Black Viper

The Custodes' insolent behavior stirred a flicker of indignation in Erda. She was, of course, well aware of their wariness toward her; these utterly rude bastards trusted no one.

"Of course you may. You may even open it—it is merely an ancient gift from an old friend." Erda suppressed her irritation and replied with effortless ease, a generous smile gracing her fair face.

Ptolemy retreated a step without a sound, positioning himself at the optimal distance to either support his comrade or strike Erda down at a moment's notice.

Achilles was drawn to the object within the box and could not help but sigh softly, "So it is this—a religious classic of ancient humanity."

The box contained a stasis field, capable of freezing time to preserve precious items for eons.

An ancient, paper-bound Bible lay silently inside, its cover adorned with a coiled black serpent, a golden rose brooch pinned to the snake's head.

Protected by the stasis field, the book remained as pristine as new, untouched by the passage of time.

"My lady," Achilles said, his voice carrying a hint of admonition. "Lady Erda, you must know that Emperor does not care for such books."

"In my master's future plans, they are destined to be reduced to ash."

Emperor planned to overthrow all religion, shatter every superstition, and burn all religious texts to liberate the human mind from the shackles of faith.

"I am well aware, but not just yet, are we?" Erda nodded slightly, offering no further explanation, and extended a hand to signal for the Custodes to return the book.

Achilles checked it once more and found nothing amiss, but as he closed the cover, the scarlet eyes of the serpent coiled on the front left him feeling a sense of unease.

"Rarely is a 'serpent' used as the cover of a Bible. The black snake deceived Eve; it is a symbol of betrayal."

The Custodes were ever-learned. Achilles commented on the allegory with calm detachment, yet his seemingly simple words instantly tightened the atmosphere of the underground base.

Betrayal! At this very moment, it was, without question, a word of extreme sensitivity.

Brows furrowing and a flush of faint anger rising to her face, Erda scolded Achilles: "Custodes! Mind your tongue!"

"Respected lady," Achilles replied, head bowed, the red plume on his golden helmet swaying. "I do not harbor suspicions toward you."

"Hmph!" With a soft snort, Erda suppressed the tremor deep within her eyes and let out a silent, steadying breath.

When the Custodes uttered "betrayal," the moment he pierced through her inner thoughts, Erda's emotions had flickered—a shift so minute that it should have been impossible to escape the keen eyes of a Custodes.

Fortunately, in that split second, she masked her reaction with feigned indignation, escaping Achilles' probe.

The strength of the Custodes lay not only in their flesh but in their minds.

By observing the imperceptible physiological changes of a target—such as the slight dilation or contraction of pupils—they could discern truth from lies. Lie detection was one of their most fundamental skills.

A seemingly casual remark had been a probe of lethal danger, akin to a blade pressed against her throat.

Achilles' voice was apologetic, though his face, hidden behind his helmet, remained devoid of expression. After confirming there were no issues, he presented the book to Erda.

Erda took the book with a livid expression and turned her back, leaving the cramped, tense confines of the underground base.

A deceptive ancient book had successfully diverted the Custodes' attention, and Erda had easily obtained what she needed.

Her slender fingers brushed over the cover, sweeping past the rose brooch as if dusting away grime.

Every movement appeared logical, clear, and normal to the Custodes; once the book was verified, they allowed her to place it into her satchel.

Little did they know that these seemingly reasonable actions had activated ancient technological constructs within the underground vault.

After the three of them departed, deep within the secret base, several mechanical eyes flickered with blood-red light, awakening from their slumber and shifting into standby mode.

With the item in hand, the trio immediately set off on their return journey to the Himalayas.

Terra was far from safe; warlords were rising, and princes were locked in chaotic strife.

Since the 25th millennium, Warp storms had gradually raged, violent tempests severing humanity's routes to the stars. Genetic mutations in humans surged, leading to a proliferation of psykers and deepening social instability. Coupled with the rebellion of intelligent machines, humanity had entered an era of chaos and despair.

That dark past had yet to dissipate, and humanity struggled bitterly amidst mutual slaughter.

The mother planet that birthed humanity had never seen the smoke of war clear; her lands were scarred, with traces of conflict visible everywhere.

Emperor stepped onto the stage, determined to end the internal strife of humanity and reunite the species.

The fledgling empire was not yet fully fledged, yet everywhere he looked, there were enemies.

Albia, Albion, the Pan-Pacific Empire, the Caucasian Wastes, the Franc, Ursh—all were powerful techno-warlords or sorcerous tyrants wielding forbidden arts.

Emperor dispatched his armies: the savage Thunder Warriors.

They campaigned in his name, battling every force hostile to Terra to complete the goal of unification.

Back at her residence, Erda tossed the "Bible" onto a bookshelf. The book was a ruse; the brooch was the true object she had come to retrieve.

She sat at her desk, gently stroking the rose brooch, and pricked her finger with the pin to verify her DNA.

It was a relic from the Age of Technology, a precious construct that could be used to open a dimensional rift for storage.

With a flash of ghostly blue light, a dimensional rift opened in the void before Erda, and the space spat out a wooden box and a gold ring.

Inside the box lay a bronze dagger, its design archaic and simple—a product of Terra's feudal age.

The plain gold ring was a masterful disguise; no one would suspect it originated from the Golden Age, concealing cutting-edge temporal technology.

