After redeeming a classic detective outfit from the game store and selecting his equipment, Datch transformed from a cursed warrior into a British-style private detective.
He wore a black-and-white checkered deerstalker hat, its brim pulled low to cover half his forehead. A dark gray double-breasted trench coat draped over his frame, the belt loosely cinched at the waist, the hem falling to his knees. A pipe rested in his mouth, blue smoke curling upward with a faint crimson glow visible inside the bowl. A monocle covered his right eye, and a slender cane rested in his hand.
He remained the handsome Astartes version of Sherlock Holmes.
After savoring the look for a moment, Datch turned his attention to detective work.
In an instant, the world changed.
Glowing traces of different colors—each representing a clue—scattered across the ruined, chaotic streets. Datch followed the red light trails, moving among grateful Imperial citizens. Along the way he encountered passersby marked with floating exclamation points above their heads; they willingly assisted his investigation. With every interrogation, the detective's field of vision expanded.
After several attempts, Datch traced the root of the corruption to the water purification plant that supplied the city's circulating water.
Following the minimap, he quickly located the facility. He pushed open the heavy door marked with metal skulls and cog patterns. A violent stench slammed into his senses. The entire plant was choked with green miasma.
Datch strode inside without hesitation. The interior was a colossal factory the size of a small city. Massive pools divided into sections stood beside silent purification machinery. Only a handful of small machines with independent power sources still hummed softly.
The moment he entered, dozens of red dots bloomed across his minimap.
They were plague-infected zombies—former water workers. Their numbers were overwhelming. Gray-green skin stretched over festering wounds crawling with maggots. Empty white eye sockets stared blankly. Thick, viscous fluid drooled endlessly from rotting mouths, splattering the floor with a nauseating reek.
They wandered aimlessly, driven only by instinct. At any sound they all snapped their heads toward the source and let out hoarse, despairing roars that sounded like cries rising from open graves.
Datch threw open the side door and shouted into the ready room.
"Come on. Time to get to work."
Fully armed Dark Angels and Black Templars filed out in formation.
Mordachi led the way. The moment he stepped out, he frowned.
"Such potent evil…"
Nasri followed, sweeping the area with his gaze before settling on the zombies. A flicker of disgust crossed his face.
"This bears the mark of the Nurgle Cult."
The Astartes' arrival stirred the undead. The zombies turned, roaring, and lurched forward, swinging rotting arms and snapping pus-filled jaws in a mindless attempt to tear living flesh.
Led by Mordachi, the Astartes raised their bolters and ignited chainswords and power swords. The purge began.
Explosive bolts thundered through decayed bodies, blasting rotten corpses into showers of fragments that painted walls, floors, and machinery. The Astartes advanced firing, clearing a path through the plague-ridden horde. The roar of bolters, the grinding of chainswords, and the shrieks of zombies echoed through the vast empty factory.
Twelve minutes later the last zombie collapsed. Silence returned, broken only by the scattered limbs and broken corpses littering the floor.
They reached the deepest central chamber—an enormous reservoir more than ten kilometers in diameter and over three hundred meters deep. Purified water was collected here before being pumped through colossal pipes to every corner of the Dead Forest region.
The pool should have held clean, pure water. Instead it churned with rotting flesh and blood. The mass of meat and gore moved slowly, almost alive, its surface slick with mucus and seething with countless maggots. Bloated, deformed corpses floated in the foul mixture, releasing a stench that clawed at the throat.
"This is the source of the disaster," Nasri said. "The corpses and scraps of flesh acted as pathogens, contaminating the water supply and spreading decay."
"I can feel the touch of a Chaos God," Mordachi growled. "A fresh scheme from the Warp."
Datch ignored the NPCs' dialogue. He stared at the reservoir, an idea already forming.
He opened the game shop and redeemed a familiar item—the Miraculous Medicine Manufacturing Machine. He attached a water purifier to the machine's intake, then pressed the start button.
The device hummed to life. Moments later, sealed bags of purifying powder dropped into the dispensing tray. Datch scattered the powder across the pool.
The effect was immediate. Rotting flesh and bloated corpses visibly crumbled into ash at terrifying speed. The ash dissolved completely into the water. Within seconds every trace of corruption vanished. The murky liquid cleared to perfect transparency. Sunlight streaming through the factory dome danced across the rippling surface in glittering waves. The toxic fog that had blanketed the central area dissipated just as rapidly.
Datch surveyed the now-silent machinery, then switched to another "Golden Hammer." One by one he struck the enormous pieces of equipment.
With every ringing impact, rusted machines roared back to life at visible speed. Corroded parts regained their luster. Worn gears and ancient pipes gleamed like new. The entire purification system restarted with a deep, powerful rumble, operating at peak efficiency.
Datch nodded in satisfaction.
This purified water would now flow continuously to thousands of households. The water crisis was solved.
The only problem was that the mission was not yet complete.
Water shortage had been one cause of the civilian uprising, but not the only one. To finish the quest he had to resolve every underlying issue.
A fresh exclamation mark appeared on the minimap.
