One Week Later
Inside the Command Headquarters, Qin Mo sat at the holo-illuminated conference table, taking a break from his research to handle administrative matters.
Gathered before him were the Regintal Commanders and the Thunderborns, each standing in the stoic silence of trained veterans.
Klein was the one reporting today's most pressing update.
"The new recruits have completed their initial training, one million troops in total," Klein announced. "Midway through the program, we adjusted the regin based on the Cadian drill doctrines provided by Creed. I have to admit, the Cadians know their military craft. The 44th Regint can now be reford."
Qin Mo nodded, but in his mind, the number echoed hollow. One million soldiers, impressive by ordinary standards, felt woefully insufficient.
For a Hive World, a million troops was nothing.
Even Tyrone Hive, which was small compared to other Hive Worlds, boasted an undocunted but estimated population exceeding twenty billion.
A million soldiers from a pool that vast was barely a whisper of its potential.
"We've been recruiting since we secured the Lower Hive. Now that the entire Hive City is under our dominion, the training is finally complete," Grey sighed, recalling how the Thunderborns had once followed recon drones into the choking dark of the Underhive, conscripting soldiers while construction teams installed bulkhead-sized water purifiers.
"Back then, we thought the new recruits would at least get to fight in the Hive War," he added, his tone tinged with regret.
"Do we have enough weapons and gear to arm this many soldiers?" Anruida asked with concern.
"More than enough," Qin Mo said with absolute certainty.
From the mont the AI Core and logistical drones had been created, their self-replication had never stopped.
With their integrated fabricators, they had relentlessly mass-produced war materiel, day and night.
Had Qin Mo not developed automated printing technology, even an endless workforce of drones wouldn't have sufficed to manufacture power armor for every soldier.
"When do we comnce the assault on Talon II?" Grey asked thoughtfully.
"Once the fleet is assembled. Very soon," Qin Mo replied.
Grey gave a silent nod, his eyes narrowing as if envisioning the campaign to co.
....
"The Governor's Ceremony?"
"Now that you're officially the Planetary Governor, shouldn't there be a grand inauguration ceremony?" Anruida asked, his tone respectful but persistent.
As a forr scribe of the House of Burr, Anruida's perspective was not purely military. He believed Qin Mo had overlooked so formalities, including the symbolic importance of a ceremony.
While secondary to war, such rituals bound a ruler to his people.
The Imperium thrived on such traditions; parades of gilded banners, vox-hailers proclaiming decrees, and the grand spectacle of planetary fealty.
The common man needed a symbol, sothing tangible to anchor their loyalty.
Qin Mo smiled faintly.
"We should focus on the war. Ceremony or not, I am still the ruler of this world."
"Of course, and you have earned it, but—"
"Our ti is better spent on more pressing matters."
"Understood."
Anruida dropped the subject.
In the end, Qin Mo didn't need a ceremony to prove his authority, nor did he need to show his face to the people of the Hive.
His rule was absolute, regardless.
"Does anyone else have sothing to discuss?" Qin Mo asked.
Silence fell upon the chamber.
"Then you're all dismissed."
The officers stood, saluted, and left, all except Grey.
Qin Mo watched him carefully, waiting for him to speak.
"Can Grot fight in the Talon II campaign?" Grey asked bluntly. "Not as a Thunderborn, just as an ordinary soldier."
"Yes," Qin Mo answered imdiately.
Grey blinked in surprise.
"Really?"
"Really," Qin Mo affird.
After a brief pause, he elaborated.
"Civilian life is deteriorating his ntal state. If he wishes to fight, let him."
"Good!" Grey grinned, eager to deliver the news.
Qin Mo patted Grey's shoulder, considering whether to warn him about sothing, but decided against it.
Grey was not Yoan.
He wasn't so Untouchable, untethered from the warp and blessed with the agony of clarity. So things were better left unsaid.
In this cursed galaxy, ignorance was often the only true shield.
