On the cold, dimly lit metal corridor, a figure walked slowly.
He was dressed in a simple yet sinister outfit, a black robe reaching the floor draped over plain carapace armor. As busy ship crew members on both sides of the corridor caught sight of him, their expressions instantly shifted from weariness or focus to a mix of awe and fear.
They would immediately cease all their tasks, no matter how urgent, then stiffly stand at attention and offer him the standard aquila salute.
The rosarius hanging from his waist, glinting faintly in the dim light, silently explained the reason for all of this.
This was an Inquisitor.
Inquisitor Herbert Hernampode paid no mind to these trivial matters; his gaze never lingered on those mortals for a moment.
He walked directly to the Navigatorium deep within the bridge, and the guards automatically opened the heavy bulkhead door for him. He stepped inside and asked bluntly, "What is the situation?"
"Very good, my lord," the navigator, with her eyes closed, replied softly, her voice ethereal and distant. "The warp turbulence is subsiding, and in about a month, it should return to an acceptable state for travel. You have arrived at precisely the right time, the Emperor protects you."
Herbert nodded, his emotionless face betraying no joy or anger: "It seems my luck is good this time… I only hope Perditia's planetary governor has prepared the tithes that have been unpaid for the past thirty years."
Herbert made a cold joke, but it was clearly not funny. A chilling silence fell over the Navigatorium; no one laughed, or rather, no one dared to laugh in front of an Inquisitor.
Herbert could clearly sense the tension of everyone present, including the navigator. Their fingers trembled imperceptibly on the control panels, their throats frequently swallowed, and everyone seemed extraordinarily focused on their work, as if looking at him for too long would suck out their souls… Herbert was self-aware; he knew very well that all of this was because of him.
"You need not be so nervous, Miss navigator." Herbert tried to make his voice sound gentler; he reached out and patted the navigator's shoulder.
Her body visibly jolted, as if burned by a branding iron.
"I am not a madman who draws his gun and kills without cause," he continued. "Your nervousness will not be beneficial to your work later."
"Yes… yes, my lord." The navigator was clearly even more nervous, her voice trembling.
Herbert sighed inwardly and gave up on the idea of alleviating the new navigator's tension.
Anyway… letting them remain in fear was also a good option. At least now, they would absolutely not dare to do anything contrary to discipline and loyalty, and their work efficiency had noticeably improved.
When he was an Inquisitorial Acolyte, Herbert had been puzzled. The Inquisition, as the maintainer of Imperial order, the disseminator of the Emperor's glory, and the guardian of Human will, should rightfully be revered and loved by the people.
So why did everyone who saw a rosarius look as if they were about to wet themselves from fright?
Later, he understood. Precisely because the Inquisition was the maintainer, disseminator, and guardian, they needed to maintain others' fear of them. For the vast, ignorant masses in the galaxy, fear was the best guarantee that they would strictly adhere to rules and not cross red lines. Fear was the reins, the branding iron, the Sword of Damocles hanging over everyone's head.
And what made Herbert sad was that across the vast reaches of the Imperium of Man, the ignorant always constituted the vast majority.
Perhaps some individuals would feel disgust and rejection towards them because of this, but Herbert was completely indifferent.
When the Imperium of Man's conventional armed forces—whether the Astra Militarum or the space marines—proved incapable of effectively controlling internal corruption and degradation, the idea that only the Inquisition could protect the pure will of the people no longer seemed so absurd.
After all, did the Imperium of Man have any other choice? The noble sacrificed daily, yet the great and bright future of the Human race grew dimmer. Until the dawn reappears, we can only rule with an iron fist and bullets, making sure that the xenos, heretics, and traitors who oppose our noble cause understand: the Imperium of Man shows no mercy when settling scores with its mortal enemies.
Just as Herbert was immersed in his thoughts on fear and order, the entire ship suddenly experienced a violent, teeth-grating jolt. The deck beneath his feet felt as if it had been abruptly pulled to a stop by an invisible giant hand, and the immense inertia sent all unsecured objects on the bridge flying.
Though caught off guard, Herbert's augmented body and iron will allowed him to instantly steady himself.
He ignored the gasps and panicked shouts of the surrounding crew members, quickly leaving the Navigatorium.
Herbert rushed to the main control console on the bridge and angrily rebuked the pale-faced captain, "What happened? Why the sudden stop!"
As an Inquisitor who frequently journeyed across the cosmos, Herbert knew very well that his flagship had been in a stable, constant glide. The sudden, violent jolt had only one explanation—the ship had performed an emergency stop.
"My lord…" A crew member responsible for target acquisition swallowed, his voice trembling as he replied, "A… a ship has blocked our path. If we hadn't stopped, the two ships would have collided…"
"Who?" Herbert loudly interrupted the crew member, an ominous premonition stirring within him. Who would dare block an Inquisitor's ship? Pirates? Xenos? No, if it were either of those, they would surely be engaged in combat by now.
And it wasn't just his ship; the Imperial Navy was also present. What scale of pirates or xenos would have the audacity to attack an Inquisitor and the Imperial Navy?
"That… it would be better if you saw it for yourself." The crew member pointed to the main observation screen.
Herbert frowned and stepped forward. As his gaze fell upon the starscape composed of data and images, he knew his ominous premonition had come true.
On the main observation screen, a massive battleship lay across their path. The ship's style was filled with a savage and ancient aura; its grey armor was covered in complex runes, like a star-sea behemoth preying on humans, its cold eyes fixed intently on them.
"Space Wolves…"
Herbert squeezed the Name through his teeth. At that moment, he wished his flagship had just suffered a pirate or xenos ambush.
As an Inquisitor, encountering the Space Wolves with absolutely no one else around was probably as bad as encountering a warp storm while traveling through the warp.