With no other choice, Datch left the purification plant and headed toward the marked location.
They had already completed half the work. Giving up now was not an option.
When Datch returned to the square where he had distributed food and water, he found law-enforcement troops already deployed. Black-armored riot suppression units carrying bolters and stun batons had surrounded a ragged crowd of men and women with hollow, desperate faces—the riot leaders and the hopeless poor who had followed them.
After Datch had given them food and water, they had stopped inciting violence. Instead they now helped maintain order, making sure everyone received bread and water.
A middle-aged man in a richly decorated uniform stood before the soldiers. Gold sashes and medals gleamed on his chest. An arrogant smile curved his lips. He was the district's chief law enforcer.
He looked down at the rioters with open contempt and hatred.
"Filthy maggots. Shameless traitors. The best fate you deserve is the noose."
"Arrest them. Not one escapes."
He waved his hand. The soldiers moved in to seize the refugees.
At that instant the surrounding crowd surged forward from every direction, encircling the officers and soldiers.
"On what grounds are you arresting people?"
"They are innocent! They resisted for all of us!"
"If you're going to arrest anyone, arrest us first!"
The citizens' resistance made the enforcer's expression flicker, but he quickly recovered and shouted at the crowd.
"All of this is the will of the Nameless One! The Nameless One grants you water and food so that you may live gratefully and prosperously!"
"This is not forcing you to obey these hooligans—You insolent pests! Are you defying Imperial law? Are you plotting rebellion?!"
The moment they heard "the will of the Nameless One," the crowd fell silent. People glanced at one another, unsure what to say. Even those dissatisfied with the Imperium would never rebel against the Nameless One.
Seeing their reaction, the enforcer smiled smugly.
These days the title "Nameless One" carried more weight than "Emperor."
He signaled the soldiers again. They charged and seized the riot leaders.
The captured men and women had been ready to fight to the death rather than surrender. But when they learned everything had been orchestrated by the Nameless One, despair washed over their faces. One by one they stopped resisting. Soldiers pinned them to the ground and bound their hands.
Datch stood at the edge of the crowd, watching in silence. The behavior of the local ruling class left him speechless once more.
The same old pattern.
These parasitic elites always wrapped their rule in whatever convenient banner served them. Once they had flown the Emperor's flag. Now they had grown cleverer and flown the banner of the Nameless One instead.
As long as they could keep dominating the lower classes, keep exploiting them, and keep wallowing in luxury, they would attack anyone who threatened that arrangement.
A true leader shares both joy and hardship with his people. In crisis, a leader stands at the front to protect them.
These people? They had stolen every drop of clean water, hidden behind high walls in debauchery, and left the common folk to die of thirst, hunger, and despair. Now that the crisis had passed, they re-emerged and used Datch's own name to take revenge on those who had risen in desperation.
No matter how loudly they shouted loyalty to the Emperor, they were traitors in every way that mattered.
Worse, these villains had delayed his side quest. Water shortage had only been the spark. The real cause was these detestable vested interests. If they had handled things properly from the start, none of this would have happened.
If these parasites were not uprooted, all his efforts would be meaningless.
Now was the time to mobilize the people and settle accounts with them.
Datch sheathed his cane, drew the Star Spear from his inventory, and vanished.
He reappeared directly behind the law enforcer.
The man was still smiling arrogantly, barking orders to his subordinates.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his chest.
He looked down. A blood-soaked spearhead protruded from his torso. His entire front was drenched in red.
He tried to speak. Only a wet gurgle emerged as blood flooded his windpipe.
Datch withdrew the spear. The enforcer's body hit the ground with a heavy thud.
A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd.
Had the Nameless One really killed the enforcer?
The soldiers who had accompanied the law enforcer went pale. The surrounding citizens quickly overpowered and disarmed them.
The rebel leaders who had been pinned down scrambled to their feet and stared at Datch in disbelief.
Unexpectedly, the Nameless One had helped them fight the authorities.
A bearded man pushed through the stunned crowd and stopped in front of Datch.
"Honored Nameless One, my name is Sean Keating. I am not the leader of this group. Thank you for your aid."
Datch ignored him. Instead he raised the Star Spear high and shouted so everyone could hear:
"Long live the people of the Imperium! Unite and overthrow every monster and daemon that oppresses us!"
A single roar ignited the crowd. Cheers erupted and spread like wildfire through the streets. Hope rekindled in eyes that had been empty for far too long. People waved their arms and shouted until their voices cracked, releasing years of pent-up rage and despair.
Sean Keating stood frozen for three seconds. Then tears filled his eyes.
"May the Emperor's glory endure for ten thousand years! May the people live forever!"
He leapt onto an abandoned truck, climbed onto the roof, and addressed the swelling crowd.
"The Nameless One stands with us! Everyone—unite now and settle accounts with those insect-like nobles!"
"They stole our water! They tried to kill us with thirst and hunger while they hid behind their walls in luxury! Now we settle accounts with them!"
"Settle accounts!" the crowd roared.
"Settle accounts with them!"
