Infinite Metaverse

Chapter 26: A Native World

Amidst the bustling noise, Ogotai's hoarse voice stood out as it echoed through the ship's intercom.

"Space Marines, assemble!"

Briefing Room

All the Space Marines were seated, including Fu Qinghai, the newly promoted Astartes. Everyone was clad in their power armour, helmets resting at their waists, ready for action. Their eyes were fixed on the far end of the conference table.

At the head of the table, Ogotai, seated in his wheelchair, wasted no time. He slid back slightly and said, "Captain Adenauer will brief us on the situation."

A middle-aged officer with a black beard and a crisp uniform stepped forward. "Gentlemen, here's the situation."

As he gestured, a holographic projection of a blue-green planet rose from the center of the table.

"We've reached the edge of the Segmentum Solar, in the Lethian Sector. Our coordinates are confirmed. The 'Shortsword' has sufficient energy reserves, but we're running low on other supplies. The damage from previous battles hasn't been fully repaired, and the damage control teams are severely short on materials."

"The nearest planet is this one, designated 09-177."

"I need you to land on this planet, assess the situation, and secure enough supplies for the 'Shortsword'."

Ogotai wheeled forward slightly and cleared his throat. "Planet 09-177 was last updated in the logs as of 2.756.094.M30, during the 9th Expeditionary Fleet's campaign, when the XVIII Legion, the Salamanders, reclaimed this world."

"But that was a long time ago. The Heresy has happened, and we have no idea what the current state of this planet is. So, before we secure supplies, I'm sending a tactical squad to the surface, to the capital city marked as 'Bangalore,' to gather intel."

As Ogotai manipulated the hologram, the planet spun rapidly and zoomed in, revealing a city with a mix of low and high-rise buildings.

"The quartermaster has given the supply list to Taral. Taral will lead this mission and select the team. The rest will remain on the ship."

Captain Adenauer then provided the meager intelligence they had on the planet and the city, some from the ship's logs, some from auspex data.

Finally, Ogotai concluded, "Warriors of the Torguud, I don't know how many of you joined the Legion before the Great Crusade as 'Star Hunters,' but I know the blood of hunters hasn't been lost in the gene-seed. We're not like the Iron Warriors or the Imperial Fists, who can only fight dull, stupid wars. We've long been accustomed to taking supplies from our enemies!"

"Let's move out! If this planet remains loyal to the Imperium, then they'll provide the necessary supplies to the Imperial forces. If they've shamefully bowed to the traitors, then we'll take the supplies from the enemy and bring them destruction!"

The warriors roared in agreement.

After Ogotai's brief speech, Fu Qinghai, who had been selected by Taral, followed the other warriors to the embarkation deck. The deck was as busy as ever, with welding sparks flying and grease-covered mechanics and servitors scurrying about.

In a cleared area, a massive Stormbird awaited. The warriors boarded in an orderly fashion, and the large bay doors opened, revealing the planet below.

***

Inside the Stormbird

As the craft rattled and roared through the atmosphere, Fu Qinghai turned to Taral, seated across from him. "Are we just going straight in?"

Taral smiled. "I know what you're asking. The planet's orbital defenses are down, and the space stations are empty. They haven't responded to our signals. Ogotai thinks they've been 'visited' by another Legion."

Fu Qinghai understood. If the planet was loyal, the visiting fleet must have been a traitor Legion, and vice versa.

Soon, the Stormbird landed, and the Space Marines disembarked quickly through the rear ramp. Fu Qinghai's boots crunched on the soft, damp soil of a tropical rainforest. Leaves crackled underfoot. Fu Qinghai scanned the area through his helmet's visor. The dense jungle surrounded them.

Arbuslan, standing beside Fu Qinghai, took a deep breath. His voice came through the vox: "Even through the respirator, I can feel how humid the air is here."

"Sss… Warriors," Taral's voice crackled over the comms. "To avoid detection by any potential surveillance in the city, our landing site is 30 kilometers from Bangalore. Now, follow me, maintain tactical formation, and move out!"

The White Scars adjusted their formation and followed Taral into the jungle.

***

The Astartes quickly reached a hillside on the outskirts of the city, where they could see the faint outlines of yellowish buildings in the distance. At this range, the comms remained silent. Taral signaled for the squad to halt and gestured to the Space Marine on his left.

