40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 853 1. Graduates are guaranteed job placement (10,000)
"Take this letter, Blacksable, and then go back. Remember to get up early tomorrow; the military ships won't wait for you."

The young man in the reserve officer's uniform bent down and picked up the letter from the teacher's desk, held it in one hand, gave a very standard military salute, and then turned and left.

The corridor of the Zhongsi Academy's administration building was deserted. His footsteps echoed monotonously, like the second hand of a clock, precise and swift. The last rays of the setting sun pierced through the thick bulletproof glass, stubbornly shining on him and painting half of his face in an exaggerated gold.

He clearly didn't like it, so he quickened his pace and hurried back to his dormitory—a small space that every reserve soldier would be given until they completed their studies, graduated with excellent grades, and were assigned to different units.

The college treated them very generously. Although the dormitories were not large, they were equipped with individual air purification systems and high-level protection and anti-theft equipment. Moreover, the interior decoration style could be freely chosen, and there were even twenty-six different styles of pillows to choose from.
Vitus Sable did not choose any of them; in fact, he even replaced his formal bed with a cot made of synthetic materials because he found it too troublesome.

It requires no cleaning, is exceptionally sturdy, and its undulating curves cleverly fulfill some of the functions of a pillow. However, precisely because of this, lying on it is not a pleasant experience. Many veterans who have slept on similar cots have stated that they would rather sleep on the floor than use it.

However, Vitus didn't care about this.

Sleep was merely a necessary means for him to replenish his energy; if possible, he would even prefer to dedicate all twenty-four Terra hours of the day to his studies and work. He was a man of few words, yet in conversations with his only friend, he had expressed more than once his desire to reclaim the seven hours of sleep he had 'wasted' over the years.

The dormitory door slid heavily shut, fitting seamlessly into the wall. The lights then came on, illuminating the room. Vitus casually removed his military cap, hung it on the coat rack, and then hurried to his desk.

He placed the letter on top of it, but did not open it immediately. Instead, he thought for a while before using a letter opener to cut open the envelope.

He took out the letter, unfolded it, and stared intently at the words under the light, his sharp gaze scanning each line until the end. Then he returned to the beginning and read it again, his expression unchanged. His short hair, jokingly referred to as the 'college standard,' looked like countless short, stiff spikes under the overhead light, making one wonder if touching it would cause a prick.
Vitus personally dismissed this dubious speculation. He put down the letter, leaned back, rubbed his face, then casually touched his hair, let out a sigh of frustration, and slowly raised his head.

His friend smiled at him.

"What was the result?" my friend asked, full of anticipation.

Vitus didn't speak, but simply picked up the letter and handed it over. His friend took it, glanced at it, and immediately frowned.

"The Navy?" He shook his head involuntarily. "How could that be? Your ambition was clearly—"

“—The Army,” Vitus continued, his tone calm. “But the Ministry of Military Affairs clearly has other plans for me. It doesn’t matter; if we don’t consider aspirations, the Navy is obviously a better place.”

“But you’ve been striving to join the Thirteenth Legion for a full ten years,” his friend Negui said softly. “They don’t usually do this. Is there some misunderstanding?”

"I believe the Ministry of Military Affairs will not make a mistake."

The deep furrow between Neguyi's brows, which had just subsided, tightened again, and his voice rose accordingly.

“You can trust them on other things, but mistakes are inevitable, Vitus. For your future, I think you’d better ask your teacher.”

“No need.” The young man shook his head. “Navy it is.”

He reached for the letter, carefully folded it, put it back in the envelope, and then began packing his luggage.

Two sets of reserve officer uniforms, two sets of personal change clothes, two pairs of training boots, two pairs of military boots, a pair of black leather shoes for formal occasions, two old data boards filled with military-related books and tactical materials, six notebooks, a quill pen, and a fountain pen.
He packed all his personal belongings into a brown leather suitcase in one go, and then pulled out a heavy, fingerprint-locked security case that was four times larger.

