Emperor's Bane

Chapter 550 The Fate of the Perfect City

Eight-year-old Cyrene-Valantine is used to celebrating her birthday alone.

Perhaps decades later, this little girl with long light brown hair would be honored as the "Blessed Lady" by countless believers and be revered. But now, she is just an orphan who lives in the lowest-level district of the Perfect City and relies on the care of the local grassroots church to grow up.

She had no friends, no confidants, not many acquaintances whom she could name, and, of course, no parents: her parents were among the many who had died in the line of duty for the building of this great city, and their noble deaths had earned little Cyrene a generous pension, a free cabin, and special care from the local church.

Relying on these material conditions and the impeccable public security of the Perfect City, Cyrene was able to grow up safely. Although the departure of her parents always made her feel lonely, other aspects of her life were quite satisfactory: after all, the people who controlled the grassroots power of this city were a group of pious and old-fashioned elders. They had built this great city together with the Word Bearers forty years ago and regarded it as their own children. Naturally, they would not allow any evil to grow here.

Under their protection, even an eight-year-old orphan, as long as she put on the red robe that symbolized a girl, could grow up safely. Apart from the strict and almost harsh daily worship of the Emperor and regular examinations of theological knowledge, Cyrene did not have to worry about anything.

From childhood to adulthood, the greatest suffering that little Cyrene had ever endured was nothing more than the pushing and shoving among her classmates, and being slapped on the palm of her hand by the elder sister who took care of her because she could not answer questions about the Emperor.

Compared with most of her peers in this galaxy, she was carefree, and even her worries were so ridiculous: she was just sad that her birthday could not have a lively family party like those of her playmates in the neighborhood; she was also indignant about the old-fashioned gifts given by the elders in the church that were nothing new.

But what made Cyrene most dissatisfied was the kind vendor uncle who lived next door and was about to move away.

She grew up eating hot dogs and fast food dinners made by that uncle, and the middle-aged man who always had a kind face did help little Cyrene a lot in her growth. So, what the young orphan could not understand was: why did this gentle elder leave the perfect city, leave the apartment building they rented together, and move to Avalon, which he had always dreamed of?

Where is that?
It is said that on the other side of the galaxy?
That should be very far, perhaps dozens of kilometers, and maybe he would have to walk all the way outside the city wall: how would he get there?
For nearly half a month, these serious math problems troubled little Cyrene, until her birthday. Just as she was drowsy reading the Word of the Emperor, which was given to her by the elder sister and served as both a birthday gift and homework, a huge noise, like the panting of a group of steel beasts, exploded above the head of the entire perfect city.

She stuck her head out, like hundreds of other residents in the apartment building, and then she found that the sun above her head had disappeared, and with it came countless solid [dark clouds]: they just stayed there, making every resident feel genuine fear, and the bustling city was silent in an instant.

And so it was, when Cyrene passed her eighth birthday.

For the first time, she saw the human empire's fleet that was so vast that it blocked out the sun and the sky.

(Cyrene-Valantine, also known as the famous Lady of the Blessed, an important figure in the Word Bearers Legion. However, because there are many different translations of her name in China, I will only use the name Cyrene that I prefer. Just know that she is the Lady of the Blessed)
……

What was surprising was that after this apocalyptic appearance, the fleet hovering above the entire perfect city no longer had any large-scale operations: no shuttles came down from above like meteor showers, and no destructive spears of light were cast, but the vast majority of sunlight disappeared from above the heads of Cyrene and others.

At the beginning, there were riots of varying degrees in various districts, but the city’s rulers and grassroots organizations soon received some confirmed news, and the restless crowds were pacified by various means until order returned to the city.

After that, life returned to normal, except that occasionally a few huge aircraft would fly over the city where Cyrene was located like snake sculptures. Sometimes they were golden, sometimes silver, and their turbines would make violent noises, waking up Cyrene from her rest. Whenever she observed the trajectory of these aircraft, she would find that they eventually headed for the most upscale district in the entire Perfect City. Only high-ranking priests and wealthy merchants would set up their homes on the luxurious streets there.

This situation continued for a few more days, until almost everyone had gotten used to the fleets overhead and the aircraft whizzing past: Cyrene timed it very accurately, because the day the fleet arrived was her birthday, and ten days after her birthday, she could already hear all kinds of rumors in the church and on the streets.

She heard those respected elders discussing semi-publicly the actions of the bigwigs on the fleet: It was said that it was not all of the fleet that was hovering above the City of Perfection, but only a part of the Sea of ​​Steel. There was also a considerable number of ships, carrying a large number of mortal craftsmen, going to several other worlds in the galaxy to build various shelters and permanent settlements.