It was a signal to capture a prisoner.

The warrior nodded and led another warrior into the jungle. Fu Qinghai and the others waited.

Soon, the two warriors returned, dragging a thin, dark-skinned old man. The towering Space Marine held the man like a ragdoll, setting him down on the ground. The old man, dressed in tattered clothing, shivered as he looked up at the circle of steel giants surrounding him.

Taral removed his helmet, revealing his weathered face. He spoke in a gentle tone, "Can you understand me?"

The old man nodded fearfully.

"Good," Taral said, pointing toward the distant yellowish buildings. "Is that Bangalore?"

The old man nodded again. "Ba-lo-ja," he repeated, his accent thick.

That must be the local pronunciation of the city's name.

After some questioning, the White Scars learned that most locals were unaware of the 'Shortsword' and the Stormbird's arrival—at least, this old man wasn't. He was just a poor man living in the suburbs. Months ago, a ship carrying "demonic soldiers" like Taral and his men had arrived in Bangalore. They had killed the Imperial officials stationed on the planet and carried out massacres in the city before leaving abruptly.

After hearing the old man's description of the "demonic soldiers," Taral smirked disdainfully. "Those damned bats."

Fu Qinghai nodded. The 8th Legion, the Night Lords, whose emblem was a bat-winged skull with fangs.

If the White Scars were merely unruly, adhering more to their Chogorian customs than Imperial regulations, the Night Lords were outright thugs and criminals. Their actions were cruel and terrifying, devoid of any sense of military honor. They were despised by other Legions.

Even before the Horus Heresy, the Night Lords had committed several horrifying massacres. Their Primarch, Konrad Curze, had been summoned to Terra to answer for these crimes, but the Heresy broke out before he arrived, and Curze joined the rebellion.

The question now was whether the Night Lords' massacres were due to their inherent cruelty or if they had fallen to Khorne, committing slaughter to please the Blood God. If it was the latter, the situation in Bangalore could be more complicated.

Fu Qinghai shook his head. It probably wasn't the latter. If the Night Lords were making sacrifices, not only would the city be gone, but the entire planet would likely be devoid of life. They wouldn't have encountered this old man.

The White Scars also learned that after the Night Lords killed the Imperial officials who refused to submit and carried out a massacre among the locals, they looted some of the planet's resources and left.

Soon after, the planet fractured into multiple warlord-controlled territories. The former royal family, overthrown by the Imperial Expeditionary Fleet long ago, resurfaced, with some claiming to be descendants of the royal bloodline. These individuals had taken control of the capital, Bangalore.

Hearing that the Night Lords were gone and that the city was now controlled by locals, Taral sighed in disappointment. He said to the Astartes, "Let's move out at full speed. Target the building marked on the map. Do not open fire unless I give the order."

The Astartes holstered their bolters and sprinted down the hillside.

The old man was left behind. By the time he returned to the city, it would likely have a new ruler.

Despite maintaining a speed of 50 kilometers per hour, the Space Marines remained composed. With the comms reopened, they even found time to banter.

Arbuslan gazed at the yellowish buildings with their exotic domed roofs and colorful stained glass. "It seems this planet hasn't been reclaimed for long. At least, their cities haven't been fully hive-ified."

A warrior beside him chimed in, "You know, centuries ago, my biggest fear was that Chogoris would turn into a damned hive world."

His voice sounded muffled, accompanied by heavy footsteps, as if a giant were stomping the ground.

Another warrior running beside him scoffed, "Cut the crap, Aron. If you've got time to chat, why don't you think about moving your legs faster? We're moving so slowly because of you."

Aron, the warrior in question, growled, "Screw you! Try wearing this armour! I think you're just jealous I get to wear Terminator armour."

"Funny mud pee…"

The White Scars landing party was a standard tactical squad, small but well-equipped. Among the six were two Assault Marines with jump packs, their power packs significantly larger than Fu Qinghai's, with massive exhaust ports resembling jet engines. There was also a Terminator Astartes in Tactical Dreadnought Armour.