He carried it to the corner of the room, where two weapon racks were mounted on the wall, and next to them was a compact tuning table, small but fully equipped. Since obtaining it, Vitus had never been to the academy's shared tuning room again—all his requirements for personalized weapons were fulfilled there, bit by bit.

He stood there watching for a while before he started to do it.

The first item packed into the box was a 'Silent One' MK7 large-caliber explosive pistol. Its power is unquestionable, but it demands immense wrist strength from the user. Vitus earned it four years ago using academic credits, and subsequently modified the grip, barrel, and trigger, making it even more lethal and accurate, but also significantly increasing its weight.

The second weapon chosen was the 'Mercy' shotgun, from Mars. It was small enough to be held with one hand, fired special ammunition, and was expensive, but an excellent tool in close combat. Vitus also customized it, but only the muzzle. The gun's parts were simply too expensive, and he no longer had enough time to earn credits.

Compared to the first two, the third gun is not a pistol, but a standard Manticore MK2 assault rifle.

This gun is an older model and not part of the recent 'weapon improvement program'. It has many shortcomings, such as insufficient magazine capacity or being relatively heavy. However, its excellent accuracy and handling have allowed it to retain its place among soldiers, unlike its older counterparts which have left the ranks of soldiers.

Vitus didn't make any modifications to it, but he regularly maintained it, and the gleaming gun body was proof of his care for it.

After selecting his gun, he took four standard units of ammunition and magazines and put them into the box, then began to select his melee weapon.

On the weapon rack to the right of the testing station were five distinct blades, ranging from seemingly slender rapiers to heavy military knives, and even a chainsaw sword of ambiguous length that could easily be called a man-splitting saw.
Vitus did not choose any of them, but instead firmly took the last sword from the weapon rack, an old one-handed power sword with the word 'Sable' engraved on the bottom of the hilt.

Judging from its appearance alone, it is not only old, but also an outdated weapon, but that does not stop him from using it to defeat everyone in his grade in the training field.

He put it into the box, secured it, gathered all the necessary maintenance tools, and then locked the box.

"What about the other weapons? You don't want them anymore?" his friend asked again.

“Yes,” Vitus said. “That’s enough.”

As he spoke, he turned and went back to bed, lying down calmly without even taking off his uniform.

“You earned all of these through hard work, paying out credits bit by bit,” Negui said, seemingly somewhat resentful. “Your suitcase clearly had room to spare, why are you just throwing it away like that?”

Vitus shook his head.

“I’m going to serve in the Navy, and most of the time I won’t be in combat, unless I’m boarded or am boarded. Sniper rifles don’t offer much advantage in the cramped cabins of a ship, and as an officer, not a sniper, I have to be on the front lines. For these reasons, I need reliable weapons that can really help me, and it would be even better if they were a bit distinctive.”

"Iconic?"

The young man gave a rare smile, without explaining the matter, while his friend crossed his arms in strong disapproval.

“Gaining the soldiers’ trust isn’t difficult, Vitus,” he said in a low voice. “But if you intend to become a symbol of impending victory, or some kind of banner, you’ll have to put in a hundred or even a thousand times the effort.”

"I know."

“You know, but you don’t yet understand how devastating this will be for you. Watching someone who believes in you wholeheartedly die before your eyes is an extremely painful torment, enough to destroy everything.”

"maybe."

The young man casually brushed off the topic, took off his coat and military boots, and walked barefoot into the shower room.

Before the sound of water could be heard, he said the following to his friend.

“I understand that I may die on the way to doing this, or I may fall in the first battle like countless predecessors. I am not afraid of death, Negui, but I still want to leave something behind. If I really die like this, then these weapons will be what I leave behind. The reserve officer who inherits this dormitory in the future will be pleasantly surprised to receive them and hear my name. One more person is fine. I just want to be remembered. I don’t want to be like my parents, leaving the world with only two names and a useless old sword.”

Upon hearing this, his friend sighed with a complex expression, then silently disappeared.

The following morning, Vitus Sable boarded the Ministry of War's ship without fail. After enduring the sweltering heat, cramped conditions, and swaying for two months and eleven days, he arrived in a world called Felicity.

