"Dream on."
Verion spat out those two words coldly.
"Is this all you wanted to say?" His gaze fell upon Emrys, intense disappointment visible in his eyes.
"You understand neither the Gomo, nor the Trueborn, nor, even more so... the Slaves and Half-breeds you speak of."
Did you really think no one had tried this before?
No, they have, and more than one group. They were all failed Conspiracy Groups stirring up trouble behind the scenes.
And the result?
Those Slaves, Half-breeds, and the Conspiracy Groups were all thrown into the furnaces by Viktor.
Emrys' statements and proposals, in Verion's view, were full of naive imagination but lacked any possibility of practical application.
He was born in the Gomo, grew up in the Gomo, and witnessed the Gomo's bloody and cruel history!
The Gomo, Gomo.
Every inch of land, every brick and stone here, is soaked in blood and cruelty.
The entire society is built upon extremely cruel exploitation and oppression.
The hierarchy here has long been solidified. The naturally bred Trueborn possess status and resources from birth that the lower class can never attain.
Meanwhile, the Half-breeds and Slaves at the bottom can only enjoy pitifully few resources throughout their entire lives.
Blood Singers and Trueborn can torture and kill Slaves and Half-breeds at will.
Just like Korion treated the Half-breed gatekeeper guarding the entrance, these Half-breeds are merely tools that the Upper-class Eldar can discard, abuse, or slaughter at their leisure.
Of course, the Imperium of Man is the same way, or rather, aside from the T'au, most other races are fundamentally like this.
What Emrys wants to do is use the Gomo to "ignite a spark" here!
But this is extremely difficult, perhaps even impossible.
Just as Verion said, if Slaves and Half-breeds alone could overthrow the long-standing rule of the Conspiracy Groups and Trueborn, it would have been accomplished hundreds, thousands, or even tens of thousands of years ago.
Do not underestimate any enemy, especially not the Conspiracy Groups.
The Conspiracy Groups, Trueborn Nobles, and Blood Singers are rife with betrayal, assassination, and power struggles.
In the tens of thousands of years the Gomo has existed, what kind of spectacle hasn't it seen?
Lower-class riots?
That's simply a joke.
Ever since the Drukhari established the Gomo, they have used pain, fear, and torment to carve an Eternal, indelible order and iron law onto the high tower of class structure.
Trying to overthrow their rule using the lower-class Half-breeds and Slaves?
That is simply wishful thinking!
Furthermore, even setting those points aside, from a more realistic perspective, this is almost impossible to achieve.
The Trueborn and Conspiracy Groups possess military strength, individual combat skills, and various applications of psychic power far surpassing the lower classes.
A well-trained Zhen Sheng Zi Warrior can easily slaughter dozens, or even hundreds, of poorly equipped Slaves!
Secondly, the entire Drukhari society is built upon "pain." Long-term oppression has instilled the fear of the Trueborn, Conspiracy Groups, and Blood Singers deep into the very bones of every Slave and Half-breed!
The cruel and terrifying retribution of the Blood Singers makes the lower-class Half-breeds afraid, preventing them from daring to resist.
Not to mention the Drukhari's signature skill... torture and cruel punishment!
Who wouldn't be terrified? Who wouldn't be scared?
Therefore, truly trying to ignite a spark here is nothing short of delusion and fantasy.
"Enough, I don't want to hear any more of your plan." Verion had completely lost his patience, even finding the human before him an eyesore. If not for the fact that he was already opposed to the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, he might have just handed Emrys over.
Forcing down the little patience he had left, Verion issued a cold dismissal.
"I have no interest in participating in your plan, and don't look for me. We have a simple cooperative relationship: I help you meet Viktor, and you give me the item... it's that simple!"
"It is certainly difficult to achieve."
Emrys paused, then added.
"However, that absolutely does not mean the rule of the Trueborn and Conspiracy Groups is truly unbreakable."
"What else do you want to say?" Verion sighed. The ambition that had initially been sparked was now extinguished.
"You are absolutely right. Based solely on the current situation, even if I could unite most of the lower-class Half-breeds, overthrowing their rule would be impossible." Emrys frankly admitted this, but then changed the subject.
"But there is a prerequisite here, and that is... the 'current situation'."
"Oh?"
Verion's tone remained calm, even carrying a hint of disdain.
"So, you mean you can change the current situation?"
"I can."
Emrys nodded, stating calmly.
"I need to reiterate this point: I am the Controller of a Trader Dynasty, and I am quite wealthy."
"I know, so what?" Verion's voice was extremely impatient.
What difference can a mere Trader Dynasty make?
This is the Gomo, Gomo. Forget a Trader Dynasty, not even an Astartes Chapter could change the current situation!
"To add to that, this one... has a 'tiny' bit of money."
Emrys leaned forward, displaying the smile of a rich man.