She shed her combat gear and donned her usual silk robes, lowering her perceived threat level.

Pinning the brooch to her chest, sliding on the gold ring, and concealing the dagger, Erda walked out of her bedroom with a resolute gaze, heading toward Emperor's laboratory.

Emperor's laboratory was located deep at the foot of the Himalayas, the only mountain range still standing on Terra.

Twelve Custodes, leading several squads of the first-generation augmented warriors, the Thunder Warriors, guarded the entrance to the laboratory. Surrounding them were vast numbers of mortal troops, along with an array of anti-aircraft fire and heavy war machines.

Erda was as relaxed as ever, a gentle smile gracing her face as she approached with elegant, rhythmic steps.

Achilles and Ptolemy followed three paces behind her, dutiful and vigilant.

As a close confidante of Emperor and an administrator of the inner court, often seen standing at Emperor's side in public, Erda was known to most in the Imperium as the gentle woman who stood beside the Master of Mankind.

She required no passes or credentials; relying on her prestige and the trust of Emperor, she moved freely through the most classified zones.

Now, Erda found herself shrouded in shadow as a massive, armored hand blocked her path.

She stopped in surprise, looking up to see a savage warrior, his helmet revealing only his nose and mouth, barring her way.

Erda's pupils constricted; the first generation of Emperor's genetically modified warriors, the flawed prototypes soon to be replaced, were blocking her.

"You are no longer permitted to enter here, my lady."

The warrior spoke in a slow, cruel voice. His towering frame blotted out the light, his limbs thick and muscular, with abnormal bulges straining against the gaps in his armor. His voice was hoarse and low, his words laced with the scent of gunpowder.

"Soldier," Erda's expression darkened, her gentleness vanishing, replaced by utter disdain. "Who gave you the authority to stand before me and bar my path?"

Thunder Warriors! Terra had trembled beneath their feet as they razed city-state after city-state, offering victory after victory to Emperor.

These warriors were the hammer of Emperor—crude, violent, and utterly barbaric, their blood running with brutality, their minds filled only with slaughter and ruin.

Erda despised them, holding the achievements and glory of the Thunder Warriors in the utmost contempt.

When the Thunder Warriors breached a city-state, countless brilliant relics from the Golden Age were destroyed; technology was shattered, and the knowledge and civilization of humanity were trampled underfoot.

Beyond this, Erda knew the fate of the Thunder Warriors: they had no future.

To conquer Terra as quickly as possible, Emperor had created the Thunder Warriors in haste. While powerful, they were highly unstable, cursed with short lifespans, fractured psyches, and frequent genetic degradation.

Emperor already had a plan; once the new generation of soldiers was born, the Thunder Warriors would be secretly purged.

The world would be told they died in the unification of Terra, living on only in song and praise.

"Tell me, soldier. How dare you stand before me and show such insolence?"

"My lady, I respect you," the Thunder Warrior lowered his head and knelt on one knee, tightening his posture as much as possible so the lady before him would not have to look up at him. "These are the orders we have received; we cannot let you pass."

"Whose orders are you following?"

"My lady, do not make it difficult for him. We are guided by Malcador and obey the will of Emperor."

A Custodes in golden armor stepped out from behind the Thunder Warrior, a single sentence answering all of Erda's questions.

"Malcador!" Erda's fine golden brows arched. Deep down, she secretly admired Malcador's keenness and intellect; that hunched old fox was truly infuriating and a source of constant headaches.

She also understood that Malcador was on guard, though he did not know exactly what she intended to do.

"Hmph." Erda offered a cold smile. The saintly lady was devoid of mercy now, calculating her odds of forcibly breaking into the laboratory.

Twelve Custodes, several squads of Thunder Warriors, and countless mortals—Malcador had truly gone to great lengths, arranging such a massive display over a mere shred of suspicion.

"It is a pity, but you cannot stop me!"

The Custodes did not hesitate at these words, swinging their power halberds through the short distance to stop at Erda's neck, only to wonder if they had misheard. "My lady, what did you say?"

A chill struck from behind. Achilles and Ptolemy had struck with lethal intent. Before their halberds could even activate their disruption fields, the polished blades sliced through the air with effortless, silent grace.

Three halberds pinned Erda in the center, the gleaming blades reflecting her jade-white neck. A trail of blood trickled along the edge, a warning for her not to act rashly.

The surrounding Thunder Warriors had not even seen the Custodes move; they only saw the cold flash of blades cutting through the air. In less than a few milliseconds, the Custodes had completed their sequence of movements, bringing Erda under control.

Gasps of astonishment rose one after another; the Thunder Warriors could not help but marvel at the power of the Custodes.

Erda smiled coldly, ignoring the warning of the Custodes. Her hands, folded over her abdomen, subtly tapped a mechanism with her fingers, and her golden ring emitted an invisible shockwave.

"A creation from the Golden Age shall tear you apart, Custodes!"

As the words fell, the three Custodes bore the brunt of the force. The moment they realized something was wrong, they swung their halberds down at Erda, only to find their bodies unable to keep pace with their reflexive thoughts, as if trapped in a quagmire, unable to move.

The surrounding air grew viscous. A semi-circular, transparent barrier erupted from Erda as the origin point, enveloping a thirty-meter radius around her.

A time weapon!

The Custodes were well-read, having perused the vast archives of Emperor's library, and they immediately understood what had occurred.