11 Vindicators

Horst raised his right hand and covered the face of the Emperor statue with a clean scrap of cloth. 😡💚 🐊☜

He patiently and meticulously rubbed the surface of the statue with his hands, wiping away dust or any stains that were unlikely to be there. The candlelight flickered behind him, and the dense rain pounded against the stained glass windows above, creating a monotonous noise.

The area around the church was eerily quiet, with no sound other than the rain, a stark contrast to the brutal night of the massacre.

Like Horst's hands at this moment, who could connect these hands, devoutly wiping the idol, with those bloodstained butcher's hands?

If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you probably wouldn't believe that this priest possessed such superb killing skills.

But facts are facts, unchangeable, and as relentless as time itself—in the slow passage of time, Horst completed his work.

He wiped every single idol clean, except for the largest one. He didn't even try; he simply gathered up the scraps of cloth and bucket, carried them into the inner room, and left.

Ten minutes later, as midnight quietly arrived in Litatera amidst the raindrops, Horst, dressed in all black, emerged.

The statue had changed; the Emperor with his eyes closed and wearing a laurel wreath had vanished, leaving only a hooded, faceless Ghost. Horst walked to the pulpit, put on the hood, and took out two gleaming silver straight swords from his robes.

He slowly raised his hands, the blades pressed tightly together, sliding heavily under his weight. Mars flew, and a sickening metallic scraping sound echoed continuously.

Horst slowly closed his eyes, his hands bulging with veins, yet the blades remained firmly pressed together, crossing over each other.

In an instant, indescribable darkness enveloped the entire church, and a chilling wind swept through, instantly turning Horst's face frosty. Yet he remained with his eyes closed, holding the sharp blade aloft as if it were a torch. It is unknown how much time passed before the chilling wind finally dissipated.

Then, a faint, ethereal voice slowly rose in the darkness.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Horst."

Horst slowly opened his eyes and saw a shadowy figure dressed in black, wearing a hood, holding two sharp blades, though not raised. All around them was darkness, except for the glint of silver light emanating from the blades, illuminating their surroundings and the path beneath their feet.

"Me too, Maergante." Horst nodded to him and lowered his hands. "How's Nostramo?"

"Same as always, my friend. We're still fighting those endless Vengeful Spirit, giving them a break and transferring prisoners to other sectors. You understand."

The man called Maergante seemed to smile, but it was a bitter smile.

He sighed deeply, "To be honest, sometimes I really want to tell them the truth."

Horst couldn't help but chuckle. "If you do that, I think Lord Sevatarion Leon will skin you alive."

"Let him be. Our respected leader has been driven to distraction by these bugs lately, and he's not happy with anyone. I've heard more than once that he's been Thunder in his office."

"Why?"

"Because he dislikes everyone, that's the reason. A few days ago, he even got into a fight with a Servitor, and he kicked the poor machine so hard it almost broke down. In the end, our superiors carried it to the Techmarine."

"This isn't like him," Horst replied carefully.

Maergante simply scoffed at this.

"Come on, you've never even seen him. If it weren't for the connection between the fragment and the idol that allows us to communicate across galaxies at midnight, you wouldn't even know who he is. However, according to my subsequent investigation, that Servitor wasn't entirely innocent."

"What did it do?" Horst asked.

Maergante replied coldly, "Its program malfunctioned, classifying a chair as industrial waste that needs to be disposed of."

Horst remained silent for a moment, then decided not to delve into the story behind it.

He has been Vindicators for twenty years, and he knows very well that some things are best left unmentioned, for the best for everyone.

Maergante clearly understood this as well, and he quickly changed the subject, beginning to discuss the Space Marine Chapter, a concept relatively unfamiliar to the current Imperium.

Well, let's call it Chapter for now.

"The Ultramarines have been doing very well on the front lines lately; they've reclaimed eleven worlds from the insectoids—"

As Maergante spoke, he suddenly shook his head, looking very sad.

"--They still stubbornly use their original names, but, to be honest, these worlds are dead. No, more than dead. Worlds visited by insects leave nothing behind, not even the rocks are fucking pitted and full of holes."

Horst listened in silence, without uttering a word.

There are many horrors in the galaxy, and none of them are friendly to humanity. However, even considering the whole picture, it would be difficult to find a more indescribable and terrifying race than the Tyranids.