The unit he was about to join, the Imperial Navy's 691st Vanguard Fleet, was temporarily resting here.

Looking at the massive warships that occupied the entire dock, Vitus couldn't help but feel a little dazed.

He had accepted the fact that he was about to serve in the Navy, but he never imagined that his unit would be so large.
Inside the building on the right side of the dock, he met the person who had come to pick him up.

"Hello." The man, with a cold expression and wearing a major's uniform, gave a hawk salute. "You're Vitus Sable?"

Vitus put down the two boxes he was carrying, stood at attention, saluted, and answered his question seriously.

"Yes, sir."

"To have completed all your studies with honors at the age of twenty is truly remarkable. My name is Augustus Federica, Major, First Mate of the Imperial Messenger, and one of your future superiors. We will be together for a long time until you are killed in action, transferred, promoted, or your term of service ends."

As he spoke, the major stepped forward and shook hands with him formally. His hand was strong and covered in calluses.

A few minutes later, they left the building together and headed towards one of the dozens of warships in the dock. It wasn't large; judging from its size, it was probably a destroyer, but Vitus found himself unable to identify its specific type. He attributed this to some modifications made to it by the captain, whom he had never met.

In the crowded throng, they moved slowly forward, surrounded by reserve officers and naval personnel like him heading to their ships or resting ashore. Few, however, had sent someone specifically to escort him to the customs office and personally escort him aboard, unlike the major.
Vitus was somewhat confused. He concealed it well until a series of trivial matters, such as boarding, claiming his cabin, putting down his luggage, and changing clothes, were all taken care of. Only then did he whisper to himself in front of a mirror.

"Special treatment. Why?"

It was as if he was talking to himself, but a tall, semi-transparent shadow answered him from behind.

"After all, you are the best performing reserve officer in this cohort, so it's normal for you to receive some special treatment."

"But I have no power, no influence, and no money."

His only friend laughed: "My God, Vitus, the Empire may be incredibly corrupt in many places, but you should know one thing: no matter how powerful or wealthy a person is, they can't corrupt the Ministry of the Military. You're part of it, and your experience is the best proof of that, isn't it?"

The young officer paused for a moment, then patted the second lieutenant's rank insignia he had received onto his shoulders, carefully checked them over, put on his military cap, and hurried to the bridge.

Following the major's instructions, he boarded an elevator at the end of the officers' quarters corridor. Two minutes later, as it slowly came to a stop and opened, Vitus was presented with a bridge that did not conform to his previous understanding.

The things he had seen in textbooks and materials did not exist in this spacious and bright space; rows of thinkers, cables hanging from the ceiling, slave laborers, machine operators, and the described 'stale' smell were all absent from his view.

In fact, the only thing it has in common with those preconceived notions in his mind is probably those observation windows that resemble those inside a cathedral, and the stained glass windows overhead.

A man with an upright posture stood not far away, his back to him. Apart from him, the bridge was empty.

Vitus hesitated for a moment, then strode over. The man did not turn around, but raised his right hand as Vitus approached, gesturing for him to wait—however, it was not until a full seventeen minutes later that the man turned around, revealing a face ravaged by war.

But none of these can compare to his eyes, those icy blue eyes, sharp to the point of being terrifying.

“Xie Fa.” He calmly uttered a name, followed by his rank. “Colonel.”

Vitus immediately saluted, but a large part of the reason was not because of the other man's rank, but because he recognized him: Shefa, the commander of his former volunteer unit, the 13th Penitentiary Legion's 'Last Chance'.

He had already seen his face in the documents.

"Sir, Vitus Sable reporting for duty!"

"Keep your voice down, Lieutenant, my hearing is excellent," Colonel Shefa said, waving his hand. "I'm temporarily serving as captain of the Imperial Messenger, and before we finish our rest and officially begin our mission, I have a few things to tell you."

"Please speak, sir."

"First, we will not follow the 691st Vanguard Fleet. Do you have any objections to this?"

"No, sir."