In the feudal world of Monacia where the Perfect City is located, the other sixteen cities, except for this holy city, have also successively received delegations from the empire: they were ordered to vacate part of the residential areas, or simply cooperate with the imperial construction team to build new towns and strongholds in suitable locations.

What's more, the merchants walking on the streets would swear that when they passed the city walls, they could see from afar new towns rising from the ground on the skyline, and in the core areas of the Perfect City, there were countless wealthy families who seemed to be counting their properties and contacting huge aircraft, as if they were going to migrate with their entire families.

The above are just a few of the more reliable rumors among thousands of them. No matter where Cyrene goes, she always seems to hear the sound of discussion and quarrel: this city accustomed to order and prayer seems to have never been so [young] as it is now. Although Cyrene does not like this state, all she can do is lock herself in the room and wait quietly for the dark clouds to leave.

She waited four more days.

That is to say, two weeks after her eighth birthday, two weeks after the huge imperial fleets appeared over the Perfect City, perhaps the big guys had done all the preliminary work, or perhaps the rulers had lost their patience: in short, the situation finally underwent a complete change.

When the dawn of that day just arrived, a noise that was completely different from the previous one came from the sky: it was a flying vehicle, it was an airdrop capsule, it was thousands of shining stars that cut through the night that had not yet faded, and landed precisely in every square in the city amid the morning prayers of ten thousand minarets.

The drop pods that fell from the sky were decorated with reliefs of the Imperial double-headed eagle, blackened by the burning process in the atmosphere. The noise of the huge engines and boosters hummed, making the air vibrate and burn. Every breath could smell the rich smell of burning.

Cyrene had witnessed this scene, and from the oldest scrolls she could find, she knew that just over forty years ago, a similar legion, a group of the Emperor's angels, had come to this land in the same way. They were called the Word Bearers, and it was they who guided people to build the great City of Perfection.

All the elderly people in this city have witnessed that scene and have deeply engraved it in their minds. They led the young men like Cyrene to gather in the squares of various districts, devoutly waiting for the warriors to come again.

"They're back..."

Cyrene could hear the high nun who came to take care of her muttering to herself, as she knelt on both sides of the square along with thousands of other people, not even bothering to blame the little girl who was still standing: It was a blessing in disguise, as Cyrene could see every scene that followed.

The huge airdrop cabin hummed, the heavy door slowly opened, the sound of hydraulic and pneumatic rods working echoed between gasps and nervous crying, the shouts of worship were getting louder and louder, and except for Cyrene, everyone in the square had knelt down.

But she still stood, still looking directly at those majestic warriors, and comparing them with the paintings on the ancient scrolls: the little girl keenly noticed that these warriors were not wearing dark red and gray armor, nor were their armor decorated with sacred parchment, but were dressed in a completely different way.

They are divided into two colors, silver-white and cobalt blue. The former are dressed relatively simply, but the polished gold stripes on their armor still look sacred and extraordinary, while the warriors in blue armor are wrapped in a layer of gorgeous bronze relief, equally heroic.

However, no matter what these warriors looked like, just a glance at their majestic figures was enough to make mortals blindly believe anything they said: even Cyrene had to admit this, as she waited devoutly for these warriors to finally speak, as if she was waiting for the judgment of fate.

These warriors were divided into small teams and stood in the square surrounded by the crowd, maintaining their dignity silently. The mortal believers knelt down and prayed to them, raising their hands devoutly, eager to become their slaves. This made the angels a little confused, but they still maintained their politeness: those in silver armor looked more calm, while those in blue armor were as stiff as robots.

But this embarrassing scene lasted less than five minutes, because the local church personnel and officials sent by the rulers were maintaining order in public places with unimaginable efficiency, as if they had foreseen the arrival of these angels. The road leading to the square was specially cleared, until the sound of shocking footsteps could be faintly heard from the edge of every city area.

Soldiers, phalanxes, and flags, phalanx after phalanx, gun after gun, a sea of ​​flags and shining armor emerged from every entrance of the Perfect City, and finally gathered into countless huge armies: these mortal warriors also came from the Imperial Fleet above, and they had come down a few days ago. But they only officially appeared today. Although these people are far less eye-catching than the Emperor's angels, their majestic armor and neat phalanxes, as well as the solemn expressions on each of their faces, can still make the residents of the Perfect City admire them.

They watched with respect as the Emperor's warriors occupied the various transportation hubs and commanding heights of the Perfect City and divided the natives into controllable groups: no one would think there was anything wrong with these actions, because their revered elders and nuns also treated these foreign warriors with great respect.