"Lacking resources? I have them! Lacking weapons? I'll provide them! Whatever you need, I give. The Gomo is nothing. Conservatively speaking... the resource power I command is more than sufficient to arm all the Half-breeds and Slaves in the Gomo."
"Are you... sure you're not joking?!"
Verion swallowed hard, almost blinded by the sheer "Magnificence" Emrys displayed!
Enough resources to arm all the Half-breeds and Slaves in the Gomo?
This guy would probably have to empty out the Imperium just to achieve that!
"Don't believe me?" Emrys grinned, then raised his hand and placed it on Verion's shoulder.
"Come on, I'll take you to see."
"?
"
A look of confusion appeared in Verion's eyes.
"Go? Where to?"
But the next moment, his vision went black.
Emrys and Verion immediately vanished from the spot, while Terax, not far away, let out a sigh.
Well, no fight then.
Only a few seconds later, Verion and Emrys reappeared.
But this time, Verion's eyes were filled with shock, horror, and fear.
He was stunned for a full half minute before turning to look at Emrys, feeling parched, and stiffly asked.
"How many resource worlds like that do you have?"
"Not many."
Emrys said lightly.
"Just... five Universes. Oh wait, now it should be six."
Verion fell completely silent.
You call that... quite wealthy?
Your family assets are greater than the combined assets of the Imperium of Man, the Drukhari, the Craftworld Eldar, the Necrons, the Orks, and the Tyranids?!
The Ida Imperium, even at its peak, only occupied one Milky Way Galaxy!
And you, a Rogue Trader, actually control six entire Universes?!
Verion was overwhelmed.
Jealousy? Greed?
No. After seeing the Forge Worlds, the fleets from the shipyards blotting out the sky, and hundreds of thousands of Astartes, he no longer entertained those thoughts.
Unless he had gone completely mad, it would be absolutely impossible for him to harbor any greedy thoughts!
"Tell me."
Emrys patted his shoulder and smiled.
"What else do you lack? I have it!"
Agree, OR... Refuse!
These two choices herald two completely different futures.
If he bets correctly, the future will be full of light; but if he bets wrong... it will be eternal damnation!
Neither Viktor nor the Iron Thorn Conspiracy would tolerate a noble daring to seize power from them.
Especially since this noble's bloodline belongs to one of the former royal families of the Ida Imperium!
"Lord Verion, I have already shown you my sincerity." Emrys smiled, like a devil tempting someone to fall.
"I, I know" He paused, then continued, Verion spoke with difficulty, feeling his mouth unusually dry and his heart wavering.
"But, this is too dangerous, I... need to think about it!"
Although he had witnessed the profound background of this mysterious Rogue Trader, ultimately... he was still a little worried.
After all, this is no small matter!
Coup d'état and seizure of power have always been the most serious crimes in the Gomo.
If he fails, even if he is a Blood Singer, his fate won't be good, and might even be worse!
This is precisely why Verion hesitated.
He knew all too well the torturous methods of the Blood Singer and the Conspiracy Group; if he fell into their hands, he would rather die than live!
Seeing Verion's cowardly appearance, Emrys sighed helplessly.
He had practically spoon-fed the opportunity, yet the old man was still timid and fearful of everything.
To be honest, if there were other options, he would have found someone else long ago!
He doesn't even know how to seize the opportunity right in front of him; no wonder the Durukali family is declining—they have no courage whatsoever.
"Lord Verion, I need to reiterate."
Emrys cleared his throat, his eyes holding a hint of scrutiny.
"A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this is not something everyone encounters. If you are unwilling to bear even this small cost... then I advise you to honestly live in obscurity and stop fantasizing about restoring the glory of the Durukali family. Just rot and stink here."
"You, you say I don't dare?"
Verion naturally understood the hidden meaning in his words, and his face instantly changed, looking extremely unpleasant.
"Isn't that right?" Emrys was expressionless, but the contempt in his eyes was undisguised.
"You don't even know how to grasp the opportunity presented to you, and you're still considering the risks. With this little courage... I think I'll find another collaborator, lest you drag me down. I certainly don't want to work with a coward!"
His words were full of sarcasm, yet every word struck at the heart!
Verion's already terrifying face turned pale then purple, and he gritted his teeth, saying, "I'm not cowardly, I'm cautious!"
Seeing him still making excuses, Emrys sighed and said, "Lord Verion, although the risk of this matter is great, have you considered how much benefit you will gain once we succeed?"
At this moment, Verion had fallen into the trap of the other party's rhetoric, and subconsciously asked, "How, how great?"
"You can imagine, if our coup succeeds" Emrys lowered his voice, speaking in a deliberately amiable and gentle tone.
"You will become a legend, one who leads the lower-class Half-breeds and Slaves, overthrowing the solidified hierarchy ruled by the Conspiracy Group and Trueborn nobles. You will gain immense prestige and simultaneously become a hero of the Durukali family, a legendary ruler worthy of being entered into Eldar history and recorded in the Library!"