"Secondly, we are about to undertake an extremely dangerous mission without any backup. Also, you've probably noticed something—there are no sailors on the bridge. Let me clarify, it's not just the Imperial Messenger that's missing sailors on the bridge; the entire ship is empty. Its sailors and soldiers are still en route, all death row inmates convicted of heinous crimes—either bastards or scum. Therefore, I require you to temporarily forget what you learned at the Loyalty Academy. I want you to treat them with the utmost cruelty, ruthlessness, and oppression. Do you have any objections?"

"No, sir."

“Third.” The colonel finally paused, changed his tone, revealing a hint of humanity, but his voice remained unchanged. “I know your parents.”

Vitus instinctively clenched his fists, but the colonel continued.

"But don't expect me to treat you any differently because of this. Now you're free to do as you please."

The young lieutenant straightened his back again, saluted, and then turned and left.

Over the next three days, he gradually learned three things.

For example, all the former crew members of the Imperial Messenger—including the captain and all officers—had died in some battle. Also, this ship was temporarily registered under the 691st Vanguard Fleet; it was one of the results of a naval reform program obtained from Mars, and its designation was completely classified.

And one last thing, a very important thing: Colonel Shepherd was right, the new sailors of the Imperial Messenger were indeed a bunch of bastards and scum.

"Scatter!" Vitus roared in his most terrifying tone. "Scatter, and then stand at attention immediately!"

He drew his power sword and activated it without hesitation; a whirring sound flashed by. A few seconds later, someone noticed and told others. However, it wasn't until several minutes later that the entire rioting crowd became aware of it.
It was almost ten minutes later when they finally dispersed as he had instructed.

In what was originally the innermost part of the crowd, Vitus saw several people, their fates unknown, covered in blood. They lay on the ground in all sorts of strange positions. Only two people were still standing, and unexpectedly, one of them was an officer.

Judging from his shoulder insignia, he was a captain. Vitus immediately went over and stood beside the man, staring at the prisoner with clenched fists and tattered clothes.

He spoke coldly: "You have violated military discipline, soldier."

The man opened his mouth and began to curse, his dark face filled with anger.

"Go to hell! Military discipline? Military discipline your whole family! If you really care about military discipline, you might as well ask that piece of trash next to you what he's been up to!"

Vitus had his doubts, but he still decided to uphold the dignity of an officer, so he simply stepped forward and raised his sword.

"I won't say it a second time, soldier. Kneel down."

A hand rested on his shoulder, wiping away the blood. The captain, his hands covered in blood, stepped over him and walked towards the man.

"What did I do, you bastard? Hmm?" he asked with a sneer. "Oh, so I think I broke up this little military gang you were gathering? You guys are incredibly audacious, daring to conspire together after only two days on the ship? What are you planning to do next? Mutiny? Escape?"

“We didn’t!” the man roared. “Don’t you dare make false accusations!”

"Without me, the Emperor will burn me to death with heavenly fire!" the captain roared back, his voice even louder. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. I know all too well what's going on in the heads of you worthless scum who only have a worthless life left!"

"Get the fuck out of here!"

The captain grinned and charged at him, knocking the man to the ground with a few punches and kicks. He then stepped on the man's back and roared at the people around him.

“If I see you all huddled together again, whispering in a dark corner, this is what will happen to them!”

He stomped on the man hard, and the man let out a shrill scream before losing consciousness in convulsions.

The surrounding noise vanished instantly, and the prisoners in their colorful uniforms fell into complete silence. But the captain wasn't finished; he continued issuing orders, demanding that the prisoners drag these people to the infirmary and clean the floor. Anyone who disobeyed his orders would be whipped.

He said this without laughing or yelling, and even seemed somewhat gentle.

After finishing his task, he walked toward Vitus, waving to him halfway there before turning into a side street. At the end of the street was an empty room, devoid of human presence, but bearing the strong marks of life: the smell of smoke and alcohol, and some half-open crates.

Vitus turned his gaze to the captain and silently uttered a question.

"Stop looking, kid."

The captain, his hands still stained with blood, lit a cigar and answered in this way, his tone not exactly contemptuous, but close enough.

