As the sky gradually darkened, the convoy rumbled down rubble-strewn streets, their headlights tearing through the gloom to illuminate the path ahead.
The horrific scale of the massacre was laid bare.
Corpses carpeted the ground, stacked so thick there was barely anywhere to drive.
Abandoned vehicles were riddled with deep claw marks and melted completely through by Tyranid bio-acid.
The husks of buildings continuously belched thick black smoke into the sky, their foundations cratered by heavy artillery fire.
Everywhere they looked, swarms of Ripper bugs skittered about, squeaking incessantly as they eagerly devoured the flesh of the dead to reclaim biomass for the Hive Mind.
Even though the war was technically far from over, the Tyranid consumption phase of the planet had already begun.
Grotesque, living alien structures were rapidly sprouting from the earth, and massive digestion pools bubbled menacingly with highly toxic acid.
“Forefather, General, we just received a distress signal.
It’s from Bishop Barachiel.” As the convoy reached a relatively wide street, the vox-operator reported the finding to Vane and Dhrost, handing over a datapad.
“Bishop Barachiel?
I thought he died alongside Abraxas.
I never expected him to still be alive.” Bishop Barachiel had led a host of Ministorum missionaries to the Cryptus System, deploying alongside the Kasrkin Stormtroopers of the 11th Kappic Eagles commanded by Abraxas.
When the Hive Mind launched its all-out offensive, the defensive lines shattered, positions were overrun, and all communication between regiments was completely severed.
The last confirmed report Dhrost had received stated that Abraxas had his head blown clean off by a Zoanthrope’s psychic blast.
He naturally assumed Barachiel had perished as well.
Who would have guessed he actually survived?
“Forefather,” Dhrost turned to Vane, “Can we divert to reinforce Bishop Barachiel?” “You kids really are a piece of work.” Vane nodded.
“Let’s go see what’s happening.
If we can help, we’ll help.” Dhrost gave a respectful nod, quickly keyed his vox-bead, and ordered the drivers to change course, heading straight for the coordinates listed in the distress signal.
Bishop Barachiel and his surviving followers were trapped inside the largest cathedral in Hive Phodia.
A massive Tyranid swarm was relentlessly assaulting their position, trying to consume them entirely.
But as soon as Vane’s convoy arrived, the Tyranid swarm instantly receded like a fading tide, vanishing without a trace.
Clearly, the previous brutal engagement had taught the Hive Mind exactly how utterly broken Vane was.
Even if it didn’t retreat, it mathematically could not stop him from saving the humans.
Rather than uselessly burning through more biomass, it was better to cut its losses and wait.
Once it finished bio-engineering the perfect counter-units and tactics, it would return to wipe these damned humans off the face of the galaxy once and for all.
Once the perimeter was secure, the colossal blast doors of the grand cathedral groaned open amid the grinding of heavy machinery.
Crusaders of the Ecclesiarchy, armed with power swords and storm shields, marched out in a tight defensive formation, escorting three heavy armored transports laden with sacred relics.
Standing atop the lead transport was a man clad in flowing liturgical robes and a towering mitre.
His entire body and face were heavily tattooed with litanies of prayer, and his eyes burned with an absolute, fanatical devotion to the God-Emperor.
Two silent Crusader monks flanked him, gripping heavy flamers, while a wretched horde of ragged zealots followed behind the convoy, clutching crude, makeshift weapons.
“General Dhrost, my congregation and I owe you our deepest gratitude.” “Praise the God-Emperor!
That He would send you here is absolute proof that our sacred duty is not yet complete.
We shall continue to offer everything we have in His divine name!” Bishop Barachiel declared, his voice trembling with religious fervor.
“Don’t thank me.
If you want to thank someone, thank him.” Dhrost took a step back, gesturing toward Vane to introduce him to the survivors.
“This is our Forefather, born forty thousand years ago.
It is solely due to his intervention that we managed to survive the Tyranid pursuit.” “A Forefather born forty thousand years ago?” Barachiel scrutinized Vane with narrowed, judgmental eyes.
His immediate instinct was that this man was a filthy heretic who had somehow deceived the loyal General Dhrost.
Burn him.
We must burn him at the stake immediately.
“We also questioned the Forefather’s identity at first, but he truly demonstrated the miraculous might of humanity’s Golden Age of Technology and single-handedly repelled the Tyranid swarm,” Dhrost interjected smoothly, instantly reading the Bishop’s fanatical intentions.
