Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 276 The Rebellion Situation Deteriorates

Chen Xi's worries ultimately came true.

When the rebellion report in the sector capital was updated for the third time, the casualty figures had surged from the initial thousands to hundreds of thousands, an exponential increase that made everyone who saw the data panel grim.

The Blood Oath Order's rebellion spread faster and wider than anticipated.

The flames of riots swept through the seven major sub-nest communities of the capital city of Nest within just seventy-two standard hours, and even began to spread to the industrial areas of Central Nest.

Toxic fumes from burning corpses wafted through the ventilation ducts at the bottom of the hive. The freight elevators, originally used to transport food and medicine, were now filled with the bodies of beheaded hive law enforcement officers, rhythmically slamming against the metal walls with a chilling thud.

Upon arriving in the sector capital, Ahriman immediately noticed the unusual nature of the riot.

As a veteran of the Great Crusades, Ahriman, though lacking direct experience dealing with Chaos, possessed keen tactical intuition that these rebels' seemingly mindless acts of destruction concealed a meticulously planned scheme.

They prioritized attacks on the hive's energy nodes, water purification systems, and communication hubs; such systemic destruction could not have been accomplished spontaneously by a mob.

However, these actions were cleverly concealed beneath what appeared to be a chaotic riot.

What particularly aroused Ahriman's suspicion was that a shadowy area shrouded the center of the Lower Nest uprising, which not only blocked conventional scanning and detection but also interfered with his psychic perception.

It's as if something is deliberately shielding us from outside observation, buying time for some darker ritual.

Even more disturbing is that many of the rioters were not pure Chaos believers, but rather ordinary members of the State Church who had been misled.

Many of the rioters still wore the state church emblem around their necks, and while carving slogans such as "Blood is prayer" on the walls with their blood-stained fingers or rough tools, they chanted the distorted and altered "Imperial Mantra".

These distorted eulogies, interspersed with morbid praise for violence and killing, still retain a fanatical worship of the emperor.

Ahriman's psychic vision could see a mixture of piety and madness in their souls—these people truly believed they were carrying out a sacred revolution to "purify the church."

They viewed atrocities as proof of piety and slaughter as a sacred ritual.

They firmly believed that they were still serving the emperor, only in a "purer way".

This twisted form, which perfectly blends sacred faith with chaotic corruption, is the most dangerous manifestation of chaotic corruption, while rebellion is merely a trick used by all four Chaos Gods.

Of course, the Chaos followers of the K family are more manic in this regard.

Their madness is not as insidious and cunning as the followers of the T family, nor as morbid and twisted as the followers of the N family. Instead, it carries a naked, almost childlike, cruel and straightforwardness.

Ahriman stood atop a high tower in the middle of the hive, one of the few remaining outposts of the Tribunal that had not yet fallen.

He stood before the broken viewing window, his eyes glowing with a psionic blue light.

He scanned the streets of Lower Nest with his enhanced psychic vision, trying to pinpoint the key factors behind the rebellion.

On the subspace level, he saw countless scarlet threads extending from the area of ​​the most intense riots, all pointing to a certain location deep within the hive capital—where the Blood Oath Order's core altar must be hidden.

He could clearly sense the fluctuations of chaotic energy permeating the air below the nest, like an invisible plague, eroding everyone who approached.

Ahriman saw a group of thugs tearing off the arms of captured guards with hydraulic shears, and the victims' agonizing screams only excited them more.

Like children who had received a new toy, they fought over the severed limbs, piercing flesh with rough iron rods and tying stolen imperial flags to the tops. These "battle flags" were planted on every occupied barricade, the broken bone fragments still dripping warm blood.

Others, as if performing some kind of sacred ritual, devoutly poured the collected blood into the Nest City's clean water circulation system.

They knelt before the pipe and chanted softly, as if performing some kind of sacred ritual.

These madmen clearly intended to let the entire hive taste the "holy nectar," so that everyone would unknowingly complete a sacrifice to the god of darkness.

After all, these guys prefer fighting; for them, slaughter itself is the most sublime ritual of prayer.

Every swing of the axe, every pull of the trigger, is a devout prayer offered to the God of Blood.

Heads and blood, that's what they like best.

On a main road, Ahriman witnessed mobs using cranes to lift hundreds of severed heads, which were carefully arranged to form a giant skull pyramid.

Each head had bloody runes etched on its forehead, and eerie green flames flickered in its empty eye sockets.

What's even more disturbing is that the expressions on these heads were deliberately made to look ecstatic, as if they had witnessed some kind of miracle at the moment of death.

This clearly goes beyond the scope of an ordinary rebellion; it is preparation for some kind of large-scale sacrificial ritual.

The chaotic energy permeating the air grew increasingly dense, and Ahriman could sense that the structure of reality was becoming fragile under the influence of these blasphemous rituals.

Every breath carried the metallic stench of blood, and every blink revealed the shadows of the subspace writhing at the edge of their vision. The riot was rapidly evolving into a chaotic ritual that could tear the veil of reality apart.

"Where are the suppression troops?" Ahriman's voice was as cold as ice, his fingers unconsciously tracing the ancient runes of the Thousand Sons on his staff, his voice suppressing an impending outburst of rage.

“Still gathering in Zhongchao.” The judge beside him replied, his mechanical eye flashing red, indicating that he was receiving battle reports from the front lines.

“The Inquisition’s armed forces have intervened in the suppression of the rebellion,” he added, a hint of displeasure in his voice, “but the Sector Governor insists that rushing into Lower Nest would lead to a quagmire of street fighting, and they want to first contain the spread of the riots.”

Ahriman's cold laughter echoed inside the tower. He slammed his staff heavily on the ground, the end of the staff shattering several loose marble tiles, sending fragments flying.

“Bureaucratic idiots,” he muttered, his voice full of contempt for this delaying tactic.

As a veteran who had experienced the Horus Rebellion, he knew all too well the kind of disaster that such bureaucratic delays could cause.

"Once those scumbags have completed their 'secure' deployment," Ahriman's voice boomed like thunder, "the demons should all be crawling out of the warp for a tea party!"

With his roar, the ancient runes on his staff suddenly burst forth with a dazzling blue light, lighting up one after another on the adamantite staff.

The power of psychic energy condensed at his fingertips, transforming into leaping lightning that crackled in the air.

The air pressure inside the tower suddenly dropped, and everyone felt a violent ringing in their ears. Several servants even covered their ears in pain.

“Since the planetary governor is still hesitant,” Ahriman’s robes fluttered in the invisible energy field, and the powerful psionic pressure caused frost to quickly form around them, his eyes now completely engulfed in burning blue flames, “then let us give them a reminder they will never forget.”

(End of this chapter)