“I know what kind of thing I did is in the eyes of a college kid like you. You probably look down on an old-fashioned officer like me who beats up subordinates, right? But let me tell you—”

“—Actually, I support your actions, Captain,” Vitus interrupted him. “I’m just curious why you’re smoking, drinking, and stealing supplies from the ship.” The captain nearly jumped off the crate he was sitting on.

"Who the hell stole this?!"

"you."

"I fucking didn't!"

“But these are all in the supply depot—” Vitus pointed to the boxes. “—I just checked them yesterday. You probably boarded the ship today, right? I must say, you’re very efficient; you’ve accomplished so much in just half a day.”

The captain's face twitched. He took the cigar out of his mouth, took a deep breath, and said, "Listen, academy student, we have no grudges against each other. You even helped me, right?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you do me another favor? Just forget about it, okay?"

“I’m sorry, I can’t comply.” Vitus shook his head. “I understand that your actions just now were necessary. But occupying vacant rooms and stealing military supplies are both serious crimes. And you clearly smoke and drink, so I suspect you will continue to secretly drink and make merry here after we leave the dock. If that’s the case, we can add another charge: drinking during wartime. With all three charges combined, you’re good to go to the disciplinary camp.”

"Damn it!" The captain really jumped up this time. "I took these things after informing Xie Fa, no, I mean the colonel!"

"evidence?"

"Go ask him for it!"

"The captain made it clear that unless someone dies, no one is allowed to disturb him in the captain's cabin."

"Then what the hell did you say? Just forget about it!"

Vitus shook his head again and reached for the military data pad at his waist. After unlocking it, he called the ship's first mate, Major Augustus Federiz, in front of the captain.

"What is it, Vitus?"

"First mate, please come here. I will send you the coordinates."

On the other end of the data panel, the major gave a soft "hmm." Just minutes later, he pushed open the door to the small room and walked in. Like Vitus, his first action was to look around. Then, he fixed his gaze on the captain. The latter was still smoking a cigar, but his expression was not relaxed.

“Captain Cage.” The major nodded to the man, then turned to Vitus. “Lieutenant Vitus.”

Vitus saluted him, but the captain, known as Cage, merely grinned.

"Captain Cage, these supplies will be deducted from your monthly allowance. Also, I heard about your heroic act from the sailors. Well done, but next time in a similar situation, I hope you won't risk your life by using your fists. You have a gun."

The captain nodded sullenly.

He patted the useless gun on his belt, took a deep drag on his cigar, and instead of spitting it out, inhaled it into his lungs like he was smoking.

The major turned to Vitus.

“Lieutenant Vitus, your actions were entirely correct, but Captain Cage is an exception. He is a former subordinate of Colonel Shepherd. The colonel told me that Captain Cage enjoys certain privileges to a certain extent. Therefore, this matter does not need to be reported; I will keep it in mind.”

Vitus saluted without saying a word.

"That's settled then, gentlemen." The major nodded to them, turned and left, not forgetting to close the door behind him.

Amidst the swirling smoke, Cage let out a low, sneer.

"Academy student?" he said with ill intent. "I thought you were a decent, sensible young man, but I never expected you to be such a whiny whittleblower. Why don't you go work in the Internal Affairs Department or the Anti-Corruption Department instead of suffering among this bunch of scum?"

“Those two departments have been abolished, Captain,” Vitus replied calmly. “You probably don’t know much about the Empire’s new army.”

Cage burst out laughing.

“I may not know much about you, but I know the men in the Military Affairs Department very well!” he said, laughing maniacally. “They’re a bunch of scum who love to torture people!”

After laughing, he shook his head and calmed down.

"How about I give you some advice?"

Vitus did his best to remain calm, nodding almost with a sigh.

The captain roared, "Don't you dare be a snitch again! Unless you want to get your throat slit in the middle of the night!"

After saying that, he angrily slammed the door open and left.
-
Late that night, Vitus was cleaning his gun in his room.

He approached this task with meticulous care and seriousness, which slowed his pace considerably, but he seemed to enjoy it immensely. Indeed, for him, this was one of the few things in his twenty years of life that he could truly immerse himself in.
Immerse yourself in it, clear your mind, and think about other things.

