After the little girl finished saying goodbye to the parents she could never part from, Gaia, whose heart was still in turmoil, led her out of the house.
Within the anti-psyker field of an Untouchable, the rare and precious silence still lingered around her.
But her soul was trembling violently.
She now realized that the powers of the Warp had set their sights on her long ago.
Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she had no way of knowing.
But in the haze of her thoughts, she seemed to see invisible threads wrapped around her body, guiding her along a predetermined path.
Was that her fate?
Looking at it now, she found that there had always been many mysteries surrounding her.
The system of mysterious origin. The fog that obscured her memories...
And yet, those things that should have made her question everything had, for most of the time, simply been treated by her as normal.
It felt as though some unseen hand had covered her eyes.
Was she truly forging her own path, or merely acting out a script someone else had written for her?
Chaotic thoughts surged into her mind, pressing down on her like a crushing weight and leaving her unable to breathe.
Just as she was about to lose herself, like a small boat caught in a whirlpool of fear brought on by the unknown, she suddenly thought of her adoptive father's face.
That kind smile was carved deep into her soul, and at this moment it became a warm harbor, allowing the frightened little boat to find shelter amid the vortex of terror.
Even though he was no longer by her side, the memories he had given Gaia were still the most precious treasure she possessed.
Yes. No matter what her fate might be, the memories she herself created belonged to her.
No one could take them away.
And no one could change them.
At that thought, like a drowning person clutching at a final lifeline, her eyes filled with boundless resolve, even mixed with a trace of chilling madness.
No matter what kind of fate awaited her, she would never submit.
She would remember her adoptive father's teachings and become the person both he and she had longed for her to be.
If some bastard really intended to toy with her fate, then he had better be ready to have a chunk bitten out of him.
"Hey there, what an adorable little girl. Are you lost?"
A voice with a faintly irritating tone broke Gaia's thoughts.
She turned toward the sound and found Solomon crouching in front of the Untouchable girl, looking every bit like some suspicious creep.
Just as Gaia was wondering whether she should solve the situation with a hammer, Solomon suddenly added:
"Oh, so your name is Nia."
Just as Gaia was feeling puzzled over how Solomon had suddenly learned the girl's name, the arriving Commissar Horne voiced her exact thought:
"Stop giving people random names, Captain Solomon. Also, you're going to scare the child like that."
Solomon turned back with an aggrieved expression, pointed at the blood-stained teddy bear in Nia's arms, and said weakly:
"But it says 'Nia's Friend' right here."
Only then did Gaia notice that, on the teddy bear's belly stained with dark red patches of blood, there really was a line of small Low Gothic text stitched in black thread.
She could not help being a little surprised by the observation skills of this free captain, who usually looked anything but reliable.
But Commissar Horne still insisted on his other point:
"You're going to frighten the child."
With exaggerated flair, Solomon spread both hands, gestured at Nia standing behind him, visibly uneasy but not showing much emotion, and said in a dry tone:
"Commissar Horne, forgive me for saying so, but this child's mental strength might make her more suited to being a Commissar than you are."
Seeing that serious Horne and careless Solomon were about to start arguing again, Gaia immediately stepped in:
"Enough. The priority right now is reaching the next settlement and evacuating the civilians before those Orks attack again, not wasting time in pointless arguments."
Gaia's words made perfect sense. Commissar Horne immediately began rallying the troops again, pushing them onward without pause toward the next inhabited settlement.
Meanwhile, Solomon touched the item he had just picked up earlier, still tucked inside his pocket, and a strange light flickered through his eyes.
The march ahead was no longer peaceful. Along the way, big green brutes kept charging in from the flanks, screaming "WAAAGH!" at the top of their lungs and hurling themselves fearlessly at the Conscript Regiment.
Although those attacks usually did little real damage, such constant harassment still drove these poorly trained conscripts to the edge of collapse.
Commissar Horne saw the danger in that, but there was nothing he could do to change it.
Time was money now, and stopping recklessly to rest might invite an unpredictable ambush.
All he could do was shout the Emperor's teachings over and over again, trying to use them to lift the soldiers' morale.
And to be fair, that method worked once or twice. After all, in this age, everyone worshiped the great Master of Mankind as a god.
But faith could not fill an empty stomach, and true zealots were rare.
As morale dropped at a pace visible to the naked eye, Horne felt deep unease, but had no idea what else to do.
At that moment, Solomon cleared his throat and shouted loudly:
"Brothers, I heard there's a clean underground well up ahead, and it's near a wandering trader exchange. Pick up the pace. Once we get there, there'll be food and drink waiting for us!"
This proved once again that material temptation was, in most cases, more effective than ideological appeal.
The moment Solomon finished speaking, the conscripts who had been stumbling along suddenly put real force into their steps, and the entire column's marching speed jumped to two or three times what it had been.
Seeing this, Commissar Horne was pleased with the result, but still displeased with Solomon's deception.
"How can you lie to these soldiers?"
Solomon spread his hands.
"Moving faster benefits everyone. I merely encouraged their potential within a reasonable range."
"Or would you rather they keep dragging their feet? By the time we got there, even the soup would be cold."
For a moment, Horne had no good reply, but he still pointed out another problem:
"But there isn't actually any good food or drink up ahead. What are you supposed to tell them then?"
The crafty free captain looked at the straightforward Commissar and gave him a teasing smile.
"For conscripts who have lived their whole lives at the bottom, what matters is that there is something, not that it's good."
"As long as there's anything to give them, they'll be deeply grateful. At least this time, the people above them won't have completely lied to them."
Horne wanted to point out that Solomon was spouting twisted nonsense tainted with disrespect, but to his surprise, the nonsense seemed to make an uncomfortable amount of sense.
Feeling stifled, he decided to reduce the amount of conversation he had with this man full of dangerous ideas, lest his loyal heart be shaken.
After the column advanced quickly for a while and reached the edge of the next settlement, Gaia suddenly raised a hand to stop Horne. He immediately blew a whistle, ordering the Conscript Regiment to halt.
"What is it?" Horne asked in confusion.
"There are a lot of people up ahead..."
"But they aren't greenskins."
(End of Chapter)
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