15: Hell Crashes into the Mortal World

Time: 005. M40, Litatera, First Day of the Holy Spirit Month, 4:42 AM.§.•´¨'°÷•..× ×,.•´¨'°÷•.§

Praise be to the Machine God.

Power on, self-test, estimated time 30 seconds. Self-test complete. Memory unit damaged, exact number unknown. This message has been uploaded to the message processing terminal. A repair specialist is expected to arrive in two Terra hours.

The thought process shifted downwards, and the data processing unit began operating, detecting 179,234 pieces of useless data and initiating processing. Once processing was complete, the useless data was removed.

The memory core begins to operate, the temperature rises, and the cooling module is invoked to distribute power.

Key retrieval successful. Entering the mind space, initiating docking with terminal A-7. Neural connection successful. Synaptic response is slightly delayed; please wait approximately three minutes.

Praise be to the Machine God.

Connection successful, key correct, identity retrieved. Identity retrieved successfully. The current user of the A-7 terminal is: Colonel Kos Amaduk, Red Sand Sons 67th Armored Regiment. Identity verification correct, permissions retrieved, communication initiated.

In the name of the Emperor, the Omnissiah, and Holy Terra, what is your request?

Weapon Array Firing Mode: Automatic

<Change weapon array firing mode>

<Weapon Array Firing Mode: Manual>

Are you sure? This option will result in a lot of unnecessary data clutter and could very well overheat the brain of the server operator responsible for manual operation, causing the processor unit to crash.

<OK>

Your permissions are insufficient to complete this operation. Without the presence of the Planetary Governor, your next confirmation will be considered a sign of mental instability, and you will receive appropriate rest and recuperation.

Colonel Kos Amaduq is offline.

A new connection request was received from Terminal A-7. Connection was initiated, key verification was successful, and the key was correct. Identity retrieval was successful. The current user of Terminal A-7 is: Governor Litatera, Estalia Sadran, the holder of the highest privileges.

Greetings, Your Excellency Governor. In the name of the Emperor, the Omnissiah, and Holy Terra, what is your request?

The operator is changing the operating mode to manual language input. The analysis and thinking module is warming up. The call was successful, and information reception has begun.

Change that damn weapon array firing mode to manual mode, you malfunctioning, stupid machine!

Unnecessary insults detected. Filtered words have been blocked. Permission granted, please wait. Weapon array is undergoing adjustments. Adjustment complete. The Litatera Orbital Defense System has been switched to manual firing mode.

Please quickly arrange for server engineers to go to the mind network for synchronization. The orbital defense Macro-cannon has begun warming up, the Lance Battery is queuing, and the jamming missiles are loaded.

The Killer System has been fully activated, and this process cannot be stopped.

May the wrath of the Machine God be hurled upon heretics, traitors, and Xenos beings, and may all impurity be destroyed. Wishing you a triumphant return, Your Excellency.

"Fire!" Estania Sadran roared, issuing the order.

The night sky over Litatera was utterly shattered as the Macro-cannon and light spear crashed directly into a massive warship in the dark galactic space, striking its hull armor with pinpoint accuracy.

This is a good thing, as long as you ignore the fact that the Void Shield never actually rose.

The burning metal turned into fireballs, spinning and plummeting into the atmosphere of Litatera due to the enormous recoil. The jamming missiles and Autocannon began to fire continuously, with 80% of them being completely shattered, leaving only 20% to fall into the atmosphere.

The large Cogitator inside the orbital defense platform began calculating their landing points, while people cheered, believing that the uninvited blasphemous warship had been completely destroyed in the raging flames. Only the governor of Litatera, Estania Sadran, felt fear.

A deep fear.

The reason was simple: she was standing by the window and saw a burning fragment spin past with perfect accuracy.

In that instant, what the governor captured with her expensive prosthetic eye was not the so-called metal, but dozens of twisted, intertwined human corpses, groaning as they brushed past the side observation window of the control panel, and then vanished without a trace, as if they had never been there.

May the Throne be with us.

Amid cheers and the mechanical reports from the servants, Estalia Sadran uttered these words in a murmured tone.