A Legend? A hero of the Durukali family? Recorded in history?
These three points alone were enough to make Verion's heart pound, and his breathing involuntarily grew heavy and rough.
"You will usher in a new era for the Gomo!" Emrys unconsciously used psychological suggestion.
"Verion Durukali will become a legend of the Durukali, and even the entire Eldar race. When people think of the ancient Durukali Royal family, the first person they think of will be you, not the Royal family itself.
Your existence will give the Durukali a brand new meaning and legend!"
"Your achievements will be remembered by all Eldar!"
"Aren't you still researching how to free the Eldar from the control of Slaanesh?"
"Once you rule the Gomo, no one will be able to obstruct your research, and from here, you will embark on an even more legendary path!"
"A legend who saved all Eldar!"
"He will be inscribed upon the historical monument of the Eldar; it was he who saved the declining Ida Imperium and allowed the Eldar to once again rule the Milky Way Galaxy!"
"And his name will be honored with the titles King of Kings and God of Eternity, accompanying the Eldar Pantheon forever, becoming an immortal myth!"
"Is this not enough?"
Every word Emrys spoke was like a hammer striking Verion's heart.
He used subtle psychological suggestion and seductive rhetoric to weave a future named "Legend and Myth" for Verion.
"I... am a Legend!"
Verion muttered to himself, his eyes gradually becoming bloodshot, completely consumed.
The fire named "Ambition" was ignited, slowly consuming his reason, while seductive words wove a wonderful future for him.
Yes, he will surpass all previous ancestors of the Durukali and become a legend of the Eldar!
He will rewrite the history of the Gomo and be inscribed upon the Eldar Library!
He will lead the Eldar to once again... restore the glory of the Ida Imperium!
Allowing Eldar rule to once again reign over the entire Milky Way Galaxy!
He, Verion Durukali, will become the King of Kings, the Eternal God of the Eldar!
"You are right!" Verion, breathing heavily, seemed to already see his future as the Eldar Savior, and conquering the Gomo would be his first step.
"I must do this, I have a responsibility to save the Eldar!"
Excellent, he believed it!
Emrys showed a knowing smile, then patted his shoulder.
"Exactly, you are a Durukali, and also royalty of the Ida Imperium. You have the responsibility to save these corrupt and depraved individuals, and the obligation to lead and rule them!"
"That's right, the Gomo originally belonged to me!"
Verion's voice carried a hint of fanaticism.
"It was Viktor, it was those Conspiracy Groups, who stole what rightfully belonged to me!"
"Yes, they stole your rights!" Emrys softly flattered him while giving affirmation.
"We are merely taking back the city that belongs to you. Now... we only lack an opportunity!"
"What opportunity?!"
Verion grabbed him impatiently, asking loudly with bloodshot eyes, "What should I do?! Tell me!"
"You are the heir of the Durukali family, and the undisputed Master of the Gomo—this identity is excellent!" Emrys curved his lips into an arc, his gaze drifting toward Korion, who was embedded in the wall, and slowly said.
"But first, we need a catalyst to make those lower-class Half-breeds and Slaves believe that you are truly considering them, and fighting for their freedom and rights. Only then... can we complete the first step: uniting these lower-class Half-breeds and Slaves, making them loyal to you and turning them into your power!"
"What, what should I do?"
Verion was somewhat confused and very anxious.
"Don't rush, Lord Verion." Emrys affectionately put his arm around him and grinned.
"Leave it to me, just relax!"
The Iron Thorn Conspiracy and the Decadent Peak School were still pressuring Verion.
After all, this place nominally belonged to the "Celestial School's" territory, and with the Witch Council bearing witness, they couldn't act recklessly.
Moreover, Verion, that old bastard, had lived in Gomo for so long that he had acquired some connections.
While the outside world was fiercely pressuring Verion, a certain rumor began circulating in the lower levels of the Painful Nest.
Trueborn are absolutely not gods; they, too, fear death!
And as proof, the corpse of a Trueborn Warrior appeared in the black Market of the lower levels.
Although only a very few people saw it, that's how rumors work.
As this rumor spread, more and more Half-breeds began intensely discussing whether the Trueborn were truly... noble!
"Hmph, Trueborn aren't so great after all!"
"Exactly! Let me tell you quietly, a friend of mine personally witnessed a Trueborn kneeling and begging for mercy!"
"A Trueborn, kneeling and begging for mercy?"
"Yeah, dozens of Trueborn surrounded and attacked one human, but that human counter-killed them all!"
"Hiss"
Such news began to spread wildly through the lower levels.
At the same time, another new sentiment spread like wildfire among the Half-breeds and Slaves!
Half-breeds and Trueborn are fundamentally no different!
The so-called Trueborn is actually a lie fabricated by the upper echelons to eternally maintain their rule!
