55: Chapter 55 The Current State of the Empire

Sister Superior Ludmilla exhaled, her heart settling slightly; this was still Imperial territory, the domain of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Thus, she gazed once more at that blue world, an indescribable emotion welling up in her throat.

She had seen what a Hive City world looked like.

Those honeycomb-like structures pierced the smog from the surface, the sky was a gray-green toxic shroud, and billions of bodies writhed in the corroded corridors.

Even the light of the stars was obscured by the burial shroud of industrial exhaust.

In those corridors, the acrid stench of burning corpse-starch always permeated the air, and heretical icons were welded onto the inner walls of abandoned ventilation ducts.

A planetary governor, in search of immortality, had actually used the finger bones of children to assemble blasphemous runes, praying to the Dark God of the Warp, Nurgle, who feeds on decay and pestilence, nearly causing the entire Hive City world to perish.

And it was there that she had ignited the first flame of purification in her hands, burning those heretics to ash.

She had also seen what a Forge World looked like.

The roar of the furnaces shattered the atmosphere, the oceans had long been drained, and the entire planet was merely a crimson iron core.

Under the endless litanies of the Adeptus Mechanicus, it was repeatedly hammered, smelted, and exploited.

She had fought in that labyrinth built of gears and bones, where they had lost three sisters of their squad.

One was torn to pieces by Orks, one fell into a vat of molten steel, and the last, when out of ammunition, used her own melta bomb to blow the entire platform, along with the charging Orks, to the sky.

She had also seen what an Agri World looked like.

The sky was stained orange-yellow by pesticides, and workers, dressed in radiation suits, hunched over as they ceaselessly harvested and sowed.

The land was squeezed dry until only gray-white powder remained, the last trace of vitality drained away in the extreme.

She had purged heretics there; that was the first time she had unleashed slaughter upon her sisters of the Sisterhood—they had thrown themselves into the embrace of Slaanesh.

Yet this world before her—it did not belong to any category known to the Empire.

There were no scars of a Hive City, no scorch marks of a Forge World, no withered exhaustion of an Agri World.

It was too clean.

It was too gentle.

It was like a dream forgotten by time, one that existed only before the Age of Strife.

"This is impossible," she whispered again.

But this time, there was less certainty in her tone, and more of something she was unwilling to admit—a longing, a longing that emanated from the depths of her genes, from the depths of her soul.

Vera sat in the corner, head bowed, deliberately avoiding eye contact with others.

A Psyker's perception was never completed through vision, yet at this moment, she had unconsciously read the emotional fluctuations of Canoness Sister Superior Ludmilla; they were too intense.

"This is not a Garden World," she added, her voice very soft, as if afraid of waking something.

Elena looked at her with concern.

She knew that this youngest sister was always both dependent on and fearful of her own psychic talent.

This time, her psychic perception had passively read the Canoness's emotions again; perhaps she would once again feel that she was "guilty," and then lock herself away in the confessional for a long time?

Sister Superior Ludmilla glanced at Vera without speaking, but her bionic limb ceased its humming.

She was always particularly helpless regarding this little one newly added to the squad.

Vera possessed a talent she did not have, yet always felt she was "unworthy" of possessing it.

"The Empire's Garden Worlds..." Vera continued, her tone carrying a rare, almost dreamlike softness, "I was born on one; the temperature there always remained in spring."

Those decadent nobles rolled on the grass, copulated by the pools, and in every corner, piled up all the pleasures they could imagine with gold and flesh.

The air was filled with an extravagant fragrance, mixed with the scent of alcohol and desire, and even the wind carried a rotten sweetness.

Every inch of land there was saturated with the nobles' indulgences.

It appeared to be filled with birdsong and flowers, but in reality, it hid the filthiest of sins, and even the sunlight seemed turbid and unbearable.

"No!—That is not a garden!" Vera suddenly raised her voice, her tone full of trembling and disgust, and her body even began to curl up.

She clutched her feet tightly, burying her head between her knees, as if she had returned to that place that suffocated her.

"It is a nursery for Slaanesh! Or a breeding ground for Nurgle!"

Tears slid down her cheeks, dripping onto the bridge floor, spreading into small, wet marks.

After a long time, she slowly raised her head, her gaze falling back onto that blue world, forcing herself to pull her perception away from the painful memories.

"But this—" She closed her eyes, her slender eyelashes trembling slightly, and the Psyker's perception, like invisible threads, slowly spread out.

Like root systems buried deep in the soil, quietly taking root; like the tide washing over the beach, gently covering it.

"Every inch of its land is breathing," Vera's voice was very soft, yet carried an unprecedented firmness, "Its oceans are singing, and the clouds are whispering."

"Even those three natural satellites are revolving around it."

"Like three loyal guards, or more like three young beasts curled up in their mother's womb, quiet and docile."

She suddenly opened her eyes, tears shimmering in her light gray irises, and looked straight at Sister Superior Ludmilla, saying loudly:

"It does not desire anything! It does not demand anything!"

"It simply... exists."

"Existing gently, completely, without reservation."

Tears overflowed from her eyes again, silently sliding past her jaw and dripping onto her collar.

"Canoness, I have seen the souls of Garden Worlds."

Her voice gradually lowered, almost becoming a whisper, "Those things hollowed out by indulgence, with nothing left but the dregs of desire, are disgusting and rotten."

"But the soul of this world..." Vera paused, her eyes full of confusion and emotion, "It seems to be looking at me."

"Very much like... very much like a mother watching her long-wandering child finally come home."

After speaking, she slowly lowered her head again, falling into a long silence.

The bridge was silent, with only the suppressed breathing of everyone remaining.

After a while, Vera raised her head again, her gaze locked tightly onto that blue planet.

That look was like watching an unreachable dream, both longing and afraid to touch it.

Subsequently, her voice rang out softly, drifting across the empty bridge, so clean that it did not seem to belong to this dark universe.

"But how... could it be real?"

Sister Superior Ludmilla did not speak, simply casting her gaze back to the blue world outside the observation dome.

Vera's words were like a needle, piercing through the last bit of firmness in her heart.

That longing emanating from the depths of her genes grew stronger, almost swallowing her reason entirely.

The crew on the bridge remained immersed in that touch of blue gentleness, no one speaking.

Even the faint buzzing of the auspex took on a hint of cheerfulness.