Instead, Qin Mo simply said.
"I'll assign him as a squad leader in the new 44th Regint. He has combat experience. He doesn't need to start as a grunt."
"I'll tell him. Thank you, Governor."
Grey saluted and left.
....
Nightfall
Qin Mo lay his head on his desk, the room dark save for a flickering lun globe. He was resting, but not peacefully.
When he opened his eyes in the dream, he found himself back in the shifting, feverish realm of the Shapeshifter.
This ti, the Shapeshifter had taken the form of a levitating boltgun, suspended in midair like a relic in a stasis field.
"Long ti no see," Qin Mo greeted, sitting before it. "So, what happened? Were you busy powering Necron generators or fighting battles in their na?"
"Do not joke about my suffering!" the Shapeshifter snapped, its form warping violently as it morphed into a middle-aged man, his face twitching with repressed rage, glaring at him.
Qin Mo remained impassive, unfazed by its irritation.
With a sigh, the Shapeshifter got to the point:
"I have reclaid another ability. I can show you what's happening on the other two planets of the Talon System."
Qin Mo raised an eyebrow.
"Really? I thought you could only give cryptic riddles."
"How do you think I found you in the first place?"
The Shapeshifter transford into a screen.
Then, reality shifted.
Qin Mo suddenly stood between two planets, weightless in the void, the stars cold and silent around him.
The Shapeshifter expanded the view, showing him the surface of both worlds.
....
Talon II: The Traitor's Stronghold
As Qin Mo expected, the planet Talon II was the heart of the Cult of the Lord of Wisdom.
They were conducting heretical rituals without pause, clearly preparing for so grand sche.
Great pyres of burning sacrificial flesh lit the skyline, their smoke billowing into the heavens, turning the skies into a choking shroud of black.
Psychic energy bled into the atmosphere like steam, distorting reality and forming auroras of madness that danced unbidden, even under sunlight.
However, not all of Talon II had fallen.
A massive resistance movent; numbering in the hundreds of millions, was hiding in the sewers, waging a desperate guerrilla war.
They lived in the stink of rot and rust, ambushing convoys and burning heretical icons.
During their most dire monts, Eldar warriors appeared, aiding their fight.
Striking with surgical cruelty and vanishing like ghosts before the enemy could react.
The planet's cities were fortress-like bastions, resembling massive star forts.
Gothic spires jutted like knives, bastions bristled with macro-cannons.
The largest tropolis was even protected by void shields, its monolithic silhouette visible from orbit. An iron cathedral of damnation, carved in planetary scale.
....
Talon III, however, was Qin Mo's primary concern.
Two frigates were bombarding the surface, but it was pointless.
Everyone on the planet lived underground.
And their way of life… was a horror-show of unchecked excess.
Depravity had beco their creed.
The population was engaged in debauchery so extre it defied human limits.
A civilization of rot, lost to sensation and madness.
For example, they held drinking contests, not to celebrate or forget, but to see who could rupture their organs first in front of a cheering mob.
Each splatter of blood was t with raucous applause.
But that wasn't the worst part.
Talon III also harbored Orks and a Genestealer Cult.
And, hilariously, the Genestealers were fighting both the Orks and the Heretics.
In one underground city, tens of thousands of cultists were escorting a flag-bearer into battle.
They scread their devotion to the Four-Ard Emperor, charging through heavy fire at all costs.
The flag-bearer was gunned down; but imdiately, four others rushed in to grab the banner.
One clutched the pole, while the others pushed it upright, planting the four-ard Aquila in the heart of the city.
Smoke, spores, and screams filled the air.
Most of Talon III now belonged to the Genestealer Cult, its tunnels echoing with chittering hymns and blood-soaked sermons.
Qin Mo stood in stunned silence.
Then, after a long pause, he muttered:
"This star system… is a small temple filled with big demons, and a shallow pond overflowing with monsters."
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