2. Prelude

Karyl put down the newspaper, then carefully folded it and put it in the inside pocket of his coat. Whether the local Banjo-1 newspaper would cause any damage to his coat with its inferior ink was no longer a concern.

It was still early, so he could wander around the city for a while. Finding a hotel with a laundry room wouldn't be difficult; although most mining sites had terrible natural environments, they were certainly well-equipped with all sorts of facilities, so it was a trade-off.

He pondered these things, then took out a small notebook and a pen from his pocket, wrote down the words, put the notebook away, and began to savor the rich fish soup.

Frankly, for its low price, the taste was simply amazing. It was the most comfortable meal he had eaten for the least amount of money in four years.

Considering that his mode of travel was once known as hitchhiking, this assessment might need to be raised several levels.

Karyl sipped his fish soup slowly, his left hand still tapping rhythmically on the greasy wooden table, as if imitating drumbeats—and indeed it did.

Thanks to his unique, almost drifting, travel style, he experienced many extraordinary things firsthand. From a grand wedding born from the Underhive, to riding a land shark through the desert, and even squeezing into a cargo hold with sailors to listen to an entire special music show.

The drumbeat he's playing is one he learned from that music show.

However, for ordinary people, this is undoubtedly a very dangerous lifestyle. After all, who can guarantee that they won't encounter any danger?

But I am not an ordinary person, Karyl thought to himself.

He wanted to tell a joke, but he knew that no one in this tavern, or even on this planet, would understand it.

A few minutes later, two cups of hot water and two bowls of steaming fish fried rice were brought to the table by the bald bartender and owner himself. Karyl didn't need to turn around to know that the waitress named Katerina was angrily wiping the glasses next to the bar.

He pretended not to know Reed Binson's intentions, thanked him, and then began to eat his fried rice. It wasn't as good as the soup, but it was still better than most of the food on the ship.

After a quick meal, he stood up, wrapped his scarf around his neck, picked up his suitcase, and left the Foolish Fisherman's Home with Haide, who had already finished his fight and was wolfing down his food.

Banjo-1's natural environment was terrible, with biting cold winds, chemical dust everywhere, and the sky already obscured. The planet named "Sun" even looked like an industrialized gray, somewhat like an artificial light tube.

However, considering the entire Imperium, this is already considered a relatively good environment; at least people don't need a protective suit to go out.

"Sir, where to next?" his tour guide asked.

"I don't know, do you have any recommendations?" Karyl replied casually. His gaze had already been drawn to a group of miners carrying tools across the road.

These men were strong and robust, dressed in overalls and decent thick leather boots. They carried drilling rigs and long cables on their shoulders or in their hands, looking very professional. But their steps were somewhat hesitant, and their expressions were quite complex.

Haide noticed his gaze and sighed noticeably.

"Things haven't been peaceful in the mines lately," the old sailor said, offering some helpful advice. "I've heard several people are missing, and there's been a cave-in in one mine. Your Throne, this is truly unfortunate."

Karyl turned around. "Landslide?"

The old sailor nodded with a wry smile, "Nobody knows how it happened. There was just a landslide. The rescue teams went in but didn't find many survivors. The rocks buried them all."

"May they rest in peace," Karyl said softly.

He looked back at the group of miners until they disappeared into the deepest part of the sea of vehicles and dust before turning his gaze away.

His tour guide, seemingly remembering his role at that moment, offered a seemingly good suggestion. "How about we take a stroll through the Moon District, sir?"

"Moon District?"

The old sailor nodded, then coughed a few times. "I think you'll need a place to stay. There are quite a few hotels around, most of them are pretty clean."

"I'll listen to you, Mr. Haide." Karyl smiled slightly. "I have faith in the character of a veteran."

Upon hearing this, the old sailor was suddenly startled, and his hands instinctively clenched. He asked in surprise, "How did you know?"

"Actually, it's not hard to see. First, there's the posture; it's always very upright. Without training and a long military career, it's difficult to maintain this habit."

"Then there's your walking posture. You kept your left hand forward with your elbow slightly bent, making it easy to raise your gun and aim at any time. And most importantly, you kept looking left and right, observing your surroundings. Old habits die hard, Mr. Haide?"

The old sailor was silent for a moment, then nodded, acknowledging his identity, though his expression became somewhat tense. "You're right—but I don't understand, who exactly are you? Ordinary people don't have this kind of observational ability."

"Some things are better left unexplored," Karyl replied with a smile. "At least for now, I'm just a curious tourist, and that's enough. Now, would you please take me to the Moon District? I'd like to rest for a while."

With a smile on his face, the old sailor took a deep breath and began to walk.

More than an hour later, Karyl carried his suitcase into a room that wasn't too small.

Led by Haide, he checked into a hotel called "The Best of the Best," which had a nice environment and reasonable prices, but Karyl still didn't choose the top-tier suite. He couldn't afford an expensive room, nor did he want to stay in one.

Having an experience similar to that on the Emperor's Dream once is enough.

He put down his suitcase, took off his hat and scarf, then removed his gloves before starting to take off his coat. He had bought this heavy black coat two months ago, when he was also temporarily staying in a cold world.

It was summer in the area, but a thick coat and down jacket were still needed to keep warm. To blend in with the locals and also to avoid drawing attention, Karyl bought the outfit. In hindsight, it was well worth the money.

He folded his coat, took out a newspaper, notebook, and pen, tossed them onto a small sofa in the room, and then sat down to continue reading the newspaper.

The cold wind outside the window was still raging and looked like it wouldn't stop all day, but the temperature inside was quite pleasant. Karyl squinted at the newspaper, his eyes scanning the lines of text rapidly.

