One thing was certain: this Carey Von was no ordinary man. Otherwise, there was no way to explain how a youth in office for just over half a year could achieve so many earth-shattering feats. Winning three wars that decided a planet's fate within six months while managing administrative affairs flawlessly—what else could explain this besides being the Emperor's God-Chosen?
Raynor watched the shifting expressions on Dominic's face and felt a internal surge of relief. He knew the records had served their purpose. Dominic might be arrogant, but he was a true soldier, and soldiers naturally respected the strong and the heroic.
Sure enough, after a long silence, Dominic spoke. His tone was no longer cold and rigid; it had softened considerably.
"Governor Carey Von, I will send people to verify these records you've provided," Dominic said seriously. "You should know that the Imperial Tithe system is sacrosanct. The standards for the tithe do not change based on a planet's current situation."
"Even if Brevis has truly suffered a xenos invasion, tax exemptions require layers of approval from the Administratum and wouldn't take effect until next year. However..." Dominic's voice shifted. "I will immediately dispatch personnel to Dorido and Karl-2 to verify the situation. If your records are accurate and Brevis's situation is indeed this dire, I can grant a discretionary extension on the collection deadline."
This was the greatest concession Dominic could make. As an Imperial tax collector, his duty was to collect the tithe. He couldn't simply waive the taxes because of Raynor's achievements. Extending the deadline was already a significant act of leniency.
But Raynor shook his head again. He stood up and looked at Dominic with firm eyes.
"Lord Dominic, even if you give me another six months, I cannot gather that much grain. As I said, Brevis's current food supply can barely sustain our population. Furthermore, Brevis's agricultural output cannot be compared to Dorido's. If you truly wish to see Brevis laid to waste and tens of billions of people perish under the weight of an excessive tax, then so be it."
Raynor's meaning was clear: I can hand over the items on the list, but I will not be responsible for what happens to Brevis afterward. When the Greenskins strike again or Chaos invades once more, the Imperium will lose the gateway to the entire Calixis sector.
Having finished, Raynor bowed slightly. "Lord Dominic, I have many matters to attend to. I shall take my leave. You may investigate at your leisure; feel free to contact the Governor's Manor with any further questions."
He turned and walked toward the door. The Ventrillia guards immediately raised their bolters, aiming them at Raynor as they looked to Dominic for orders. With one word, they would turn Raynor into a sieve.
But Dominic simply waved his hand. It was the signal to let him go.
The guards looked at each other in confusion but lowered their weapons, clearing a path. Raynor did not look back as he walked straight out of the reception room. The heavy alloy door hissed shut behind him.
Only after Raynor's silhouette had completely vanished did the $\zeta$-grade psyker guard speak in a clear female voice. "He was not lying. I could feel it; his emotions were steady, with no fluctuations of deception. Moreover, he carries a heavy scent of blood—the kind only found on those who have survived countless life-and-death battles."
Dominic nodded and walked to the window, gazing at the bustling activity in the starport. A smile of appreciation touched the corner of his mouth.
"Interesting. Truly interesting. An Emperor's God-Chosen, a Greenskin slayer, a governor with a backbone..."
Seeing Dominic muttering to himself, the other guards found the recent events hard to believe. It was the first time they had seen a governor dare to speak to Lord Dominic in such a manner. He was also the first to conclude a conversation so quickly and leave unharmed.
Previously, on other planets, governors would either wail and plead with Dominic or resort to duplicity and empty threats. No one had ever been like this Carey Von—neither humble nor arrogant, reasoning with facts, and finally leaving with a stern ultimatum. Such grit was likely not an act.
While Dominic was deep in thought, Alpha, who had been standing silently in the corner, suddenly moved. She raised her hand, encased in black power-armor gloves, and made a series of concise, precise gestures.
Sisters of Silence take the sacred Vow of Tranquility upon initiation, never to speak again for the rest of their lives. All their communication with the outside world relies on a sign language known only to insiders and a few long-term associates.
