Seraphs of the Emperor’s Judgment

Chapter 96: Secret Society

"What I want to teach you is not just the technique to control your strength, but also a combat philosophy, an ideology."

Sol pointed at the line of text he had written.

"They are focus, humility, self-control, and the final and most important one: mercy."

"Are these traits necessary for a warrior, Instructor?"

Farzad suddenly spoke up. Although Armin beside him poked him hard, he blocked the other's hand with his arm.

"Why should we show our enemies mercy? Those enemies attempting to devour the Imperium deserve neither mercy nor clemency."

Sol smiled at Farzad. He was like an abandoned cathedral; although containing only a sacred emptiness, he still retained a portion of his former glory.

"You will fight many people in the future, and you will slaughter entire worlds under your Chapter Master's orders, and you will willingly do these things... Ultimately, you may want to kill every living creature, but you must also know when to stop."

He seemed to recall something and sighed softly.

"But on the other hand, you are not wrong, child. No one who dares to defy the Emperor of Mankind deserves our forgiveness!""If that's the case, why should we show our enemies mercy?"

"You are still too young and too naive, always taking things for granted when you think. Mercy is not reserved for our enemies, but for ourselves."

Sol then raised his voice.

"In the past, the art of war taught by your instructors will save your own lives, and the lives of millions of others. But the craft I am going to teach you will save your souls... Through the fine-tuning of details, through the art of brush writing, you will use this to combat the beast lurking within you."

Some of the warriors had already understood the ideology Sol was trying to convey, and their expressions turned solemn, replacing their previous confusion.

"You all look like warriors now, but inside you are still children wielding the power of gods. Without strong self-control, the gift bestowed upon you by the Emperor will be useless... because you cannot control it! Therefore, these lessons will be just as important as the combat skills you will learn later—perhaps even more important to some extent. Do you understand?"

The recruits nodded in response.

"Good. Now, pick a seat. Choose well, because you will be sitting in that same spot for a very long time... The first lesson is always the hardest. If you fail this one, you will not pass any of the subsequent courses."

The recruits randomly selected their seats. They really had no reason to prefer any particular one.

Sol waited for them all to sit down, then said:

"Class begins now."

As he spoke, he picked up the pen from earlier.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, a month passed while the warship was still sailing through the Warp.

Four weeks into their writing classes, the recruits began their combat training.

They absorbed the techniques taught by Sol with a ravenous hunger, but compared to writing, the vast majority still preferred wielding blades. There was only one exception.

The traditionally unnoticed Squad Leader Ustad showed that his favorite subject was still the writing class.

He had a profound interest in this mastery of minute forces.

At first, his practice was very rigid, but as his mind gradually mastered the new craft, he quickly gained permission to write freely.

This Squad Leader's calligraphy became different from the other warriors'. It was more independent and unconstrained, just like the surging waves hidden beneath his tranquil exterior.

His writing flowed as smoothly as drifting clouds and flowing water, unrestricted by convention, perhaps even considered a bit rebellious.

However, ever since the combat classes started, he suddenly became very depressed, and his strokes turned messy.

"Ustad."

Hearing his name called, the Squad Leader looked up.

He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't even noticed Sol walking up beside him.

"Why are you sitting there entirely motionless?"

"I was planning to transcribe the first volume of the Codex Astartes from memory, but... for some reason, I always get distracted and agitated by the time I write the tenth word."

Sol picked up Ustad's writing board and let out a sound of approval.

"Well written. You are very talented. It will gradually reveal itself as you undergo training."

"Talent..."

Ustad's voice sank.

Actually, even if no one said it, he knew very well that he was the worst of the three Squad Leaders. He possessed no extraordinary skills, nor any impressive combat records. Everything merely stemmed from the fact that he had enlisted earlier.

If there had been a better choice, he absolutely wouldn't have become a Squad Leader.

This line of thought had troubled him for a very long time.

He had wanted to show others his strengths, but he realized that there seemed to be nothing to show; he was simply someone with a weak presence.

Nor was he very gregarious.

"No, recruit, I see your potential. Your self-control and humility exceed everyone else's. This is a precious wealth. It might not let you overcome enemies on the external battlefield, but it can allow you to gain the upper hand in the battles within your heart."

Sol glanced around, and after ensuring no one was paying attention to them, whispered to Ustad:

"Come with me. Right now."

Although a bit bewildered, Ustad still followed Sol toward the Reclusiam on the upper deck.

Upon entering the Reclusiam, he was led into a booth. Through an observation slit barely the width of a palm, he could see the dazzling, colorful void outside.

The Geller Field wrapped around the entire warship like a layer of soap bubble, separating it from the sinister Warp outside.

Through that pale-colored shield, Ustad peered at the twisted nebulas and the squirming asteroid belts.

Suddenly, the door behind him opened with a loud clank.

Ustad's augmented eyes instantly adjusted to the dimly lit room. The Venerable Dreadnought, Brother Zayd, stood in the doorway, with Chapter Master Soshyan on his right and Chaplain Yazdan Shahinian on his left.

These two Chapter leaders had, for some reason, donned silver-gray cloaks, emblazoned with a burning black sun, making them look somewhat secretive.

"Ustad, come to me."

A voice emanated from the Dreadnought's speakers.

Ustad immediately walked up to him and knelt on one knee.

"Venerable One."

"Ustad, you need to swear an oath. Everything you hear and see today will become an eternal secret, until we deem it time to expose it."

"If you have doubts in your heart, you may leave at once."

"I swear, my Lord! Everything I witness and hear shall be taken to the grave."

Ustad raised his head, and the Chaplain stepped forward, placing his heavy gauntlet atop his head.

"I believe you. Rise, and follow me."

Following the Dreadnought and the two Chapter leaders, Ustad crossed the center of the Reclusiam, arriving at a cross-shaped room located at the top of the chapel.

The ends of the room's four branches were fashioned into the shape of the back of skulls. In the center of the room sat an altar bearing an emblem of a winged, human-faced monster. The dome above it was a full hundred meters high.

Aside from that, there was nothing else in this vast space.

"Ustad, are you ready to witness the future of the Chapter?"

Following Brother Zayd's voice, a secret surfaced from the altar, and the young recruit's body uncontrollably began to tremble...