Ironic Matters

Richter swung his arm, the Power Sword slicing through the air, crackling and splitting the force field; the deadly sound and speed flashed by in an instant.

The dismembered body immediately collapsed limply, and crimson blood instantly spread across the ground.

He felt no joy, however, because three more people were still shooting at him. Their guns were making a strange, crackling sound, and after a brief delay, Richter narrowly dodged the pale red energy beam.

He gripped his sword with both hands and delivered a horizontal slash, killing all three men. Their white armor was stained red, and blood and internal organs gushed out.

"Are you sure these people are here in Nostramo to make a deal, platoon leader?" he asked, turning around.

Anric Barbatos didn't answer the question immediately. He turned his head and, a few seconds later, fired several shots into the darkness behind him with his Boltgun —the eyepiece told him where the enemy was, so he fired, and screams echoed from the darkness.

"Company Commander?"

"Enough talk, keep moving. We have to get to their bridge quickly," Anric finally spoke, his voice serious. "Damn it."

Richter knew what he was cursing— Anric Barbatos was cursing himself.

His company commander's boarding strategy for the ship was to spread out, disable the engines as quickly as possible, and force the enemy to surrender.

This fleet consisted of five ships, none of which were armed or armored. Apart from the absence of the three old ships previously seized, they could be considered harmless. However, after entering the hulls using Boarding Torpedo, the soldiers of the Eighth Legion discovered something amiss.

Unlike their frail ships, the people inside were fully armed. Their armor was not enough to withstand explosives and swords, but their weapons, under volley fire, could penetrate the Power Armour of the Astartes.

Although the firearms they used did indeed fire energy beams, their power was far greater than the Lasgun used by the Auxilia, and their appearance was also completely different.

Although they still cannot pose a threat to the Eighth Legion, this will reduce their effectiveness.

The fleet consisted of five ships. In addition to the two hundred men of the Eighth Company, four other squadrons also participated in the boarding. If these squadrons used different tactics than the Eighth Company, it meant they would be able to gain the upper hand faster and be the first to complete the mission—even though they were not even part of a company.

"Putting the mission aside, platoon leader, something's off about these guys," Richter said between runs, as he and his platoon leader blended perfectly into the darkness.

Some of the Eighth Company had already done their work; they had disabled part of the ship's propulsion system, allowing darkness to fall. Although emergency lights were present, most of the area remained dark. And darkness had always been the domain of the Eighth Legion.

"Of course I can see that, but at least they're still wearing gray uniforms under their armor," Anric replied somberly. "That means they're from the same place as those people."

"Harkosus," Richter murmured its name. "They say it's a wealthy planet."

Its wealth may have been forged in blood.

"And these people are vampires who help it plunder blood?"

"Don't utter those mythical words—keep moving, Richter, we'll find a chance to interrogate you eventually," Anric said in a low voice.

He is right.

Twenty-five minutes later, they became the third boarding squad to complete the mission.

This incident enraged everyone in the Eighth Company, especially Anric Barbatos, whose anger was mixed with a sense of annoyance and shame towards himself.

A Battle Barge quickly approached the ship after they gave the signal, and the Auxilia on board would take over. Before that, the Eighth Legion still had time to do what they wanted.

But it's not about venting anger—they won't resort to vigilante justice.

"Tell me, who are you?" the company commander of the Eighth Company hissed, knowing the man hanging upside down understood Nostraman. "You have one minute to decide whether to speak."

The man didn't answer; his face was pale, but that was from extreme shock. The Eighth Legion hadn't used overly cruel methods against them; simple slaughter was enough to break these people.

Not everyone can remain calm after witnessing corpses strewn across the ground; this man certainly couldn't. He didn't answer Anric's question immediately, but his throat was bobbing up and down; clearly, he wanted to speak, but couldn't.

In the darkness beside him, Richter stood in a pool of blood, telling himself that he would beg for mercy as soon as he opened his mouth.

Please, please don't kill me!

"I guessed right. "Richter smiled.

"You have already surrendered, so we will not attack you again unless some of you are ungrateful."