Dominic's attention was instantly drawn to her. He and Alpha had been partners for five full years. In that time, they had traveled to dozens of planets across the Segmentum Obscurus, collected countless tithes, and fought Chaos cultists and xenos invaders together. As a high-ranking noble, he had learned to read her efficient sign language.
This End-Hunter, who had lived for nearly one hundred and twenty years, had seen all the darkness and ugliness the universe had to offer; she did not express emotion easily. When she "spoke," it was always regarding something vital and hidden.
"The rest of you, get out," Dominic told the psyker guard and the others.
"Yes, my lord." They saluted respectfully and left the room, closing the door behind them.
Only Dominic and Alpha remained. Dominic turned and looked at her seriously, waiting for her to continue. Alpha's fingers danced again, her movements sharp and without waste.
[That Governor is very strange.]
"Strange?" Dominic frowned. "In what way? Is he lying?"
Alpha shook her head and continued her signs:
[He is likely telling the truth, but the aura on him is very chaotic.]
"Chaotic?" Dominic was even more puzzled.
As natural "Untouchables," Sisters of Silence were more sensitive to psychic auras than most psykers. They also carried certain holy relics to amplify this perception, allowing them to catch the weakest, most hidden psychic fluctuations. If Alpha said the governor's aura was chaotic, it was no empty statement.
Alpha's fingers paused for a moment as if organizing her thoughts, then continued to "speak":
[There are two completely different psychic signatures on him.]
[One is cold, hungry, and carries an intense desire to consume.]
[It is very unfamiliar, but it shares a certain similarity with the Tyranid psychic fluctuations I have encountered.]
"Tyranids?!" Dominic's pupils shrank in sudden realization.
Tyranids!
They were the most terrifying predators in the galaxy, the enemies of all life. Wherever they passed, nothing grew; all biomass would be consumed until not even a barren rock remained. If Carey Von was in league with the Tyranids, the consequences would be unimaginable.
However, if that were the case, it would explain Carey's superhuman efficiency and capability. Dominic had heard rumors that a Tyranid vanguard force known as "Genestealers" could somehow increase the productivity of those they infected.
But Alpha's next gestures left him utterly stunned.
[But another aura occupies absolute dominance.]
[That aura is loyal, holy, warm, and carries the radiance of the God-Emperor.]
[Much like... those Living Saints.]
Dominic stood rooted to the spot, his mind going blank. The aura of an Imperial Living Saint? How could two such diametrically opposed, mutually exclusive signatures exist within the same person at the same time? How was that possible?!
He looked at Alpha, his eyes filled with disbelief. Alpha nodded solemnly and made another gesture:
[I would not mistake it. That holy aura is extremely pure and powerful. It suppresses that cold, consuming scent. He has not been corrupted by Chaos, nor has he been assimilated by the Tyranids. He is a man favored by the Emperor.]
Dominic let out a long, slow breath, the weight finally lifting from his chest. Perhaps that cold aura was simply a unique psychic manifestation he had awakened on his own. He had originally feared Alpha had found evidence of treason or falling to Chaos. He hadn't expected such a result.
The same aura as a Living Saint? It seemed the rumors of him being the Emperor's God-Chosen were not unfounded. No wonder he could create so many incredible miracles in just six months. With the Emperor's favor, what was impossible?
"I see." Dominic smiled, the suspicion in his eyes fading. "No wonder I always felt he was different from the others."
Alpha nodded slightly and retreated back into the corner, once again becoming the silent, unassuming Sister of Silence. Dominic looked out the window again, his eyes full of appreciation and anticipation. He had thought this trip to Calixis would be another dull, tedious journey of tax collection filled with corruption and lies. He hadn't expected to encounter such an interesting individual.