“In short, whatever doubts you have in your heart must wait until this crisis is resolved.” Catching the underlying warning in General Dhrost’s tone, Barachiel gave a stiff nod.
“Praise the Emperor.
All is according to His divine design.” The situation is dire, so I’ll let it slide for now.
But once this is over, I will personally subject this heretic to the most rigorous Inquisition.
The absolute second I prove his heresy, he is going straight onto the pyre.
Vane completely ignored their exchange.
His attention was fully captivated by a massive golden idol of the God-Emperor guarded by the Crusaders.
Steve, go touch that shiny golden statue.
Vane issued the command telepathically.
No one could see Steve, the Stand.
Following Vane’s order, Steve slipped right past the Crusaders, clambered up onto the relic transport, and reached out to touch the idol.
[Congratulations!
New Crafting Recipe Unlocked: Idol of the God-Emperor] An Idol of the God-Emperor?
What the hell does this thing even do?
Reading the prompt, Vane opened his crafting menu and clicked on the newly unlocked entry.
[Crafting Requirements: 2x Stone Blocks, 2x Gold Blocks, 1x Bones of a Devout Believer.] Vane definitely had the stone and gold.
As for the bones of a devout believer…
Vane shifted his gaze to the transport loaded with holy relics.
Steve, scan the cargo.
Steve rapidly sifted through the transport, discovering various sacred relics like holy shrouds and shattered lances.
Among them was a solid gold sarcophagus containing the skeletal remains of a revered Imperial Saint.
Wait…
this guy was a Tzeentch cultist?!
Reading the system’s item description for the remains, Vane was absolutely speechless.
Just how fundamentally broken is the Ecclesiarchy to accidentally canonize a literal Chaos worshipper of Tzeentch as a Living Saint?!
But honestly, given the Ecclesiarchy’s track record, getting secretly corrupted by Chaos wasn’t even surprising.
They routinely sent loyalist troops on suicide missions, actively sabotaged the Imperium’s internal strength, completely brainwashed the citizenry with religious dogma, and ruled the entire Imperium through rivers of blood and tyrannical religious oppression.
If this were any other fantasy adventure story, the Ecclesiarchy would flawlessly fit the role of the primary antagonist faction.
Sitting right next to the golden sarcophagus was a small shrine made of bone.
The system tooltip identified it as being crafted from the “Bones of a Devout Believer.” A Chaos cultist gets to be a Saint, while a truly devout believer gets turned into crafting materials.
You really had to hand it to the Warhammer universe—the grimdark irony never missed a beat.
“Absolutely rotten to the core,” Vane muttered under his breath.
He ordered Steve to silently yoink the bone shrine into his inventory to craft the Idol of the God-Emperor.
Upon confirming the craft, a three-meter-tall golden statue of the God-Emperor, resting on a solid stone base, materialized out of thin air right in front of everyone.
The sudden appearance instantly broke everyone’s brains.
How did a literal statue of the God-Emperor just pop into existence out of thin air?!
It even has a glowing golden halo!
Completely ignoring the awestruck crowd, Vane tapped the statue.
Three options popped up: [Enchant], [Bless], [Summon].
Big E, your statues can literally hand out divine blessings now, and you still have the audacity to claim you aren’t a god?!
Roasting the Emperor internally, Vane clicked [Enchant].
A prompt appeared, offering a single application of the ‘Smite’ enchantment.
He selected the sword currently in his hand.
The moment he clicked confirm, the alloy broadsword violently erupted in golden flames.
A split second later, the blade physically transformed, turning as black as midnight ink.
Uh…
a Black Sword?!
So Sigismund truly was the Emperor’s chosen champion!
Checking the Black Sword’s stats, Vane realized the ‘Smite’ enchantment applied a massive damage multiplier against demons or any Warp-based entity.
Alright, let’s see what this blessing does.
Vane moved to the next option and clicked [Bless].
In the very next second, the Idol of the God-Emperor radiated a blindingly brilliant light.
Ethereal, impossibly grand, and holy choirs echoed from the skies.
A pillar of pure, divine golden light crashed down from the sky, bathing Vane entirely in its holy radiance.
Bishop Barachiel was so utterly terrified by the sheer magnitude of the divine manifestation that his teeth literally chattered.
“A-A-A…
A Living Saint!!” I…
I actually just plotted to burn a Living Saint at the stake?!
I am the heretic!