7 in the Dark

As the soft moonlight fell upon his shoulders, Tujea Afang slowly stood up. ♞♢ ☢🐊

Litatera was very quiet at this moment, as if the city itself possessed a life of its own, needing rest at night. But this was merely a poetic description; the reality was that the workers changing shifts had already left the streets and gone to the factory.

The weary souls they replaced were already lying in bed, awaiting the next torment.

They wouldn't know why police officers and young law enforcement officers were patrolling the streets with guns and batons. In fact, they probably didn't care much about it.

Tujea turned his head and glanced at the alley entrance; it was completely quiet.

After leaving the police station in charge of the second district, it took him a while to get out of the officers' search area. All the officers in the station had come out, but fortunately, their numbers were still not too many, and they couldn't completely take over every alleyway that Nurgle.

Furthermore, they also face other problems.

For example, those criminals who mistakenly believed the police were targeting them and those who walked the line of the law caused a lot of trouble today, giving the police officers a headache. The people of Hive City will not surrender when faced with potential danger.

Tujea was very grateful to them; if it weren't for these thugs, he would never have been able to sneak into this place.

He walked to the alley entrance, his boots barely making a sound on the ground. The moonlit night was quiet and the light was dim. Tujea slowly drew his gun; he had three magazines left to change, and counting the ten bullets in the gun, he only had forty-six bullets available.

It sounds like a lot, but the firepower of the Catachan MK3 may not be very effective against enemies wearing heavy armor.

Yes, he was referring to the security guards in the upscale neighborhood, the ones patrolling back and forth a short distance in front of him.

Behind them stood a massive blast door and a long black wall; the presence of searchlights and firing ports made the two walls appear impregnable.

Although the searchlights weren't being used at the moment, Tujea knew that if he caused even the slightest disturbance, the lights and those dark firing ports would immediately find him.

Those security guards wearing heavy armor cannot possibly be without implants, and the patrol teams exposed to the elements are never the main force.

This is a bit tricky. Tujea tapped his forehead with his gun and sighed, feeling a bit troubled.

This was not his first time dealing with nobles. In his impression, the areas where nobles lived were usually characterized by luxury and comfort. However, the Moran Family was different. They built fortifications such as city walls and blast gates on their "territory".

Adding to the unpleasant feeling was the presence of Tujea guards in dark gray uniforms and heavy armor.

He put down the gun, put it back in his pocket, and was about to turn around and leave to find another way when he heard the roar of an engine outside the alley.

He looked up and saw a huge transport truck speeding towards him from the end of the road. It was square in shape and looked almost like a rough box.

Tujea had never seen this type of large transport vehicle before; he figured it was probably a model unique to Litatera. He instinctively frowned, stopped, and stood in the darkness to observe it.

It's always good to get more information.

The vehicle quickly pulled up in front of the blast door. Its braking system seemed to be working quite well, and the vehicle came to a smooth stop. Then, the armor plate on its left side landed heavily on the ground.

Two guards carrying heavy firearms emerged, followed by a pale man in a tight-fitting court robe, heavily made up, wearing a curly, light blonde wig, and looking quite impatient.

Tujea memorized the face, and his right hand gripped the gun again in his jacket pocket. He carefully lay down on the ground and began to crawl forward, approaching them.

Thanks to his boldness and his consistently good hearing, he successfully heard the man's voice.

"Bring them in," the man with the wig said. "Be careful not to hurt them. If anyone regains consciousness midway, inject them with the hallucinogen again, understand? If the same thing happens again, you'll be punished."

"Understood, sir. What happened last time will absolutely not happen again," a guard replied.

Even with the heavy helmet on, his voice sounded somewhat obsequious.

The man clearly liked this attitude. He chuckled, raised his right hand, and tapped the guard's chest, a strange and alluring look appearing on his pale face.

Don't worry about it too much, it's just a new batch of materials.

A few seconds later, Tujea looked up and saw the materials, or rather, one after another, children in shackles, their steps unsteady, their expressions blank.

They were all very young, none of them could be described as "adults" or "mature." Strangely, their clothes were all neat and uniform, all in white.

Things started to get strange.

Tujea frowned deeply.

Yes, the nobles of the Hive City do have some less-than-respectable hobbies, and those who are intoxicated by the status brought by money and power will repeatedly cross their own bottom line.

Drug addiction is just the least significant of the areas they are involved in; if we were to take it seriously, each of the older members of their group could be Judgment and have their crimes read out for over ten hours.

But what about these children? Is it that some powerful figure within the Moran Family dislikes mature men or women?

Tujea's intuition, and the very term "material," told him that the situation was probably not like that.

After all, those children were far from being beautiful or handsome, and did not meet the standard of being playthings.

They were just a group of children, nothing special, perhaps simply very healthy; none of them were thin, but none were obese. They clearly ate well and exercised regularly.

Etc.

As Tujea pondered these descriptions, another animal suddenly came to mind— the Grox.

This creature is found throughout the Agri World of the Imperium and is a very common source of meat. Their meat is of high quality, nutritious, and flavorful.

Tujea had once visited their breeding farm, where he saw a group of very healthy Grox. They were lying dazed on the ground in a closed room, having inhaled anesthetic gas, waiting to be slaughtered.

The investigator suppressed his emotions and slowly inhaled a breath of cold air. He began to slowly crawl back, but the man stopped him with another sentence.