"Very well, Carey Von," Dominic whispered. "I'll give you a chance. I will thoroughly investigate the true situation of Brevis. If everything you said is true, perhaps I'll consider giving you a little help. After all, the Imperium needs governors like you, not the parasites who only know how to line their own pockets."
Following this, he did not follow his usual routine of leading his guard retinue in a grand procession to occupy the Governor's Manor and pressure the local ruler for taxes. Instead, he decided to wait patiently for the results of the investigation.
He had good reasons not to be in a hurry. First, his fleet had encountered severe warp turbulence during transit. Ever since that mysterious black fleet emerged from the Eye of Terror, the Immaterium throughout the Segmentum Obscurus had become exceptionally turbulent. Several capital ships, including the Gemstone, had suffered severe damage to their Geller Fields and hulls, requiring at least a month for repairs. Until the fleet was restored, they couldn't safely leave the Calixis sector anyway.
Second, he truly admired Raynor. Dominic came from the martial Ventrillia family; he worshipped the strong and respected loyal heroes in his very bones. After seeing so much of the Imperium's rot, meeting a governor as loyal, brave, and capable as Raynor was like finding a sparkling gem in a pile of refuse. He had developed a subconscious favorable impression and was willing to give Raynor a chance to prove himself.
If Raynor could truly complete the tithe or offer a reasonable solution under such dire circumstances, Dominic wouldn't mind using his connections and authority to lend him a hand.
"Someone come in," Dominic called toward the door.
"My lord!" The guard captain immediately pushed the door open and entered.
"Pass down my orders." Dominic's voice regained its usual majesty. "First, have the fleet's engineering teams begin repairs on the damaged vessels immediately. Prioritize the Geller Fields and weapon systems of the capital ships."
"Second, organize the personnel into three teams." He paused to think before continuing. "The first team, led by you personally, will go to the Upper-city of Brevis. Investigate the living conditions of the nobles, their food reserves, and their opinions of Governor Carey Von."
"The second team will go to the Mid-city to investigate the operation of the guilds, industrial capacity, and the living standards of the workers."
"The third team will head to the Under-city to check on the basic survival of the commoners, the security situation, and the severity of the famine. Remember, do not reveal your identities or alert anyone. I want the most authentic and detailed reports. Report back to me in one week."
"Yes, my lord!" The captain saluted and turned to arrange the tasks.
As for Dominic himself, he intended to find an opportunity to test just what was going on with the Orks on Dorido. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a proper fight, and his hands were itching for action. He picked up the data-slate on the table and began scrolling through it again. On the screen, Raynor's figure—clad in power armor and wielding a power sword as he fought through the Ork mobs—seemed exceptionally radiant.
"Carey Von, do not let me down," Dominic whispered. "Do not let the Emperor's favor be wasted on you."
On the night the Tithe Fleet descended, within the Brevis Governor's Manor.
In Raynor's private office, smoke curled through the air. Raynor sat behind his desk, smoking one cigarette after another. The ashtray was already overflowing with butts. His brow was furrowed, his eyes heavy; none of the ease or composure he had displayed while confronting Dominic remained.
He knew that the recent victory was only temporary. While Dominic was moved by his records and agreed to an extension, the Imperial Tithe system was rigid to the extreme. Not a single grain of tax would be waived. Even with a month's extension, he couldn't gather that much food. Not unless the deadline was extended by a year or more, allowing him to retake Dorido and repair the production lines.
More importantly, the Sisters of Silence on the Black Ships were like ticking time bombs. Every day they remained on Brevis increased the risk of the Tyranids being exposed. Sarah's swarm, the Winter Soldiers on the ice plains, and the Genestealers lurking in every social stratum—if any were discovered, it would bring total catastrophe.
"Raynor, stop smoking."
A crisp voice echoed in Raynor's mind. Following that, a palm-sized pink Ripper crawled out of a drawer and hopped onto Raynor's lap. It looked up at him with large, pale purple eyes, filled with concern. "You've smoked several packs already. It's bad for you."
