Sahar barely managed to open his eyes in a disgusting whirlwind. He wanted to vomit, but he couldn't vomit anything.

He knew what the uncomfortable feeling could come about—if the prognosis was bad after an anesthetic operation, it would be when he woke up, even if it wasn't for Astarte—even if he hadn't felt it in a long time.

What he meant was that a bad prognosis after surgery (if the ones he had gone through were anything to count) was common, but he hadn't used anesthetics in a long time.

In any case, it was a long-lost feeling for him, but he couldn't tell at once whether it was good or bad. He quickly made out that he was being forced to kneel on a rough stone floor, and that the power armor had been removed at all. Probably out of ethical necessity, he was wrapped in a robe or rag that had no function at all, including warmth, and his neck and limbs were confined by heavy metal shackles.

A bad thing, but not unacceptable. There was a dull ache all over his body, as if in a time he didn't know it, his whole being had been cut open and turned inside out—but it seemed like a good thing, because he felt a lighter feeling in his body than he had ever felt in his shell, aside from the pain that was completely negligible to Astarte.

Of course, this may also be because the effectiveness of the anesthesia has not completely faded. Sahar did, however, see some of the cuts and sutures that had fallen on his old wounds, and felt them heal rapidly under Astarte's restorative power, and the muscles were gradually returning and filling his body with the subtle touch.

The light in the environment was dim, but that wasn't an obstacle to a child of the night, even if he wasn't born from the star of the night in Nostramo, just like his original body. Sahar looked around cautiously and quietly, but unfortunately, he saw nothing but the dark, damp dungeon that looked like a natural cave had been carved out. Such a cell is too rudimentary and unremarkable to be found on any planet controlled by the Empire or not controlled by the Empire, and he is completely unable to locate his possible coordinates.

Did the old witch come up with any new tricks? Or did he encounter something else? Sahar used a bit of his brain power as he looked around, trying to remember what had happened before he lost consciousness. It's not easy, at least until the anesthetic is all metabolized. He recalls all sorts of things, but they are full of irrational logic and colorful illusions, and it's hard to find the really meaningful parts from them.

But beyond that, it's possible to make simple logical judgments just by looking at the environment. Sahar soon discovered that everything in the cell was fixed to the walls, and at first glance there seemed to be no tools at his disposal, and the only exit to the outside world was an iron door directly across from him. He tried to break free from the locks that bound him, but undoubtedly failed. First of all, the man who locked him here must have had a good understanding of Astarte's physiology, because in the process of struggling he found himself fixed in a position that was difficult to exert force; Secondly, there is obviously something unusual about these restrictions on his ironwork.

Sahar was sure that it wasn't even terracotta steel that made these shackles, but they did show a Space Marine, a planetary soldier with a toughness and solidity that the physical properties of iron itself should not have. In the dim light, he gradually noticed that his handcuffs were engraved with some kind of ornament, he didn't know what that meant, but it looked like the rune of a space wolf. A long, long time before he first saw such a thing, he had scoffed at the savage superstitions of the wolves, but now that he was fully aware of psionic and chaotic powers, he felt that it might actually play a role.

But if this is the territory of the space wolf, it is too "pleasant" in terms of temperature. Although he could feel a coldness in this cell that gradually seeped into his bone marrow, it was far from enough to say "difficult". Fenris's cousins apparently had a unique understanding of what was "right to live", and Sahar didn't think he could stay where he was now, nor did he think that the Fenris barbarians had the leisure to modify an ambient temperature that suited him for a traitor like him.

As the minutes passed, he began to be convinced that this was not a new trick on the whim of the Inquisitor. Sahar was not a very popular "guest" on the Inquisition, and he couldn't make sure there wasn't such space on the Shadow Hammer, but he could make sure that Verchak wouldn't limit his mobility with this "gentle" method alone.

The pebble kidney's powerful detoxification power was undoing the effects of the narcotics at an observable rate, and he gradually picked up the logical memory from his cleared thoughts: he had been attacked during an investigative mission, then lost consciousness, and woke up in such an environment. Sahar now has no way of knowing the time, and therefore can't calculate how much time has passed since he lost consciousness, but the thing to do is the same:

He had to find a way to escape. Break free from the shackles, find your power armor, and find a way back to Verchak's black ship.

There is no doubt that his mission failed, and even if he returned, he was only severely punished, and once again he was shackled by the lackeys of the puppet emperor. Michaelia Verchak was not a good boss to get along with, and as an Inquisitor, she was undoubtedly authoritarian, lacking in humanity and basic empathy—and even if she had even the slightest left, she would obviously not squander them on a renegade like the Midnight Lord.

If it were only Sahar himself, after escaping from prison, he would simply grab a flying vehicle and disappear into the vast empire (although whether he could run away is another matter). But the problem is that it wasn't just Sahar himself who fell into Vilchak's clutches.

Mita was still in her hands.

Once the goal has been set, it should be put into action. At the moment, Sahar really didn't have anything around to exploit, but that didn't stop him from starting to implement his own prison escape plan. Admittedly, those who restricted his movement with these chains and shackles were familiar with how Astarte's bones and muscles worked, but alas, they forgot to keep his mouth shut as well - Space Marines don't necessarily need weapons when they want to destroy something, they themselves are designed and built as a weapon for the Emperor.

