The Emperor’s Angel of Death

In the tunnels of the Sagan main star hive, an extended, six-wheeled, bulletproof, high-end black sedan sped along. Its black paint job, coupled with gold trim, exuded an inexplicable sense of extravagance. The star-army insignia on its hood indicated its belonging to a high-ranking military figure.

Along the way, all checkpoints unconditionally opened for it, and it ascended rapidly, soon reaching the very top of the hive city. It entered the most prosperous section of Sagan's thick atmosphere, amidst magnificent and intricately designed towers and artistically unique residences. Many well-dressed men and women, some in uniforms, others in military attire, strolled along the wide, clean streets, accompanied by entourages of bodyguards and burdened servitors. They walked with confidence and pride. Cleaning robots and service servitors were ubiquitous. Elegant music played in the enormous glass-structured shopping centers, and exquisite clothing and glittering luxury goods were displayed in five- to six-meter-high display windows. The towering electronic billboards featured fewer recruitment ads from the Department of Military Affairs and the Department of Justice, and fewer warning signs, replaced by exaggerated commercial advertisements and propaganda from the Ecclesiarchy.

Looking up, one could see the massive, sparking probe towering at the highest point of the hive, surrounded by a ring of giant disks slowly rotating around it. It was not only a massive signal transceiver but also a generator and early warning system for the giant void shield protecting the entire top hive.

As the sedan drove along, the densely packed buildings on both sides of the road reflected the division of class and history within this hive city. Anyone witnessing the prosperity, beauty, and vibrancy here would find it hard to imagine that the desolate wasteland tens of thousands of meters below, teeming with mutated beasts, mutants, madmen, violence, chaos, and poverty, existed in the same space.

After driving for half an hour, the sedan arrived at an archway surrounded by a towering alloy wall. Guards in full body armor approached the passenger seat, while automated turrets and armed servitors locked onto the vehicle.

A moment later, the window lowered slightly, and a small card was handed out by a pair of powerful, thick fingers. The guard took it and scanned it on a scanner on his chest, then stood at attention and saluted. He returned the card with both hands and turned to wave.

The gate slowly opened, and the sedan drove inside.

If the outside was a prosperous, dreamlike city, then this inside was truly a paradise on earth. Lush vegetation was everywhere, with flowerbeds and parks adorned with flowers and sculptures. One could even see various beautiful insects dancing in the air, and pure, living water gushing from marble fountains, with various brightly feathered birds landing in them to clean their feathers.

In most underhives, clean, unpolluted pure water would be valuable enough to be used as a universal currency.

After driving for more than ten minutes along tree-lined avenues, the sedan encountered a second checkpoint. There were even more guards here, and small probes slid under the car, seemingly scanning every inch of it.

Two minutes later, the sedan was allowed to pass, but it was followed by two servo-skulls.

It finally stopped in front of a huge manor gate. Through the electrified metal grilles, one could see large expanses of lawn, a winding stream flowing through it, and lifelike artificial hills. Guards stood at the gate and around the walls, but their equipment and insignia were different—silver-gray armor and a crossed-sword symbol indicated they were from the Chapter Serfs of the Star Knights.

The car door slid open, and Zorg, wearing a gray suit, a black coat, and a top hat, stepped out from the back seat, followed by his “wife,” Thorns, wearing a wine-red evening dress, a wide-brimmed hat, and an expensive fur stole, with crystal high heels on her feet.

As the two walked towards the gate, it opened automatically.

A silver servo-skull floated in the air, then turned and wobbled away.

The two followed the servo-skull along a pebble-paved path into the exquisite Longevity Hall. During this time, Zorg also caught sight of some slender, graceful maids. Although they were disguised, he used his psychic talent to see at a glance that they were not human, but Eldar.

After entering the Longevity Hall, the two were led to a reception room.

It was a strange mix of military simplicity and baroque luxury. The walls and floors were pure gray marble, but in the center of the room was a magnificent large mahogany desk, piled high with neat documents. On the wall behind it hung a magnificent painting depicting the final battle of the Great Crusade in the Maelstrom, where the Imperium triumphed over the aliens. At the center of the painting was the heroic Sanguinius, depicted as a figure shining with the light of the Emperor, raising his sword and leading the final charge into the aliens' destroyed fortress walls.

It was so magnificent and spectacular, but to Zorg, it was far less important than the figure sitting in front of it.

Wearing a silver-gray uniform, Sorshyan sat in the chair behind the desk with his back to the two, seemingly looking at the painting. Beside him was the tall Veronica, wearing a string of pearls and a crescent-shaped gem around her neck. Today, she was wearing a beautiful light blue dress, with a white fabric over her upper body. Her hair was pulled back high, and her delicate and beautiful face also had a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, which made her look more quiet and refined.

After a moment, Sorshyan turned around, his eyes sweeping over the two.

"Sit down."

"Thank you, Chapter Master."

Zorg and Thorns then sat on the sofa behind them.

"You two have worked hard during this time. The expeditionary force has been busy eliminating the enemy's main forces, but Huron has infiltrated the Maelstrom for many years, and his influence permeates every level. It is not enough to rely solely on the military and law enforcement agencies. In a sense, the enemies you have eliminated may be more than those eliminated by some Space Marine chapters."

As a maid placed tea on the coffee table in front of him, Zorg nodded to thank her, then turned back to Sorshyan and said modestly:

"I'm just doing what I can. I wouldn't dare take credit."

"Credit is credit. There's no need to be modest. The style of the military is to clearly distinguish between rewards and punishments."

Sorshyan looked at him intently.

"Zorg, there are two gifts for you to choose from. First, you return to the Chapter. In the future, you will receive the treatment of a senior Chapter serf. Everything about your past will be erased. You can live like a normal person. I will no longer have you perform any intelligence missions. You can even choose a new name and a new identity. Second, you continue to stay in the Maelstrom. Everything you have created will be yours, but you will still be Zorg. Do you understand my meaning?"

Zorg was silent for a moment, then nodded.

Sorshyan then smiled:

"You can think about it first."

Then he turned his gaze to Thorns.

"There is also something about you, Thorns."