Aron wore the first-generation Terminator armour, recognizable by its canine-like helmet. The armour had thicker ceramite plating, a more complex network of electronic muscle fibers, and a skeleton made of adamantium. The Terminator was significantly taller and broader than a standard Space Marine.

This armour sacrificed agility and speed for enhanced durability and firepower, designed for close combat and heavy assault.

Without the bulky Terminator, Fu Qinghai's squad could have moved even faster.

At the edge of the city, atop a tall spire, a robed soldier with a rifle nudged his companion, pointing at the distant cloud of yellow dust. "What's that?"

The companion turned and gasped in shock, rushing inside to shout into a comms device, "Alert! Armoured vehicles are approaching! Not wheeled vehicles… they're humanoid armoured units! By the Emperor, it's those demons! They're back!"

After a few minutes of full-speed advance, Fu Qinghai could vaguely see the outline of the city walls. He activated his helmet's visual enhancement system, and the scene before him zoomed in and became clearer—an ancient stone wall reinforced with steel, its gates slowly closing, and makeshift barricades being set up.

"Taral" Fu Qinghai said quietly.

"I see it," Taral replied calmly. He then issued orders: "Terminator, take point and breach the gate. Jump pack Marines, flank them. Hold fire for now."

As the Astartes approached the gate, a few stray bullets ricocheted off the ground, pinging harmlessly against their ceramite armour.

The shots seemed more like warnings than actual attacks.

Bullets of this caliber couldn't even scratch the ceramite plating, let alone penetrate it. The Space Marines ignored the shots and continued their advance.

As they neared the gate, the Terminator stepped forward, his massive power fist crackling with blue energy as the power field activated. With a thunderous punch, he smashed through the thick concrete gate.

'Boom!'

Dust and debris flew as the Terminator charged through the breach without slowing down. The makeshift barricades were flattened or shoved aside as the squad followed the Terminator into the city.

Beyond the gate was a wide stone-paved street. The city sprawled across a gentle slope, and Fu Qinghai didn't need a map to find the target building. At the highest point of the city, at the end of the central avenue, stood a structure that clashed with the surrounding yellowish, exotic architecture. It was a strange blend of Gothic aesthetics and industrial modernism, reportedly designed by a famous architect from the Imperial Expeditionary Fleet.

The Imperial Governor's Palace.

The Astartes continued toward the palace. Strangely, the streets of this capital city were eerily quiet. The broad avenues were empty, with only a few pedestrians darting into buildings, peeking out from behind windows with fearful eyes.

Had everyone gone into hiding, or…? Fu Qinghai's heart sank. The Night Lords' slaughter might have been worse than he thought.

With no time to investigate the city's condition, the Space Marines needed to secure the palace quickly.

Along the way, they saw robed soldiers gathering toward the palace, but Taral ignored them. Destroying a city was easy for Space Marines, but controlling it was difficult, especially with only six warriors.

Having them gather in one place made it easier to deal with them.

The majestic Governor's Palace was right in front of them. Two jump pack soldiers quickly moved to both sides, bent their knees and sank their legs. The jet packs behind them burst into a roar. In an instant, raging flames spurted out along with the air flow. The two soldiers ejected into the air, flying high into the sky. One of them landed steadily on the roof balcony, and the other directly smashed the glass window and rushed into the top floor room.

Fu Qinghai and others also drew their guns and followed the Terminator onto the smooth and bright marble steps.

The Terminator walking in the front tore open the beautifully decorated glass door. Before they could see the scene inside, the tactical team was greeted by a storm of lasers and artillery shells.

The super reaction ability granted by the Astartes transformation surgery allowed Fu Qinghai, Taral and others to dodge to the sides the moment they entered the hall, causing a bunch of shells to miss.

Only Aron, wearing tactical dreadnought armor, still stood in the center of the gate, enduring the violent attack. The warheads of the automatic cannon ricocheted golden lines of fire on his solid ceramic steel armor, and he simply raised his arms to block his helmet.

In the center of the hall, in two apparently makeshift shelters, two large-caliber automatic cannons were pouring fire at the Astartes, operated by mortal soldiers with faces full of fear and panic.

"Fire!" Taral gave the order without hesitation. He was never a soft-hearted person, especially since other people's automatic cannons were pointed at his face.