But, just as he was about to do something with his acidic saliva, the iron door across from him opened just in time.

The light that poured out of the crack in the door stung Sahar's eyes as he adapted to darkness. The discomfort from the change in light didn't last long, but unfortunately not because his visual control organs worked for a short time, but because the door was so small:

It wasn't until he had a clear reference that Sahar realized that the door had clearly been designed with mortals in mind - or perhaps that the designer's intention was to make it uncomfortable to use. The light that flowed through the open iron door was blocked by an Astarte figure in the next instant. Sahar's vision was darkened and his sting was reduced, but he also lost the opportunity to peek into the outside world. He could only watch with a little regret as his interrogator slumped through the small door, threw the iron door back into place with a bang, and straightened up to assess him with a blank face.

The prisoner raised his head fearlessly to meet the comer. Astarte, who had just come in, didn't wear armor either, but at least it looked more like that in the design of the robe. It wasn't very inconspicuous, but Sahar couldn't have noticed the Midnight Lords' Legion logo embroidered on the fabric, and he looked up again, not surprised to see a pair of Nostramo's characteristic dark eyes.

But—wait a minute, he knows the face. Sahar wasn't sure if the face's owner would know him, but he was sure that there was no one in the loosely organized Nightbat Council who didn't know it.

"I advise you not to make any petty moves, I'm pretty sure the sanitation is pretty good on the Storm Border, there isn't and shouldn't be anything here...... Mutant rats that bite out large holes in floors or walls exist. Conrad Coetze's favorite son, Lord of the Black Guards, the well-known Raven Prince in the entire legion, and the first company commander of the Midnight Lord before Thor Sahar, Yago Savitarion, said with a cruel smile that was slightly arrogant, "This is a long-awaited reunion of brothers, and I don't want to make the scene too ugly." ”

There is no doubt that this is a threat. But Sahar just smiled, and then spat on the ground at Sevita's feet.

After all the things he had been through, such a threat could no longer scare him.

——

"So, what did you want to tell me?"

After a long list of explanations, finally explaining what the Chaldeans had done so far, Rika Fujimaru sat down on the benches in the third row of the main hall of the church, resting her head on the back of the chair. It may not be very dignified, but she finds this position to be the friendliest to her cervical spine. On the premise that St. Giles himself did not raise objections, no one else commented on it.

"Can't I see you if I'm fine?" St. Giles' voice sounded a little aggrieved, "I have to thank the person who brought me back to my hometown in person. ”

"Is that all there is to it? I thought you would have something else to complain about. Fujimaru Rika put her hands on her stomach and looked very peaceful, "After all, my current behavior is 'blackmailing the Son of Heaven to order the princes' no matter how you look at it." ”

This allusion was too old to confuse most of the people present, but St. Giles clearly understood:

"If I complained about this, it would be a bit of a shame." He said gently, "Besides, isn't this something we discussed early in the morning in the Star Torch?" You, I, Ferrus, and the Emperor, together we deduced all possible developments and finalized this plan. I am fully aware of what is likely to happen next and accept the risk. ”

"—not to that extent." Rika Fujimaru's crossed fingers pinched each other's palms, and judging by her body movements and tone, she was visibly nervous.

“…… Are you anxious? St. Giles was a little surprised by what he had observed, "This is the first time I've seen you, and I thought you had an idea of the indomitable courage of the sons of Baal." ”

When the "Chaldean Lighthouse" is completed, even if only the "Second Torch" part is successfully built and put into use, it is nothing less than a clear declaration of war on Chaos. While they had plenty of time to turn Baal into a well-defended mill of flesh and blood that would deter any intruding enemy, no one could guarantee that nothing would happen. The dark side of the empire is too far away from the Golden Throne after all, and no one can say what kind of war and damage the demon army will bring to the hometown of St. Giles.

Because of the lack of pre-information, most of the others present were confused except for Fujimaru Rika and Sigismund. However, even the Holy Blood Angels, who had not kept up with the rhythm of the conversation for a while, could understand the praise given to them by the Father of Genes, so they all instinctively produced a reflex movement of holding their chests up and raising their heads at this time.

"Of course I do, and I believe that the Blood Angels can defeat any enemy who comes at them—but this and that are not the same thing." Fujimaru Rika complained angrily, "After this plan begins to advance, once the 'Second Star Torch' is really lit, there will be no turning back for the entire empire - this is a complete gamble on national fortune." It would be nice if the difficulties that might arise in the future could be solved only by victory on the frontal battlefield, but how could chaos only add to the blockage on the frontal battlefield! ”

"So, you're concerned about the potential for damage and contamination of untested technology?"

"What untested technology, there is no untested technology here." Fujimaru Rika continued to pinch her fingers and complain, "As long as I'm still in the day, Chaos can't do this." What I'm worried about is not the lighthouse itself, but the collateral reaction it will inevitably cause: the Star Torch Hall will definitely be reorganized to set up a branch in Baal because of this, and the psionic academy and the Black Ship Alliance will most likely also replan the supply of psionics to all parts of the empire and plan routes, not to mention how much paperwork that can exploit loopholes involved in the above issues, and the 'changes' and 'changes' that can be operated involved in the reorganization of the imperial department are simply innumerable - I strongly suspect that when watching this plan go on, the happiest one is not the emperor, It's Tzeentch! ”

(End of chapter)