Horst raised his right hand and placed a clean rag over the face of an imperial statue.

Patiently and meticulously, he gently rubbed the surface of the statue with his hands, wiping away dust or unlikely stains. The candle flame flickered behind him, and the dense rain crashed against the stained-glass window overhead, creating a monotonous noise.

The vicinity of the church was so quiet that there was not a single sound of rain to be heard, which was very different from the night of the brutal slaughter.

Like Horst's hands at this moment, who can connect the hands that reverently wipe the idol with the hands of the blood-stained butcher?

If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, no one would have believed that this priest could have such a masterful killing skill.

But facts are facts, unchangeable, and as unforgiving as time – in the slow passage of time, Horst has done his job.

He wiped every idol clean, except the largest one. He didn't even try it, he just put away the rags and bucket and carried them into the back room.

Ten minutes later, as midnight in Litatra fell quietly in the rain, Horst also walked out dressed in black.

At this time, the idol had changed its appearance, and the closed-eyed emperor wearing a laurel crown had disappeared, leaving only a ghost wearing a hood and a vague face. Horst walked over to the pulpit, put on his hood as well, and took out two straight knives that shone silver from his bosom.

He slowly raised his hands, the blades clinging to each other, sliding heavily with his strength. Sparks burst out, and the sound of tooth-aching metal grinding continued.

Horst slowly closed his eyes, his hands bruised, but the blades were firmly pressed together, crossed over.

In an instant, an indescribable darkness enveloped the entire church, and the cold wind gusted, and Horst's face was covered with frost in an instant. His eyes were still closed, and he held the blade in his hand aloft as if he were holding a torch. I don't know how long it took for this cold wind to pass away.

Then, an ethereal voice sounded slowly in the darkness.

"Nice to meet you, Horst."

Horst slowly opened his eyes and saw a phantom who was also dressed in black and wearing a hood, and he also had two sharp blades in his hands, but he didn't raise them. It was pitch black all around them, except for the blade in their hands that glowed with silver light, illuminating the path around them and beneath them.

"Me too, Malgonte." Horst nodded at him and lowered his hands. "How's the situation with Nostramo?"

"The same old thing, my friend. We're still fighting the endless vengeful cults, releasing the water and transferring the prisoners to other sectors. You get the idea. ”

The man known as Malgant seemed to smile, but the smile was bitter.

He let out a long sigh: "Honestly, sometimes, I really want to tell them the truth. ”

Horst couldn't help but chuckle, "If you do, I think Lord Savitarion will skin you." ”

"Whatever he wants, our esteemed lord has been annoyed by bugs lately, and he doesn't like anyone. I've heard him lash out in his office more than once. ”

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't like anyone, that's why. He even got into a fight with a servant the other day, and the poor machine was kicked so hard that it was almost scrapped, only to be carried by our lord to the technical sergeants."

"It's not quite his style." Horst replied thoughtfully.

At this, Margant only scoffed.

"Come on, you've never seen him at all. If it weren't for the connection between the fragments and the idol that allowed us to communicate across the galaxy at midnight, you wouldn't even know who he was. However, according to my post-mortem investigation, the servant was not wronged. ”

"What did it do?" Horst asked.

Malgante replied coldly: "There was a problem with its procedure, and a chair was determined to be industrial waste that needed to be destroyed." ”

Horst was silent for a moment, deciding not to explore the story behind the incident.

He has been a redresser for twenty years, and he knows very well that there are some things that are better not mentioned at all, so that it is better for everyone.

Apparently aware of this, Malgante quickly digressed the subject and began to talk about an Astarte warband that was relatively new to the current Empire

Well, let's call it a warband.

"The Ultramarines have been doing a good job on the front lines lately, and they've taken back eleven worlds from the bugs—"

As he spoke, Malgaunt suddenly shook his head, looking sad.

—they still stubbornly use their original names, but, I'll be honest, these worlds are dead. No, more thoroughly than dead. The world that has been visited by bugs has nothing left, not even the rocks are full of holes. ”

Horst listened in silence and said nothing.

There are many horrors in the galaxy, and no matter which one of them, it is not friendly to humans. However, even if you look at the big picture, it may be difficult to find a terrifying race that is more difficult to describe than the Zerg.

