Chapter 60: So That's How It Is
The stench of blood in the arena grew stronger, mingling with the incense to create a nauseating atmosphere.
In the stands, Sergeant Varo didn't sit down but stood beside Eileen, vigilantly scanning their surroundings.
Behind them, Cole, who had remained silent until now, had his red electronic eyes flashing, scanning the massive crater of flesh below.
"See it clearly, Company Commander Sicarius?"
Cole's deep voice came through the private communication channel to the second company commander.
"I saw it clearly." Sicarius tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword, his tone grave. "The blood of those dead gladiators was the wrong color. It must be a mutation caused by long-term injections of banned drugs, and… though faint, I smelled the stench of the warp."
"Not just drugs." Cole scoffed, his halberd twirling slightly. "That frenzied desire to attack, that fearless act of suicide. These are classic symptoms of being corrupted by warp forces. They wouldn't escape my notice."
Sicarius understood immediately, looking at the small figure sitting in the chair, holding a megaphone ready to speak, his eyes filled with admiration.
"I see… I knew it. A Saint-level warrior wouldn't choose such a powerless underground gladiator for a duel of honor without a reason."
"She saw it all along," Cole chimed in, his tone certain. "A Saint-level warrior possesses the vision bestowed upon them by our Lord. She must have already sensed the filth hidden here."
"That's why she deliberately used this so-called 'gang fight,' forcing the other side step by step," Sicarius added. "It's a 'luring the snake out of its hole.' She's forcing the mastermind behind the scenes to reveal their trump cards one by one, and then having us proceed step by step…purify."
"Truly shrewd and far-sighted." Cole nodded, approval shining beneath his golden mask. "As expected of the chosen one. This method, though seemingly absurd, is incredibly precise and effective."
Amidst the admiring gazes of the two, Eileen scratched her head, engaging in a less-than-shrewd mental conversation with Old Huang.
[This is a bit different, Eileen.]
Old Huang's voice was no longer as mocking as when he was watching the show; instead, it carried a hint of disgust.
[These guys… they have a nauseating smell. It's that kind of… smell of too much cheap perfume used to mask the stench of corpses.]
"That's the stench from the purple side."
"Purple?" Eileen paused, "You mean... that... you know... that perverted concentration camp?"
"That's right. These gladiators, and those guards standing behind them, they're not ordinary thugs. They're Chaos Cultists. Although their ranks aren't high, and their brains are fried, their 'essence' has changed."
"Huh? Then... what about that guy named Lars?" Eileen glanced at the noble young master slumped in a chair opposite her, his pants soaked.
"Heh, that's the funniest part."
Old Huang let out a sneer.
[That Lars showed absolutely no psionic energy. Even the ordinary glow of his soul was so faint it was almost invisible. Simply put, he was a pure and rare psionic Muggle, or perhaps just plain stupid.]
[He probably had no idea what kind of monstrosities he'd brought along.]
"So what do we do? Fight on?"
[Fight! Of course we fight!] Old Huang's voice hardened. [Since they're Chaos followers, we must eradicate evil completely! Get rid of all these filthy things!]
"Alright!"
Eileen's eyes lit up. Since it was about dealing with bad guys, she wouldn't hold back.
She raised the megaphone, took a deep breath, and yelled at Lars, who was practically crawling under his chair in fear:
"Hey! That gang leader's son!"
This shout made Lars tremble so much he almost tumbled off the stands.
"Stop sending them one by one! It's too slow! I'm getting sleepy!"
Eileen stepped onto the edge of the stands, pointing a megaphone with an air of dominance.
"Bring up all your remaining guards, champions, everyone!"
"I want to fight ten... no! All of them! Let them all come at me!"
Upon hearing this, Lars's pale face first showed a flash of confusion, then a surge of elation at the prospect of survival welled up within him.
All at me?
Although his fear of Space Marines was ingrained in his bones, his quick wit told him: this must just be the little girl's whim!
He still had dozens of fully armed elite guards sent by his own father, and four gladiator champions!
"Just swarm them, and... make their deaths more interesting!"
