Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 1040, 09:10:39: "I must know the truth!"

Om-!
Horatio's Holy Blood Chainsaw roared in anger, its rapidly spinning adamantite teeth whipping up a crimson whirlwind that sliced ​​a fanatical believer, whose eyes gleamed with madness, in half at the waist.

Warm flesh and bone fragments were flung out by centrifugal force, turning into a crimson mist in mid-air.

Immediately following, Sister Ageta's explosive gun emitted short, deadly roars.

She was as calm as a black iron statue, each burst of fire precisely blasting an enemy into a mangled mess of flesh and blood.

Skilled soldiers develop tacit understanding quickly. Despite it being their first time working together, the two formed a perfect team after just a few concise exchanges.

Horatio was responsible for the frontal assault, tearing through the densest enemy ranks with his chainsaw sword, while Ageta provided precise fire support, eliminating any threats from the flanks with pinpoint firepower.

They carved out a path to Arabella in this purgatory of flesh, screams, and prayers.

[The combat skills of the Sisters of the Martyrs are indeed well-deserved.] Horatio secretly admired them during a break in the battle. The nun's reaction speed and tactical awareness were able to perfectly keep up with his genetically enhanced movements and rhythm, which was extremely rare among mortals.

When they finally arrived, the gentleman who had gouged out his own eyes had already been trampled into an unrecognizable pile of flesh by the ensuing chaos, prematurely ending his suffering.

Arabella's surroundings were littered with dismembered corpses.

Her silver power armor was stained with blood that wasn't hers, the chainsaw sword in her hand was still humming, and her face was filled with confusion.

She never imagined that such a large number of cult members were hidden among this seemingly devout pilgrim crowd.

What she found even more incomprehensible was that the local state church of Sintila, known for its iron-fisted rule and fanaticism, would allow so many heresies to flourish right under its nose.

[No……]
Arabella rationally dismissed her resentful conjecture.

The Holy Drusus Order is known throughout the sector for its fanaticism and extremism. They will mercilessly purify any heretics they see with fire and wage holy war against them without mercy... So what exactly are these people?

Could they possibly disguise themselves so skillfully as devout believers in their daily lives, even participating in sacraments alongside genuine believers, without being detected?
Fortunately, they were exposed at the first checkpoint.

Otherwise, Arabella couldn't imagine what terrible tragedy would occur if these hundreds of fearless thugs infiltrated the Cathedral of Enlightenment.

[But... what exactly is the situation that forces them to reveal their operational plans at this moment...?]
As Arabella parried with her sword, her mind raced, trying to decipher what that person meant by "a black sun radiating a purple halo" and "glowing light."
Boom!
Just as she was thinking, a solid body suddenly bumped into her from behind.

Startled, she almost instinctively turned her head to prepare to retaliate with her sword, only to see Horatio, who had fought his way through the encirclement to her side.

The chainsaw sword in his hand, like a blood-red windmill, shredded the enemy coming from behind for her.

“Sintira is really a mess.” Horatio gasped for breath, wiping the rusty-smelling bloodstains splattered on his face with his arm.

“I’ve heard Sister Ageta mention cults before, but I never expected them to be so audacious!”

Arabella said urgently, “I’ve made a discovery, Captain. These cultists weren’t supposed to make a move here, but it seems some mysterious force has forced their plans to be completely disrupted.”

"Perhaps the 'mysterious force' you speak of is subtly influencing the entirety of Sintira. The Inquisition has already taken action, but I don't yet know the specifics. This way!"

hum!
Horatio roared and brought his chainsaw down with all his might, cleaving a rogue bailiff blocking his path in two, armor and all.

He tore open a precious gap, grabbed Sister Arabella's arm, and tried to break through the center of the crowd.

However, several other local bailiffs who had apostates and were mixed in with the crowd immediately blocked their way like wild dogs that had smelled blood.

"Sister Ageta, cover us! Take them out!" As an Imperial Navy officer, he issued the order to guide Sister Ageta in the battle.

"no problem!"

Bang! Bang! Bang! Sister Ageta raised her explosive pistol without hesitation and fired a series of precise and deadly three shots, which struck the armor of a traitorous bailiff hard.

The first explosive grenade shattered his armor, while the next two blasted his chest apart. The powerful kinetic energy even knocked down his two accomplices behind him.

If you fall in such a chaotic and crowded place, there is no chance of getting up again. You will be crushed into a pulp by countless frantic feet and the trampling of the floats.

On the other side of the battlefield, the relic float, under the desperate cover of the martyred nuns, was slowly moving away from the most chaotic area.

Some fanatical believers spontaneously gathered around, linking arms and using their own flesh and blood to build a fragile but steadfast defensive line for the fighting nuns.

Thanks to these unwavering "shields," the relic float was able to quickly separate itself from the crowd. The cuirassiers, on the other hand, were in dire straits.

