Faith Without Impurity

She was roasted to an enticing golden-brown, her body covered densely with Ecclesiarchy scripture written in spices, those scriptures stretching from her neck all the way to her ankles, every single letter meticulously etched, clearly having cost the maker a great deal of painstaking effort and time.

What made Huron feel even more suffocated was that his superhuman vision allowed him to see that these spices were not merely on the surface of the body, but like tattoos, had already permeated beneath the skin.

This meant that the spices on the Battle Sister's body had been applied repeatedly over a long period, gradually seeping into the interior of her body.

Her limbs had been amputated, leaving only her torso and head.

The head was placed alone to one side, with gold leaf and flowers scattered across the severed edges of the neck, full of artistic flair.

The head had deliberately not been steamed through, and Huron could even smell the scent of fresh blood within it. This meant she had just been killed recently.

Valen continued his introduction with a smile: "Lord Chapter Master, this Battle Sister is the Watt Family's most precious collection. Her genetic mutation rate is extremely low, which is undoubtedly the gift of the God-Emperor, so we cultivated her into a pure and flawless Battle Sister. Her entire life has been spent serving the God-Emperor, untainted by even a shred of worldly filth."

He picked up a small silver knife, sliced off a piece of meat, and placed it onto Huron's plate: "Please taste it. Her body has been nurtured by us for over a dozen years, and the flesh is extremely tender. The spices upon it are also our family's secret recipe, specially used to cook such a devout sacrifice."

Huron stared dazedly at the slice of meat on his plate, not moving in the slightest.

Valen continued to flaunt his thoughtfulness: "And we deliberately preserved her head. Lord Chapter Master, I have heard that Astartes can all gain memories through tasting. I imagine you will surely be able to feel that faith without any impurity from it."

He paused, then added another sentence: "Of course, even so, she is merely a lamb of our family, just like the relationship between the Badab Ecclesiarchy and you—a lamb that actually attempted to rebel against the God-Emperor's shepherd. This is truly a grievous sin."

Huron finally made a move, raising his head to look into Valen's eyes.

Those eyes were filled with flattery and pride, without a trace or shred of guilt or a guilty conscience. In his view, this was merely a gift, a carefully prepared token of sincerity.

Huron stood up and walked over to the head.

This was a young female; there was no pain on her face, only a devout smile. Her lips were parted slightly, as if she were muttering something. Perhaps a prayer, perhaps chanting scripture.

Huron extended a finger and dabbed a bit of the exposed brain tissue.

He closed his eyes and placed his finger into his mouth.

Memories surged forth like a tidal wave.

He saw a girl's childhood.

She grew up in a pristine white room, surrounded by soft beds, warm sunlight, and gentle maids.

Every morning when she woke up, her very first action was to kneel before the statue of the Emperor and pray.

O Emperor, thank you for granting me this new day. Please let me serve You today as well, and please let me draw closer to You today.

The maids taught her to read and write, taught her to recite scripture, and taught her how to pray to the Emperor.

She learned quickly because she genuinely loved all of this.

She truly believed the Emperor was the savior of humanity, and truly believed that serving the Emperor was life's highest glory.

As she grew older, her devotion grew ever more unshakeable.

She donned the robes of a Battle Sister, began attending Ecclesiarchy rituals, and began helping those more unfortunate than herself.

She shared her food with the poor, gave her clothes to orphans, and used her time to comfort the sick.

All of this took place under the arrangement of the Watt Family, solely to cultivate a devout believer.

Until one day, a man clad in ornate robes found her.

"Child, the God-Emperor has chosen you," that man said, his tone solemn and sacred. "The God-Emperor's angels require your service. Are you willing?"

Her eyes instantly filled with tears of agitation.

"I am willing," she fell to her knees. "I am willing! This is the greatest honor of my life!"

Then came the process of cooking.

She lay upon a platform covered in intricate patterns and filled with religious significance. A chef draped in robes and wearing a devout expression stood beside her, holding a sharp knife in hand.

"Congratulations," the chef said. "Your body shall be sacrificed to the angels, and your soul shall return to the embrace of the God-Emperor."

She nodded, closed her eyes, and began to pray.

O God-Emperor, please accept my sacrifice. Let my flesh and blood nourish Your angels, and let my soul return to Your side.

The knife fell.

She clenched her teeth, not letting out a single scream of agony.

O God-Emperor... please accept my sacrifice...

Her limbs were severed.

O God-Emperor... please let my flesh and blood nourish Your angels...

Her torso was placed into the oven.

O God-Emperor... please let my soul return to Your side...

She prayed the entire time, never stopping. Even in the most excruciating pain, there was no fear on her face, for she deeply believed she was doing a great and righteous thing.

She went to her grave without ever knowing the truth.

She did not know that the man who said "the God-Emperor has chosen you" was a retainer of the Watt Family.

She did not know that the news of "angels needing her service" was a lie fabricated by Valen to please Huron.

She did not know that her entire life—her education, her faith, her devotion—was merely "ingredients" meticulously cultivated by the Watt Family.

She only knew that she was going to serve the angels.

She only knew that she was doing a great thing.

She died with a smile upon her face.

"Excommunicate Traitoris! Kill without quarter!"

Huron's roar carried hysteria, like a Gretchin stepped on the toe.

He lunged fiercely toward Valen at the side, and amidst Valen's bewildered gaze, he punched his head apart.

Corian at the side immediately raised the heavy bolter in his hands, reducing the dazed guards all around into mists of blood.

The remaining four Terminator veterans began pushing forward into the remaining rooms, grinding every obstacle and enemy along their path into powder.

Corian glanced at Huron, who was rampaging wildly and had nearly lost his mind in the hall, and issued combat orders to the First Company outside the mansion: "Immediately clear out the Watt Family guards, blockade the surrounding main traffic arteries, and do not let a single person escape."

The idle First Company received the order and immediately poured out of the Rhino Transport in a stream, opening fire on the unsuspecting guards all around.

Some automated turrets attempted to counterattack, but were directly destroyed by anti-armor rockets refitted extra onto the Rhino Transport.

In a mere ten-odd minutes, the entire Watt Family was thoroughly suppressed, and even the permissions for the master-control AI of the family estate fell into the hands of the Astral Claws.