In the outside world, there is no eternal torture, and certainly no eternal pain.
It was at this moment that Verion, under pressure from the Iron Thorn Conspiracy and the Decadent Peak School, finally "couldn't hold out" and agreed to allow some of their forces to enter and search the area.
These people were almost entirely Warrior groups composed of Trueborn.
They were arrogant, proclaiming themselves noble as always. After stepping into the filthy, lowly Painful Nest, they completely disregarded the lives of the Slaves and Half-breeds. Within just a few days, many Half-breeds and Slaves were brutally tortured and killed on the spot by these people, simply because they blocked their path, or their body odor displeased a Trueborn, or even if their eyes met theirs!
For the first time, a flame named anger and resentment ignited in the hearts of the Slaves and Half-breeds.
They knelt on the ground, lowering their heads.
But in their eyes, raging flames burned—flames that those high and mighty nobles would never see!
They could not see the rage of these humble, ant-like people who had been crushed into the dirt, nor would they listen to their thoughts!
The Trueborn Warrior Corps continued to run rampant, commissioned to hunt down Emrys, but they could never find a trace of him.
Then, these Trueborn vented their fury upon the Half-breeds and Slaves.
Inhuman massacres unfolded within the Painful Nest.
The Half-breeds and Slaves screamed, wailed, and pleaded, hoping these nobles would spare them.
But what they received in return were sneering cold laughs and continued slaughter!
"Stop!"
Just as the Half-breeds fell into despair, a person appeared.
"You finally showed up!" The Trueborn leader violently ripped out a Slave's spine, letting the blood splatter across his face as he sneered at Emrys.
"Emrys, this time is different from last time. Let's see where you can run now!"
"I won't run."
Emrys looked pained, his gaze falling upon the Slaves and Half-breeds.
"I take responsibility for my actions. I only ask that you release them. They are innocent, aren't they?!"
"Innocent?"
The Trueborn leader was surprised, but immediately a cruel thought overshadowed him.
"Hahahaha, that's hilarious... You, a human, standing up for these lowly Slaves and Half-breeds? That's the funniest joke I've ever heard in my life!"
Is it laughable?
Yes, quite laughable... But Emrys showed a compassionate expression, angrily rebuking them with deep sorrow.
"Aren't you all of the same race? Why... why are you slaughtering your own kin like this!"
"Kin?!" The Trueborn leader laughed wildly, as if he had heard the best joke, wiping his bloody hand across his face.
"Hahahaha... You are hopelessly stupid! We are kin with these lowly creatures? No, no, no, we are absolutely not kin. They are merely consumables!"
As he spoke, the other Trueborn Warriors also burst into loud laughter.
Their laughter, however, cut like knives into the hearts of the surrounding Half-breeds.
So, in the eyes of these Trueborn, we are not kin... This thought spontaneously arose in the depths of their hearts.
"But even if that's true, you shouldn't use such cruel methods to torture and kill them! They are innocent!" Tears welled up in Emrys' eyes, making him truly look like a compassionate human being grieving desperately over the deaths of the Half-breeds and Slaves.
"What in the world are you talking about?"
The Trueborn leader was utterly bewildered, but he spoke his genuine thoughts.
"You're actually sympathizing with them? They're just a bunch of beasts. Why care? Even if we kill them all, we can quickly create more. Would you feel sympathy... for a piece of waste paper?"
"No, they are not waste paper!"
Emrys' voice suddenly rose, as if deeply agitated.
"In my eyes, they are also members of the Spirit Race! They are lives!"
This sentence was like a sharp blade, cutting through the darkness shrouding the hearts of the Half-breeds and Slaves!
He continued to shout in a high-pitched voice.
"I don't understand, if you are all members of the Spirit Race, why is it that you Trueborn can forever remain high above others?"
"Huh?"
The Trueborn leader was dumbfounded. What was this guy trying to pull?
"Is it just because your bloodline is purer? No!" Emrys roared loudly.
"In my opinion, it is they—these Half-breeds and Slaves—who used their flesh and blood to win victory after victory for Gomo in war!"
"Who among you remembers the Half-breeds and Slaves who sacrificed themselves outside to secure those victories?!"
"It was they who paid the price of their lives to maintain the construction of Gomo!"
"Every brick, every tile, and every inch of soil here is soaked with the blood of Half-breeds and Slaves!"
"But what did they receive? No dignity, no food, and even their lives are wantonly taken by you!"
"Is this right?"
"Clearly, these Half-breeds and Slaves are the true creators of Gomo!"
"And you are just a bunch of despicable thieves, stealing the credit that rightfully belongs to the Half-breeds and Slaves!"
Watching the loudly shouting and roaring Emrys, the Trueborn Warrior Corps was completely dumbfounded.
At the same time, the Half-breeds and Slaves, who should have been groveling on the ground and avoiding direct eye contact with the Trueborn, quietly... raised their heads!
