Sovet's Past (I: Accountability)

"That's not psionic energy," Karyl said slowly.

The Lion El'Jonson did not utter a word, but simply nodded.

He knew, of course, that it wasn't psychic energy; if it were, he would have sensed it.

As for what exactly that thing was and why it caused Haide to fall into a deep coma, he already had the answer.

The Inquisition has never hesitated to use certain dangerous things, such as Daemon Weapon, heretical knowledge, Xenos weapons, or ancient objects from human history that have been sealed away.

What appeared in Haide's case likely belonged to one of these things—a special hypnotic technique originating from the past. The perpetrator, through some kind of suggestion, deeply implanted it into the mind of this retired soldier.

Once he reveals the truth about the Battle of Sovet, the mechanism will activate, causing him to kill himself to eliminate any future threats. The voice will do the same, but it's just part of the hypnosis.

The human vocal cords are highly malleable. It is not surprising that Haide's voice, which is not in the low range and has not been injured, could speak in a female voice under the influence of hypnotic suggestion.

The Lion El'Jonson had fully understood everything, but he was still furious. The only reason he could stand calmly before the thick bulletproof glass, staring at Haide inside who was undergoing examination and treatment, was because Karyl was standing beside him.

Otherwise, he would set off immediately, no matter what. He would find them before the Inquisition could find him.

"--Lord Lion, you were looking for me?" a voice asked from a distance of several meters.

Without turning his head, the Lion El'Jonson replied, "Yes, Shefa, come here."

Inquisitor Shefa did as instructed, his steps steady.

"Look inside, look at that person who is unconscious, and then tell me what you see."

Shefa nodded, his icy blue eyes beneath his military cap fixed intently on the bulletproof glass.

A Dark Angels Apothecary was working inside, but that did not diminish his observation skills. He quickly came to a conclusion.

I suspect this person is a retired soldier, for the following reasons.

The Lion El'Jonson raised its right hand and swung it, a heavy, whistling sound flashing by. Shefa swallowed back the words he hadn't finished speaking. He looked up and saw a pair of cold, deep green eyes, the pupils sharp, like the vertical pupils of a predator.

"Besides that?" the Lion El'Jonson asked coldly.

Shefa was silent for a moment, then replied, "I don't know, but since you specifically summoned me here, this person must be related to the Inquisition?"

"About," said the Lion El'Jonson.

Shefa tensed his body.

"His name is Haide, from the Third Company of the 77th Doomsday Guard, a corporal, and one of the survivors of the Battle of Sovet. He should have been a hero, full of honors like everyone else, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case."

"What are the facts?" Shefa asked seriously.

"The fact is, he was stripped of his honor."

Who did this?

The Lion El'Jonson's cold, almost cruel expression slowly changed, giving rise to an expression that even Shefa didn't know how to describe.

What do you think?

The Inquisitor's Adam's apple bobbed for a few seconds. For some reason, he remained strangely calm in the face of a Primarch's wrath, and instead of answering the Lion El'Jonson's question immediately, he looked at Karyl, who was standing with his arms crossed.

The latter simply shook his head at his probing gaze, indicating that the matter was none of his concern. Shefa pursed his lips, pondered for a moment, and then spoke again.

"Sometimes, we have to pay a price to get things done."

"And you made him one of the consequences?"

"Yes," Shefa said firmly. "When necessary, anyone can be a price to pay, and we are no exception."

"If I were given the chance to kill a Greater Daemon on the list once and for all, I would do it with my own blood. I believe my colleagues have done the same; every Inquisitor has sworn an oath. And as far as I know, none have broken it."

The Lion El'Jonson continued to sneer, "I thought you would have a bottom line, like him."

He pointed at Karyl.

"We have it," Shefa argued logically. "But, sir, if you were to compare one person's life with the lives of ten million others, placing them on opposite ends of a scale, what would you choose? What could you possibly choose?"

"Please don't answer with questions like 'smashing the scales' or 'killing the mastermind.' I believe you can do that, and you can make things work out the other way around, but we can't."