He quickly finished reading about the major events in the "interstellar" sense, and the news about the Banjo System and Banjo-1 followed closely behind. However, even after he finished reading the gossip section, there was still no news of the mine collapse.

That's very interesting.

He put down the newspaper, picked up the parchment paper from his lap, stood up, walked to a wooden table, turned on the lamp, and began to write.

The hotel furniture wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was very sturdy and durable, as was the table and chair that supported him at that moment. His pen moved swiftly, ink forming character after character beneath the tip.

About ten minutes later, Karyl put down his pen and began to examine his notes.

Or, to put it another way, an investigation report.

Yes, he really enjoys being an investigator, but what he writes...

"After leaving the Baronet, I'll surely miss the ship and the sailors, led by Jack, and their Ratling cook. The lady had a bit of a thieving habit, but she'd return things, and her soups were absolutely delicious."

"We landed on planet number 1 in the Banjo System. Like most planets in the system, it's a mining world, famous for its beautiful gems and natural crystals."

"The natural environment here is as terrible as ever. I hope to see Belisarius Cawl again; he should have a way to solve this pollution once and for all. He shouldn't refuse; he still has a lot of humanity left in him."

"I met a retired soldier Haide. He was very sensible and observant. He probably wasn't an ordinary soldier before he retired; he likely received one or two medals during his service. However, he's not doing well in life now. I hope I can help him in some way before I leave."

"I read in the newspaper about Ultramar regaining its light. To be honest, the news came a bit late; four years have passed, and it's only now reaching us."

"This means that the fleet of Sanguinius has likely returned to the Sol System. As for the veteran unit, we hope that Ra can keep them in check and that they can remain patient."

"Roboute, don't be sad, some people are destined to be heroes."

"I also saw in the newspapers that the Dark Angels visited the Banjo System, which is very unusual. What would a First Founding want from visiting a remote mining system?"

"I have a feeling they're here for me. Maybe I'm overthinking it. Anyway, let's wait and see."

"I learned from Haide about the recent misfortunes at the mine: disappearances, collapses, and the newspapers' cover-up. Perhaps it was due to delayed information, or perhaps it was an order from the authorities; hopefully, it's the former. Banjo-1 has a very good thick fish soup; I don't want to miss out on it in the future."

Closing his laptop, Karyl turned his head and gazed at the gloomy gray sky outside the window. He then tapped the table with both hands again, and music that only he could hear flowed out.

--

"Pleasant, truly delightful," Trazyn thought with a smile.

Oh my, what a wonderful thing! It's killing two birds with one stone, severing the heads of two Orikan with a single stroke.

The Infinite couldn't help but sigh, releasing his grip and leaving his merciless annihilation staff standing in place. He then walked gleefully toward the two Astartes who stood motionless opposite him.

The black armor and helmet were worn and tattered, Aquila on the chest was still there, but the insignia on the left shoulder had been worn away and could no longer be seen.

Trazyn carefully examined the two Astartes, occasionally uttering a word of contemplation. Finally, he shook his head, a hint of regret appearing on his long, skeletal face.

"I can't believe I didn't recognize him?"

He muttered as he turned around, picked up his long cane, and began to loudly complain to the wall, exhibiting symptoms of early-stage mental illness.

"How could they do this? Huh? Erasing the markings? How am I supposed to decide which exhibition hall they should be in? Damn Dark Angels, now that's it—"

He turned around, and began to strike the ground repeatedly with the Empathic Obliterator in his hand, producing a dull metallic clanging sound.

"--You'll have to keep those other 128 companions company! Hopefully, you'll be able to tell whether they're loyal or traitorous while you're in the Stasis Field, hmph."

The Infinite snorted coldly as he walked out of the room deep within the Hive City, glancing up at the sky.

When he last visited this planet, it still possessed a complete natural landscape, and at least the night sky was clearly visible. Now, however, not a single green plant can be seen, and the night sky is obscured by smog.

Trazyn even felt that if he still had lungs, he would definitely be poisoned by the air here.

Thinking about this, he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed—human beings seemed unaware of the treasures they possessed, always treating the things around them with violence, causing rampant destruction, and throwing everything into the gears of war to satisfy all the needs of their corrupt regime.

As he thought this, his hands didn't slow down. A delicate sphere, accompanied by a deep hum, flew from half a block away and landed in his hand.

This is a simple time-stopping device, handcrafted by Trazyn. It's not large, but it's enough to meet his needs for typical archaeological theft.

He put away the sphere, went back into the room, and waved the Empathic Obliterator, sending the two Dark Angels who had been hiding for ten thousand years back to their ship, which was located outside this star system and was in a state of concealment.

He looked forward to finishing his business and returning to Solemnace to give the two angels a proper makeover. Their armor, though old, was in good condition, and Trazyn hoped to use the museum's equipment to try and decipher their true identities.

Of course, before that, he needs to have a meeting. A meeting where he arranges the location, decides the duration, security measures, and transportation arrangements.

In fact, Trazyn had already prepared all of these things.

He then sought out his old friend Orikan, and through a series of lies—nine truths and one falsehood—he persuaded the astrologer to agree to perform a divination for him, a process that took a total of eight months.

Of course, this is the apparent time. Trazyn knew very well that to divine the whereabouts of a god, his old friend must have reversed time many times. But what did that have to do with him?

He is currently on the fourth planet of the Banjo System, and can set off at any time to the first planet to find that distinguished guest.

"Orikan, go to hell!" Trazyn laughed inwardly, then smugly walked into the night.

Ten hours later, his friend Orikan walked into the room he had entered before, his long, metallic face contorted with rage.

"So that's what you were planning!" The astrologer stretched out a hand to shut out the room, then roared. "Just you wait, Trazyn!"