Anric said he didn't remove his helmet, and his voice became terrifying through the breathing grille.

"You need to tell me some things I want to know. Of course, you can also choose to remain silent; I'll leave the choice to you."

He coldly stared at the man through his crimson goggles, then extended his fingers, pressing the cold steel against the man's throat—vigilante justice was forbidden, and so was the torture of the enemy after their surrender.

But who says you can't use some tricks?

The man screamed in terror, almost a scream. Richter was certain that if he hadn't been hanging upside down, he would have screamed incessantly.

"I'll talk! I'll talk! We're from Harkosus, we're soldiers of Burning Fire!"

Richter narrowed his eyes.

Information regarding this matter at Harkosus has already been distributed in writing within the Eighth Legion.

After being interrogated, the five senior traders behaved quite tactfully, welcoming the questions, including those about the badges on their collars.

To Burning Fire.

The rulers of Harkosus were a family, an organization, or rather, a large merchant guild.

A strange name, a strange form of existence, but it's not unusual when viewed across the entire galaxy. It's nothing more than a ruling organization composed of a group of merchants, and the Eighth Legion will come after them sooner or later.

After all, an organization that can trade with these people on Nostramo, even take them on trips and satisfy their cannibalistic desires, is no longer worthy of the Eighth Legion using gentler methods to communicate with them.

"And then? Why are you all fully armed?"

"Because we're here to deal with the senior traders who have connections with people on Nostramo!"

"Why bother dealing with them?" Anric asked softly, his tone softening, but his fingers began to tighten. He didn't need to do anything else to instill a terrifying threat in this man.

"They need to die to make room for other people who want to become senior traders!"

"What does that have to do with Nostramo? Why did they die? Because they knew the people on Nostramo?"

The man hesitated for a moment, then immediately told the whole story.

"Because Harkosus wants to turn Nostramo into a colony, the nobles who come to visit are incredibly wealthy, and our leaders have learned a lot from them. If these high-ranking traders connected to them die on Nostramo, we will have a reason to start a war."

Anric turned to look at Richter, who nodded and gestured that he had started recording through the eyepiece. Only then did Anric turn back to continue his questioning.

"It will take you four months to reach Nostramo, but they arrived here in two weeks. Does that mean you followed them out right after?"

Yes, yes!

Are there any other people?

Anric picked up a second finger and began casually poking at the man's throat. "I mean, people in uniforms, like you. Gray uniforms, interesting."

"That's all! Good heavens, sir, I swear to Burning Fire, I would never lie!"

"You also come from Burning Fire, so what is this, your internal strife? Never mind. One last question."

Anric stood up. The man looked at him with a mixture of fear and hope, and then he heard the giant ask, "And what about the commoners who arrived in Nostramo with your high-ranking traders from the Burning Fire Chamber of Commerce?"

"What?" the man asked, puzzled.

"Those people—what do you plan to do with them?" Anric Barbatos crossed his arms, lowered his head, and made his crimson visors meet the man's gaze.

The man hesitated for several seconds before finally answering. "They'll die along with the senior traders."

--

"What a disgusting excuse," Konrad Curze Curze said coldly. "What's wrong with the so-called leaders of this chamber of commerce, willing to kill their own civilians for this?"

"You can't expect everyone to have normal intelligence or a brain capable of fluent thinking. Wise rulers are always a minority, Konrad Curze."

"But they actually dared to create a pretext for war by attempting to murder their own civilians!" The commander of the Eighth Legion bared his teeth in anger. "Unheard of!"

Karyl slowly shook his head.

"Perhaps we should move up the plan," he said noncommittally. "After all, the First Company will be complete soon, don't you think, Konrad Curze?"

Konrad Curze Curze took a deep breath and calmed himself down—his innate sense of justice sometimes required him to expend extra energy to compose himself.

Back in Nostramo, he had felt a burning rage from witnessing horrific atrocities firsthand. At that time, he even needed Karyl's presence to calm down, but now, things were different; he could regain his sanity through his own efforts.

"If it were a world ruled by such a powerful figure," he said in a deep voice, "I think I would try to do my duty."

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