The Captain of the Iron Hands' Fourth Company wasn't wearing his full set of power armor today, opting instead for a lightweight carapace armor. But his height of over two meters and the oppressive aura unique to augmented warriors left the many civilians present feeling absolutely terrified.
Ten Iron Hands Astartes fanned out behind him. Their hands rested casually on the grips of their bolters.
Archimedes' face instantly drained of color.
"C-Captain Karon, Your Excellency... What... what are you doing here?" He barely maintained his composure, the scepter in his hand trembling slightly. "This is our hive's internal affairs. The Legion has never interfered in planetary governance..."
"I don't interfere with governance," Karon said, walking up to Archimedes and looking down at the tall, spindly noble. "But I do interfere with acts that waste my time. Lord Ferrus Manus's orders to me were to oversee the smooth progression of the Kent Hive Judgment Assembly and ensure the work of the new Governor, Cage Lawrence, is not disturbed." He paused, his eyes locking onto Archimedes. "Are you currently causing a disturbance?"
"I... I was simply proposing a reasonable legal procedure..."
"Reasonable?" Karon chuckled.
"Archimedes Hysman," Karon exhaled a smoke ring, "Do I need to remind you who Kent Hive belongs to right now?"
Archimedes shuddered violently.
"The Primarch didn't slaughter you all to the last man. He only confiscated sixty percent of your assets because you're still useful. But that doesn't mean you get to keep bargaining." Karon clamped his lho-stick between his teeth, freeing up both hands to pat Archimedes on the shoulder.
Archimedes' body buckled under the immense, crushing pressure.
"Right now, you have two choices. First, take your people, roll back to the audience stands, and quietly watch the trial to the end. Afterward, I will report to my gene-father that the Hysman Merchant Guild displayed a cooperative attitude." Karon leaned in closer, dropping his voice so only those immediately around them could hear. "Second, I arrest all hundred of you under the pretense of obstructing Legion duties and being suspected Warp-corruption sympathizers, and drag you up to the Fist of Iron. We'll let the Apothecary check if there's anything in your heads that shouldn't be there."
Archimedes' lips were quivering. He knew this wasn't a bluff. Getting slapped with the label of suspected Warp corruption meant that even if it was ultimately cleared up as a misunderstanding, a person would basically be ruined. Astartes examinations certainly didn't bother with gentle anesthesia.
"...Understood, Captain."
The scepter thumped against the ground once more, but this time, it lacked any imposing aura. Archimedes turned around, waved off the merchant guild's entourage, and pushed his way back into the crowd, completely disgraced.
Before turning around, [Crimson Deep Sea] flashed another hand signal to Cogboy: a thumbs-up.
The halftime farce was over. Cogboy looked back out at the audience.
The confrontation just now had made many in the audience realize a simple truth. It seemed the new Governor genuinely had powerful backers.
"Resume the trial." Cogboy's voice rang out once more. He didn't offer a single comment on the interruption, acting as if it was merely irrelevant static. This kind of outright dismissal was far more effective than any rebuttal.
"Following investigations, Adela Hysman and the other two hundred and fourteen individuals have been found guilty of twenty-seven felonies, including embezzlement, murder, human trafficking, colluding with criminal syndicates, and endangering public security. The evidence is conclusive, and the accused have confessed to their crimes. In accordance with the relevant Imperial Laws, and under the emergency governance authorization of Kent Hive..."
He paused.
The entire plaza was dead silent.
"I sentence all defendants to death."
It was to be expected. But his next words left everyone stunned.
"The method of execution will be: the Phosphex Cannon Penalty."
Following a brief moment of deathly stillness, an absolute uproar broke out. Even Karon raised an eyebrow.
The Phosphex Cannon Execution was not something found in the Imperium's standard catalog of punishments. In reality, it was designed by a certain Paradox Interactive grand strategy war criminal among the players.
The mechanism was simple: coat the prisoner in highly reactive phosphex-based incendiary agents, stuff them into a specially modified artillery barrel, and fire them high into the sky using a low-pressure propellant. During the ascent, air friction would ignite the phosphex, turning the prisoner into a human-sized fireball. After reaching the apex of their trajectory, the burning remains would plummet toward a designated drop zone, usually burning to a crisp before ever hitting the ground. If there were any leftover scraps, a lasgun blast could finish the job.
