Heaven and the Tyranid Abyss

Hilling Star, Safehouse

Hua Wei was awakened by an unending stream of notification chimes in his head.

He groggily opened his eyes and habitually pulled up the system interface. Then... he shot upright from the bed, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open wider and wider until it nearly reached his ears!

"Holy... holy shit?!" He rubbed his eyes, then pinched his thigh hard. Only when the pain made him grimace did he confirm that he was not dreaming.

[Available Emotion Points: 412,580]

"Over four hundred thousand?! I gained more than three hundred thousand just from sleeping?!" Hua Wei's heart pounded wildly as adrenaline surged through him.

He eagerly opened the detailed income list and rapidly scanned through it line by line:

[Guilliman (deep self-doubt/cognitive upheaval)] +60,000

[Calgar (worldview collapse/shock)] +30,000

[Greyfax (fear/reassessment of threat)] +20,000

[Cawl (logical confusion/explosive curiosity)] +30,000

[Celestine (doubt over the nature of existence/impact on the concept of "angels")] +30,000

[Ultramarines Commander ABC (...)]

"Hahahahaha!" Hua Wei took a huge gulp of iced cola. "That's right, guys! You're way too good at filling in the blanks! Hahahaha! I never thought upgrading some armor could have this kind of effect!"

Looking at that number over four hundred thousand, he felt as if his entire body had been filled with strength.

"Awesome! There's still time before delivery, so I'll save this batch for now!" He rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming. "Over four hundred thousand... if I work a little harder, I can summon a Five-Star powerhouse first! Then I can plant them there and stabilize the situation!"

Ultramar Sector, Follow-Up Purification Operation

The smoke of Plague Garden had yet to fully dissipate, but the steel tide of the Imperial coalition continued sweeping away the remaining filth of Chaos.

This time, Guilliman's operational approach had changed significantly.

He no longer personally led charges at the front, instead fully delegating command to Calgar and the commanders of each war zone.

More often, his massive blue figure remained stationed at the rear command node, calmly deploying every combat unit through holographic tactical displays covering the battlefield and encrypted data streams.

Only when ground scanning arrays or psychic detectors picked up high-intensity Warp energy fluctuations—revealing the appearance of a Chaos Lord, Greater Daemon, or critical daemon engine—would he directly airdrop from a transport craft into the target's core area.

The golden flames of the Emperor's Sword remained unstoppable, and the radiance of the Armor of Fate remained dazzling.

But every deployment was like a precise surgical operation: clear objective, swift conclusion, never lingering in battle, and never advancing beyond the range where follow-up forces could provide rapid support.

After completing a decapitation strike, he immediately returned to the command node. The entire process was efficient and cold, minimizing frontline disorder and additional casualties caused by his personal actions.

The Spartan Squad maintained its role as observers and did not proactively intervene in the subsequent routine cleansing operations.

Their MJOLNIR Armor and the saucer's "Swarm" drones moved like ghosts across relatively safe areas of the battlefield, recording the tactical details, equipment performance, and coordination problems of Imperial forces of different formations when facing different Chaos factions.

Yet their mere presence was itself a kind of "special gain."

The Ultramarines, especially those Honor Guard members who had fought beside them during the Iron Warriors raid, looked at them with less of their initial vigilance and scrutiny, and more complicated curiosity and... a trace of indescribable respect.

After all, these hulking men had openly berated a Primarch, and their Primarch had not gotten angry.

Living Saint Celestine and Archmagos Cawl became frequent visitors to the Spartan Squad's temporary compartment.

Celestine's visits usually carried an inquiry into the "nature of existence."

She would sit quietly to one side, watching the Spartans organize their recorded data, and occasionally ask softly, "Captain Carter, in your world, are 'angels'... also manifestations formed from gathered faith, like me? Or are they more like... highly evolved life forms? Or perhaps... creations of pure technology?"

Her questions always revolved around the form of angels, the source of their power, and the meaning of their existence, as she tried to piece together a picture of beings beyond her understanding from Carter's scattered remarks.

Cawl's visits, on the other hand, were filled with the grinding of metal and the hum of data streams.

His enormous mechanical body nearly filled one corner of the compartment. Countless probes and scanning beams greedily captured every energy pattern on the surface of the MJOLNIR Armor and every minute movement of the drones, even though he knew the data might be meaningless.

His questions were more "practical": "Energy core structure... shield phase-shift frequency... drone coordination algorithms... quantum entanglement communications?" Every question attempted to pry open the hard shell of Hilling technology.

Faced with these inquiries, Carter usually remained cautiously taciturn.

These matters exceeded his authority. If leaked outside, they might define him as a traitor.

But occasionally, beneath Celestine's pure yet bewildered gaze, or under Cawl's near-obsessive "harassment" driven by his thirst for knowledge, Carter would lower some of his guard and reveal a sigh mixed with confusion and frustrated disappointment.