At such a close distance, Arbuslan and Fu Qinghai silenced the two automatic cannons with just two shots. The powerful explosive bombs turned the enemy's gun barrels into a ball of charred and twisted metal, and the gunners became a pool of flesh and blood stuck on the metal.

A large number of mortal soldiers poured out from behind the doors of each room. They shouted loudly and panickily in an unintelligible language. There was neither courage nor fighting spirit on their faces, only fear. They used the weapons in their hands to attack the tactical team in a disorderly manner.

Fu Qinghai noticed that they were holding the standard Lasguns of the Imperium, including the two automatic cannons that had just been scrapped, which were also active weapons of the Astra Militarum.

The scarlet light of the Lasgun hit the power armor, leaving only a charred mark, and was unable to penetrate it at all.

Taral did not open fire, but raised one arm to stop the attack. The loudspeaker on the neck of his armor issued his voice: "Stop, cease fire, we are not your enemy!"

But it was no use. The soldiers fell into great fear and just kept pulling the trigger, as if they couldn't hear what he was saying at all.

A laser hit Taral's helmet directly, causing his senses to be overwhelmed by a burst of static and a cloud of snow in his goggles.

"Damn it." Taral didn't need to aim. He just raised his hand and shot the soldiers down with a few shots based on his memory. "Make them quiet down!"

Fu Qinghai and Arbuslan fired continuously, and in the yellow cross flames that burst out from the muzzles of the grenade launchers, the soldiers were knocked down instantly, and the scene finally quieted down.

"Let's go, control the Governor's Palace, search and check the situation inside, and meet on the top floor in 10 minutes."

Everyone dispersed and searched the rooms one by one.

Fu Qinghai stepped over a tattered corpse, the owner of the corpse still had an expression of fear on his face before death.

Even the threat of death couldn't stop their fear. What on earth were they afraid of... Fu Qinghai thought silently in his heart.

There were only sporadic resistance left in the entire Governor's Palace. The Astartes stopped killing and quickly swept through the entire building.

Ten minutes later, everyone gathered in the large office on the top floor.

Taral stood in front of the large oak desk that had belonged to the planetary governor, but now it was empty.

Taral placed his helmet on the table. He looked around at the warriors who had gained nothing and asked: "Have you found the person in charge?"

The soldiers shook their heads.

Taral's orders were to capture someone who looked like the ruler of the city, but Fu Qinghai only saw soldiers in the building.

"Taral." A voice came from outside the door, and Albuslan came in carrying a fat man in gorgeous clothes.

He threw the fat black man to the floor and said, "This man said that the prime minister and the princess are in the palace behind the mountain."

The fat black man who was thrown to the ground crawled on the ground and cried bitterly, shouting: "Don't kill me... Don't kill me..."

"Prime Minister? Princess?" Taral frowned.

"It may be the so-called restoration force of the previous dynasty." A soldier reminded.

"Shall we go to that palace and capture the so-called prime minister and princess?" asked Arbuslan.

"Well... no rush." Taral said noncommittally, "Qingshan."

Taral turned to look at Fu Qinghai and pointed his finger at a Cogitator that had stopped working beside the oak table.

Fu Qinghai understood, took off his helmet, and half-knelt in front of the machine.

Taral picked up the helmet on the table and put it on. He said, "Everyone else, let's go. Let's go meet the so-called prime minister and see where the gap between him and Malcador lies."

The soldiers chuckled.

Malcador the Sigillite is the second in command of the Imperium of Men, and the third most powerful psyker in the entire Imperium after the Emperor and Magnus the Red.

After everyone left, Fu Qinghai was still tinkering with the Cogitator in the office. After a failed attempt to start it, he opened the outer casing of the Cogitator. A familiar smell of engine oil mixed with preservatives hit him in the face. Fu Qinghai skillfully rummaged through the thick black pipes inside the machine with his hands.

The Cogitator is not a purely mechanical computer. The processor inside the Cogitator is a human brain that has undergone special treatments such as anti-corrosion.

It is a product of the human empire's AI phobia. It can be understood as a special mechanical servant with calculation and modeling capabilities, and is a computer system unique to Warhammer 40K.

During his studies with Magos Kurnos, Fu Qinghai was no longer unfamiliar with this imperial standard computer.