Maybe the old lady will be satisfied, even if she just says a word for him, he might save his life!
"Go! All of you, get up there!"
Lars, as if grasping at a straw, frantically roared into the walkie-talkie, his voice shrill with fear and excitement.
"Guards! All of you! And those four big guys! Everyone with weapons! Get into the arena!"
"Just get to them! Go now!!"
With his command, the gates on the other side of the arena swung open completely.
"Roar—!!"
"For Bliss! For Perfection!!"
The cultist guards and gladiators, already impatient from backstage, driven to the brink of madness by drugs and the whispers of the evil god, surged into the arena.
Dozens of soldiers clad in ornate armor, wielding power swords and guns, along with four enormous, grotesque gladiator champions, crowded densely in the center of the arena.
They didn't attack immediately, but instead stared at Eileen and her companions in the stands with fanatical, twisted, even morbidly eager eyes.
Like a herd of livestock awaiting sacrifice or to be sacrificed…
Looking at the sea of heads below.
The cloaked figures behind Eileen cracked their knuckles in a sickeningly loud manner.
Cole, who had been standing at the very back, slowly took a step forward.
His black royal guard robe instantly changed color.
A suit of golden power armor gleamed blindingly under the arena lights.
A towering pointed helmet, a red plume, and the guard's halberd.
The Commander of the Imperial Guard made his grand entrance.
"Finally, it's my turn to... sweep away the dust from these insolent fools."
...
[At the same time, in Governor Estut's mansion, top-floor study]
The room still reeked of that suffocating, perfect fragrance.
The Governor stood by the window, a glass of red wine in hand, admiring the perfectly trimmed shrubs in the garden outside.
"Bang!"
The study door was rudely flung open.
For the Governor, who strived for absolute perfection, this was an unforgivable offense.
He frowned and turned around, about to order the execution of this unruly intruder.
But then he recognized who it was.
He was his trusted squire, a member of the secret cult sent to the arena to watch over Lars.
At this moment, the squire, covered in blood (a mixture of cold sweat from fear and bruises from a fall), his face ashen, stumbled in.
"My lord! Something terrible has happened! A catastrophic disaster!"
The squire knelt on the ground, trembling.
"The arena…the arena…"
"What's the panic?" The governor looked with disgust at a drop of sweat on the carpet. "Explain yourself clearly. Is that idiot Lars incapable of even handling such a small matter? Did that country noblewoman die of fright?"
"No! No!"
The squire looked up, his eyes filled with terror.
"Slaughter! Slaughter!"
"The girl's bodyguards...they weren't just country bumpkins! They were Astartes! Giants dressed as mobile cathedrals! One punch and our gladiator champion was reduced to mincemeat!"
"What?"
The governor's wine glass wobbled, spilling a few drops of red wine onto his pristine white silk shirt.
Astartes?
This is the rear sector. How could such a level of combat power appear alongside a "country girl" at the governor's mansion?
Unless…
The governor's mind raced.
That girl wasn't some country noblewoman at all.
This was bait.
A bait from the Inquisition!
They'd discovered it long ago! They'd discovered the secret of the Valanta family! They'd discovered the corruption hidden beneath a perfect facade!
Fear gripped the governor's heart for a moment.
But then, that fear was replaced by a more twisted, more fanatical emotion.
A look of sudden realization, even "moved," appeared on his face.
"So that's how it is... so that's how it is..."
The governor murmured to himself, his eyes even welling up with tears.
"Lars... my dear son... I always thought you were just a useless piece of trash."
"I never expected... you to be so perceptive, such a loyal and honest man."
In his logic of "sudden realization," the truth was this:
Lars must have noticed something amiss with the girl's identity at the banquet.
He knew the family had been exposed.
Therefore, he deliberately lured those terrifying enemies to the enclosed space of the arena.
He was risking his life, a certain death duel, to hold back those imperial lackeys and force them to reveal their identities! To buy time for his father!
"What a perfect sacrifice...what a poignant offering..."
The governor was moved to tears. He gently wiped them away with his finger, looking at the tear on his fingertip, a bliss