Day of Ascension

He would eagerly watch the gladiatorial matches of the Fury Warband and award the final victor a Glory Axe made from an overseer's spine.

He would personally visit the plague laboratories of the Hand of the Father to sample their latest holy water, which was said to grant "rebirth" after seven days and nights of ultimate agony. In truth, it was a highly purified culture fluid of mutated bacilli.

He would plot with the agents of the Eye of Change to secretly replace the planetary governor's favorite portrait of the Emperor with graffiti depicting the Four-Armed Emperor eating at a buffet.

He even personally served as chief director for Perfect Voice's annual fashion show, whose theme was "The Collision of Apocalyptic Wastelands and High Heaven."

Under his leadership, the entire cult had become a contradictory fusion of vitality, creativity, and lethal danger. They were zealots, warriors, terrorists, and... artists.

Viridia's planetary government and Imperial agencies gradually noticed the growing undercurrent in the lower world. Miners' work stoppages and acts of resistance became increasingly frequent and organized. Inquisition agents and Adeptus Mechanicus spies sent down to investigate vanished without a trace, as though they had been swallowed by the dark underground world.

The Planetary Defence Force began tightening its guard. A storm that would sweep across the entire planet was brewing.

But no one knew that beyond this storm, a larger and darker shadow had already enveloped the entire Viridia system.

In the void far beyond the planet's gravity well, a colossal entity like a massive shadow appeared soundlessly, undetectable by any instrument.

A Tyranid scout vessel had arrived.

The Hive Mind's will—cold, vast, a pure instinct existing only to devour all things—swept across this plump, succulent-looking planet.

It sensed the beacon within the planet, planted by its own hand and belonging to its progeny.

[Beacon... normal.][Biomass... abundant.][Resistance forces... standard.]

The Hive Mind's will paused almost imperceptibly as it passed through the hive consciousness network.

[...Beacon signal... abnormal fluctuations.][Emotions... excessively... active?][Faith... structure... complex.]

[...No matter.]

[All things shall ultimately become one.]

[Fleet, begin assembly.]

[The feast is about to begin.]

In the deepest shrine beneath Viridia, Liu Zhipeng felt increasingly powerful pulses of anticipation and hunger coming from the depths of the hive consciousness network, from the Patriarch's soul.

He knew that the Day of Ascension was truly coming.

He turned and looked at the fervent believers behind him, already equipped and ready, four-colored flames burning in their eyes.

"Brothers and sisters!" His voice echoed through the vast cavern via the amplifiers.

"Our god is answering our prayers!"

"His footsteps already resound across the sea of stars!"

"The time has come! The time has come to let this world see what we truly are!"

"Kindle your fury, embrace your resilience, unleash your wisdom, and sing praises to your joy!"

"For the Four-Armed Emperor! For the Day of Ascension!"

"For ourselves!"

"—Rise up!!!"

As his final word fell, the underground world of Viridia's primary planet was instantly set ablaze by the fury of war. The Genestealer Cult that had hidden for centuries, a monster armed to the teeth with the doctrines of the Chaos Gods, finally bared its most savage and most magnificent fangs to the world.

Viridia's uprising began in a form unprecedented in official Imperial records, one filled with art, madness, and bloodshed.

This was no simple rebellion. It was a grand ritual offered to the four-in-one Four-Armed Emperor.

When the first alarm sounded from the towering spires of the planetary governor's palace, Viridia's rulers still believed it was merely a slightly larger miners' riot. Arrogantly, they dispatched local enforcers armed with riot shields and shock batons, convinced they could drive those "tunnel rats" back into their holes as easily as they had for centuries.

They were wrong. Spectacularly wrong.

The first riot-control force was met by the berserkers of the Fury Warband. These third- or fourth-generation hybrids already possessed strength and speed beyond ordinary humans. Now, bolstered by faith in Khorne, they had become monsters born solely for slaughter. Bare-chested, they had painted their bodies with fluorescent runes symbolizing rage. They possessed no refined weapons, only sharpened mining picks and enormous chainsaw axes converted from cutting machines. Shouting, "Skulls for the Skull Throne! Blood for the Blood God!" they ignored the suppression rounds fired by the enforcers and crashed into their lines like a red tide.

Riot shields were as flimsy as paper before the massive chainsaw axes, and shock batons could not even pierce their resilient skin. It was a massacre. The enforcers discovered in horror that these miners did not merely want to kill them; they seemed to have a pathological obsession with collecting skulls. In the final instant before a chainsaw axe split his head open, an enforcer squad leader saw an expression of fanatical fulfillment and glory on the hybrid's face.

At the other end of the city, another silent slaughter unfolded in the center of the planet's water supply and air circulation systems.

Like ghosts, the followers of the Hand of the Father infiltrated the heavily guarded area through secret passages they themselves had spent decades digging. They launched no frontal assault. They merely poured barrel after barrel of pre-prepared "holy water," fragrant with a cloying sweetness, into the enormous reservoirs and air filtration systems.

Before long, residents of the upper hive discovered that the pure water they took such pride in had begun to emit a strange fruity scent. The air also filled with a drowsy smell, like a rotting garden after rain. At first, no one paid it much attention. Some noble ladies even found the "fragrance" rather atmospheric.

But several hours later, disaster struck.

Everyone who drank the "holy water" or breathed the "holy air" began exhibiting strange symptoms. First came an overwhelming sense of relaxation and pleasure, as if every worry had vanished. Then their skin began to itch, sprouting tiny rainbow-colored pustules. These pustules caused no pain. On the contrary, when they burst, they released an even richer fragrance, "blessing" everyone nearby as well.

In less than a day, the entire upper hive became a Nurgling Garden filled with giggles and contented sighs. Nobles and officials who had once been impeccably dressed now lay blissfully on the ground, admiring the flowerlike, dazzling lesions growing from their bodies. Their will to resist completely melted away beneath the Father's gentle yet deadly "love."