"Hasn't it always been this way?"
The Trueborn leader frowned, completely failing to notice that the atmosphere around them seemed to have changed.
"Half-breeds should sacrifice their lives for us, and as for Slaves... they should be trampled upon, ruled, and...
...enslaved!"
"Is that so?"
Emrys suddenly smiled. He spread his arms.
"Just because it's always been this way, does that make it right? Answer me—!"
"Hah, who would answer you"
The Trueborn leader was about to speak, but he was interrupted.
"That's wrong!"
"That's wrong!"
"That's wrong!"
It was a fanatical sound, like a tsunami!
"?!"
The Trueborn leader's pupils constricted. Only then did he notice.
Sometime unnoticed, the surrounding Half-breeds and Slaves, their eyes bloodshot, had encircled them.
Their eyes seethed with terrifying hatred and rage!
"No one is born high above!"
"Half-breeds are just as noble!"
"Slaves need not be enslaved anymore!"
Emrys raised his fist high. His powerful psychological suggestion, coupled with his rhetoric, consumed the surroundings like a tidal wave.
"You are not noble!"
Every word Emrys spoke was like a heavy hammer imbued with immense power, striking at the hearts of the crowd!
And that sentence: No one is born superior!
It stirred up a thousand waves with one stone, completely igniting the fury of the Half-breeds and Slaves!
Every shout, every word of his, was like a dawn illuminating the darkness, shining into the hearts of the Half-breeds and Slaves.
The next moment, these Half-breeds and Slaves, who should have been kneeling on the ground with their heads buried in the dust, looking up at the Trueborn, all raised their heads. Their eyes, bloodshot from heightened emotions, stared intently at these warriors.
However, at this moment, the superior Zhen Shengzi Warrior still hadn't realized the seriousness of the problem.
As the leader of the Zhen Shengzi Warrior, seeing these lowly Slaves and Half-breeds dare to raise their heads in front of him, and even look at him with such hateful eyes, he was immediately filled with boundless rage.
This was simply a provocation to them, a provocation to them who were nobles with pure blood!
"What kind of look is that?!" The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader roared in fury, raising his thorny whip and viciously lashing out at a Half-breed!
Crack!
The whip struck the Half-breed's face directly, and the power of psionics exploded, leaving a horrifying wound!
Blood flowed down the Half-breed's face, but something that made the Zhen Sheng Zi Leader and the surrounding Zhen Shengzi Warrior feel a chill down their spines happened.
This Half-breed, who had been whipped, did not, as before, lower his head and humbly apologize.
Instead, the rage in the Half-breed slave's eyes seemed to be completely ignited!
He stared intently at the Zhen Sheng Zi Leader with eyes full of hatred and anger.
"How dare you!"
The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader was thoroughly enraged.
He immediately drew his sharp sword and swung it without hesitation.
Swish!
A flash of sword light, and the Half-breed's head was directly severed.
Thump, gurgle... The blood-covered head rolled to the ground. The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader was about to sneer, but he found that the eyes of this head, even though it was dead, were still staring at him with hatred, and the malevolent chill within made him instinctively shiver.
But then, this chill was suppressed. The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader, holding his sharp sword, scanned his surroundings with arrogant and gloomy eyes.
"Did you see his fate?!"
He was still very arrogant, completely oblivious that within the silent and oppressive atmosphere around him, a force of... thunder was brewing!
"You damned Half-breeds, you lowly Slaves!" The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader shouted angrily, "Dare to look at us again, and this will be your end! As Half-breeds and Slaves, you should have this awareness. From the moment you were born, you were destined to serve us, to offer your lives, including everything!"
Unfortunately, his words not only failed to achieve the desired suppressive effect but instead became a catalyst!
"Is that so? But I want to ask... why?!"
At this moment, Emrys stepped forward again, and the eyes of all the Half-breeds and Slaves were focused on him.
"Why can the Trueborn be superior?!" He pointed at the Zhen Sheng Zi Leader's nose and cursed, "Why are you born to enjoy resources they can never have in their lifetime? Why can you wantonly take their lives? Why... can you, these wastes who have no merit to the Spirit Race, who only rely on the bloodline of your ancestors, stand here and rule the people who truly built Gomo, who offered their labor and blood for this city, for the Spirit Race?!"
His voice, mixed with psychological suggestion, was accumulating little by little, spreading little by little!
It was like a seed, wildly sprouting and growing in the hearts of the Half-breeds and Slaves!
Only then did the Zhen Sheng Zi Leader realize that he was here to arrest someone, not to discuss things with this bastard.
"Enough nonsense!" He directly kicked away the Half-breed blocking his way and strode towards Emrys.
"I don't care where you're from, you must come with us today!"
Finally discovered the problem?