Once, after Celestine again asked about the Imperium's system of faith, Carter looked through the porthole at an Imperial cruiser slowly passing by, covered in Gothic spires and enormous skull statues, bulky and bloated in appearance. He could not help shaking his head, his tone carrying the anguish of an old soldier watching recruits ruin good equipment:

"Honestly, I can't understand it." His voice was low, his fingers unconsciously tapping against his armored knee guard. "How could an Imperium with territory this vast and population this enormous... become what it is now?"

His gaze passed over Celestine and Cawl. "The design of your warships is filled with unnecessary... decorations and religious symbols, seriously sacrificing combat efficiency. Your armored forces have countless different models, making logistics an absolute nightmare. Your soldiers' equipment... is wildly inconsistent, and their training levels vary enormously. Your battlefield command system... has too many layers, and information transmission is severely delayed."

He paused, as though recalling the war machine of the Hilling Empire, which functioned as efficiently as a precision instrument. His tone was full of deep helplessness and a faint, barely detectable superiority. "Where we come from, every design serves battlefield survival and maximized victory. Warships are pure killing weapons, armor is a standardized war platform, and soldiers are combat units enhanced and trained under a unified system. The command chain is flat and efficient, while information reaches the front lines directly. You... clearly possess powerful individuals and profound foundations, yet you seem to waste too much effort on... things unrelated to the essence of war."

This utterly blunt "complaint" left Celestine deep in thought.

Cawl's data stream briefly fell into disorder, his mechanical voice carrying the stifled frustration of someone offended yet unable to refute the accusation. "Aesthetics... symbols of faith... are also a form of strength... but efficiency... does indeed have room for optimization..."

Celestine raised her eyes, holy light flowing around her. "Then how did you train yourselves to become so extraordinary?" She had asked the central question.

Carter fell silent for a moment, as though searching through non-classified information. "Hilling soldiers begin with screening during childhood. Neural reaction speed, spatial perception, and tactical intuition are the core indicators. Those who pass enter unified military academies, with a training cycle of ten standard cosmic years."

He tapped the air with a finger and summoned his personal data slate, projecting a blurry yet clearly structured procedural recording. "Phase one: physical conditioning and breakthrough of neural tolerance limits. Phase two: operation of standard weapons platforms, squad tactical coordination, and battlefield information processing. Phase three: rotational training in immersive virtual battlefields—covering every known environment and hostile entity model, with simulated combat-loss pain feedback synchronized at one hundred percent."

In the recording, countless individuals wearing simplified training armor ran, fired, and launched coordinated assaults through extreme environments, enduring simulated wounds. Their movements were as precise as machines, their eyes cold and sharp.

Carter looked at Celestine and Cawl. "Absolute information superiority, seamless coordination, efficient destruction." He spoke three icy phrases.

"Orbital reconnaissance, infiltrative scanning, and battlefield drone swarms form a sensory network. Information is shared in real time with every combat unit at the tactical level." He brought up another simulated projection: a simplified terrain map of the Plague Garden battle. "Taking the Regent's charge as an example, if the same Imperial forces had been commanded according to Hilling Standard..."

On the virtual tactical display, the blue points representing Imperial forces were instantly given exceptionally high mobility.

When the Iron Warriors Drop Pods crashed down, the blue points did not descend into chaos as they had in reality, nor were they forced to follow Guilliman. Instead, like fluid possessing a unified will, they rapidly and calmly withdrew beyond the impact zone. At the same time, pre-positioned firepoints covered the pod doors the instant they opened.

The yellow-black points representing Chaos warriors were shredded by dense crossing fire the moment they surged out.

The powerful golden point representing Guilliman did not charge ahead alone. Instead, it was integrated into a "spearhead" composed of several Ultramarines squads and pre-positioned heavy-fire emplacements. Only after drones disrupted and suppressed key enemy firepoints did this spearhead thrust forward with crushing coordinated efficiency, aiming directly at the core node.

The entire process was smooth and efficient. There were no needless sacrifices, no chaotic breaches.

"Projected casualties," Carter said without the slightest ripple in his voice, "Iron Warriors raiding force: total annihilation. Imperial side: Astra Militarum infantry company losses approximately fifteen percent, Ultramarines squad losses below five percent, no vehicle losses. Mission objective completion time: estimated reduction of fifty-two percent."

A string of cold figures scrolled beside the virtual tactical display, forming a horrifying contrast with the brutal casualty figures of reality.

The compartment fell silent.

The holy light around Celestine flickered faintly. Cawl's mechanical tendrils stopped their unconscious swaying, and even his data streams froze for an instant.

Efficient. Cold. Like a precision killing machine, weighing lives and victory with exact calculations upon a scale.