They appeared two thousand one hundred years ago at the far end of the Ghoul Stars and on the edge of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, and their appearance greatly shocked the Imperium. Even the Chaos Corruption could not have caused such severe damage to a planet as these terrifying insects.

However, most Imperium had never even heard of such a monster. Horst had heard of it, but he had never seen it, and the credit for this should mostly go to the Ultramarines.

Under Roboute Guilliman's leadership, they transformed the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar into an impregnable united fortress, resisting the Tyranids for over two thousand years even as Radiance Astronomican faded to the point of no longer illuminating them.

This is an absolute feat.

After all, their support was pitifully small compared to other theaters of operations. But there was nothing they could do; the Radiance of the Astronomican was constantly diminishing. Warp travel in areas where the Astronomican's Radiance was invisible was simply a pipe dream.

Over the course of two millennia, the Imperium sent troops to their aid countless times, but for the first three hundred years, not a single fleet successfully arrived. Left with no other option, the Sigillites, Malcador, had to find another way. It was during this time that the Vindicators, an organization that never existed, were established.

Following the fragments of black armor lost among the stars, a rudimentary but relatively stable intergalactic communication network was established. From then on, at the Sigillites's behest, many factions that should not have existed in the first place quietly emerged within the Ecclesiarchy.

They were well-versed in classical texts and devout in their faith, but the most devout among them usually remained out of the public eye. They either went to some obscure world to serve as priests or embarked on long voyages with support fleets.

One interesting thing is that they often take on the somewhat strange role of deputy Navigator while holding the position of priest.

"What's new on your end?" Maergante asked.

He gave Horst a considerable amount of time to think, something that didn't happen often given his character. Horst was quite grateful for this, and so he decided to tell a good story.

"The fragment I was guarding has come to life," the priest said slowly.

Maergante's hands trembled violently, and a few seconds later, when he spoke again, his voice sounded very strange.

". What did you say?"

"The fragment I was guarding has come to life."

The pastor repeated himself, but his companion remained standing there as if he hadn't understood, offering no response.

"Do you understand High Gothic, Maergante?" Horst gave a smug smile. "Or shall I switch to Nostraman to speak with you?"

Maergante finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"You'd better not." He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a very clear warning.

"The people of Nostramo are no longer allowed to use it; this is a death order from Lord Sevatarion. You'd better not disobey, or I guarantee he'll have someone hang you on the idol."

Horst laughed, a very obvious laugh.

"I have no objection, Maergante. Besides, if he comes too, he might meet the esteemed Shen. The Shadow Knights have a squad stationed on Litatera; they've only been here a few days. I've heard their story—a long-awaited reunion between brothers, how wonderful, don't you think?"

Maergante remained silent for a full half minute before asking the next question, "Did you read those books?"

"No."

"Do you know Sigismund?"

"Never even heard of him," Horst replied quickly. "I know nothing about him, Maergante. Those are forbidden books; how could I have read them?"

"Come on, you bastard! Where are the others? Why haven't they arrived yet?"

"Because of the time difference, Maergante," Horst sighed. "You don't need to bring up something like this to change the subject, do you? It makes you seem uncultured, you know?"

"You bastard!" Maergante cursed, raising the knife in his hand. This wasn't to threaten Horst, or to beat him up; it was simply to illuminate the surroundings.

Horst accepted the curse with a clear conscience and raised his knife as well. Together they walked deeper into the darkness, where glimmers of silver light drifted in the distance.

Horst knew the others would arrive soon, so he decided to seize the time to do something.

He spoke softly, "You know what? I've found a successor."

"Who?" Maergante asked in the same soft voice.

"An investigator," Horst said. "He's very talented. Also, what should be done after the fragments become active?"

"I don't know," Maergante, who had served as a Vindicators for 224 years, sighed and replied.

"You do not know?"

"Of course I didn't know. This is the first fragment to come to life, Horst. How did you do it? Did you verify all the signs left in Konrad Curze Curze's Book of Prophecy?"

"I've checked everything," Horst said. "It all matches."

"Then we can only wait," Maergante said.

They stopped speaking, simply holding their sharp blades and moving slowly forward in the darkness.