A lot of things.

First, there was Colonel Xie Fa, whose knowledge of him was limited to the information the Ministry of Military Affairs had sent to the academy.

Based on the above description, the colonel is a ruthless man, but with exceptional abilities. Otherwise, how could he have transformed the Thirteenth Penitentiary Corps into a highly decorated force within half a century? This army was stripped of the 'penitentiary' prefix under his command and transformed into the Thirteenth Corps, renowned for its outstanding achievements and daring to charge into battle.
But he said he knew his parents.

how come?
Vitus knew little about his parents, only their names and the fact that they had both been soldiers.

According to the academy, he was his mother's posthumous child; she died in her sickbed before seeing him, and his father died on the battlefield. They were both ordinary people with no distinguished family background, so his entry into the Loyal Succession Academy was purely due to the empire's institutional reforms. Otherwise, he probably would never have had the opportunity to grow up and study under such favorable conditions.

He was grateful for this, but back to the question, how did Shefa know his parents? Could it be that they had cooperated with the Thirteenth Punishment Legion? That shouldn't be the case, because this unit was established as a suicide squad from the very beginning and would never fight alongside ordinary troops.

Unable to come up with an answer, he simply put the matter aside for the time being and turned to another matter, namely the major's words.

Captain Cage enjoys certain privileges.

He interpreted this as the major showing some favoritism to his old subordinate, though he didn't seem like the type to do such a thing, but there was no better explanation at the moment. Besides, the captain was no ordinary man. He had taken care of those men with his bare hands, and Vitus knew deep down that he couldn't possibly stand to the end with only blood on his fists like that.
He had already reviewed the 'sailors' files, and in that long list, the lightest charge was murder.

"What are you thinking about?" his friend suddenly asked.

Vitus lowered his hand and replied without turning his head, "It's nothing."

Negui didn't buy it: "Don't try that on me. I watched you grow up, Vitus. I know you very well. You're probably thinking about what Shefa said right now."

“You’re right.” Vitus turned his chair around. “And then?”

“And then? There is no then.” Negui shook his head. “Don’t think about these things. Focus on what’s in front of you. Your volunteer unit commander clearly told you that you are going to carry out a very dangerous mission.”

"I will obey orders."

"So? This doesn't protect you from danger."

“To join the army means to entrust my life to humanity, the Empire, and the Emperor,” Vitus said, enunciating each word clearly. “I will fight for humanity, the Empire, and the Emperor. I know exactly why I’m here, Neguy. You don’t need to remind me.”

His friend looked like he was about to get angry, but in the end he didn't; instead, he just sighed worriedly.

“Don’t do this,” Vitus whispered. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help but worry. You saw those sailors, don’t you understand what they’re up to? It’s obvious that Colonel Shephat is planning to build another Legion of Punishments and then replicate what he did to the Last Chance. This will kill a lot of people, Vitus, a lot of people.”

You might be one of them.

He didn't say it aloud, but Vitus could tell just as well. He pursed his lips, intending to say something nice, but what came out of his mouth was a different look and attitude.

"You should worry about yourself first, Neguy. You're a ghost who somehow grew up with me. If someone finds out about this, think about what will happen to you?"

“Me?” His friend almost burst out laughing at that. “Why don’t you talk about yourself? You seem like the one in trouble.”

“I am not afraid of death. I was prepared a long time ago to be executed as an illegal psychic because of this. But what about you?”

"What's wrong with me?"

"You still have a lot of things to do, don't you? I can tell."

Upon hearing this, Negui fell silent; he seemed to have a lot to say. But in the end, all he uttered was, "Someone is looking for you."

As soon as he finished speaking, he slowly dissipated. Vitus slowly stood up, walked over and opened the door, and saw a face wrinkled with surprise.

"Captain? What's the matter so late?" Vitus asked expressionlessly.

"Student, how are your ears structured?"

"That's all the length you need. Also, please state your position."

"Ha, alright, Lieutenant. Come with me, we have something to take care of."