People grabbed whatever weapons they could find and surged toward Upper Hive City. More citizens joined along the way. The procession grew larger with every street. Behind their high walls, the nobles turned white with terror.
They had planned to use the name of the Nameless One to crush the "peasants." None of them had imagined the rioters and common people would actually unite.
The scale of this uprising was enough to overturn everything.
They needed help.
The Imperium must intervene. It must use an iron fist to crush these ignorant, foolish commoners.
...
The Vigilant Senate in Hyperion District received word of the Deadwood District riot and immediately convened an emergency session.
Vigilant Planet's original ruling body had been the Eagle Council. After Guilliman's purge removed the many cunning and treacherous nobles who had infiltrated it, the Vigilant Senate was established in its place.
The Senate chamber was brightly lit. Dozens of senators sat around a large circular table discussing the crisis in Deadwood District.
"Those useless wretches in the Dead Forest District can't even suppress a riot?!" the Speaker snarled, face dark with anger.
"Another riot?" another senator frowned. "Weren't things just calming down? Why has it flared up again?"
"This time is different." The Speaker activated a hololithic display showing live footage from Deadwood District.
Countless armed civilians were marching on Upper Hive City.
"The scale is more than ten times larger than before."
A chill ran down every spine in the chamber.
A rebellion of this magnitude, if not crushed quickly, could give Chaos forces the opening they needed to inflict catastrophic damage on the Imperium.
"This must be resolved immediately," the Speaker said. "The greatest enemy of Chaos is preparing to invade."
A thin senator spoke. "Right or wrong in this matter aside, we must send forces at once to suppress the rioters and restore order. Otherwise the entire planet will descend into chaos…"
"Correct," a portly senator slammed his fist on the table. "These are not ordinary rioters. They have murdered an Imperial official. We must strike hard. Deploy the Astra Militarum. Deploy the Astartes. Crush them completely!"
"To preserve the Imperium's prestige, any force supporting them—no matter who—must be eliminated."
"Exactly!" another senator cut in. "If we do not suppress this now, other districts will follow their example. Then the whole planet falls into disorder, and how are we supposed to fight Chaos?"
" Mobilize the army immediately and send them to Deadwood District to put down the rebellion!"
"I agree!" "I agree!"
In moments the chamber filled with calls for violent suppression.
The Speaker raised a hand for silence, then turned to the senator seated beside him.
"Senator Hyde, you have been quiet. Do you have another view?"
Hyde rose and looked around the table with calm composure.
"The riot in Deadwood District was led and incited by an unidentified individual—the Nameless One."
He paused.
"Do you truly wish to move against the Nameless One? If so, I will resign and leave this chamber at once."
A single sentence silenced the entire room.
The faces of those who had been demanding harsh punishment and crackdowns changed instantly.
"Well…"
"This…"
"Those damned insects!"
One senator slammed the table and leapt to his feet. "How dare they defy the will of the Nameless One! We must severely punish those corrupt local officials at once!"
"Correct!" another senator immediately supported him. "As I have said before, those local officials are villains without conscience. They must be judged. Imperial law must be upheld!"
"I agree!" "I agree!"
The Speaker's lips twitched slightly, but he said nothing. He merely nodded.
After all, who would dare oppose the Nameless One?
Minutes later, with the cooperation of the Supreme Commander, the senators agreed to use military force to suppress the elite class in Deadwood District, carry out purges, and appease the people's anger.
Dozens of transport ships immediately deployed troops to the Dead Forest region. They landed in the upper hive city.
When the ramps dropped, fully armed Astra Militarum soldiers poured out in disciplined formation. They moved to seize key defensive positions and fortresses. Astartes joined them, sealing every major entrance and exit.
Inside their luxurious mansions, the wealthy and powerful who had been hiding watched the arrival of Imperial forces with shining eyes.
"They've come! The Imperial Army is here!"
"I knew it! The Imperium would never abandon us!"
"Make those traitor scum pay for daring to touch us!"
A fat man in a bathrobe stood on his balcony, pumping his fist in excitement. His residence was stocked with enough water, food, medicine, and luxuries to last his family a hundred generations in comfort.
"We are loyal servants of the Emperor!"
"The Emperor protects us!"
Other powerful figures shared the same belief. They expected the Imperium to crush the rebels without mercy.
Then they noticed something was wrong.
The Imperial forces that had arrived did not open fire on the approaching civilians.
Instead, they ordered the original garrison troops to abandon their positions, shut down all automated weapon systems, and allow the rioters to advance unhindered.
"Aren't you here to protect us and suppress the traitors?" a richly dressed fat man demanded of a supporting officer who had just arrived.
The officer stared at him coldly, then ordered his men to disarm the private guards protecting the nobles and wealthy.
"What do you mean by this?" the fat man asked, unease creeping into his voice.
"We are here to suppress rebels," the officer replied with cold pity, "to prevent them from harming innocent citizens of the Imperium."
The fat man saw the officer's icy smile and felt a chill of dread.
Damn it…
The Imperial forces that came to "help" them believed that they—the Emperor's favored elites—were the traitors.
…
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