the top of the tiered chamber, aiming their weapons and vigilantly overlooking everyone in the hall, ensuring they can strike anyone at any moment.

Luwen frowns, a sense of unease welling up in his heart. He watches Lord Arbiter Sher walk in from outside the door, emerging from the crowd of enforcers with a lasgun hanging from his belt.

"Lord Arbiter, what is the meaning of this?" the female Minister of the Administratum shouts, pointing at the group of enforcers, "This is a coup! You are committing treason! Take your men back! Now!"

"No, Madam, it is you who are committing treason, high treason!" Sher bellows, a fierce light flashing in his eyes. Luwen pulls the angry woman behind him and steps forward.

"What are you talking about, Lord Arbiter Sher? Are you planning a coup? Do you think the Imperium won't hold you accountable if you kill us all? You know the Imperium and Terra do not tolerate acts of rebellion."

"Well, what if he has received authorization from the Imperium?" a familiar voice says. Luwen's eyes widen in astonishment. They are all...

They watch as the man named Vito Constantine appears from a corner outside the door. He appears suddenly; no one expected him to be here, let alone with a group of Arbitrators.

And now, the question they were debating has been answered.

As Vito smiles, the enforcers at the door disperse. They step to the sides, clearing the passage at the entrance. As they move away, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes from outside the door.

Everyone's eyes widened as they stared at the two massive entities, behemoths that had appeared behind Vito like towering mountains.

The two giants stood tall behind Vito; one wore heavy power armor as bulky as a Terminator's, with thick fur draped over his pauldrons, while the other, clad in white armor and holding a hanging banner, stood to Vito's left like a divine warrior stepped out of a fresco.

"Astartes," the Grand Marshal said, his voice laced with shock. Like him, everyone present erupted in exclamations of alarm and terror—a primal fear. Even though they had been transformed into Tyranid organisms, the human portion of their souls still reacted, a near-instinctual dread that traitors felt toward the Angels of Death.

Yet, Luwen recovered his composure quickly. He nodded slightly to his colleagues, and they all looked toward Vito, appearing calm—or at least, appearing calm on the surface.

"Sir, who are you? You were not invited here," the Minister said firmly, her resolute tone commendable, while the Bishop pointed at Vito and began to shriek, bordering on fanaticism.

"In the name of The Emperor! This is blasphemy! You are desecrating the authority The Emperor has bestowed upon us! Desecrating Him personally!" "I am glad you are still shouting in His name, Bishop."

Vito offered a playful smile, watching the group before him as if they were a source of amusement. "It seems you are all very forgetful. It has only been a few days, and you have already forgotten my name? Then allow me to introduce myself once more."

Vito's smile gradually faded, replaced by a sense of majesty and unquestionable authority. He kept one hand behind his back while the other rested on the hilt of the Chainsword at his belt, lifting his chin to look down at them.

"I, Vito Constantine, am an Inquisitor chosen by The Emperor. I have come here in His name to purge the traitors and clean house for The Imperium and all of humanity."

The moment these words were spoken, it was as if a sharp blade had pierced their hearts. Luwen looked at Sher in utter shock; he stared at the gray-haired Lord Arbiter, whose stern expression made it clear he was not joking.

Is he insane?! Luwen screamed internally. He summoned the Inquisition directly?! No! How did he even contact the Inquisition?! The contact information for these Inquisitors isn't found in any phone book! No! That's not the point!

Is he mad?! Does he not know that the Inquisition might very well view him as part of the rebellion, or at least guilty of dereliction of duty, and execute him along with the rest of us?

Clearly, my friends, these heretics had yet to understand one thing.

True loyalists never fear death, especially their own; their lives have long belonged to the Golden Throne and the Master of Mankind who sits upon it.

And when death comes, the loyal may return their souls to the Golden Throne—that is the greatest glory.

Vito smiled as he glanced at Sher, whose hand was pressed against his pistol grip, staring intently at the traitors with eyes full of rage, like the flames of the Astronomican burning eternally above Terra.

"Legally, I have the right to execute you all on the spot, but I would like to play a game and let you reveal your true colors," Vito said with a smile. The Minister remained composed, however; she whipped her hand out, pointing at Vito. "Our authority is granted by the Sector Government! Even an Inquisitor has no right to strip us of it!"

"You are slandering us, Inquisitor! We have never betrayed the Golden Throne! I will not tolerate such heretical behavior!" The Bishop continued to shout aggressively, but Vito looked at him with nothing but irony and a sense of mockery.

"How interesting. Even now, you can still say such things. Ah, then let us make the matter perfectly clear." Vito snapped his fingers, and a series of heavy footsteps echoed from outside the door, accompanied by a bestial roar.

