Yuki felt a bit lightheaded.
He sat up. The room was covered in blood—some was his, some belonged to Yuno. It looked as if they had just survived a violent battle. In fact, was there really much difference? Though, to be honest, this was far more satisfying than combat.
He spent three minutes contemplating his next move until he saw Yuno, naked and sleeping peacefully. Then he remembered: he needed to get dressed.
He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cooler and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He had crafted it himself out of biomass during his spare time. This was his first time smoking, though he didn't need to think twice to know this tobacco tasted nothing like the ones from his old world.
"When did I become like this?"
Yuki looked at himself in the mirror. He still remembered his original face, but now certain details had shifted. If his old friends from Earth saw him now, they definitely wouldn't recognize him.
"Come to think of it, I still have two boxes of miniatures back home that I never finished painting. I guess that's my only remaining regret."
As the saying goes, men enter a "Sage Mode" after such activities. In this transcendent state, any man becomes a philosopher, scrutinizing himself and the world.
Careful reflection revealed that Yuno was essentially just playing along with him. What had he actually achieved? He had been acting like a third-rate minor villain, causing trouble with Battle Sisters and experiencing the "local attractions" of the Hive City. To Yuno, these matters were likely beneath mention.
"Sigh. Sometimes I wish the Hive Fleet would never arrive. It would be nice if life just stayed like this."
Yuki possessed clear self-awareness. He was never a hero, nor the protagonist of some legendary epic; he was lucky just to be alive right now. He believed Yuno loved him, but he also knew that didn't stop her from being able to kill him at any moment.
Yuki blew a smoke ring and looked at the scar on his upper arm. It was healing slowly. Even his senses had changed; such a wound no longer caused pain, but rather a surge of excitement, making him want to... love her even harder.
This was the luxury district of the Junk Heaps. There was no trash here, nor were there any naked, half-dead commoners.
"Warhammer truly is a stupid world."
He suddenly felt something. He extinguished the cigarette and walked over to Yuno.
"Yuki?"
"Let's go again."
...
Smoke.
Raziel had been dependent on it for a long time, though he hadn't touched a cigarette in nearly fifteen years. This wasn't because he had successfully reformed or quit; it was simply because chemical drugs provided a much stronger stimulation.
Leading a gang was always mentally taxing. He had to constantly think about how to maintain his subordinates' loyalty and weaken his enemies. He had no time to focus on the past or the future; he only wanted to seize the present.
"Whew."
He let out a long breath. When had it started? That feeling in his heart—an irrepressible, uncontrollable pain. He wanted more profit, more status, more power. But the ceiling imposed on him as an Underhivers prevented him from achieving it. His power was too limited; he couldn't defeat the other gangs, couldn't gain more support from above, and couldn't attain true strength.
"That guy Yuki... there's definitely something wrong with him. I knew it from the first time I saw him. The look in his eyes, and that woman of his—it's like he's being controlled. Dammit! Ade, I told you to watch him, but you did nothing. Why?"
Raziel knew what Ade would say. He would say Yuki was strong, had potential, and that logically they shouldn't cross him.
"To hell with that. Am I just a piece of trash? I climbed to this position step by step from the very bottom. Is that bastard just going to ride over my head?"
Raziel sat alone in his room. He felt something growing within his heart.
"Go forth. Open a door for me."
He understood. This was an instruction from a true god.
"I understand."
In this moment, Slaanesh had found this man—ambitious yet trapped by reality for decades—and reignited the fires of his desire. Raziel looked at his body, which was beginning to undergo mutations, and silently lit a cigarette. While his body could still feel such small stimulations, he would enjoy it one last time.
"Sorry, Ade."
He stepped over Ade's cold corpse—an act he had committed during a recent "episode."
"We need to find a way to give Yuki a surprise. Hee hee hee."
...
"Sister Steff is out on a mission again?"
Hopper, who had recently entered the convent, was somewhat surprised. "Didn't Sister Steff just get back? Why is she out again so soon?"
"I don't know. Word is it's related to the last mission. But we aren't at that level yet, so we don't know the details."
Hopper's severed leg had been replaced with a mechanical one. While the technology of the Order of the Dying Rose wasn't as advanced as the Adeptus Mechanicus, they had no trouble handling such minor injuries.
"You should worry about yourself instead. Your physical stamina is currently the worst. If you don't improve within a year, you'll be sent to be a Hospitalier. And not all Hospitaliers get to stay at the convent. Didn't you want to be a combatant?"
A senior sister reminded Hopper. "Look, that is the Paragon Warsuit used by a former Saint of our Order. It is the highest honor of our sisterhood. Every sister holds it as their ultimate goal. You must do the same."
Hopper looked in the direction the senior sister pointed and saw the towering warsuit covered in garlands and the holy words of the Emperor. Surrounded by clouds of incense, a sense of divinity struck Hopper's heart.
"A Saint..."
"Yes, a Saint. As daughters of the God-Emperor, we must carry ourselves with the character of a Saint. Remember this, Hopper: those who truly become Saints never consciously seek it."
"I understand."
In reality, Hopper didn't want to be a Saint. She wanted to serve the God-Emperor and kill His enemies. Only when the Emperor's enemies were dead could His people find happiness. She carried not just her own life, but those of the Mother Superior, Mr. Yuki, and her fellow sisters... she would shoulder all their responsibilities and atone for original sin under the Emperor's protection.
"Want one? These can clear your head."
Hopper took the cigarette handed to her by the senior sister.
"This is an ancient tradition. You don't know how to smoke? Here, light it up. Take a deep breath, and remember to exhale. It helps relieve fatigue."
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
"It's normal for the first time. Later, once you've gone out on a mission and survived, you'll know what a pleasure a puff like this can be."
Hopper still didn't understand, but she committed the words to heart.