"On this planet forgotten by the Emperor and bled dry by the four major factions, someone has to stand up and tell those high and mighty lords: The citizens of the Imperium are not consumables! They are not statistics! They are not a price that can be casually sacrificed!"
His voice began to carry an infectious power. The Hope and Compassion traits silently activated in his eyes.
Paul paused, enunciating every single word.
"The most precious thing a person possesses is life, and life is given to each of us only once..."
The plaza was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Those words were too simple, too plain. So plain that in the Warhammer universe, where everything is measured in stars and oceans of blood, they seemed so... out of place.
But it was exactly this incongruity that struck something deep within them.
Those who worked to death on the assembly lines in the underhives. Those who inhaled dust in the mining pits until they coughed up pieces of their own lungs. Those who froze and starved to death in the streets, never even having their names remembered.
Did their lives truly deserve the word "precious"?
Paul saw the profound shock in the residents' eyes.
A compassionate gentleness entered his voice.
"In the order of Crimson Dawn, every person's life is precious."
"Those who labor, should have full stomachs. Those who contribute, should receive respect. Children should have the chance to learn, and the elderly should enjoy their twilight years in peace."
"These are not acts of charity; they are the innate rights of every human being!"
"To those willing to work, we will give you food. We guarantee you will be warm and fed."
He turned slightly and gestured toward the edge of the plaza.
Players who had been standing by on standby carried over a dozen massive vats.
Inside the vats was a thick stew made from the freshly harvested potatoes at the base. Spiked with a bit of salt and some synthetic protein powder redeemed from the shop, it was steaming hot and exuded the rich, earthy aroma of crops.
"We will give you a safe place to live."
Paul pointed outside Red Town, toward the direction of the base.
"Over a hundred kilometers east, deep in the wasteland, we have already built a settlement."
"It has sturdy walls, water purification systems, reclaimed farmland, a place for medical care, and a place to study."
"We will give you dignity."
His gaze swept over everyone.
"In Crimson Dawn, no one is a slave. No one is a consumable."
"Labor in exchange for survival. Contribution earns respect. It is that simple."
The players began distributing the potato stew.
It was served in crude wooden bowls, half a bowl per person.
Though it wasn't much, to these residents who had lived in a state of semi-starvation relying solely on nutrient paste, it was a feast they hadn't seen in ages.
The first to receive a bowl was an old woman who looked to be in her sixties, her face withered and gaunt.
With trembling hands, she stared at the steaming, greyish-brown stew. Tears rolled down her cheeks without warning.
She didn't rush to eat. Instead, she turned around and handed the bowl to a seven- or eight-year-old boy behind her—her grandson.
The boy swallowed it greedily, the stew smearing all over his face.
The old woman simply crouched beside him, watching, her cloudy eyes brimming with tears.
More and more people received food.
At first, they were cautious, taking careful, tentative sips.
But when that first mouthful of hot food went down, when their stomachs felt a long-lost warmth, something inside them began to crumble.
Suppressed sobbing began to echo from all around the plaza.
Paul stood on the podium, quietly watching the scene.
He knew that words alone could never truly move people's hearts.
Starving stomachs, wounded bodies, despairing souls—these required far more tangible things to heal.
Food was the first step.
Just then, a frail, tiny voice came from the front of the crowd.
"U-Uhm..."
Paul looked down.
It was a little girl, around six or seven years old. She wore clothes fashioned from a torn burlap sack. Her small face was smudged with dirt, but her eyes were large and incredibly bright.
Tied to her back with strips of cloth was an even smaller child, looking to be only two or three years old. His eyes were closed, his breathing dangerously faint.
Paul recognized her.
It was the girl he had seen under the eaves on the main street—the child who had shielded her little brother tightly in her arms.
The little girl looked at him timidly. Her voice trembled, but she tried her hardest to speak clearly.
"My Lord... is everything you said... really true?"
Paul crouched down, reaching out a massive hand to gently pat the little girl's head.
He brought himself down to eye level with her, just as Vulkan, the Primarch of the Salamanders and Lord of Drakes, would have done.
"It's true," he said gently. "What is your name?"
"Adela Knox," the little girl whispered. "And my brother is Luka Knox."
Paul didn't bother asking the pointless question of where her parents were.
In this weed-choked world, a six-year-old girl carrying a toddler on her back explained everything that needed to be said.
"Adela," Paul repeated her name, his voice growing even softer. "What did you want to ask?"
Adela bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes.
"If... if you really came here to save people... could you... could you save my little brother?"
She struggled to turn around, allowing Paul to see Luka on her back.
The boy's face was a sickly pale blue, his lips purple. His breathing was so faint it was practically imperceptible.
He had clearly been terribly ill for quite some time.
Paul reached out.
"Adela, put your brother down. Let me take a look."
The little girl hesitated for a moment, but clumsily untied the cloth strips anyway.
[Have You Been Loyal Today?] stepped forward to help, carefully lifting Luka down and laying him flat on the ground.
Paul rested on one knee, his right hand hovering over Luka's chest.
The Compassion trait activated.