Seeing the Zhen Sheng Zi Leader approach, Emrys sneered in his heart. Unfortunately... it was too late to discover.
If he had been arrested immediately upon meeting, without being given a chance to speak, it might have actually succeeded.
But now... the groundwork was almost complete!
Emrys, as if going to his execution, had a look of sorrow on his face.
"Alright, I'm willing to go with you. As long as you let them go, what does it matter if I go with you? I am indeed just a human. I am not qualified to save them, but I am willing to offer my life, only hoping... that this city shrouded in darkness will one day be illuminated by light!"
"What?"
The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader's eyelids twitched wildly. What exactly was this guy rambling about?
But soon, he understood.
Just as the Zhen Shengzi Warrior surrounded them, intending to seize Emrys.
The Half-breeds and Slaves, who had been silent, all, without prior agreement, stood in front of them!
Among these people, some looked very old, some even lacked limbs, but all of them, without exception, stared at these "Superior" Trueborn with an oppressive silence and eyes full of hatred and anger!
"You... are you crazy?!"
The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader's eyes were gloomy, as if they could spew fire.
"Get out of my way, all of you, or else... I'll kill you first!"
Saying that, the Trueborn drew their weapons, and the high-frequency vibrating blades emitted a low,
bloody hum in the air!
His sharp voice echoed around.
"Do you want to taste... the flavor of pain?!"
These words indeed had some destructive power!
The Half-breeds and Slaves, originally filled with anger, showed a hint of fear and timidity in their eyes.
"Hmph, a bunch of trash!" The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader sneered, walked towards Emrys, and said in a low, mocking voice.
"Do you think a few words can give them the courage to resist us?"
However, Emrys merely showed a mysterious smile.
"No, I never thought that, nor would I be so naive."
Just as the Zhen Sheng Zi Leader raised his hand to seize Emrys.
Suddenly, a Zhen Sheng Zi Warrior, for some unknown reason, raised his sword and ruthlessly slashed at the surrounding Half-breeds.
"Damned mongrels!" He seemed to have gone mad, killing several Half-breeds with consecutive slashes, even cruelly twisting off their heads and pulling out their spines, sweeping his blood-red pupils over the others.
"Mere scum, daring to stand in our way? When we return, we'll bring men to wipe you out, not a single one will escape. I want you to know the consequences of daring to offend a Trueborn!"
At this moment, from deep within the crowd of Half-breeds and Slaves, who were shocked by his cruel methods and threats, a few roars suddenly erupted.
"Damn it! We die if we resist! We die if we don't!"
"This human is right, no one is born superior?!"
"Everyone heard it! They won't let us go when they return, so let's fight them here!"
Everything happened too suddenly!
The Zhen Sheng Zi Leader had no time to react when he saw that Zhen Sheng Zi Warrior's head cut off with a single strike—so fast?!
As he was shocked, the other Trueborn grew furious.
"Kill these scumbags!"
"They dared to lay hands on a Trueborn!"
"Slaughter these mongrels!"
The Zhen Shengzi Warrior began an indiscriminate slaughter!
And the Half-breeds and Slaves, already pushed to the edge of the cliff, were completely engulfed by fury when they saw the Trueborn's wanton Slaughter!
"Kill them!"
"For freedom!!!"
The scene completely descended into chaos!
Chaos!
Absolute chaos!
The Trueborn leader's mind was still blank at this moment.
He couldn't understand—what on earth had happened?
And that idiot—was his brain stuffed with excrement?
Even if you want revenge later and wipe out these upstart Half-breeds and Slaves, at least wait until they've left!
"Stop! Stop!" The Trueborn leader swung his sword and cut down several Half-breeds, roaring, "You damned mongrels, stop at once or I'll slaughter the lot of you!"
"Stop now and I'll overlook your crimes!"
Sensing Emrys might be behind this, the Trueborn leader shouted desperately at the rioting Half-breeds.
But before his words faded, more voices rang out from behind.
"Don't listen to him!"
"Brothers, we've already offended the Trueborn—if we let them go, this place will be razed within the hour!"
"Our families, our friends, will all be taken!"
"We might as well fight it out—kill every Trueborn and no one will ever know!"
These words sent the already frenzied Half-breeds and Slaves charging like madmen.
The Trueborn leader raged.
"Who? Who's speaking? Show yourself!"
But no one answered, and he had no chance to stop them.
Because no one would listen.
The Trueborn hacked at Half-breeds and Slaves, blades reaping lives at will.
With superior arms, heavy armor, and high-velocity guns, this should have been an effortless slaughter.
Yet soon the surrounded leader sensed something wrong.
Their Zhen Shengzi Warrior were… dwindling.
On paper, one Trueborn could butcher dozens of Slaves and Half-breeds.
But as chaos spread, the Half-breeds and Slaves in the Painful Nest only multiplied.
On rooftops, in corners—everywhere hid Half-breeds and Slaves.
