*The Indomitable.*
Mortarion stood on the observation deck. The dim shadows of the room enveloped the Lord of Death. In the distance, the Galaspian galaxy appeared as a bright speck, slowly floating in the vastness of space.
Silence reigned, but Mortarion knew the people on that planet were wailing.
It was a completely twisted realm.
The ruling Knights of Galaspia brutally oppressed their subjects.
The main planet's sky was shrouded in smog from chemical factories. Rivers flowed with murky chemical concoctions. The people murmured in the lower nests, their senses dulled and dominated by drugs. They were numb, submissive.
The minor rulers underwent modifications, their arms fitted with instruments of torture. They were injected with different chemicals to keep them aggressive and combative.
Above these drugged and tormented masses were the carefree elite rulers.
They merely had to stay safe in their upper nests, occasionally reviewing data from the middle and lower nests. If today's tea wasn't to their liking, they'd execute all the tea makers.
The tyrannical Knights lounged in their paradise, confident that no one could challenge their position.
Outside the main planet, countless subsidiary planets were modified. Massive anti-invasion systems were installed, and enormous turrets and torpedo storages filled every planet's orbit.
It was a heavily fortified, nearly impregnable star system.
Even though this civilization lacked long-range travel technology, they didn't need it. They were content to lie safely and warmly here.
Thus, they declined the Empire's invitation.
The Empire's pioneer ships sent for exploration were shot down.
However, the fearful weren't just them.
The Imperial Army's bureaucrats shelved the idea of attacking Galaspia.
A blockade was their suggestion.
The reason being that the Empire didn't have enough forces in this sector. The other two legions were battling the Orcs.
In their simulations, the Galaspian campaign would be a prolonged tug-of-war. The Empire would need to surround the galaxy and slowly tear apart its defenses.
Absurd.
That was Mortarion's conclusion.
Tyrants ran rampant, humans wailed. Except for racial differences, the ruling class of Galaspia was no different from Barbarus.
Judgment had concluded.
Mortarion coldly gazed at the distant Galaspian galaxy.
Let fate and death walk hand in hand.
He would deliver their verdict of death.
Let the Death Guard end it all.
*Planet Sigma-373.*
Hades peeked out from the shuttle like a timid chubby rat.
Gold stood outside the shuttle, a question mark displayed on his screen, awaiting their second expedition.
In the distance, the first batch of Ecclesiarchy troops had reached the city, beginning their search and exploration.
Sonic scans revealed underground food storage chambers, devoid of robed wraiths.
Simple protective barriers were placed around the black obelisk plaza by the Ecclesiarchy, awaiting further study by the sages.
Except for the atmospheric changes preventing shuttles from ascending and the unknown fleet that might have received their distress signal, everything proceeded like a typical planetary archaeological mission.
No enemies, no magic, no large weapon caches. The planet's armament remained at a regional level.
Only the agricultural system, with its food-laden carts, continued its pre-programmed tasks.
Had Hades been overly cautious?
After seeing those eerie records, Hades had promptly retreated, relying on drones and the Ecclesiarchy for updates.
He re-examined the village's information and consulted Sage Kirkland.
Their conclusion was that this was a typical civilization involved in psychic research.
Throughout human history, many Golden Age civilizations had delved into psychic matters, some even more extreme than this.
Yet, Hades had a lingering question: Why was Ruebo, the Untouchable, promoting "psychic energy"?
Lost in thought, Hades was roused by Sage Kirkland, who, in a rare moment of clarity, patted Hades' shoulder with his longest appendage.
"It's normal," Kirkland said. "I've seen civilizations upload their wills to wetware, only to perish. Others became obsessed with simulated companions, leading to low birth rates and extinction. Some rulers controlled entire civilizations with virtual personas, creating a void of faith, leading to their downfall."
Hades pondered. Regardless of the oddities, reality was reality.
The current situation was that no threats had been identified, except for Hades' own suspicions.
According to Sage Kirkland, the atmospheric anomalies would soon dissipate.
Had he overthought things?
After triple-checking the Ecclesiarchy's data for threats, Hades decided to visit the obelisk plaza.
This time, Sage Kirkland would accompany him.
*■■, ■■.*
"Save... save us."
Weak moans echoed in the dark underground, filled with decay.
"Oh, child, hush."
The Rotbringer emerged from a pool of liquid.
Decaying flesh formed from a mass of human bodies.
"He's here," the Rotbringer murmured.
From the moment the one forsaken by the Benevolent Father set foot on this planet, the Rotbringer had secured victory.
He couldn't escape.
Carefully laid bait, amassed sacrifices, at the weak junction between subspace and the physical universe.
Eradicate existence, delay time.
The Benevolent Father would appreciate the Rotbringer.
The screw of fate was about to be removed, and destiny would continue seamlessly on its predetermined path.
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