Chapter 843 - 842
"This... doesn’t make sense, does it?" Vulkan grew even more puzzled when he saw the church dome in the distance.
The survivor camp seemed far too wealthy in its construction. Not only did it have a clean and orderly architectural system, they had even built an Ecclesiarchy church?!
He could tell that these buildings were new. They had been completed only recently and still carried the scent of fresh materials.
If the survivors had built houses, he could understand that.
But deliberately building an ornate church at the center of the settlement was absurd.
What kind of survivor camp did that? Even if they wanted to build one, they should not have the ability!
Even if the Salamanders wanted to establish a church like this in a war zone, it would not be easy.
And they certainly could not make it this beautiful.
In truth, the New Imperium had invested a great deal of resources into building these semi-permanent settlements because it was prepared to resist the Black Tide for the long term.
At that moment, the artificial light source gradually dimmed, allowing the residential district to slowly enter night. The church shone brilliantly with lamplight.
"Perhaps this church happened to be completed before the dark disaster arrived, then luckily survived the catastrophe..."
Vulkan’s long-held understanding was being challenged. He could only comfort himself by assuming this was perhaps just a coincidence.
After all, this survivor camp had been built on the remains of some world. It was not impossible.
"My lord, today is the great Savior’s Victory Day. We’ve all been waiting for you to preside over it!" Aulk said excitedly.
Imperial citizens never missed Victory Day. It was a rare moment of rest. Even in a war zone, people would find a chance to celebrate it.
On this day, priests gave blessings to the people and prayed that the Hope Sun would shelter every loyal Imperial citizen.
These were all ordinances recorded in the Redemption Codex. Any being that resisted or slandered Victory Day would receive the appropriate punishment.
A fine, imprisonment, or, in serious cases, even a visit from an Inquisitor.
But no sane Imperial citizen would reject Victory Day. It was a rare holiday, with celebrations, gifts, and wages paid as usual!
"Mm."
Vulkan nodded, not paying much attention.
He did not know who this Savior was, nor did he know what this so-called Victory Day was. None of that was important.
After all, the Imperium spanned the galaxy. It had far too many religious beliefs and leaders, and beings calling themselves saviors were beyond counting.
That Savior was perhaps a local sector’s ecclesiastical leader, likely only on the level of a high-ranking sector noble or planetary governor.
When faced with a primarch, such people would still kneel and offer reverence.
Perhaps these poor people still did not know that their Savior, along with the entire sector, had been destroyed beneath the storm raised by the Dark King.
During the time Vulkan had traveled alone, he had not seen a single surviving planet. Sector capitals and warp-route hubs had all been destroyed.
Those sector governors and nobles had likely been buried along with their worlds.
Besides, if they were in this survivor camp, they would have certainly come out to meet someone who appeared to be a high-ranking Space Marine.
At least so far, everyone Vulkan had seen in this survivor camp had been an ordinary worker or resident.
Some refugees looked rather pale and thin. Malnourished, perhaps?
He saw no trace of high-ranking nobles. Even Aulk was not one. He was only a mortal with some experience and knowledge.
Not only that, there were no signs of an army or guards here either.
That was also one of the reasons Vulkan believed this was a survivor camp. A group of mortals had survived by luck.
They had huddled together for warmth.
And under the guidance of low-ranking Tech-Priests, the workers had used the materials from this shelter to begin building their new home.
"The situation is much better than I imagined. I can protect these mortals more effectively now."
Vulkan thought this over.
This celebration would be a good opportunity for him to speak. It would allow him to naturally take control of the survivor camp.
He was already prepared to put his abilities to use, guard the flame of humanity, and build a new home!
Vulkan stepped around the corner and truly arrived at the church. The joyous atmosphere of the Victory celebration rushed toward him.
He went numb.
Before him stood a magnificent church. A dedicated plaza had been built in front of it, and there was a sacred statue in golden armor that closely resembled the Emperor.
The Lord of the Salamanders mistook the Savior’s sacred statue for a statue of the Emperor. After all, it looked far too similar.
At that moment, the church plaza was already decorated with lanterns and colored banners, bustling with life. Crowds were gathering here one after another.
There were tens of thousands of people in the plaza alone.
More importantly, a bonfire had been lit at the center of the square, and on a gigantic roasting rack, an entire skinned grox was being roasted!
That was a grox, a ten-meter-long beast, a specialty livestock of the Solomon System.
And the grox roasting in the plaza was even longer than ten meters. Its meat looked even richer and more succulent.
It was a grox optimized through selective breeding by the Solomon Golden Ranch Group. Not only was it docile and quick to gain meat, its texture and flavor were excellent, and it was highly nutritious.
Even the Chapter Master of the Sons of the People, the gourmet master Lord Big Barrel, had praised it lavishly.