After a while, the machine started up and the Imperial Aquila lit up on the screen.

Fu Qinghai entered the system and started searching. After browsing the planetary resource catalog, strategic reserve warehouse information, tithe collection statistics and other information, Fu Qinghai silently wrote down the data.

At present, White Scar knew too little about this planet. When Fu Qinghai saw a document titled "09-177 Moradigan Governance Memorandum", he opened it and quickly browsed through it, and understood it.

The local name of this planet is Moradigan, a world whose military technology has just reached the level of bolt-action rifles. The dynasty that rules it is also called Moradigan. The royal family of this dynasty is called the Fioris Family. Because they refused to submit to the Human Empire, they were destroyed by the No. 09 Expeditionary Fleet.

It is said that some royal family members are scattered among the people. These so-called "exiled royal family members" have created some insignificant ruling costs for the imperial governor.

After Fu Qinghai checked the box, he began to search the governor's office. The cabinets and drawers were all empty, and it seemed that they had been ransacked long ago.

After finishing his work here, Fu Qinghai quickly rushed to the palace behind the mountain according to the information left by Taral.

The grand palace stood before them, nestled between two hills. Its towering stone columns and domed roofs gave it a Greco-Arabian hybrid style.

Fu Qinghai stepped inside. The vast, brightly lit hall had a high vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate murals. Layers of thin, woven hemp curtains fluttered in the breeze.

In the center of the hall, the White Scars had surrounded a group of richly dressed officials. At their center was an old man with white hair and a beard, dressed in a long white robe. He looked like Plato.

The bald, white-haired old man glared defiantly up at Taral, who towered over him by half a body.

Hearing footsteps, Taral turned to Fu Qinghai. "Did you get it?"

Fu Qinghai nodded. "We have what we need, and the location is clear. But I don't know how much is left after the traitors looted it."

Taral turned back, removed his helmet, and looked down at the old man, who only reached his chest. He spoke in a sincere tone, "Let me emphasize again: though we may look similar to those who came before, we are not the same. We have no intention of slaughtering your people. We only ask for your cooperation."

The old man bristled. "But you just killed three hundred of our soldiers!"

Taral waved his hand dismissively. "That was self-defense. You attacked us first. Now, listen…"

Fu Qinghai had no interest in Taral's political negotiations. He stood to the side, admiring the murals on the ceiling and walls.

The murals seemed to depict a creation myth, unrelated to humanity's true birthplace, Terra.

Unlike the Imperium's preference for heavy, opaque velvet, the locals seemed to favor light, semi-transparent hemp fabrics for their curtains.

As Fu Qinghai admired the artwork, his peripheral vision caught something through a pale red curtain—a section of brick wall retracted, revealing a dark gun barrel and the face of a hooded woman.

Without needing to analyze the trajectory, he knew who the gun was aimed at. Among all the Astartes, only Taral wasn't wearing his helmet.

The moment Fu Qinghai saw the gun barrel, his hand instinctively reached for his holster, but it was too late. Time seemed to slow as he saw the muzzle flash and imagined Taral's head exploding like a watermelon.

'Bang!'

'Clang!'

The expected head explosion didn't happen. Taral stood still, not even turning his head. He simply raised his hand, blocking the bullet with his black gauntlet. The round sparked off the ceramite and ricocheted away.

Fu Qinghai exhaled in relief. The planet's primitive weapons couldn't penetrate Astartes armour. Seeing her shot miss, the assailant quickly retracted the gun and disappeared into the wall.

Taral, having just pulled off a small feat, glanced at Fu Qinghai expressionlessly.

Fu Qinghai nodded in understanding and sprinted into the dark corridor behind the hall.

Taral's glance had been a warning: 'Don't lose focus on the battlefield.' Fu Qinghai had let his guard down, thinking the situation was under control, and had been distracted by the palace's exotic decor. But on the battlefield, one could never afford to be careless.

Another lesson learned.

Watching Fu Qinghai disappear into the dark corridor, Taral looked down at the old man with a hint of mockery. "That foolish assassin… she wouldn't happen to be your princess, would she?"

The old man closed his eyes in despair.

After a moment, as if reaching a decision, the old man opened his eyes and whispered, "Please, don't harm her. I'll comply with your demands."