With no proper weapons, they fought with whatever they could scavenge or buy in black markets.
Once or twice, a Trueborn might shrug it off.
Yet bit by bit those mosquito-bite blows began to crack their armor.
"Aaaargh—!"
A scream spun the leader around.
Eyes bulging, he watched a Trueborn's armor torn apart; the wretch was dragged by his hair into the mob and hacked into mincemeat.
"You vermin!" he howled, slashing wildly at the rioters.
But Half-breeds and Slaves were everywhere.
They seemed to breed on the spot—kill one, ten more surged forward.
"Pull back! Pull back!" At last the leader shouted, desperate to escape.
Too late.
The entire Painful Nest had been sealed—no way out.
"No—no!" More Trueborn, proud and noble, shrieked as they were dragged away and butchered like vermin.
At last the riot ebbed into silence.
Sword chipped, armor cracked, the leader stood panting, glaring around him.
All fifty Zhen Shengzi Warrior lay dead—only he remained.
Then the Half-breeds and Slaves loosed a long-suppressed, thunderous cheer.
"We won!"
"Victory is ours!"
"Trueborn can be beaten!"
They danced, they celebrated.
The leader knelt, dazed, unable to grasp how a simple arrest had become a massacre.
"Puzzling, isn't it?" Emrys appeared before him, smiling faintly.
"You—?!" In that instant the leader realized.
"You incited them! You showed yourself on purpose!"
Emrys knelt, cupped the leader's head, and whispered, "Exactly. I stirred them, planted those voices, and you were the sacrifice."
Understanding flashed in the leader's eyes—then a savage grin. "I know your plan… but you'll fail."
"Will I?"
Emrys shrugged. "I don't care."
With that he snapped the leader's neck and tore the head free.
After the first cheers faded, Half-breeds and Slaves felt cold reason return—and fear.
Slaughtering Trueborn was the gravest sin.
"Why fear?"
Emrys' voice rang out again.
"You are the true builders of the Gomo. Your blood bought this victory and proved Trueborn can fall!"
"Let them be the ones who tremble!"
"They stole your resources, your lives, all in the name of blood—evil, wrong!"
"Today you proved yourselves with your own hands!"
"Have no fear!"
"Unite and tell them: the Gomo need not be dark!"
"Tear down the Agony Vaults! Share every resource!"
"There's no turning back—overthrow the Trueborn, or wait for extermination!"
"What say you? Answer me!"
A heartbeat of silence—then a roar from the soul of the oppressed.
"Tear down the Agony Vaults! Share every resource!"
"Smash the bloodline creed!"
"Kill them all—!"
Emrys smiled.
See? Chaos is that simple.
"You… really intend to restore Durukali family for him?"
Terax, silent until now, finally spoke.
"First, I'm a Trader."
Emrys' grin turned sly. "And when have you ever seen a Trader take a loss?"
Terax thought; never.
In his experience, Imperial Rogue Traders were greedy to the gallows—never a coin wasted.
And this one was the worst of them.
Since Emrys' debut, he'd scarcely lost a bet.
"Tch…" Terax clicked his tongue, eyes complex. "If ever I see you slipping toward Chaos, I'll be the first to kill you."
Such a man was terrifying.
He had watched Emrys turn words into weapons, turning Half-breeds and Slaves against the mighty Trueborn and Conspiracy Group.
A few sentences and the spear was aimed at the elite.
If Emrys did this inside the Imperium…
Terax shuddered at the thought.
The Gomo mirrored the Imperium in so many ways.
Yet inciting Imperial plebs might be even easier for Emrys.
All it took was one Blood Singer's head to summon a storm of blood in the Gomo.
"Emrys, sometimes I truly wonder…" Terax's voice dropped, eyes sharp.
"Do you stand with the Emperor… or with Tzeentch?"
Fomenting rebellion—that's Tzeentch's specialty, isn't it?
"You're a Custodian—speak with position and proof!"
Emrys scowled. "Words that sow doubt and break unity? Keep them to yourself!"
He, the most loyal son of the Emperor, linked to the "Blue Bird"? Ridiculous!
The expected chaos spread like wildfire through the Painful Nest, sweeping every inch of soil soaked with the blood and lives of the oppressed.
Years of exploitation, humiliation, and abuse finally erupted in this instant.
Trueborn, Warrior Corps!
These two labels once stood high above, untouchable—existences the lowest ants couldn't even look at.
Among the Eldar, whose bloodline hierarchy is ruthlessly strict, nowhere more so than in Dark City Gemo.
The Trueborn are the law, the rule itself.
Yet today, right here!
That rule, etched into their bones, was shattered by an outsider—by a single human.
Noble-blooded, naturally bred Trueborn now had their heads cut off and hung upon the altars of the Painful Nest, while their bodies and flesh were frantically snatched and devoured by the throng.