They had even released a Victory Day celebration gift box, specially designed to provide the most delicious roast meat for celebrations. It also came with a roasting rack and was deeply loved by the people.
Because of that, some celebration organizers liked to preorder Golden Ranch Group products to add splendor to their festivities and show their sincerity to the great Savior, the Hope Sun.
Of course, the other ranch groups were not willing to fall behind, and one after another they launched all kinds of celebration-oriented products of their own.
This was the benefit of marketization. Not only could it promote productivity and economic prosperity, people would also take the initiative to optimize products and create new demand.
The Golden Ranch Group had made the first move, taking grox—once known for its rough texture, dry meat, and strong gamey odor—and breeding it into a famous delicacy of the Imperium. In doing so, it seized the market.
During the current campaign of resistance and disaster relief against the Black Tide, it had even become one of the Departmento Logisticum’s designated suppliers.
The Golden Ranch Group had also voluntarily donated a large amount of supplies, including military rations, emergency canned goods, chilled fresh meat, and more. It could be described as a major sacrifice.
All of this was to prove the group’s loyalty to the great Savior!
And the famous Grox Victory Day Golden Gift Box had also become a disaster-relief supply, delivered to the disaster zones in batches.
After all, for the New Imperium, anything could be lacking—but the Savior’s Victory Day could not be. Not only did it have to be held, it had to be held grandly.
Failing to hold it was illegal!
Moreover, all these Victory celebrations were funded by public expenditure.
The people not only took part with enthusiasm, but also brought out their own delicacies to share with everyone.
Of course, the specific form varied depending on each planet’s customs and culture.
Sizzle.
On the giant roasting rack, rich fat dripped from the grox, and the fragrance of oil mixed with fruitwood smoke spread through the air, making mouths water.
Even Vulkan could not help swallowing.
It had been a long time since he had tasted the delicacies of the Imperium. He had long since been starving.
The Lord of the Salamanders looked at the brightly lit church plaza, the entire grox on the giant roasting rack, the celebrating crowd, and the dazzling array of food laid out on rows of long tables—
white bread, roasted fish, Arken berries, dried luopo fruit, cheese, and several kinds of fine wine.
He was dazed.
Who am I? Where am I? Where did this ten-meter-long grox come from? Is this a disaster zone? A survivor camp?
It did not look like one. Even Nocturne did not have living conditions this good. Even Nocturne was not this extravagant!
Under the respectful gazes of the people, Vulkan’s mind buzzed. The scenes before him were almost enough to knock his thoughts senseless.
After that, surrounded by the crowd, he ascended the altar.
"O Savior!
"Welcome, my lord, and thank you for opening this celebration. May the Savior protect us all!"
The supervisor of the asteroid base hurried over to greet him with great warmth.
Although he did not know the lord’s name, that did not matter.
The name of a Salamanders master artisan was not something one could casually ask, unless the other party was willing to state it first.
They only needed to show respect.
"Savior above, the Salamander lord just said he’ll teach us technology!" Aulk said impatiently, eager to display the lord’s kindness and generosity.
His voice spread through the vox-projector.
Then the crowd erupted into cheers, becoming even more passionate and reverent. After all, most of the disaster-relief personnel in this asteroid base were technical workers.
They knew exactly how precious such an opportunity was.
Vulkan looked at the people’s expectant gazes, then at the dazzling spread of delicious food. Then he thought of the so-called technology he had planned to teach them, and his face grew hot.
How humiliating!
He could not possibly tell these mortals, who were looking forward to his words with such anticipation, that he had intended to teach them new starch energy bar technology.
Was he supposed to tell them to put down the meat legs in their hands and enjoy purified "corpse-starch" from now on?
If his primarch brothers ever learned of this, they would probably laugh at him for the rest of his life!
Fortunately, Vulkan’s face was dark enough not to show a blush, hiding his shame at that moment.
He worked hard to restrain his emotions and nodded, looking rather solemn.
The Lord of the Salamanders had already decided that this dark Chapter of his history would be buried forever. He would tell no one.
"O Savior!"
"Praise the Salamander lord!"
Once the people saw the Salamanders master artisan nod in acknowledgment, they grew even happier, and the atmosphere of the celebration became even more heated.
After that, the people invited Vulkan onto the roasting platform and had him make the first cut into the grox meat.
Bang, bang, bang!
In an instant, fireworks rose and lit up the night sky above the settlement in dazzling brilliance.
That marked the beginning of the ceremony. Melodious music began to play, and holographic projection devices even projected the image of a band over the plaza.
??!
Vulkan looked at the band in the holographic projection and immediately became lost.
He could not help asking Aulk beside him, "Are those... Ogryns? Are they performing?"
"Yes, my lord. The Ogryn Sacred Orchestra is one of the most famous orchestras in the Imperium. I really love the sacred music of the Ogryn lords!"