After a long while, Celestine finally released a drawn-out sigh, one containing boundless heaviness. "Captain Carter, what you describe... is not a path the Imperium never considered. In the distant past, during the Golden Age when the Emperor unified Terra and began the Great Crusade... humanity once pursued similar... rationality and efficiency."

Her words made everyone in the compartment listen intently.

"That was an era of flourishing technology and supreme rationality. Artificial intelligence assisted decision-making, standardized legions swept across the stars, and information networks covered the realm..." Her voice carried remembrance, but even more pain. "Yet because of several disasters... it ultimately led to Destruction. Since then, the Imperium... chose another path. Faith, individual heroism, strict restraints upon technology... these things that may appear inefficient or even foolish to you were lessons we bought with blood... a means of survival. We fear losing control again. We fear that cold logic will ultimately devour humanity—and devour us as well."

Her words were like tearing open an old wound that still bled.

Carter and his squad fell silent. They understood the grief behind Celestine's words. It explained the "useless" religious ornaments aboard Imperial warships, the technology monopoly of the Adeptus Mechanicus, and even partly explained Guilliman's gene-driven "heroism"—perhaps it was inefficient, but at least it belonged to "humans."

"Then... what about your history?" one of the squad members could not help asking, his eyes full of curiosity about that lost Golden Age.

Celestine gently shook her head, and the holy light around her dimmed slightly. "That history... is too heavy, and too forbidden. It has been sealed in the deepest archives of Terra, wrapped layer upon layer in fear and regret. When you reach Terra, if the opportunity arises... perhaps you will encounter those bloodstained chapters deliberately forgotten. But now is not the time."

The topic became somewhat heavy.

To ease the atmosphere—or perhaps to satisfy her own irrepressible curiosity—Celestine asked, "Captain, could you tell us about the lives of ordinary people in your Hilling Empire?"

Carter seemed to relax somewhat as he described his homeland. "The Hilling Empire has existed, according to clear historical records... for at least three hundred thousand to four hundred thousand standard cosmic years."

"Imperial citizens," Carter said, his voice holding a faint calm that perhaps came from being accustomed to it, "have no disease. Genetic optimization and nanomedical technology have eradicated all illnesses. There is no hunger; the resources of a single galaxy are enough to sustain the consumption of the entire empire. Average natural lifespan... more than three hundred standard cosmic years."

"That is only the foundation. The core duty of Imperial citizens is service. According to their talents and wishes, they enter different fields: scientific research, engineering, art... or, like us, the military."

He paused. "Of course, there are also basic jobs needed to maintain society's operation, handled by automation or non-sentient AI."

"Heaven..." Celestine softly spoke the word. Complex emotions seemed to linger in her holy light. This was the dream the Emperor had sought.

Compared with the desperate scenes of countless worlds in the Imperium of Man struggling amid poverty, disease, oppression, and war, the Hilling Empire sounded like a myth.

"Then what are the empire's primary enemies?" Cawl finally could not hold back and asked the most crucial question.

What kind of enemies did an empire that had existed for hundreds of thousands of years and possessed such advanced technology need to face for even an "ordinary" reconnaissance squad to possess such terrifying combat power?

Carter's expression instantly became incomparably grave, even carrying a trace of instinctive solemnity. At last, he slowly spoke the name that made the temperature of the entire compartment plummet:

"Tyranids."

"Tyranids?!" Celestine cried out in shock! Cawl's mechanical voice erupted with a burst of piercing electrical static!

"Yes." Carter's voice was heavy and certain. "You have not experienced the endless Tyranid swarms. They devour galaxies, evolve, adapt, and never end. Throughout the long history of the Hilling Empire, our war against them... has never stopped, and it has only grown more intense. More than seventy percent of the empire's military strength and resources are invested on the front lines against the Tyranids."

That ratio left everyone breathless. Seventy percent of national strength was consumed fighting the Tyranids?! Then how terrifying was the Hilling Empire's war potential?

"There is also the Void. But that is not a domain people of our level can access. It is the empire's highest secret. Only the Senate and core institutions directly under His Majesty the Emperor know the truth. We only know that it is a threat older, more fundamental, and more incomprehensible than the Tyranids. The empire has always fought against it, but we have no authority to know what it truly is. The focus of the current public war is total resistance against the Tyranids."

A "Void" even more terrifying than the Tyranids?

The compartment sank into a long, suffocating silence. Even Celestine's holy light seemed much dimmer, while Cawl's data streams completely froze.

Of course, they knew of the Tyranids. But Carter had given them vital information: the Hilling Empire was fighting the Tyranids as well.

Under the threat of this cosmic calamity, the other side had been waging an incomparably brutal war for survival that had lasted hundreds of thousands of years, with no end in sight.