Raynor smiled and stubbed out his cigarette, reaching out to gently stroke the Ripper's smooth carapace.
"I'm fine, just a bit frustrated," Raynor sighed. "Dominic might be bluffed for now, but the problem hasn't been solved."
"What is there to be frustrated about?" The Ripper tilted its head, its tone matter-of-fact. "Why bother talking to them? I'll just bring the swarm here and go all out against them!"
"We can eat those tax collectors and Sisters of Silence, and eat their entire fleet too! That way, no one will dare collect taxes from us ever again!"
Sarah had said such things countless times before. In the past, Raynor would patiently explain why they couldn't break ties with the Imperium and why they couldn't expose the Tyranids' existence.
But this time, Raynor did not argue. He looked into Sarah's eyes, remained silent for a few seconds, and then slowly nodded.
"Okay."
"Huh?"
The Ripper froze in a rare moment of shock, its small mouth hanging open and its eyes wide with disbelief. It even suspected it had misheard.
Raynor had actually agreed?
The Raynor who had always been cautious, calculating every move for fear of exposing the Tyranids, had actually agreed to go toe-to-toe with an Imperial fleet? How did the script take such a sudden turn?
"What? Isn't this what you've always wanted to do?" Raynor looked at its adorable, stunned expression and couldn't help but smile, reaching out to flick its tiny head.
"I—I do want to!" The Ripper nodded frantically, its tail wagging with excitement. "But... but you always said it wasn't allowed before!"
"Before was before; now is now." Raynor's smile gradually faded, replaced by a stern, serious look. "Before, we had a path to retreat. We could develop slowly and build our strength. But now, we're about to have no path left at all."
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the hazy gray sky outside the window, his voice heavy. "Dominic might have granted an extension, but he won't reduce the taxes by much. Ten percent of Dorido's pre-fall grain output, paid for three years at once—even if we strip the planet bare to pay it, Brevis will collapse. It'll become an empty shell."
"By then, an unprecedented famine and riots will break out, and the encroaching Orks will be unstoppable. Furthermore, the Sisters of Silence and the Inquisitors on the Black Ships are ticking time bombs. Every extra day they spend on Brevis increases our danger. Once the Tyranids are exposed, the Imperium will send a fleet a hundred times stronger than this one to purge us. At that point, our only choice will be to run."
"So what do we do?" The Ripper's tone also grew somber.
"We burn our boats," Raynor said, a flash of resolve crossing his eyes. "Since there is no room to retreat, we must strike first and drag Dominic into the water with us."
"Drag him in?" the Ripper asked in confusion.
"Yes," Raynor nodded. "I've already guessed why Dominic was willing to grant me an extension. The primary reason isn't my battle record or some status as a 'God-Chosen,' but the warp turbulence. Right now, the Immaterium across the entire Segmentum Obscurus is a mess, and the Calixis sector has become a prison. Dominic's fleet is heavily damaged and needs at least a week for repairs. Until they are fully operational, they cannot leave Brevis."
Raynor was never one to sit and wait for death. From the moment the Tithe Fleet arrived, he had been investigating them for a way to break the deadlock.
"This is our chance." Raynor's gaze grew cold. "I want you to have the Genestealer Cults carry out small-scale, staged attacks across various sectors of Brevis. Make it look like a Tyranid vanguard has already infiltrated the planet and that a full planetary descent is imminent."
"At the same time, I will leak information suggesting that a massive Tyranid Hive Fleet is heading toward the Calixis sector and will arrive at Brevis shortly. This will put Dominic in a dilemma," Raynor continued. "If he continues to stay and force us to pay taxes, you let the swarm go all out against him. By then, it'll be too late for him to leave anyway."
"To survive, he will have no choice but to cooperate with us. He will use his fleet and soldiers to help us fight the 'Tyranids.' We don't even need to fight for real; we just need to keep them trapped here until the Orks from Dorido arrive."