The true cruelty of this punishment was that the prisoner remained fully conscious the entire time. They would personally watch themselves turn into a blazing torch, burning in mid-air for twenty to thirty seconds before finally dying in excruciating agony. More importantly, it produced an intense visual impact. The psychological deterrence of watching a screaming fireball ascend into the sky was entirely different from a simple artillery explosion.
"Governor Cage," Karon's voice transmitted through the vox-bead, "this punishment... did you come up with it yourself?"
"I drew some inspiration from certain Imperial punishments and developed it from there," Cogboy replied calmly. "We need a deterrence effect, Captain. The underhive crowds are far too used to standard executions by hanging or a bolter to the head."
"...Logical." Karon fell silent for a moment before replying with a single word.
Up on the judgment platform, the black-hooded prisoners began to struggle violently. But the players' strength enhancements weren't just for show; the condemned were held down firmly in their execution chairs.
"Execute them in batches," Cogboy ordered. "First batch: thirteen prisoners by firing squad."
This had been decided beforehand. The crimes of those thirteen were relatively light, mainly embezzlement and dereliction of duty. They didn't have direct blood on their hands, but they had stolen way too much. Paul had insisted on differentiated sentencing; even if they were all facing the death penalty, the execution methods had to vary.
The thirteen individuals were dragged to the execution area on the side of the judgment platform and lined up in a row. The executioners were thirteen Youth League members handpicked by Blood Angels' Second Emperor. This was Paul's explicit request: let the natives participate in the trials, rather than having the players do all the dirty work.
"Raise weapons!"
Thirteen lasguns were lifted.
"Take aim!"
The muzzles aimed squarely at the backs of their heads.
"Fire."
Thirteen beams of light flashed simultaneously. Thirteen corpses slumped to the ground. Clean and efficient.
The audience below was completely silent.
"Second through fifth batches: Phosphex Cannon Execution," Cogboy's voice echoed out again. "Forty-seven individuals per batch, at five-minute intervals. Begin."
The first execution cannon was wheeled forward.
It was modified from a hive defense cannon, its caliber thirty centimeters and its barrel shortened to five meters, outfitted with a specialized internal restraint mechanism. When the players stuffed the first prisoner inside, the man's screams echoed through the black hood, hoarse and filled with despair.
"Loaded!"
"Fire!"
Boom!
A deafening artillery blast rang out. A human silhouette shot from the muzzle. The initial velocity wasn't very fast; the naked eye could clearly track its outline. The phosphex slowly ignited, flaring with a blinding white light. The human body transformed into a fireball, continuing to ascend, dragging a sickly pale trail across the sky. Screams drifted down from high above, but they were quickly drowned out by the crackle of the blaze.
The fireball reached its apex and began to plummet. By the time it hit the ground, only a pile of charred, shattered bones remained, still smoking faintly.
The entire plaza was dead silent. There was only the sound of heavy breathing and the suppressed dry-heaving of a few individuals.
Second shot.
Third shot.
Fourth shot...
With every boom of the cannon, a fireball soared into the sky. Forty-seven burning points of light successively illuminated the heavens, resembling an inverted meteor shower.
By the time the fifth batch was fired, the fireballs in the sky hadn't even all fallen yet. Cogboy stood on the judgment platform, watching the scene unfold. His heart was pounding violently.
When the final fireball crashed to the earth, the plaza was thick with the pungent stench of burning phosphex. Many people were on their knees vomiting, while even more stood frozen in place with hollow eyes.
Captain Karon finished his third cigarette, crushed the butt under his boot, and gave Cogboy a nod.
Cogboy took a deep breath. He spoke again, his voice much softer now. It carried a kind of... almost compassionate gentleness. At this moment, the five major traits were fully activated.
"Citizens of the Imperium. What you just witnessed was the end of the old governors. It is the end of corruption, oppression, and injustice. But the end is not the goal."
He spread his arms, his dark red ceremonial uniform fluttering slightly in the morning breeze.
"From today onward, Kent Hive will welcome a new beginning. In the name of the Governor, I decree the following. First, a ten-hour workday will be implemented across the entire hive. Daily labor shall not exceed ten hours, with at least one rest day per week. Employers who violate this will face a tenfold fine and mandatory penal labor.