Taral nodded. "Don't worry. If she really is the princess, Qingshan will know what to do."

Still, to be safe, Taral opened the comms channel and said softly, "Qingshan, the assassin might be their so-called princess. I want her alive."

"Copy that," Fu Qinghai's voice crackled back, accompanied by static.

In the dark corridor, Fu Qinghai slowed his pace, ignoring two panicked maids who fled past him. He pressed his ear to the wall, listening.

Hearing faint sounds, Fu Qinghai leaned against the wall and smashed through it with a crash.

Inside was an even darker passage, with branching tunnels leading in all directions.

Fu Qinghai could only guess the woman's general direction of escape. In the vast palace, he had no idea which secret passage she had taken.

But he wasn't worried. He continued running, listening, and smashing through walls.

Fu Qinghai didn't follow the complex tunnels. Instead, he moved in the general direction he remembered, kicking down doors and smashing through walls. He shattered countless stone walls, creating loud noises that echoed through the winding passages.

Finally, after smashing through another wall, he heard a suppressed gasp of fear.

Fu Qinghai smiled and sprinted toward the sound. In the pitch-black corridor, he heard frantic footsteps and a woman's scream…

A minute later, Fu Qinghai stood calmly by a second-floor window, looking down at the green lawn below. Suddenly, a section of turf and soil was pushed aside, revealing a dark, square hole. A hooded woman in a robe scrambled out, glancing back in terror before stumbling toward the open field.

"Create fear, use fear to drive those in the darkness into the light," a voice sighed beside him.

An Assault Marine with a jump pack had appeared next to Fu Qinghai.

"You know, Qingshan, your methods are quite similar to the Night Lords."

"Is that so?" Fu Qinghai shrugged. "The people of this city are already terrified. Why not use that to my advantage? The means don't matter; the results do. Right, Humar?"

With that, Fu Qinghai pushed open the window and leapt down from the second floor.

The Assault Marine muttered, "Arbuslan was right about you. A cunning and ruthless warrior."

Soon, Fu Qinghai returned, dragging a woman by the arm.

The woman struggled in mid-air, pleading, "Please, don't kill me… please…"

She had a high nose bridge, deep-set eyes with long lashes, and gray-blue irises. Her thick, dark hair and tanned, athletic legs suggested she wasn't a pampered princess.

Life as a fugitive royal must have been tough… Fu Qinghai thought.

He looked straight ahead and said calmly, "If you're so afraid of death, why did you have the courage to shoot at our commander?"

Unexpectedly, the woman stopped struggling. In a voice trembling with hatred and fear, she said, "Because you slaughtered our people! We had already submitted to your rule, but you still tortured them, taking pleasure in cruel punishments, sparing neither the old nor the young!"

Her eyes were filled with fear, humiliation, and resentment, her gray-blue eyes pitiful and pleading.

Just moments ago, she had been so afraid of death. Why was she suddenly so full of righteous anger?

Fu Qinghai found the shift slightly abrupt but didn't dwell on it. He simply said, "I told you, we're not with those who came before. Believe it or not, they killed the Governor we sent here."

He handed the woman over to the Assault Marine waiting at the back of the hall.

The palace's passages were now a mess from Fu Qinghai's rampage. The Assault Marine grabbed the woman and activated his jump pack, soaring over the palace roof.

Fu Qinghai strolled leisurely through the rubble-strewn palace. He knew it would take some time to persuade the old man to cooperate with the Astartes in gathering supplies, so he wasn't in a hurry.

Unconsciously, he wandered into a large room with heavy wooden doors wide open. The room was carpeted, with layers of gauzy curtains hanging around a large bed.

A faint fragrance wafted through the respirator's filters into Fu Qinghai's nose. Looking at the ornate dressing table and wardrobes, Fu Qinghai realized this might be the "princess's" bedroom.

He casually opened a drawer in the dressing table.

Inside was a collection of women's underwear—silk, cotton, hemp… accompanied by a faint soapy scent. The designs were quite varied.

Fu Qinghai calmly closed the drawer.

Driven by some inexplicable curiosity, he opened another drawer. What he found inside made him raise an eyebrow.

Lying in the drawer was an object that had no business being there.

A Swiss Army knife.

***

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