The funeral of the Arch-Cardinal.
The aged, withered body, wrapped in rare spices, was committed to a towering pyre. Only intense flames could purify all the sins a man committed in his lifetime. The great bells tolled, and mourners from all corners bowed their heads, praising the Arch-Cardinal's grand deeds while secretly whispering about who the successor might be. All eyes were drawn to the front row, where the twelve Cardinals stood in their crimson robes. From among these twelve, the spiritual leader of billions on this planet would emerge.
"I say, is it not time to discuss the real business?"
"Erik, is it not too offensive to discuss such things before the Arch-Cardinal's soul has even returned to the Golden Throne?"
The only woman among the Cardinals spoke up, her words drawing murmurs of agreement.
"It seems someone wants to exit the stage early."
In a struggle where the candidates were of nearly equal strength, things like ritual, respect, and etiquette—ordinarily trivial—became the factors that truly influenced the outcome. More importantly, in this world, piety and ritual could bring tangible benefits. Griffith, like most of the Cardinals, remained silent. Each had their own calculations.
When the ceremony ended and the twelve returned to the small hall, the atmosphere turned instantly somber.
"Griffith, I hear you've gained quite a reputation in the Mid-level lately."
Griffith felt an ill omen. He hadn't made any specific arrangements in the Mid-level; why would anyone say that? Another competitor added with a smile:
"My scribe-sister took a trip there. Many in the Mid-level are saying that Cardinal Griffith is the successor chosen by the Emperor himself. They say once he ascends, the people will bankrupt themselves just to catch a glimpse of him."
What was going on? This was clearly a move to isolate him as the common enemy. His allies shouldn't be staying silent. Griffith turned, but the Cardinals who had previously stood on his side remained quiet. Had he been betrayed?
Griffith broke into a cold sweat. The first Cardinal spoke again: "Of course, Griffith, we don't believe you would do something so foolish. However, the impact is quite malicious. If not handled properly, it could even affect the Emperor's prestige. You should issue a clarification."
Clarify? Clarify what? Admit that he wouldn't participate in the election? Then he would be forever barred from the position. Was he, with his faith, not qualified to receive such a blessing?
Griffith had not instructed his subordinates to start such a ridiculous propaganda campaign, but...
"My brothers and sisters, I know that a pious believer should not be burdened by external matters. We should delve deep into our faith and serve the Emperor with all our hearts. Our followers, however, do not understand; they need guidance. Their faith leads them to do insignificant things, which is a pity. I, too, am surprised by this. Although I have no intention of chasing power, if it is His will that I lead these lambs, then I shall sacrifice my personal freedom to shoulder such a heavy responsibility."
Griffith would not withdraw. That was his answer. As the Cardinals looked at each other, a servant servitor entered.
"My Lords, a very troublesome matter has arisen."
...
The Underhive.
Tens of millions of people were mobilized. They picked up crude weapons and rushed toward the connection zones between the Underhive and the Mid-level. This was a strategic chokepoint guarded by a regiment of the Planetary Defence Force (PDF). Equipped with standard gear, light artillery, and armored units, they shouldn't have been defeated by a mob.
Yet, they were overwhelmed.
Surprisingly, this mob was highly disciplined. Once they seized the connection zone, they didn't continue into the Mid-level. Instead, they stayed put and began... mourning the late Arch-Cardinal.
The Adeptus Arbites and the reinforcement PDF units sent to confront them were stunned. Where were these hymns when the Arch-Cardinal was alive? Besides, the Arch-Cardinal had never cared for the Underhivers during his life!
When this news reached the Spire, every faction was paralyzed. The Planetary Governor, still recovering from the shadow of the Inquisitor's visit, unexpectedly wanted to hush things up. The Arbites estimated the scale of the disturbance and concluded that a crackdown would only ignite a wider war. The Adeptus Mechanicus didn't want chaos because it would hinder their research.
However, the response from the Battle Sisters was clear: kill every single person who dared to cause a disturbance. The trainees of the Schola Progenium had also taken up arms, ready to participate in this rare opportunity for live combat training.
So, who was behind this?
Yuki and his companions were blended into the crowd performing Ecclesiarchy rituals, carefully observing the PDF units on high alert across from them.
"This is going better than I imagined. I thought they'd start shooting immediately."
Yuno had watched Yuki arrange everything with terrifying efficiency—contacting other gangs, using threats and bribes to force them into this dangerous movement, and communicating with Mid-level factions to promise benefits in Griffith's name. Even the rumors about Griffith were Yuki's doing. All of this was to stir a grand movement, an ultimatum to the authorities hidden under the guise of religion and mourning.
"I have to look at you in a new light, Yuki. I can't believe you pulled this off."
"Yuno, this is just basic work. Now it depends on whether these people have the resolve to meet us with force."
"And if a violent conflict actually breaks out?"
Yuki replied, "We won't get a better chance to break into the Spire. The Hive Fleet is less than fifteen years away. If there's a conflict, then we fight. We'll take control of the entire planet ahead of schedule!"
"Interesting. I like it," Yuno said with a smile.
Yuki knew he was gambling, but life was a series of risks, mistakes, and gains. The time was right. Yuki signaled his subordinates to give instructions to the poor who had been waiting at the connection zone for days. It was also their slogan:
"March to the Spire! Only the Emperor's true shepherd can lead His lambs!"
Facing an unprecedented number of Underhivers, the PDF received no orders from above. The communication lines had been sabotaged by the Genestealers, and all the pressure fell on the field commander. The young officer hesitated. He had fired on enemies countless times, but facing these poor people holding icons of the Emperor and singing hymns without any threatening gestures, he faltered.
In the dark, a power seemed to alter his thoughts. They looked like pilgrims. Even when they reached the soldiers and had guns pressed to their chests, they continued to bless them.
The crowd screamed: "March to the Spire!"