"Remember this: two batches are for Lord Chupani, and the rest are all sent to the Gray House," he said, leaning against the transport wagon, a piece of parchment in his hand.

He seemed somewhat tired, yawning several times after saying that. The guard who had spoken to him earlier slowly approached, and the side door of the transport vehicle began to close slowly, while the blast door made a dull thud as it gradually descended.

The noise made it impossible for Tujea to hear any of their conversation; he could only deduce from the smile on the man's face. After a dozen seconds, he concluded that this young man from the Moran Family was probably going to have a dissolute night.

But this kind of thing doesn't even qualify as intelligence.

Tujea slowly crawled back into the alley. He pulled his hand away and pressed his hat down, completely unconcerned about the dust covering his body. This was already considered good; at least the streets of the wealthy district didn't have flowing sewage or other filth.

The moonlight fell on his shoulders, but Tujea's thoughts slowly sank into a black ocean.

His head began to ache, and a flood of memories and names, along with flashbacks, swirled before his eyes. For no apparent reason, he remembered a winery.

Three years ago, he and the local law enforcement team killed 42 people there. Their crime was human trafficking, or at least that was the last thing reported in the newspapers.

The truth is, they kidnapped civilians, children, and homeless people, and then sent them to the dinner table of a local nobleman.

The matter was resolved satisfactorily; the accomplice was killed, and the ringleader and the entire network of interests behind him were thoroughly exposed. Tujea, however, knew much more, such as the involvement of a Space Marine Chapter and the ultimate fate of the nobleman and his family.

Or rather, the final fate of that world—an extremely brutal the Great Purge that affected everyone from top to bottom, even Tujea, an investigator, was forced to stay in that world for three weeks.

Only after confirming there were no problems was he allowed to leave by the savage Astartes. Their gleaming Long Fang and stench lingered in Tujea's memory for a long time.

He didn't know how many people they killed back then, but what about this time?

Tujea stopped and looked back. The world behind him was dark and gloomy; the Radiance of the wealthy district had long since faded, and the sour, foul smell returned to his nostrils.

How many people will die this time?

The investigator gripped his gun tightly, a chill running through him. It wasn't the chill of his memories, but something else entirely. It had compelled Tujea to leave the dark ocean and return to the real world.

He stiffly pulled out his gun, slowly turned around, and backed away until his back was pressed against the wall of the alley.

At this moment, all he could hear was his own breathing and the shouts of the law enforcement team coming from not far away.

They continued patrolling and searching, which was normal; officers could rest, but they didn't have that privilege. Besides, the death of a detective was no small matter.

Tujea understood that he was most likely already wanted. If they still couldn't find him, those expensive tracking Servitor would probably be approved in a couple of days.

At that time, he will have nowhere to hide.

He has two days and forty-eight Terra hours left, or even less. He must resolve everything within that time, but how?

And of course, there was that lingering chill.

Tujea looked up and saw a tall, dark figure. He was not breathing, and the moon did not illuminate his figure; everything was hidden in darkness, except for two sinister yellow eyepieces that were clearly visible. They were coldly scrutinizing him, their posture full of indifference.

And assessment.

Tujea slowly raised his hands, the pistol spinning on his index finger, the muzzle pointing downwards towards the ground.

"No matter who you are, I surrender," he said decisively.

The shadowy figure didn't answer, but simply took a step forward. Just a moment ago, he was an almost invisible ghost. Now, however, he suddenly became clear, as if a blurry character in the background of a painting had suddenly moved to the very center of the frame.

His armor was spotless, the skull and eagle wings on his chest gleaming dimly in the moonlight, and bright lightning bolts danced on his shoulder armor, casting an eerie glow on his helmet.

Tujea exerted all his strength to keep himself from falling to the ground.

"What if I'm a traitor?" a hoarse voice asked.

"Then I can only die," Tujea said slowly. "But the God-Emperor will Vengeance me."

"Oh?"

"The God-Emperor remembers each and every one of us; He remembers our sacrifices as we remember His. The loyal and the brave will return to His Throne, and we will achieve even greater victories for Him after death, and He will Vengeance us."

The shadowy figure let out a chilling laugh, "You remember Chapter Two, Section Three of 'Devotion' very well, Mr. Investigator. But the book is wrong, at least that sentence is wrong."

Tujea asked stiffly, "What do you mean?"

"The Vengeance are someone else," the shadowy figure said. "Also, I have a few questions for you."

"Do I have a choice?" Tujea countered.

"Of course you do. I won't force you. After all, I'm not a traitor, and you're not someone who deserves to be tortured or tormented. From my observation, you're a dutiful man, Mr. Tujea."

"Have you been spying on me?"

The shadowy figure didn't answer. He slowly raised his hands and removed his helmet. Tujea saw a pale and merciless face with three hideous scars on his left cheek and his left eye replaced with a prosthetic eye that glowed crimson.

"I wouldn't use the word 'surveillance,' I'd say 'protection,'" he said, flashing a smile that was anything but friendly.

"So, what about now?" Tujea asked.

"What now?"

"Has your protection ended?"

"It's over, but it will transform into a completely new relationship." The giant nodded. "You can call me Zel, brave investigator. I hope we get along well from now on."

Tujea frowned deeply.

What do you mean?

"It means we'll be traveling together for a while," Zel replied with a half-smile. His Shadow was cast long across the alley in the moonlight.