--

Zel was completely unaware of the fiery rain that streaked across the sky.

This had nothing to do with how sharp his senses were; it was simply because he couldn't see the sky at all. Following the orders of "the Master," he was cleaning up the list of Hive City thugs in the lower levels of the Hive City.

This list, provided jointly by certain nobles, is very detailed. If possible, Zel would like to thank them in person for their contributions to the security of Litatera.

A detailed list can sometimes save a lot of time and effort, and he genuinely wanted to express his heartfelt gratitude to them in person. However, they probably can't hear him now.

But they will not die alone; many will die with them, regardless of their original intentions or whether they are truly of sound mind.

They were going to die eventually; that's how disgusting the corruption of Chaos is.

It is not "zero" or "one," but "zero" and "infinity." A Cultists represents a sect, and a corrupted nobleman represents an entire region under his control that is unclean.

Cleansing the Chaos Corruption is not a precise, minimally invasive surgery, but a horrific amputation, even if the surgeon is a son of the Night Haunter.

Fortunately, they possess unparalleled efficiency in the entire galaxy. They don't need lengthy interrogations, interrogations, or investigations. They only need a glance from afar to know who the murderer is.

Therefore, it didn't take Zel long to erase all seven names from the list, and he knew this was not the end. In just a few hours, a new, longer list would be sent to him.

Lists, lists, lists. There will always be lists, there will always be people to kill, and there will always be something to do.

When that time comes, he might have to go down another level, to the bottom of the Hive City. The work will never end; he had a clear understanding of this forty years ago.

Therefore, when a whole burning fireball smashed through the steel structure above his head and exploded nearby with a huge amount of smoke and dust, Zel was not surprised at all.

He even felt a sense of relief, letting out a barely perceptible sigh as he reached for the Chainsword he hadn't used since arriving in Litatera.

Yes, yes. Ten thousand years have passed, and this is the first fragment to have regained its vitality. How could we possibly obtain it so easily? I knew we'd have to encounter something; we weren't going to be so lucky.

I'm sorry, Horst, I was foolish. I shouldn't have questioned your nightmares, nor should I have said you had no prophetic talent whatsoever.

Your talent is truly astonishing. We should have let you participate in the rehabilitation surgery and become a new recruit back then. Maybe you could see farther than any of us. Maybe you could even witness their return.

Zel couldn't help but chuckle softly.

At this moment, the raging fire had completely surrounded the small the Nest of the Hive City.

The corpses of the dead gradually turned into a boiling mixture in the obviously supernatural, profane flames, their blood being licked clean by long, scarlet tongues. Sharp claws or twisted fingers grabbed their bodies and eagerly stuffed them into their mouths, beginning to devour them.

Their fanged mouths were perfectly equipped to perform this task; in just over ten seconds, the corpse was devoured by those twisted black shadows, yet they were still not satisfied.

In reality, they were never satisfied.

These bloodthirsty beasts lowered their bodies and growled in a low voice. They could sense that there were still living people nearby. Evil rituals and Chaos essences formed their bodies, and the lifeless were born with malice towards the world of the living.

At this moment, in that crimson or pitch-black field of vision, they could clearly perceive the vibrant life of the world around them, and the frail flesh and blood that were everywhere.

Hunger and the urge to kill surged into their not-so-intelligent minds, clouding their already not-so-sensitive senses.

They were so hungry, so insanely hungry, that they could completely ignore the silent whirring of the chainsaw motor—but how could they possibly ignore an Astartes that had suddenly appeared in their midst, and a Chainsword that desperately craved to drink the blood of Daemon?

The answer is no.

Zel landed heavily, and the moment his feet touched the ground, he swung his sword and dismembered the two beasts. Twisted metal from the ship's hull was stuck in their flesh and bones, which were Chainsword.

Then, he swung his sword horizontally, tearing the jaw of a tall monster off its elongated human face.

Its long, scarlet tongue dangled over its pale, sticky skin, and fine, sharp teeth, definitely not belonging to humans, grew from its rotten, blackened gums. It roared in pain and lunged at Zel, but was viciously cleaved in two from the groin by an upward slash in mid-air.