Everyone's eyes widened as they watched the two giants push a containment cage into the conference hall. Inside the cage was a beast—a roaring, tightly bound beast.

Two more giants, wearing knightly longswords and Chainaxes, joined their brothers. The four giants stood guard behind Vito, silently manifesting his authority—the authority of an Inquisitor.

Vito chuckled, mocking the group. "Do you know? There is a marvelous mechanism inherent in the instincts of Tyranid organisms. If their primary node creature is threatened, the Tyranids present will instinctively defend the leader, completely abandoning reason and concern for their own safety."

"A hive mind. It is very useful in war. Every time I have to decapitate a Tyranid node commander, it is a massive headache, having to fight through a swarm of creatures. But I have discovered another use for this instinct."

Vito snapped his fingers. In the blink of an eye, the Astartes in the winged helmet drew his Bolter and pressed the barrel against the head of the bound Patriarch. The monster struggled and roared in the cage, the countless metal chains and restraints clattering with the vibration, but the creature remained firmly locked, its prison unmoving.

"Save it, you idiot. I use this cage to hold Greater Daemons of Khorne. I could lock your Tyranid Overlord in here just as easily." Vito smiled mockingly, then looked at the group, whose faces were twitching and whose bodies were trembling involuntarily.

"I have found that this Tyranid instinct is more efficient than any interrogation. I have always wanted to try it, and I am glad you all provided me with such an opportunity today." His smile turned into a sardonic grin, the mocking expression of a victor about to claim his prize.

"Lancelot, do it." Vito stared straight ahead. The finger of the winged-helmeted warrior began to squeeze the trigger, the Bolter clicking. The Patriarch in the cage roared in fury, its maw gaping wide, and waves of anger and wild emotion instantly radiated from it.

The Grand Marshal's body shifted from a slight tremor to violent convulsions. He roared, his human teeth rapidly sharpening into razor-like fangs. His physique began to swell and expand, bursting through his tailored uniform as the inhuman monster launched its attack.

He lunged with inhuman speed, his human fingers transforming into talons. He clawed at Vito's face, but the latter remained motionless, still wearing a smile.

The roar of a Chainaxe erupted instantly. Ragnar moved with lightning speed, swinging his weapon to sever half of the alien's body in a single stroke. It was sliced cleanly from the shoulder, the entire creature bisected diagonally.

The Grand Marshal collapsed to the ground, lifting his head with his mangled body to look at Vito. The latter smiled slightly as a massive shadow loomed over the Marshal. When he looked at the source of the shadow, he saw an iron-clad foot—the last thing he would ever see in his life.

This seemed to be a signal. All the Tyranid-infected began to attack in a frenzy. The beautiful Minister moved with extreme agility, her speed so great that she dodged the lasgun fire from the law enforcement officers around Vito, her long claws descending from the air.

But she had overlooked one thing: there were four Astartes Space Marines present.

Lancelot grabbed the Minister by the head, catching her in mid-air with pinpoint precision. Before she could react, her beautiful face and skull were crushed, turning into a spray of bone fragments and brain matter.

The council chamber descended into chaos. Genestealers charged wildly toward the cage, and the law enforcement officers opened fire. Countless laser beams shot from all directions at the abominable alien traitors, striking them down one by one. In the center of the room, a psychic confrontation began.

The Astropath looked toward Vito, launching a mental assault, but the latter did not dodge or evade; he simply stood there. The psychic shockwave dissipated before Vito, the force shattering against a shield.

The Astropath screamed, the backlash clearly taking a heavy toll on her. But her scream was cut short. Olaf stared at her, his eyes releasing a blinding glare. The Astropath collapsed to the floor, clutching her head and screaming again. That sound, painful enough to make anyone's ears bleed, did not last long; Bell drew his Bolter and reduced her to a pile of gore with a single shot.

The Ecclesiarchy Bishop did not live much longer. It was clear he was not a powerful Genestealer like his colleagues; as a fifth-generation infection, he was more human, and thus he was blown to pieces by Bell's second shot.

The Space Marines drew their Bolters and swung their swords and axes, slaughtering the charging Genestealers. The searing red light of lasguns flickered constantly throughout the hall. Vito stood calmly in his position, watching Luwen, who was panicking amidst the chaotic battle. Countless laser beams crisscrossed around him, and screams and blood splattered everywhere.

When the chaos finally ended, the once-glorious Governor could no longer maintain his facade. He looked around at the wreckage in terror. When he heard footsteps, he turned in fear to see Vito standing before him. Vito smiled and pressed a hand onto the trembling man's shoulder.

"Do you know the saying, 'Chaos is a ladder'? Some fall, and some climb. I believe it was said by a sage of Old Terra."