Second, the establishment of public schools at all levels. Children and adolescents between the ages of six and sixteen are mandated to receive basic education. Tuition will be completely free, and textbooks will be provided by the Governor's Office.
Third, the reconstruction of the medical system. At least one public hospital will be established in every administrative district. Basic medical services will be free, and medicines will be supplied at cost.
Fourth, the comprehensive repair of the hive's infrastructure. Water purification systems, ventilation ducts, lighting networks, public transportation... We will take three years to restore this hive city to a baseline where people can breathe normally and drink clean water.
Fifth, the initiation of the hive greening project. At least one hundred public parks will be opened in the upper and middle hives, and vertical farms will be established in the lower and underhives. The goal is to ensure that within five years, every hive resident can eat fresh vegetables once a week..."
He announced twelve new policies in one breath. Every single one was specific, every single one had quantifiable metrics, and every single one directly addressed the most fundamental survival issues of this hive city.
The crowd below transitioned from shock and fear, to... bewilderment, then to utter disbelief, and finally to a cautious, fragile hope, like someone timidly reaching out to touch a flame.
"I know all of this will be very difficult to implement right now, but we are going to overcome these difficulties. We will make the radiation, the pollution, and the hardships bow before us. All of this requires manpower. It requires all of us to work together, to put in the labor together."
Cogboy's voice echoed across the plaza.
"We need miners, laborers, teachers, doctors, engineers, cleaners, administrators... We need everyone who is willing to create value with their own two hands. And what you will receive in return will not just be wages and food."
He paused, enunciating each word clearly. "You will receive dignity. Labor in exchange for survival, effort in exchange for respect. We are forever a community bound by a shared destiny. This is the promise of the Crimson Dawn. The judgment assembly concludes here. Those interested in signing up to participate in the hive's reconstruction may proceed to the newly established Labor Service Centers in each administrative district to register. Starting tomorrow, we will organize training and job assignments in batches. Dismissed."
Having said his piece, he turned and walked off the judgment platform. There were no superfluous movements, no melodramatic farewells.
Yet below the stage, the eight hundred thousand people did not immediately disperse. They stood there, staring at the residual scorch marks on the judgment platform, staring at the faint smoke that had yet to dissipate in the sky. Staring at the departing figures clad in dark red ceremonial uniforms.
After a long while, someone whispered, "Is what he said... really true?"
No one answered. But many people began to move their feet—not heading home, but walking toward those buildings that had just hung up the "Labor Service Center" signs. They wanted to try.
Even if it was just to give it a try.
–
As soon as Cogboy walked through the door, he slumped against the wall, tugging at his collar to let in some air.
"How are you holding up?" Paul asked.
Cogboy offered a bitter smile. "If I had to hold out any longer, I feel like I really would have cracked."
Tax Bro handed him a bottle of water. Cogboy took it and chugged a huge mouthful.
"Deep Sea managed to slip into the Hysman Merchant Guild's entourage," he said, wiping his mouth. "Looks like there's a breakthrough on the Aru Hive side of things."
Schrödinger Bro smiled, having already received reports from the players. "Captain Karon was a huge help. Archimedes and his gang are currently slinking onto their transports with their tails between their legs, heading back to Aru City. Without him holding down the fort, that bastard wouldn't have backed down so easily."
Blood Angels' Second Emperor snapped his notebook shut. "It seems the Legion's stance is quite clear. As long as we guarantee the promethium output, they will support us in purging the old power structures."
Paul walked over to the window, watching the crowd gradually dispersing across the plaza. Their footsteps were a bit lighter than they had been three days ago.
"This is only the beginning," he said softly.
Paul simultaneously checked the regional channel, the players were spamming the chat like crazy.
[Have You Been Loyal Today?]: "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! The Phosphex Cannon Execution! My hands were shaking the whole time! But why do I also feel like... this is exactly how it should be?"
[Speaking of the Emperor's Cock]: "Just now, when the new policies were announced, an old man next to me started crying. Like, actually bawling. He said that in his entire life, he'd never heard the word 'dignity' associated with the poor."
Paul closed the channel. He turned around, looking at the players in the room who hailed from another world.
"Brothers, we have taken the first step. But what comes next is the true challenge of seizing control over Aurelian IV."
--
Goal = 250 Powerstones.
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