They appeared at the far end of the Ghoul Star Sector and at the edge of the Five Hundred Worlds of Otlama two thousand and one hundred years ago, and when they appeared, they shocked the Empire. Even Chaos Pollution would never cause such serious damage to the planet as these terrible bugs.

However, for the vast majority of the Imperials, they had never heard of such a monster. Although Horst had heard of it, he had never seen it, and most of the credit for this credit went to the Ultramarines.

Led by Robert Killiman, they turned the five hundred worlds of Otlama into an impregnable joint fortress, resisting the Zerg for more than 2,000 years when the spark's brilliance weakened to illuminate them anymore

This is an absolute feat.

After all, their support is pitifully small compared to other theaters. But there is no way to do this, who has let the brilliance of the star torch keep weakening? Navigating subspace in a place where the light of the torch is not visible is a complete fantasy.

The Empire sent troops to support them countless times over the course of two thousand years, and in the first three hundred years, not a single fleet managed to arrive. In desperation, Machado, the palm sealer, had to find another way. It was at that time that the non-existent organization of the Avengers was established.

Following fragments of black armor lost among the stars, a rudimentary but fairly stable intergalactic communication network was established. Since then, according to the wishes of the bearers, there have been many more factions within the state religion that should not have existed.

They read the classics and were religious, but the most religious of them usually did not come into the public eye. Either they go to some obscure world to serve as priests, or they set off with a support fleet on a long voyage.

One of the more interesting things is that they tend to take on the somewhat odd role of deputy navigator as a priest

"What's new over there?" Margant asked.

He gave Horst a long time to think about, which didn't happen very often given his character. Horst was grateful for this, so he decided to tell a good story.

"This piece of debris I'm guarding has come to life." The priest said slowly.

Margant's hands shook violently, and when he spoke again a few seconds later, his voice had become very strange.

"What do you say?"

"This fragment I guarded has come to life."

The priest repeated again, but his companion still stood there as if he didn't understand, and didn't respond.

"Do you understand Gothic, Margant?" Horst smiled triumphantly. "Or do I have to change to Nostramo to talk to you?"

Margaunt finally let out a sigh of relief.

You'd better not." He spoke slowly, with a very clear warning in his voice.

"The Nostramo are not allowed to use it now, this is a death order from Lord Sevitalyon, you better not disobey it, or I promise he will have someone go over and hang you on the idol."

Horst smiled, very distinctly.

"I'm okay, Margonte. And, if he comes, maybe he'll meet the venerable Shen, the Shadow Knight has a squad stationed on the Litatra, and they've only been here for a few days. I've heard the story between them, how beautiful it is to be reunited after a long absence, what do you think? ”

Margant was silent for half a minute before asking the next question: "Have you read those books?" ”

"Nope."

"And do you know Sigismund?"

"I've never heard of this person." Horst replied quickly. "I don't know anything, Margunte, those are forbidden books, how could I have read them?"

"Come on, what about the rest of you bastard? Why haven't they come yet? ”

"Because of jet lag, Margunte." Horst sighed. "You don't need to take such a topic if you want to change the subject, right? It seems like you're very uneducated, you know? ”

"You bastard!" Margant cursed and raised the knife in his hand. It wasn't to threaten Horst or decide to beat him up, but simply to light up the surroundings.

Horst accepted the curse and raised the knife in his hand. Together, they walked deeper into the darkness, sparkling silver light wafting in the distance

Horst knew that the others would arrive soon, so he decided to seize the time to do something.

He spoke softly, "You know, I've got a successor. ”

"Who?" Margaunt asked in the same soft voice.

"An investigator." Horst said. "He's very talented. Also, what should be done after the fragments are active? ”

"I don't know." Margant, who had been a vengeer for two hundred and twenty-four years, sighed and replied.

"You don't know?"

"Of course I didn't know, this was the first rejuvenating fragment, Horst. How did you do that? Have you confirmed all the signs left in Conrad Coetze's Book of Prophecy? ”

"I've confirmed it all." Horst said. "It all matches."

"Well, we'll have to wait." Margant said.

They stopped talking, just raised the blades in their hands and walked slowly through the darkness.

(End of chapter)