They tried to regroup, create distance, and use the momentum of their warhorses to disperse the crowd, but the completely out-of-control situation gave them no chance.

In the chaos of battle, even their captain, Dortlp, was grabbed by the bridle and belt by countless black hands from all sides and forcibly pulled off his tall warhorse amidst screams.

His world spun around in an instant, and he could no longer distinguish between the thugs and the civilians.

The instant he fell to the ground, his fighting instincts still drove him to wildly slash at the surrounding crowd with his cavalry sword, spraying blood onto his magnificent uniform and the recently polished breastplate, until a rough, whistling, hammer-like blunt object slammed heavily onto his helmet.

With a loud thud, the noble cuirassier officer felt a dizziness he had never experienced before, a hundred times worse than when he had fallen from the back of any of the wild horses in his family's horse training grounds.

His motor cavalry sword slipped limply from his hand and stuck into the dirty ground.

Even with such a heavy blow, his sturdy, mirror-polished Minerva terracotta helmet saved his life.

But the violent tremors had blinded him, and he could only vaguely see several sharp knives gleaming with a cold light, stabbing viciously toward his unprotected neck and femoral artery.

Ping!
Just as he resignedly closed his eyes, in his blurred vision, a powered saber emitting a ghostly blue glow appeared as if from the heavens, cutting through the deadly short blades in an elegant yet deadly arc.

"Hey! Cavalry kid, are you just going to let your nice uniform and breastplate rot on this dirty street?"

A voice he hated most rang in his ears.

Poniatovsky, who came from a "ragtag cavalry" unit, loved to drink and have fun, dressed in a flamboyant manner and had no semblance of military seriousness, was leading a group of bailiffs from the Gothic Sector, breaking through the horde of thugs like tigers descending a mountain.

The Gothic bailiffs stormed into the crowd with an almost brutal approach, indiscriminately attacking anyone within range with their riot shields and stun batons, savagely forcing them against the wall, and then precisely pulling out anyone from the crowd who was armed or making an attacking move, binding them with chains.

It was through such extreme violence, treating everyone equally, that a chance of survival was miraculously cleared for this cavalry officer who was on the verge of death.

Captain Dortmund, clutching his buzzing head, hurriedly removed the Minerva helmet, which had been smashed and deformed, from his head.

He felt like he was seeing stars, and even though he was lying on the ground, his body felt like it was gliding and moving.

No! The body is actually moving!
Poniatovsky was gripping his collar tightly, dragging him from the crowd to the corner of the terracotta wall like a sack.

“Kurwa!” Poniatovsky cursed, panting heavily. He pulled a flask from his waist, quickly unscrewed the cap, and took a large gulp. “Your polished breastplate, that slut’s, is a deathly heavy thing! I’m definitely not saving you again next time, you cavalry boy!”

Captain Dortmund was speechless, clutching his throbbing head, still reeling from the intense dizziness.

"I hope the Emperor protects you from being knocked senseless," Poniatovsky muttered, raising his hand and shouting, "Medical Nun! We need help here!"

As truckloads of bailiffs were urgently transported to the front lines through bulletproof vans from the second and third checkpoints, the chaotic situation was gradually brought under control by the tough measures of these stability maintenance experts.

People were driven to the wall, put their hands behind their heads, and tremblingly accepted the inspection by the Gothic bailiffs.

The injured were then aided by the nuns who put away their chainsaw swords and picked up their medical kits again.

Those madmen who had their eyes gouged out, whether or not they were assassins, were placed under close surveillance, gathered together, and taken away one by one by a group of Inquisition agents dressed in black who emerged from the shadows.

Many assassins who were not yet controlled chose to commit suicide. They did so swiftly and decisively, as if they possessed a unified Gestalt consciousness. After realizing that the plan had failed, with a silent command, they shouted blasphemous and evil words and plunged the sharp knives in their hands into their own throats.

“It happened right before our eyes, and we don’t even know what happened.” Horatio watched the courtroom agents efficiently cleaning up the scene, his brow furrowed.

Their actions were so swift that before he could conduct any investigation, all the leads had been lost.

"Supreme Chief Citizen, are you alright?" Yadviga carefully wiped the blood off the blade with a clean white handkerchief and strode toward Horatio.

“I’m fine. But do you know anything about this? Did you experience the ‘Revolution’ firsthand, and did something like this happen back then? These people gouging out their own eyes.”

Horatio asked Jadviga, a strong premonition rising in his heart that the truth behind the outbreak of the "Revolution" was probably not as simple as she said.

After asking the question, he turned his head and looked at Sister Ageta with a serious gaze: "In the name of the Holy One of the God-Emperor, Sister Ageta."

I want to get closer to the truth; what exactly happened here?
I am responsible for the divine actions that the God-King has instructed me to take next, so I must know what is happening here in order to formulate my next course of action.

(End of this chapter)