When Vulkan heard that, it felt as though ten thousand greenskin Orks were stampeding through his mind. He nearly cursed aloud.
Those were fucking Ogryns. Ogryns whose intelligence was lower than that of certain dog breeds. And they were performing and singing classical music? They had even formed an orchestra?!
Aulk seemed to truly love the Ogryns’ art and chattered on, introducing their achievements.
For example, the Ogryns’ famous paintings, sculptures, and especially their achievements in music.
He introduced Vulkan to his favorite sacred music collection released by the Ogryn Sacred Orchestra—
To the Savior.
In smaller text beneath the title, it read: Dedicated to our great, noble, and almighty gene-father, the immortal Savior who drives away the darkness.
The pieces in this sacred music collection were so classic that they had become popular across many regions of the Imperium and were loved by many groups.
Many celebrations, banquets, and ceremonies would play the sacred music composed by the Ogryns.
For example, Night of Victory, Hymn of Gratitude, Our Great Almighty Father, and so on.
Ogryns were extraordinarily wise, skilled in art, loved learning, and were also Space Marines?
Which primarch brother’s gene-seed was this? How could it be so powerful?!
Vulkan listened until his mind was a blazing, bewildered blur.
He felt as though his entire understanding of reality had been shoved to the ground by Ogryns and brutally run over again and again. He was stunned senseless.
Something was wrong. Very wrong!
The Lord of the Salamanders recalled everything—the mortals he had met, this survivor base, and the scene before him. All of it was bizarre.
Was this still the Imperium?!
"Could this be a trap set for me by Tzeentch, the Chaos God of the Warp? Have I fallen into some terrifying illusion, with even my perception twisted?"
Vulkan instinctively clenched his fists, anger gathering in his fiery red eyes.
But after observing the area, he found no trace of Warp corruption, nor any sign that the mortals were being controlled.
Everything was so real.
"The Savior..."
Vulkan organized all the information he had received during this period in his mind, and finally pieced together a vague conclusion.
The Savior spoken of by the people, that mysterious high-ranking Imperial being, had changed this sector—and perhaps even more regions of the Imperium.
Everything before him might be that being’s work.
That Savior had created a development model different from the Imperium of the past. It was no longer dark or rotten. Ordinary mortals could receive education, and materially, they were extremely wealthy.
Like the Emperor before him, like that father of his, the Savior was guiding the humans of this region.
"Perhaps this is a good thing," Vulkan murmured.
He looked toward Aulk, wanting to know more.
He wanted to know everything about the Savior, the current state of the Imperium, and what exactly was happening with these survivors.
"My lord, my lord, try our Charadon fruit wine!"
But before the Lord of the Salamanders could ask, Aulk stood on tiptoe and excitedly lifted an oversized cup of fruit wine toward him.
It was practically a small barrel.
Vulkan looked at the celebrating crowd and the joy that washed over him. After a moment of hesitation, he accepted the fruit wine.
Perhaps he should rest properly for a while and enjoy this hard-won celebration. After the celebration, he could learn the relevant information.
Vulkan drank the fruit wine in one go. It was sweet and delicious.
The tension that had gripped him for so long finally loosened. He sat down on the ground, bringing himself nearly level with the people.
The Lord of the Salamanders accepted the delicacies the people offered him, watched their smiling faces, and listened to their laughter.
He felt an unprecedented sense of ease. There was no slaughter, no darkness, no death.
It was a moment of lightness he had not experienced in ten thousand years. All his oppression and anxiety were swept away.
Vulkan believed it.
So long as humanity possessed such unity and optimism, they could face any hardship.
This, in truth, was what humanity looked like in his ideals.
Vulkan soon blended into the crowd. He drank a great deal of wine and swallowed mouthfuls of roast grox and other delicacies.
After that, the giant who looked like a black tower danced around the fire with the people.
The Lord of the Salamanders raised his cup and drank freely, laughing from the heart as he listened to people tell amusing stories from their homeworlds.
He had never been so happy. His once-despairing, scarred heart was healing, and a thread of hope was born within it.
"This is good..."
That was what Vulkan thought.
Humanity had not completely fallen into darkness. Hope still existed. The ideals they once held had not vanished!
Before he knew it, the celebration banquet came to an end, and the crowd dispersed.
Vulkan fell into a deep sleep from exhaustion. He had been tense for too long and had not slept in a very, very long time.
The Lord of the Salamanders fell asleep holding a wine barrel. The furrow in his brow gradually eased, and a smile hung at the corners of his mouth.
It was a good sleep.
The people did not disturb him either. They merely found blankets and gently covered the lord with them.
A night passed.
The artificial sun rose, its warm light shining over the residential district. Vulkan was awakened by the noise of the people.
He gently lifted the blanket from his body, raised his head, and stared at the Savior’s sacred statue by the church, his eyes bright and intent...
(End of Chapter)
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