Moving forward, gathering and silence, and continuous low prayers, half of Terra standard time slowly slipped by: just when Cyrene, who was standing barefoot on the ground, felt his ankles a little sore, the last soldier also arrived at his post, so the Emperor's Angel standing in the center of the square finally picked up his communicator.

He seemed to be waiting for some orders, waiting to know what was happening with his fighting brothers. After the above process had been completed in all the thousands of squares in the Perfect City, all the silver-armored warriors took unified action: they placed a huge flag woven with gold and silver and embroidered with the imperial double-headed eagle firmly in the center of the square, and a dazzling light appeared.

Cyrene could hear the elders beside her constantly praising the Emperor’s name, because a living miracle was happening before their eyes: everyone could clearly see that as the flag fluttered, a golden figure was looming in the flag, and finally floated out and slowly rose to the sky of the Perfect City.

In thousands of squares, there are thousands of human figures, each of them is so holy, just like the legendary emperor who has descended: and when they finally gather in the sky above the entire perfect city, they condense into a new [Sun].

A gentler sun.

In the blink of an eye, just as Cyrene was stunned, she heard the unified and loud voices of the Emperor's angels: the warriors in silver armor saluted the sun, while those in blue armor remained silent but still struck a gesture of respect.

In the eyes of everyone, the light around the sun gradually dissipated, and then a flawless face was revealed: Cyrene could see her long silver hair, blue pupils, and an upper body as dignified as the god in the portrait, but she could not see more details on the face.

Faintly, she felt that the face should be that of her mother, whom she had never had any impression of. She hoped that the mother in her dreams would be like this. And from the others, she heard the elders whispering about the person they cherished most.

【Good day, people of the Emperor.】

The sun smiled at them. She seemed to be facing one direction, but everyone felt that she was facing themselves. Her lips hardly moved, but her voice echoed in everyone's heart: this living miracle made the crowd fall into a frenzy, and the prayers that came one after another were like a flood after the early spring.

But when she spoke again, the crowd fell silent.

[Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Morgan, the blood of the Emperor, the Lord of the Dawnbreaker and the Far Eastern Frontier, and, as you are thinking in your mind at this moment, I am the brother of the Great Word Bearer Lorgar, and the warriors standing in front of you, these silver armor and blue armor, are also brothers of the Word Bearers. ]

[We come on their behalf, and we bring the order from the Emperor.]

Cyrene felt that he was drowned by the cheers from the crowd: even the most cautious believers were now worshipping the still somewhat confused Emperor's angels with the greatest enthusiasm.

But the sun in the sky did not let the cheers last too long. [So...]

The sun raised its pitch.

[I, Morgan, hereby exercise my authority and take effect here: I follow the tenth decree issued by the Emperor, and my descendants and the 47th Expeditionary Fleet shall obey and execute it.]

[In the name of the Emperor of Mankind, citizens of the Perfect City: You must move out of this city within fifteen days.]

Thousands of prayers suddenly stopped at this moment, and Cyrene saw confusion and bewilderment in the eyes of the elders: But at the same time, the sun did not let this dead silence last too long, and her next voice was like dew in the desert.

[Because, the Emperor of mankind will descend here in fifteen days. He will descend in front of the Perfect City, where he will receive Lorgar and all the Word Bearers summoned by him, and issue a sacred decree to them: In order for this great meeting to proceed smoothly, the Perfect City should be completely purified.]

[So, in the name of the Emperor and the Word Bearers, you need to cooperate with this sacred meeting, and you need to immediately move out of this city where you have lived for a long time, because from this moment on, every inch of land here will only belong to the glory of the Emperor.]

[Remember, you are not driven away, but leave with pride, because the Emperor has chosen this city. Among the countless worlds and cities in the galaxy, he finally chose the perfect city you built: he hopes that you can dedicate this city to him, just as your heart desires. ]

There was discussion among the crowd, but more of it was excitement and trembling.

Cyrene could hear some people proudly whispering that they were chosen by the Emperor. Most of them were the most fanatical elders. Others, mostly middle-aged people with busy faces, were just worried about their fate after leaving. Only young people like her seemed to be still ignorant of the scene before them, and were only amazed at the appearance of the second sun in the sky.

However, the sun seemed to be able to hear the voices of each of them.

[Don't worry, people of the Perfect City. The Emperor always keeps your life and happiness in mind. In the past period of time, we have built countless shelters and necessary living facilities throughout the Monacia galaxy, enough to accommodate each of you and ensure that your life will not be disturbed in any way.]

[There will be countless resources to protect and comfort you, the most loyal people: I swear in the name of the Emperor, you will be greeted by only a better tomorrow.]