Without hesitation, Vitus went back, put on his uniform, picked up his gun, and left the room.

Cage led him through a series of winding, dimly lit corridors, descending several levels before finally arriving at a deck marked as crew quarters. Unlike the other decks, the security doors here were tightly shut, and faint noises could be heard coming from inside.

"Those bastards somehow managed to jam the elevator, so we had to walk down."

The captain explained softly, but his feet didn't stop. Like a cat, he crept to the side of the security gate.

"Listen to what's going on inside. What do you think they're doing?"

Vitus did not answer, but instead drew the silencer and raised his gun.

Cage grinned: "That's clever."

He placed his hand on the unlocking device, and the door opened smoothly. A wave of sound, heat, and stench immediately rushed out, along with many grotesque faces. Vitus reflexively pulled the trigger, and a large-caliber explosive shell flew out of the barrel, crashing into the crowd with a blinding flash, killing several people alive. And this was just the beginning.

Ten explosive shells struck the charging group without missing a single one, tearing them to shreds. Blood, entrails, and fragments of bone and flesh were laid out on the bright ground, and the terrifying passion that had gripped the crowd finally subsided.

Vitus retreated while reloading and drawing his power sword, only to see Cage walk in as if nothing had happened.

"Good evening, you bastards!" he roared. "What kind of meeting are you having?! Have you come to any conclusions yet?!"

"Kill him!" someone shouted. "We've already looked around during the day. There are only a few officers on this ship. Kill them all, we have plenty of men!"

"Yes, yes, there are many of you."

Cage grinned maliciously, reached into his pocket, pulled out a round, dark green grenade, and held it up.

“But I have this,” he said lightly. “And now, you good people who have unfortunately ended up here? You good people who have been forced by unjust judges, corrupt Ministry of Justice agents, and all the injustices of the world to kill, steal, rape, desert, desecrate corpses, or do a whole host of other bastard things, what do you say?”

No one spoke.

Vitus walked up behind him and raised his gun.

"Go back to your respective dormitories," he said calmly. "Or be executed. The choice is yours."

After several seconds of silence, someone, defiant and armed with weapons—an old-fashioned sharpened toothbrush, soap wrapped in clothing, pipes that had somehow been broken off, or teeth and fists—charged towards them.

Left with no other choice, Vitus killed another batch of people.

He did it so calmly that even he himself felt it was a little too calm. Cage glanced back at him in surprise.

Amidst the snaking trail of blood, Vitus changed his magazine again, then took a heavy step forward. Blood splattered, staining his boots crimson.

"Go back, or die."

They scrambled back home.

"That's fucking incredibly stupid."

As he watched the dormitory doors close one by one, Cage cursed under his breath.

“I’ve never seen such stupid death row inmates. Even if they wanted to riot, they should have waited until we gave them guns. What is this? We haven’t even left Felicity yet, and there are soldiers everywhere! Do they really think they can sail this ship out in front of everyone?”

“This is indeed strange, Captain,” Vitus said. “Have you reported this to the Major and the Colonel?”

"No, I contacted you first. I don't know that major, but the colonel isn't known for his good temper. If you and I handle this, fewer people will die. If we let him do it..."

Cage gave a cold laugh and didn't continue speaking.

“Well then, I must go and report,” Vitus said, putting away his gun.

"Fine, whatever you want. Anyway, things are over now," Cage replied listlessly.

He turned around, looked Vitus up and down, and finally revealed a smile that wasn't so ferocious.

"You're not a bad soldier."

He said that, then turned around and walked forward, still empty-handed.

"I'll go lock every door from the inside. Go report, student. Remember to portray me as brave and fearless."

Vitus tried, but it doesn't seem to have worked.

On the main bridge of the Imperial Messenger, Colonel Sheffield offered no positive assessment. Instead, a pale man dressed in black who suddenly appeared beside him gave him an approving smile.

Beneath the brim of his hat, his completely black eyes reflected Vitus's face like a mirror.

“Well done,” he said softly, his accent extremely peculiar, with a strong breathy quality.

(End of this chapter)