A gentle, pale green psychic glow flowed from his palm, seeping into the child's body like spring rain.
It tenderly repaired his damaged tissues, purged the invading pathogens, and replenished his failing vitality.
Three minutes later, color visibly returned to Luka's face.
His breathing became steady and strong. His eyelids fluttered, and slowly opened.
He had large eyes very much like Adela's, only far more innocent and bewildered.
"Luka!"
Adela threw herself forward, hugging her brother tightly, her tears finally spilling over. "You're awake... you're finally awake..."
Luka looked blankly at his sister, then at his surroundings, before his gaze finally landed on Paul.
He reached out a tiny hand and grabbed one of Paul's fingers—a single finger thicker than his entire hand.
Paul smiled.
He let the child hold onto him. With his left hand, he retrieved a ration biscuit from the shop, broke off a small piece, and handed it to Luka.
Luka took it timidly and popped it into his mouth.
The newly recovered child, still not entirely sure what was happening, broke into a purely innocent smile.
Adela looked at her brother's smiling face, then at Paul, and suddenly bowed deeply.
"Thank you... My Lord... thank you..."
Paul shook his head and stood back up.
He looked around. More and more residents were receiving food. More and more people were beginning to believe that these people might... actually be different.
"Keep distributing," he said to the players. "Make sure everyone gets a share. You can give a little extra to the children and the elderly."
"Understood!"
Paul turned and walked toward Schrödinger Bro at the edge of the podium.
Schrödinger Bro had been quietly watching the entire process.
Seeing Paul approach, a smile touched his lips. "I knew I didn't misjudge you. You've got a real talent for this."
Paul chuckled, then said calmly, "Schrödinger Bro, you stay here for now."
"Work with G Bro. Watch over these residents and screen for anyone we can use."
"Also, sweep the entire town. Scavenge all usable resources. Anything that can be converted into Imperial Coins, convert it."
He paused, his tone growing a bit colder.
"This town is too filthy, too broken down. The contamination is too severe."
"We won't be staying here long-term."
"Anyone willing to come with us, escort them back to the base."
"Anyone who refuses... let them fend for themselves here."
Schrödinger Bro had no objections.
Red Town's environment was genuinely atrocious. Prolonged residency here guaranteed radiation sickness and mutation sooner or later.
The base had water purification systems and reclaimed farmland. That was where the future lay.
"Also," Paul added, "notify Cogboy back at the base. Tell him to take a crew and chop down the entire mutant forest behind the base. Build more barracks."
"With so many people coming over, we won't have enough space."
"Understood."
"Tax Bro and I are heading out now. We'll split up and take Merida and Bordeaux."
Paul glanced up at the sun. "Before nightfall, I want all three towns secured."
Schrödinger Bro nodded, sparing any pointless nonsense about 'staying safe.'
With Paul's current strength, there wasn't much on Aurelian IV that could actually threaten him.
Paul took one last look at the plaza.
Adela was carefully feeding her brother the potato stew, bite by tiny bite. She refused to eat any herself, feeding it all to him.
A player couldn't bear to watch and scooped her another half-bowl. Only then did she blush and begin to take small, timid bites.
Paul turned and walked toward the waiting convoy.
Tax Bro had already assembled the thousand men of Crimson Strike. The engines of forty-two transport trucks roared in anticipation.
White Scars had also rallied the members of Crimson Wind and was ready to move.
"Paul!"
Tax Bro waved. "Leave Merida Town to me and White Scars! We guarantee it'll be ours before lunch!"
Paul put on his helmet.
The faceplate sealed, and the visual interface flared to life.
"Move out."
The two convoys split up and drove out of Red Town, kicking up billowing clouds of dust.
Schrödinger Bro stood atop a segment of the town wall that hadn't completely collapsed, watching the convoys disappear into the distance.
The wind ruffled the hair on his forehead. This man, who was likely just an ordinary office worker in reality, now possessed a gaze that was terrifyingly profound.
He thought back to the words Paul had spoken to him just before leaving.
"The most cruel thing in this world isn't the so-called threat of the Warp, nor the law of the dark forest. It's the human heart."
Schrödinger Bro repeated it softly, smiling to himself.
"He's right."
"Why are the Chaos Gods growing increasingly powerful? Greed, excess, terror, sloth... all these evil intents stem from the darkest parts of the human heart."
"The Emperor is obsessed with annihilating the physical bodies of the Chaos Gods, yet he allows the soil that breeds them to fester across the Imperium's borders."
"He outlaws faith and enforces the Imperial Truth. But if 'Truth' can't even solve a mortal's need for food and warmth, what's the point?"
"The Imperial Truth brings suffering and starvation to the citizens of the Imperium. But Crimson Dawn brings them hope and full stomachs."
"This is our path. This is our way."
--
TL/N:
Remember the special powerstones event I mentioned last week?! I have reduced the powerstones goal so that every 100 Powerstones = 1 Bonus Chapter (Before it was 200 PS per chapter) but it will increase next week so continue donating; There is no limit to the bonus chapters I will upload this week, as long as we complete our PS goal (Highest number of bonus chapter I have uploaded in a single week is around 20).