[On the other hand, I also hope that you can cooperate with the actions of the Emperor's angels. We have brought sufficient means of transportation. As long as you remain rational and orderly, everyone will leave safely. Please take away as much of your belongings as possible, and do your best to cooperate with the actions of the angels, because the Emperor's orders are unquestionable. He is destined to descend here in fifteen days, and what greets him must also be a pure and perfect city. ]

[In addition, the first group of residents to leave the city will receive a special gift from the Emperor: they will be assigned to a group of newly established settlements closest to the Perfect City, where they will be able to witness the sacred meeting between the Emperor and the entire Word Bearers Legion.]

The discussion continued among the crowd, but this time it seemed much more heated: Cyrene heard the head nun kneeling beside her, mumbling to herself about how to pack her luggage as quickly as possible.

Then, the sun in the sky seemed to say something again, but Cyrene could no longer hear clearly. The only thing she noticed was that after the warm sun gradually disappeared, the Emperor's angels, who had maintained silence and solemnity, finally began to act.

Although some cries could still be heard in the crowd: there are always people who are reluctant to leave the hometown where they were born and raised, but even without the emperor angels speaking, the elders and nuns who have always been respected by the people have already taken the initiative to stand up and denounce this behavior. They used sacred prayers and passionate speeches to call on the devout faith in everyone's hearts. Under the sunlight that had not yet faded, this was an extremely simple thing.

Now that the Emperor has issued the order, and since the perfect city that they have built with their blood and sweat has been personally favored by the gods, what reason do they have to continue to cling to it? This cannot even be called a test from the gods, because the gods have already prepared sufficient rewards for them.

The respected elders led the thoughts in everyone's mind, and the officials sent from the administrative city took out the plans that had been prepared long ago. The Astartes and mortal soldiers guarded the main roads to avoid possible stampedes. Even among the crowded crowds, there were many cheers, which easily attracted more and more devout prayers.

Everything went so smoothly, as if everything had been prepared in advance.

But no one cares about that anymore.

Before Cyrene could react, the crowd gathered at the outermost edge, led by several "Strong-Willed Ones", turned around and walked towards their residences. The dazed majority followed behind these people, like a flock of sheep being led, and left the sacred square one after another. Astartes warriors and mortal soldiers walked among them, maintaining order and supporting the old, weak and sick.

The tide of tens of thousands of people was no different from a migrating herd of animals. Although the Emperor's angels were trying their best to coordinate order, Cyrene was still stumbling in the crowd. She wanted to seek help from the elder sister, but the elder was a little absent-minded at this time, and she was surrounded by other children who asked her for help. This forced Cyrene to be slowly squeezed to the edge of the square in the tide of the crowd.

Just as she was struggling to climb up the steps of the shop next to the square to catch her breath, Cyrene suddenly felt someone grabbing the back of her neck: the person just exerted a little force and lifted her to the safe steps.

"Be careful, little girl."

Cyrene heard an old voice, like that of a grown man.

Turning around, he saw a face that matched the voice. It was a face with firm skin and many wrinkles, short and neat hair, and a neatly trimmed stubble. His armor was not polished to a shine like the other warriors', but had a simple texture that made people feel comfortable.

"Stay here for a while."

The man smiled at her, and Cyrene then noticed that on the soldier's breastplate, there was a very strange emblem: at first glance, it looked like a combination of a sword and wings, but upon closer inspection, it was discovered that they were not wings, but two nameless flowers that resembled wings.

Strange combination.

She muttered to herself, but heard the man's words clearly.

"Where are your parents?"

The soldier pointed at the crowd below: thanks to the efforts of the Astartes and mortal warriors, the chaotic crowd was gradually returning to order.

"I'll help you find them."

"..."

Cyrene remained silent and did not respond. She searched for her elder sister in the crowd but found nothing. The soldier standing behind her just watched it all in silence and figured out what was going on in his heart.

"Ok."

He pretended to be nonchalant and brushed it aside.

"Then you stay here first. I'll take you back after the crowd has left. It just so happens that it's not my turn to be on duty yet, so I still have some free time."

The soldier was talking to himself, while Cyrene remained silent. When she turned her head and looked at the man, the experienced soldier was stroking his chin, and suddenly, he thought of something.

"Ah, right."

He smiled somewhat awkwardly.

"I almost forgot to ask: what is your name, young lady?"

"Cyrene."

The girl nodded. She could sense the man's respect behind his smile.

"And you, sir?"

"I?"

The soldier raised an eyebrow.

"I have many names: but in Avalon..."

"Just call me Orpesson."

(End of this chapter)