"Every man and woman who works in the Inquisition is, in essence, just a mortal. Among us are descendants of nobles, children of the poor, and offspring of soldiers. We come from all corners of the galaxy, just like everyone else, no different from anyone else."

"We'll die if we get shot, and we'll bleed if we get stabbed. Therefore, most of the time, we can only make this one-way question."

The Lion El'Jonson fell silent; for a second, he seemed to be pondering many things.

His intuition told him that Shefa wasn't lying; it truly was a frustrating problem—so he suppressed his anger, regained his composure, and said, "Well then, I have some questions for you."

Shefa looked at Karyl again, a badge quietly sliding off his right sleeve. Karyl nodded to him, then raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

Darkness waited a few seconds before encroaching, leading Shefa to a room he had never been to before. There were only three chairs and a round table in the room. There were no windows, and the floor was as gray as iron, but there was no light.

Shefa wanted to speak, but a chill rising deep in his throat interrupted him, though his thoughts continued. For some reason, he felt that the snap of his fingers was probably just for his own benefit, merely a notification.

He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and looked at both ends of the round table, where he unsurprisingly saw Lion Aljonsen and Karyl Lohars.

The badge that had been inside his cuff was gone; it was now held between the index and middle fingers of his left hand, gleaming brightly, and the skull's eye sockets were very deep.

This time, the person asking the question had subtly changed.

Karyl Lohars, who had previously only existed in books, nodded to him and then spoke softly.

"First question, Shefa, are you familiar with the Battle of Sovet?"

"I've heard about it," Shefa said, sitting up straight. "But I have no authority to access the information; I only know that this matter caused a huge uproar back then."

Don't you have the right to access it?

"Yes, sir—please forgive me, and please allow me to address you this way; I am rather inflexible in character."

"I allow it."

Suppressing his excitement, Shefa took another deep breath. "Thank you. In short, I truly have no right to access this information. Although there are no ranks within the Inquisition, we are only accountable to the Sigillites, you, and Sir Luther."

"After you and Sir Luther disappeared, we only reported to the Sigillites. Any detailed reports on our missions only appeared in his office or archives, and even the investigators had to ask him to access them again."

Karyl nodded. "So, what have you heard about this?"

"I heard from my mentor that four Inquisitor died in the Soviet operation."

Shefa answered slowly, his brows furrowing for the first time, a thoughtful expression gradually appearing on his statuesque face.

"I don't know their names, but a total of five Inquisitor were present during that operation, and only the last one survived."

"Who is she?" the Lion El'Jonson suddenly asked.

"I have no idea."

The Lion El'Jonson narrowed his eyes. "Think carefully before you answer, Shefa. The Battle of Sovet cost me two companies, and eight regiments of the Doomsday Guard were lost there forever—eight standard regiments, a total of 24,000 men. You need to understand the weight of your answer."

"I don't know." Without any hesitation, Inquisitor Shefa repeated, his voice still firm and resolute. "No matter how many times you ask, my answer will always be that I don't know, because her name has been kept confidential, and I have no right to know."

"However, I can tell you something else: such a high level of secrecy is rare even within the Inquisition. Normally, only missions that could lead to the fall of an entire sector would be classified this way."

"You mean the truth behind the Battle of Sovet could very well have resulted in the deaths of an entire sector of innocent people?"

"Very likely," Shefa said seriously.

Beneath the table, the Lion El'Jonson's hands are clasped tightly together.

Based on reason, he understood that Shefa's words could not possibly be false or concealed, and he also knew that the seemingly alarmist conclusion actually contained no exaggeration or fabrication whatsoever.

How could something so trivial, involving Inquisition and the deaths of four Inquisitor, be considered insignificant?

Shefa is right; they are mortals, that's true, but their selection process is even more rigorous than that of Astartes —otherwise, how could a group of mortals face those unimaginably terrifying things?

But, based on emotions

The Lion El'Jonson's fingers slowly clenched.

He doesn't lie. If someone asks, he'll admit it directly: the reason he cares so much about this matter, besides not wanting to see soldiers stripped of their honor, is also because of an old incident from ten thousand years ago.