They longed to feast on their flesh, drink their blood, gnaw their bones.
No longer a metaphor, those words had become literal description.
The myth of the Trueborn was broken.
The creed hammered into them since birth collapsed in this instant.
So Trueborn—can die too!
No, more precisely: the lofty Trueborn, said to inherit the true Eldar bloodline and be protected by the gods, could be killed by these lowly, ant-like wretches.
As everyone knows,
gods are feared because they are unknowable; once mortals learn that even gods bleed, death is the only outcome awaiting them.
The same applies to the Trueborn.
Dark City Gemo's ten-thousand-year order had branded the Half-breeds and Slaves with submission and dread, and now that brand was utterly smashed.
The Blood Singer Verion watched from start to finish as Emrys, with only a few sentences, incited this terrifying riot that annihilated an entire elite Warrior Corps at the hands of a mere mob of Half-breeds and Slaves.
While the instigators—Emrys and the Blood Singer—observed from a hidden room the fanatical,
chaotic crowd outside.
"They say a Blood Singer's blade is sharp—" Verion's eyes showed deep wariness as he turned to Emrys beside him, his tone carrying an awe he himself didn't notice.
"But now I think they were wrong; words—words are the sharpest blade in the world, killing without a trace."
"Lord Verion flatters me."
Emrys smiled modestly. "I only did some small things within my power."
"One thing I don't understand." Verion asked curiously, "Just killing a few dozen Trueborn was enough to make these Half-breeds and Slaves cast off their deep-rooted fear and rise against the nobles who have ruled Gemo for ten millennia?"
"Of course not."
Emrys shook his head. "If the nobles' rule could be toppled by slaying a handful of Trueborn, Gemo would have fallen long ago; it wouldn't exist today."
Hearing this, Verion's heart lurched and his face changed. "Then—then what meaning does our action have, beyond exposing ourselves early and provoking the Conspiracy Group and the nobles?"
"Lord Verion, many things carry meaning far beyond what appears on the surface." Emrys rubbed his temples, calming the flustered Verion. "My purpose wasn't how many Trueborn we killed, but—shattering the traditional ideology."
"?"
"
Verion's eyes shone with pure bewilderment.
Clearly, he didn't understand the meaning of "ideology."
"In the minds of Half-breeds and Slaves, the Trueborn were labeled 'nobles,' the 'true Eldar,' false ideological shackles." Emrys went on. "What I must do is break those shackles, make them realize that the lofty Trueborn are essentially the same as them—mortal, fearful, not myth or legend."
"Only by shattering the mythical ideology surrounding the Trueborn—only by realizing they are not invincible—can we awaken the self-awareness of Half-breeds and Slaves!"
At this, Emrys lowered his gaze. "Only after self-awareness awakens will they know why they fight, for whom, and for what—only then can we overthrow the noble rule of Dark City Gemo."
Verion only half-understood.
In truth, he cared nothing for such things; he cared only for himself. As for how many Half-breeds or Slaves died—whatever.
"Then—Lord Emrys, since the first step has succeeded, what do we do next?" Verion drew a deep, eager breath, asking how the next stage of the plan would unfold.
After all, losing fifty Trueborn at once is a loss even the Iron Thorn Conspiracy will find hard to accept.
Those fifty Trueborn mean fifty Noble Houses. Once those houses unite to pressure the Iron Thorn Conspiracy, even the Archon cannot ignore them.
To give the nobles an answer, the Iron Thorn Conspiracy will surely point its spear at the Painful Nest.
In other words, next time—what comes will be the 'regular army,' a bloody suppression, not just a few Warrior Corpss like this time.
With the Painful Nest' current strength, resisting the Iron Thorn Conspiracy's regular forces is nothing but a fool's dream.
A single misstep and total annihilation awaits.
Verion included.
With so many Trueborn dead—killed by Half-breeds and Slaves—he, the nominal overseer of the Painful Nest, can't escape responsibility.
That is Verion's worry: winning once is easy, but standing firm under the Iron Thorn Conspiracy's encirclement is terribly hard.
"Lord Emrys, what should we do now?"
Verion's voice was thick with urgency. "News of the Warrior Corps' annihilation can't be hidden long; we must prepare in advance!"
A heavy-force encirclement?
Wait—such a strong sense of déjà vu!
No, can't think further, or the river crab will come—Emrys quickly shook his head and said, "Next, we need to calm the chaos, and then—I'd like to borrow something from you."
"What?"
Verion asked anxiously.
"Korion, your good disciple." Emrys smiled meaningfully. "What I want to borrow is his head."
"Fine, no problem!"
Verion agreed without hesitation, not even asking why.
Just a mere disciple?
Dead is dead; he thought for a moment and asked, "Lord Emrys, is one enough? If not, I have a few more disciples!"
"—?"
Emrys slowly typed a question mark.
So your disciples are disposable consumables?