Luwen nodded, and Vito's smile grew even brighter.

"Then I hope you get used to the feeling of falling."

--

--

The entire Administratum hall was stirred into a frenzy. Passersby watched as the Governor tumbled down the long marble staircase; people were stunned, and those who started to move forward to help all stopped in their tracks.

People looked up at the corridor at the top of the stairs and the law enforcement officers standing on the ground. This group of white-armored arbiters had surrounded the entire hall, and in their midst, a man in a black trench coat walked down. He took a cloak from one of the giants and draped it over his shoulders—a deep red cloak emblazoned with a large letter 'I'.

People watched in terror as the Inquisitor descended the stairs. The four giants stood on the steps, their iron feet crushing the stone surfaces, cracks spreading outward. The four giants stood behind the Inquisitor, silently intimidating anyone present who might have unwise thoughts.

Vito walked past the fluttering banner of the Deathwatch, stopping before the terrified Governor lying on the ground. He teased the man, "How interesting. It seems your usual confidence isn't very sturdy."

Vito smiled and leaned down, looking at the Governor with his black eyes. "You know I could execute you right now, don't you? I don't need evidence, I don't need explanations. The symbol I wear and the four friends behind me have already granted me that authority."

He looked into the Governor's terrified eyes and smiled, "But as it happens, I am something of an anomaly in the Inquisitor profession."

Vito stood up, and from somewhere unknown, a Servo-skull flew over. Vito raised his hand, a data-port extending from his palm, which he then inserted into the corresponding slot on the Servo-skull.

After a moment of silence, the Servo-skull took flight, hovering in the center of the hall to project a hologram. It displayed Governor Luwen and his associates; every word they had spoken and every action they had taken during their meeting with Vito was projected, clearly and accurately presented before everyone in the Ministry of Interior.

The people stared at the hologram in astonishment, while Luwen was gripped by a near-total collapse of terror. He looked at the projection in shock, at a loss for what to do, while Vito began to laugh, "Do you know what your bodyguards failed to scan for? It was this."

Vito scanned the crowd, looking at everyone in the hall, "This idiot, along with the xenos-collaborators I have already executed, betrayed The Imperium and betrayed all of you. They led the Tyranid Swarm to this planet."

"I can see that some of you know what that is, while others do not. For those who don't, let me explain: those xenos bastards will devour everything you have—your homes, your vehicles, and yourselves—yet these idiots actually thought it was some path to salvation."

Vito looked at Luwen before him, "And this idiot, driven by greed, chose to ignore certain facts. He betrayed The Imperium, The Emperor, and everyone on this planet, just as he betrayed his own brother and hunted down the rightful heir to the governorship of this world."

"I believe the authority to execute this idiot belongs to her. Allow me to introduce to you all: Olivia Lyon-Lion!" Vito said, stepping aside. He looked toward the top of the stairs, and everyone followed his gaze.

A woman emerged from behind the ranks of the Arbites. She wore clothing identical to Governor Luwen's, but with one distinction: pinned to her chest was a brooch bearing the emblem of the Lyon-Lion family.

She walked down the stairs step by step, her grey-green hair intricately braided in the exact same style as the portrait in the manor. Luwen looked at her with a shocked expression; he knew that was Olivia, the little girl he had assumed was dead.

Olivia walked between the Space Marines and arrived in the center of the hall. She stood before the cowering wretch, who managed to force a weak smile, "Dear niece, I did not know you were still alive. If I had known—" "You would have killed me. I know."

Olivia took the gun Vito handed to her. She raised it, aiming at Luwen's head. She looked at the murderer and traitor before her with surprising calm, "I gave up on revenge a long time ago. I gave up my identity, my surname, and everything I once possessed. I thought I wouldn't enjoy vengeance."

"But Uncle, I think I was wrong." A murderous intent flared instantly in Olivia's eyes, "I love revenge."

The gun fired, and the traitor collapsed to the ground.

Vito looked at Olivia, then stepped forward. The Inquisitor, draped in red robes, scanned the deathly silent crowd in the hall, "The traitor is dead. In the name of The Emperor, I return power to its rightful and loyal master. At this very moment, loyalists are purging the remaining traitors. Many of your superiors will be liquidated; if you do not wish to meet the same fate, then I trust you know what must be done."

It remained deathly silent, but the officials all nodded. Having served as officials for so many years, they certainly knew what to do at a moment like this. Vito smiled with satisfaction, though that smile vanished just as quickly.

"But this is not a moment for celebration! We still have a war to fight! In the name of The Emperor, I command you to obey Governor Olivia and obey the loyalists!"

"For The Imperium! For The Emperor!" Vito roared.

He was answered by a thunderous, overwhelming roar: For The Imperium! For The Emperor!