The chain reaction of that event directly led to internal strife within the Caliban. Over the course of a hundred centuries, the Lion El'Jonson has wondered more than once what the outcome would have been if he had been a little more patient back then.

If Luther hadn't had his arm severed and been expelled from the Order, would those damned political upheavals and the intricate Inner Circle of organizations have prevented such a catastrophe?

If he hadn't been blinded by rage, would he have been able to understand why Luther wanted to take the blame upon himself?

He was lost in thought, so many old memories flooding his mind, yet not a single second had passed in the material world. For the first time, he hated his superhuman physique. He wanted to end this recollection, but he couldn't; he needed someone's help.

Karyl Lohars reached out his hand once again.

Lion.

The Lion El'Jonson restrained itself and slowly raised its head.

"Do you have any survivors from the Battle of Sovet here?"

"No more," Caliban's knight replied, his voice hoarse. "Hariel and his brothers kept their word, giving their lives on Soviet, alongside the Doomsday Guard."

Karyl nodded knowingly and turned to the Inquisitor.

He placed the badge back on the round table, gave it a gentle push, and it glided into the air. Two silver chains floated out from behind the skull, abruptly crossed, and wrapped around Shefa's neck, spontaneously transforming into a small pendant.

To the Inquisitor's surprise, Karyl gave a genuine smile, "Thank you for your help, Shefa. Go do your work. I'm sorry to have taken up your time."

Shefa silently tightened his brow, rose, and left. The door opened and closed again, while Karyl continued, "Lion, you may have heard Konrad Curze or Corax mention that I have a... special ability."

Which one?

"The kind that's particularly advantageous to our current situation," Karyl said. "To put it bluntly, I can summon some wronged spirits and let them reveal the truth themselves. However, this ability can only be used if one of two conditions is met."

The Lion El'Jonson stared intently at him, but Karyl continued his story calmly and slowly.

"First, such a vengeful spirit truly exists in the Warp. Second, we first saw the perpetrator or murderer; their hands were stained with sin and blood, therefore the vengeful spirit will forever haunt them until the day they die, bringing them ultimate Judgment."

"And you can't find it?" the Lion El'Jonson pressed. "That war—"

He stood up.

"--So many people--"

His eyes almost sparkled.

"--And you can't find a single one?"

"Yes," Karyl said calmly. "Human souls have never belonged to themselves, have you forgotten, Lion?"

He also stood up and looked directly into the Lion El'Jonson's eyes without wavering.

"How long is twenty years in the context of the Warp? Do you have the answer? You don't, and neither do I. It might be a moment, it might be eternity, but whether it's a moment or eternity, their souls will vie for dominance the instant their bodies die."

"A war is raging in the Warp, it has been going on for many years, and it will continue to be fought. The essence of that war is nothing more than countless Daemons and other things under the command of six gods vying for the souls of this galaxy. That is the truth, Lion. Whether it is your father or me, we are all part of it."

The Lion El'Jonson remained silent, breathing heavily as he rapidly processed the terrifying truth revealed by Karyl. His expression remained tense, his hands firmly planted on the table.

After a moment, he said hoarsely, "Then I can go and ask my father for help."

Karyl smiled.

"Go ahead and try. Many souls sleep beneath His Throne, but if they were the ones we need, this room would already be gleaming with gold."

The Lion El'Jonson roared, "I don't believe it—"

Karyl sighed gently.

"Please calm down, Lion. This is the Misty Sector, where the Astronomican still shines Radiance, so your father can see us. He's been watching, he can't speak, but he'll offer any help he can."

The Lion El'Jonson lowered its head, its hands trembling. Karyl stepped away from the round table, walked past it, and left with a single sentence.

"No matter how hard you try to make amends, the predetermined outcome won't change, so let's focus on the future, Lion. And although we have no souls to use, Haide is still alive. Come with me."

"What are you up to?"

"Go into his memory," Karyl said, turning to him and winking. "It's not hard, trust me."

The Lion El'Jonson immediately followed him.