All of this took Zel only a second, and he didn't linger. When the third second arrived precisely, he had already leaped up again and pulled a trigger-activated stun grenade from his belt.

It's not some new technology; it's just an old thing that the Mars foundry produced ten thousand years ago, but it can still play a vital role in battle.

Zel threw it, and the next second, a visible pale blue shockwave erupted from the grenade's landing point, sweeping across the horde of demons. The deafening roar made them scream in terror.

But this is just the beginning.

Zel's leap landed successfully on a wooden beam that had not yet been destroyed. He coldly looked down at the group of Daemon who had fallen into madness and swiftly drew his Bolt Pistol from his waist.

This isn't an old product; it's a new type of Boltgun designed eleven centuries ago by Belisarius Caul of Mars under the orders of the Sigillites Malcador Cawl. Named "Torchbearer," it features a modular design, simple maintenance, powerful firepower, and high expandability.

The most crucial point is that its under-mounted secondary barrel allows it to fire multiple types of ammunition simultaneously, including even high-efficiency incendiary rounds.

Zel raised his gun, and a dull flash of light erupted from the muzzle. An incendiary bomb spun out of the barrel and landed among the demons. A brilliant curtain of fire rose from the ground, surging and sweeping across them, completely engulfing the demons.

Unlike the blasphemous flames that brought them to this place, this flame belongs only to humankind. It is the culmination of chemistry, weaponry, and ammunition science, and one of the irrefutable proofs of humankind's wisdom in conquering nature.

Under its influence, the beasts' illusory lives were inevitably harmed. Zel, however, did not rush to expand his gains, but instead transformed into a black shadow and swept over their heads.

He wasn't in a hurry at all. The firelight and the disintegrating Daemon were reflected in his goggles, and his face under the helmet was beaming with a delighted smile.

This was certainly not his first time killing Daemon. Such skillful experience could not be learned from the words of senior members of the Chapter; rather, it was a ferocious nature cultivated through hundreds of fierce battles.

Zel calmly raised his gun, pressed his hand against the top of the barrel, and began firing at the Daemon. He focused intently on his work, but didn't miss the static on the communication channel. About half a second later, the voice of "Master" reached his ears.

"We're in trouble, Zel."

"Yes, I know, sir," Zel replied as he fired his gun. "I'm fighting them right now. Can't you hear the gunshots from my side?"

"Sorry, I thought you were fighting those thugs."

"In your heart, am I an incompetent person who needs to waste ammunition with guns to deal with them?"

"This is not unprecedented."

"That time was a special case, so let's get down to business, sir. Let's stop with this Chapter tradition that's hard to explain to others. Why do we always have to make fun of each other at times like this?"

"Very good, I'm so glad you've finally realized this. I need you back on Earth."

As Zel changed the magazine, he asked, "What do you mean?"

He had already frowned.

Do you remember our mission?

"."

Zel remained silent, offering no reply. He had already gleaned some information from the "sir's" words; he wouldn't have issued such an order if it were merely a small-scale Daemon invasion.

"Let me repeat our mission, Zel."

"Protect the fragments," Zel said. "At all costs."

"Yes, so let's get back to the ground and meet at the church."

"And what about these people?" Zel continued firing, asking this question.

"We are no longer able to help them," the "sir" replied coldly. "You weren't on the ground, so you didn't see what happened in the sky just now. But I can tell you very clearly that a tide of vengeful spirits just occurred."

Zel clenched his teeth tighter and tighter.

The "Tide of Vengeful Spirits" is a term used within the Shadow Knights, coined by Shen and quickly spreading to other sub-units of Night Lords.

It was only used to refer to a phenomenon: the endless stream of wronged souls filling the sky or the earth. And in the history of the Imperium, only one person could trigger this phenomenon.

"Zel?"

"I understand, I'll be there soon," Zel said.

He continued to pull the trigger and emptied the magazine. Minutes later, when the Daemon finally broke free of the flames, they found that the attacker had vanished.

They quickly forgot about it and, dragging their severely burned bodies, began hunting, ravenously hungry.

Unbeknownst to them, a person filled with hatred let them go and left, silently reciting a name.

"Erebus."