Alex's worries ultimately came true.
When the Star Sector Capital's rebellion report was updated for the third time, the casualty count had surged from an initial few thousand to hundreds of thousands, an exponential growth that made everyone who saw the data slate grimace.
The Blood Oath Society's rebellion spread faster and wider than anticipated.
Within a mere seventy-two standard hours, the flames of the riot had engulfed seven major Lower Hive communities in the Capital Hive City and even began to spread towards the industrial districts of the Mid-Hive.
Toxic smoke from burning corpses drifted through the ventilation shafts of the Hive City's lower levels, and the cargo elevators, once used to transport food and medicine, were now adorned with the headless bodies of Hive City enforcers, rhythmically striking the metal walls with eerie thuds as the elevators moved.
Upon arriving at the Star Sector Capital, Ahriman immediately sensed the abnormality of this uprising.
As an old Astartes from the Great Crusade Era, Ahriman, though lacking direct experience with Chaos, had a keen tactical intuition that told him that beneath the seemingly mindless destruction of these rebels lay meticulous planning.
They prioritized attacking the Hive City's energy nodes, water purification systems, and communication hubs; such systematic destruction could never have been spontaneously achieved by a disorganized mob.
It was just that these actions were cleverly concealed beneath the guise of seemingly chaotic riots.
What made Ahriman particularly suspicious was a shadow covering the central area of the Lower Hive uprising, not only isolating regular scanning probes but also interfering with his psychic perception.
It was as if something was deliberately shielding itself from external prying, buying time for a darker ritual.
Even more unsettling, many of the rioters were not pure Chaos cultists but ordinary Ecclesiarchy faithful who had been incited.
Many rioters still wore Ecclesiarchy holy symbols around their necks, and while they scrawled slogans like "Blood is Prayer" on walls with blood-stained hands or crude tools, they simultaneously chanted distorted and twisted versions of the "Lectitio Divinitatus."
These twisted chants were interspersed with a morbid praise of violence and slaughter, yet still retained a fanatical devotion to the Emperor.
Ahriman's psychic vision could see piety and madness intertwined in their souls—these people truly believed they were carrying out a "holy revolution" to "purify the Church."
They regarded their atrocities as proof of their devotion and slaughter as a sacred ritual.
They firmly believed they were still serving the Emperor, just in a "purer way."
This twisted form, perfectly blending sacred faith with Chaos corruption, was the most dangerous manifestation of Chaos corruption, and rebellion was merely a minor trick that the Four Chaos Gods would all employ.
Of course, the Chaos cultists of K tended to be more frenzied in this regard.
Their madness was not as insidious as that of T's followers, nor as morbidly twisted as N's, but rather possessed a raw, almost childlike, brutal directness.
Ahriman stood on a tall tower in the Mid-Hive, one of the few remaining Inquisition outposts that had not yet fallen.
He stood before a shattered observation window, his eyes glowing with psychic blue light.
He was sweeping the streets of the Lower Hive with his psychically enhanced vision, trying to identify the key factors of this rebellion.
On the Warp plane, he saw countless crimson threads extending from the most intense areas of the uprising, all pointing to a certain location deep within the Hive City—there must be the core altar of the Blood Oath Society.
He could clearly sense that the air of the Lower Hive was permeated with the fluctuations of Chaos energy, like an invisible plague, eroding everyone who came near.
Ahriman watched a group of rioters using hydraulic pliers to tear off the arms of captured guards, the victims' horrific screams only making them more excited.
Like children with new toys, they scrambled for the severed limbs, impaling flesh with crude iron rods, and tying stolen Imperial banners to the top.
These "battle standards" were planted on every occupied barricade, the fractured bone shards still dripping warm blood.
Others, as if performing some sacred ritual, piously poured collected blood into the Hive City's water purification system.
They knelt before the pipes, chanting in low voices, as if performing some sacrament.
These madmen clearly intended for the entire Hive City to taste the "holy nectar," allowing everyone to unknowingly complete their sacrifice to the dark gods.
After all, these guys preferred combat; for them, slaughter itself was the most sublime prayer ritual.
Every swing of an axe, every pull of a trigger, was a devout prayer offered to the Blood God.
Heads and blood, these were their favorite things.
On a main thoroughfare, Ahriman witnessed the mob using cranes to hoist hundreds of severed heads, meticulously arranged to form a massive pyramid of skulls.
Each head had bloody runes carved on its forehead, and eerie green flames flickered in their hollow eye sockets.
Even more unsettling, the expressions on these heads were deliberately set into looks of ecstasy, as if they had seen some divine miracle at the moment of death.
This clearly went beyond the scope of an ordinary rebellion and was preparation for some large-scale sacrificial ritual.
The Chaos energy permeating the air grew denser, and Ahriman could feel the fabric of reality becoming fragile under the influence of these blasphemous rituals.
Every breath carried the metallic scent of blood, and every blink revealed shadows of the Warp writhing at the edge of his vision; this riot was rapidly escalating into a Chaos ritual that could tear the veil of reality.
"Where are the suppression forces?" Ahriman's voice was as cold as ice, his fingers unconsciously caressing the ancient runes of the Thousand Sons on his staff, his voice suppressing the anger about to erupt.
"Still assembling in the Mid-Hive," the Inquisitor beside him replied, his mechanical eye constantly flashing red, indicating he was receiving frontline reports.
"The Inquisition's armed forces have already intervened in suppressing the rebellion," he added, a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice: "But the Star District Governor insists that rashly entering the Lower Hive would lead to a quagmire of street fighting; they want to first blockade the spread of the uprising."
Ahriman's cold laugh echoed in the tower, and he slammed his staff heavily onto the ground, the butt of the staff shattering several already loose marble floor tiles, sending fragments flying.
"Bureaucratic fools," he cursed under his breath, his voice full of contempt for such delaying tactics.
As a veteran who had experienced the Horus Heresy, he knew all too well what kind of disaster such bureaucratic delays could cause.
"By the time those useless idiots complete their 'prudent' deployment," Ahriman's voice boomed like thunder, "the demons will have crawled out of the Warp to hold a tea party!"
As he roared, the ancient runes on his staff suddenly burst forth with dazzling blue light, illuminating the adamantium staff one after another.
Psychic power condensed at his fingertips, turning into leaping lightning that crackled in the air.
The air pressure in the tower suddenly dropped, and everyone felt a violent ringing in their ears; several attendants even painfully covered their ears.
"Since the Planetary Governor is still hesitating," Ahriman's robes flapped in an unseen energy field, the powerful psychic pressure rapidly caused frost to condense in the surrounding environment, and his eyes had completely turned into burning blue flames, "then we will give them a reminder they will never forget."
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