"It's a pity Captain Loken strictly forbade me from revealing the circumstances at the time."
"Otherwise, I would have written a long poem on the theme of deception, betrayal, and the coming destruction."
"But it wasn't without its rewards."
"I wrote down the strange script Erebus had tattooed on his face, and also recorded many ancient incantations from the Davine cult."
"The thing is, I don't understand a single word. Maybe I should find a Preacher to help me translate and interpret them. I wonder if Old Syndermann has time to decipher these texts."
Hmm? The strange script on Erebus' face? Ancient incantations from the Davine cult?
Alexander's eyes twitched slightly, a premonition of ill omen rising in his heart as his finger gently turned to the next page—
Bang!
After glancing at the text on the next page, Alexander quickly slammed the notebook shut.
Sure enough, it recorded a large number of twisted, abstract Davine hieroglyphs. Just a glance made Alexander feel a slight dizziness.
"What's wrong?" Mont noticed Alexander's strange behavior.
Alexander just shook his head, his expression a little strained.
"Indeed, these are incantations circulated among the warrior cults on Davine," the winged figure of Sanguinus said in a low voice.
His voice carried a hint of disgust and revulsion, as if those words were utterly blasphemous and filthy.
Davine, the place where Horus was corrupted.
The humans on that planet were corrupted by Chaos, becoming like beasts.
These Davine people formed numerous warrior cults with dark beliefs, and Chaos priests served dark secret cults among them.
The true objects of worship for those secret cults were the Gods of the Warp.
They obtained numerous blasphemous secrets of the Warp from these Gods.
Ignes. Kalkas actually courted death by recording the incantations circulating among the cults on Davine.
That was close, he almost got himself killed across ten thousand years by this guy.
A bead of sweat trickled down Alexander's forehead.
Perhaps the branch director within this Corpse Guild was corrupted by Chaos precisely because he deciphered some of the incantations in the notebook.
Thinking of this, Alexander opened the notebook again and, without hesitation, tore off the cream-colored pages filled with Davine hieroglyphs, throwing them to the ground.
The twelve lasguns he controlled with his psychic power, hovering beside him, aimed at the discarded papers and fired a volley.
Alexander only breathed a slight sigh of relief when he saw the papers, filled with blasphemous incantations, reduced to ashes.
Watching Alexander's strange actions, Mont and Marquite exchanged bewildered glances.
"Nothing, it's just that those few pages had some dirty stuff on them."
Alexander, catching his breath, looked at Mont and Marquite, shaking his head as he spoke.
"Dirty stuff?" Mont showed some curiosity: "How dirty?"
"Very dirty, as dirty as the wild history of Leman Russ selling hooks," Alexander said with a look of disdain at the ashes on the ground.
Listening to Alexander's blasphemous words, Mont's eye twitched slightly.
How could this guy casually utter such blasphemous words?
Even as a mutant, he couldn't help but want to send him to the stake.
Mont glanced at Marquite beside him, realizing his older brother was also somewhat speechless.
The two exchanged glances, then Mont stepped forward and patted Alexander's shoulder.
"Brother, if you can't make it in the Lower Nest someday, come to the Bottom Nest."
"We brothers have a certain standing in the Bottom Nest."
Alexander cast a strange look at Mont: "What are you talking about? I'm not a mutant, why would I be so desperate as to go to the Bottom Nest?"
"But you're a heretic," Mont said with a serious expression: "Damn it, my brother and I combined aren't as heretical as you."
Hearing this, Alexander frowned deeply and pushed Mont's hand away: "Don't falsely accuse me."
"My loyalty to humanity is clear as day and night. There are no two suns in the sky; in my heart, there is only the Emperor, a cold sun."
Saying this, Alexander looked at Mont and Marquite with a righteous expression:
"I wholeheartedly believe in the following truth: there are no ghosts or gods between the stars, no supernatural phenomena, and no magic or sorcery. Everything can be interpreted through scientific means, and humanity, by the light of reason, can overcome everything. Nothing should be worshipped, and the rational galaxy needs to completely eliminate the backward concept of religion."
Alexander's voice was strong and clear, leaving Marquite and Mont momentarily stunned.
The two looked at each other in confusion, then couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Your mouth really knows how to tell jokes," Mont said, shaking his head.
Marquite also sighed, saying, "Who came up with this 'truth' full of lies? How blasphemous and heretical!"
"Whether in the Adeptus Ministorum or in the secret cults in the shadows, such theories are so foolish they deserve the stake."
If there are no ghosts or gods between the stars, where does the Astronomican that illuminates the galaxy come from? What are the great beings in the Warp?
If there are no supernatural phenomena or magic, what are the priests, psykers, and cultists performing?
If everything can be understood by science, then why are the Warp and the material universe covered in thick mysteries?
If the light of human reason can overcome everything, and humanity needs no faith or worship, then why does the Adeptus Ministorum exist?
Mont and Marquite couldn't help but laugh because every word in this "Truth" contradicted reality.
"Exactly, who came up with such a shocking lie?" Alexander nodded in agreement.
The winged figure of Sanguinus trembled slightly.
"Ah, Imperial Truth," he sighed with deep resentment.
Mont caught his breath, recovering from his laughter, and clapped Alexander on the shoulder.
"Anyway, be careful not to end up on the stake."
"If you can't make it, come find me in the Bottom Nest. We're all brothers."
Saying this, Mont punched Alexander on the shoulder.
Alexander shrugged.
No matter how he thought about it, he wouldn't sink to the Bottom Nest.
"I'd rather go to the Bottom Nest!"
Alexander suppressed the churning in his stomach, clutching his forehead as he squatted on the cargo train, watching Lager and a few gang members move the three hundred automatic rifles.
After emerging from the Old Eight District, he parted ways with Mont and Marquite, taking a cargo train back to this large district.
It proved that even without a hangover, this broken train was still tormenting.
He should have gone with the Marquite brothers to the Bottom Nest. At least he wouldn't have to take this deadly train again.
"Brother Alexander, should we go for a round at Sharp Spear tonight?" Lager clapped Alexander on the back with a grin.
Not only did Alexander make a big profit from this batch of automatic rifles, but Lager must have also gained a lot of benefits in between.
Alexander almost couldn't hold back his vomit. He pushed Lager's hand away and shook his head, saying:
"No, I want to vomit on your face right now."
He rubbed his temples, stood up, and now he just wanted to go home and lie down for a good sleep.