After some casual conversation...
Perhaps sensing that Orsaga truly wasn't taking the current crisis seriously, Petra decided to drop the subject out of trust, and instead shifted her focus to another matter:
"By the way, what's going on with Elsa lately? Why is she suddenly afraid of you?"
She had been too busy with global affairs to pay attention before, but now that she had the time, her curiosity returned.
Orsaga replied indifferently, "She saw something, and now she thinks I'm some kind of demon from hell~"
Petra sighed and rubbed her temples, clearly exasperated.
"So that's why she brought a whole group of priests from St. Paul's Cathedral the other day…"
She figured Elsa might be acting this way because her relationship with Orsaga had progressed too quickly, and Elsa was just overreacting.
As for being the target of an exorcism, Orsaga didn't seem to mind at all. He said calmly,
"It's no big deal."
To him, those so-called priests were just ordinary people—completely powerless.
With what little spiritual force they possessed, even if they recited the Bible in person, or dragged the giant cross from St. Paul's and planted it in front of him, Orsaga would still be able to laugh and chat without a care.
In other worlds, maybe God had some sway. But in this dimension?.
Clearly not.
Not that Orsaga would bother acknowledging Him even if He was real...
Now that Petra had confirmed it was just a minor disagreement between Orsaga and her daughter, she visibly relaxed.
"I was worried you did something to her…"
Orsaga shrugged innocently.
"…Come on, for your sake, what could I possibly do to her?"
And truly—he hadn't done a thing.
The whole situation had started when Elsa tried to dig up some dirt on him.
She'd snuck into one of his rituals, where he was performing a blood sacrifice using a batch of livestock and death row inmates.
And what she saw?
Definitely not good for the average person's mental health.
It traumatized her on the spot.
The very next day, she showed up with an entire platoon of priests for an exorcism.
Seeing how casual he was about the whole thing, Petra still looked slightly uneasy and reminded him:
"Just remember… Elsa is my daughter. Try to go easy on her, alright? And don't—you know—do anything inappropriate…"
Then, thinking twice, and knowing Orsaga's moral compass wasn't exactly conventional, she added firmly:
"At the very least, nothing forced."
Over the past few weeks, she'd come to understand that while Orsaga's worldview was a bit... warped, he still followed his own code.
Sometimes that made him hard to trust. Other times, it made him surprisingly reliable.
Orsaga scratched his ear and muttered offhandedly,
"Yeah, yeah, got it…"
---
Fourteen Days Later.
Mars Base – Solar System
Staring at the data on screen—signals transmitted from distant deep-space probes—the base commander's face grew solemn.
"Prepare all forces for combat," he ordered.
Back on Earth and the Moon, government leaders watched via delayed livestreams, tracking the situation in real time through secure channels.
Once everything was in position, the Mars commander didn't immediately order an attack.
Instead, he waited until the unidentified ship entered communication range—then began transmitting peaceful signals.
Electromagnetic pulses, visual patterns, specially modulated radiation...
He truly hoped for a peaceful solution.
Because to be honest, no one was confident they could win.
On Mars, Earth, and the Moon, the top brass of humanity stared anxiously at their screens.
Finally, the feedback channel blinked—the ship had responded.
As the signal stabilized, the video feed began to sharpen.
On screen appeared a human face—bloody, disfigured, mangled beyond recognition.
One look into the man's vacant, lifeless eyes, and everyone understood:
He was being controlled.
But nobody cared about that.
What mattered was that this meant communication was possible.
They braced themselves, expecting some sort of formal declaration—or at least an opening dialogue.
Instead, the puppet of a man spoke in a dry, raspy voice:
"Pathetic worms. You will all die."
And with that, the video feed abruptly cut out.
---
Earth, Moon, Mars:
"..."
The message was crystal clear.
The Mars commander didn't hesitate. The moment the failed negotiation ended, he barked out his next command:
"Open fire!"
In the next instant, countless missiles launched—like a storm of metal, trailing orange-red exhaust as they streaked toward the approaching flesh-and-bone warship.
Among them were the latest generation of interstellar-class warheads, as well as aging nuclear missiles pulled from deep storage.
Didn't matter if they were outdated.
If it had firepower, it got launched.
And the grotesque alien vessel did not back down.
Dozens of turret cannons, like multi-barrel miniguns, whirred to life—unleashing a torrent of high-speed shells.
Astonishingly, the ship's point-defense system proved faster and more accurate than the incoming missiles.
It intercepted each one, detonating them in mid-flight with terrifying precision.
The dark void of space lit up with fireballs—illuminating the blackness with bursts of orange and gold.
The first wave had failed.
The commander didn't flinch. As the warship kept swatting down missiles, he issued a follow-up command:
"Detonate all buried explosives!"
All around the enemy vessel, disguised mines camouflaged as drifting asteroids exploded in unison.
Massive fireballs and shockwaves engulfed the ship in an instant.
Simultaneously, from the Martian surface, several brilliant red beams shot into the sky.
The visual afterimage left behind was the trace of high-energy electromagnetic weapons.
Dozens of solid metal slugs—each weighing several tons—were launched at over a hundred times the speed of sound.
They tore through the residual explosions and shockwaves, slamming directly into the flesh ship's position.
The force of impact was so immense that the flames in space twisted and curled, forming wave-like shock ripples through the void.
Regardless of the outcome, the effect was undeniable.
Even ordinary civilians back on Earth, glancing at the night sky, could faintly make out a flicker of light in the stars.
---
Inside the Flesh Warship
The person who had just "spoken" to Earth's leaders…
A man possessed by a demon from the Warp.
He was also the team leader of the Purgators Squad.
Now, inside the command chamber, he was writhing in agony.
The Warp Demon was trying to invade his soul—searching for the truth about who and what he really was.
But something strange was resisting.
A force, solid and immovable, blocked the demon's probing like a stone wall.
Then came a rasping voice in his mind:
"You are strange. Your scent differs from the other creatures you call 'humans'. Your form may be the same, but your essence feels like another species entirely. I want answers…"
As a Greater Demon of the Warp, under the banner of the mighty Blood God—Khorne—.
Even in this region of space, where Warp energy was weak and diluted. Even without fully manifesting in the material world.
He was still overwhelmingly powerful compared to the mortals here.
And yet, something about these "humans"—or rather, this particular one—felt… wrong.
His instincts screamed at him.
If he could uncover the truth behind this anomaly, the mighty Blood God would surely reward him.
Originally, he had only appeared here because the Horizon had accidentally entered the Warp and bumped into him while he was wandering.
He'd planned to just swing by the material world for a bit of fun.
But now?
He felt motivated.
So motivated, in fact, that he was willing to suffer through this Warp-barren star system and endure the slow, painful journey.
To him, it was like going from smooth, high-speed 5G…
To being trapped on 2G.
His vast power was being throttled and weakened.
And now he was stuck as a high-ping warrior—even his reaction time was taking a hit.
__
T/N:
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