Based on Raynor's understanding of the Orks, if they arrived at Brevis and saw a grand human fleet locked in a fierce battle with Tyranids, there was no way they could resist joining the fray.
"This way, we can 'drive the tiger to swallow the wolf.' We'll use the Imperium's strength to grind down the Ork forces. If the Tithe Fleet is wiped out, the tax problem solves itself. If they are strong enough, I'll use their power to launch a counter-offensive on Dorido and retake the Agri-world in one fell swoop. Either way, my goal is achieved."
"And if he refuses to cooperate?" the Ripper asked.
"Refuses?" Raynor let out a cold laugh. "Even better. If he takes his fleet and flees, that suits our purposes just fine. Of course, that's the worst-case scenario," Raynor added. "Dominic is a competent soldier and seems loyal enough to the Imperium. He won't stand by and watch Brevis be consumed by xenos and desert his post. He will choose to cooperate."
The Ripper's eyes sparkled. "Wow! Raynor, you're so smart!" it said excitedly. "This way, we solve the tithe crisis and wear down the Orks at the same time! It's killing two birds with one stone!"
"We shouldn't be too optimistic." Raynor shook his head and sighed. "This move is ultimately a double-edged sword—to hurt the enemy by a thousand, we must sacrifice eight hundred of our own."
Using his own swarm to attack his own planet still felt like cutting his own flesh. Many civilians would lose their lives, and many buildings would be destroyed. But there was no other way.
"Between two evils, choose the lesser. Better that Brevis is damaged by our own hands than destroyed by the Imperium's crushing taxes and the Orks' brutality. At least this way, we've tried."
Raynor's eyes were filled with a mix of helplessness and exhaustion. He didn't want it to be like this. He wanted to develop peacefully and let the people of Brevis live well. But in the grim darkness of the 41st Millennium, kindness and mercy only invited destruction. To survive and protect those he cared about, he had to use whatever means necessary—even if those means harmed the innocent.
"It's okay." The Ripper gently rubbed against Raynor's palm, its voice tender. "No matter what you decide, I support you. The Swarm will always be your strongest shield."
"Thank you, Sarah." Raynor felt a warmth in his heart as he pulled the tiny Ripper into a hug. In this cold, cruel universe, only Sarah would always stand by his side without reservation, believing in him and supporting him unconditionally. With her, he had the courage to face any hardship.
"Alright, go get ready," Raynor said, gently patting its back. "Have the swarm prepare for combat. If nothing unexpected happens, we start the operation in three days. Remember, keep it hidden. Do not expose the location of the main force on Dead World-B. Make Dominic believe that a Tyranid vanguard has truly arrived."
"Don't worry, leave it to me!" The Ripper nodded vigorously and then vanished into Raynor's sleeve.
Silence returned to the office. Raynor walked to the window, looking out at the mist-shrouded Under-city. Countless commoners were down there, bustling about just to survive. Raynor wasn't a saint, but he still felt the world was far too cruel to those at the bottom. Their faces bore weariness and apathy, yet also a flicker of hope for the future. They believed their Governor—the Emperor's God-Chosen, Carey Von—would lead them out of hardship.
They had no idea that their governor, to protect them, was about to make a truly brutal decision.
In three days, the fires of war would ignite on Brevis once again. Many would die, and many families would be shattered. But Raynor had no choice. For the majority to survive, and for Brevis to continue existing, he had to do it.
While Raynor and Dominic were weaving their respective plots and the undercurrents of Brevis surged, millions of kilometers away lay the Agri-world of Dorido.
A battered, spherical scrap-metal ship—if it could even be called a ship—wobbled through the atmosphere. Trailing thick flames, it plowed headfirst into a dense forest of giant mushrooms.
BOOM!
The deafening impact sent a plume of dust and smoke into the sky. Countless mushrooms were uprooted by the shockwave, and green spores filled the air like a localized blizzard. The ship's hatch was kicked open from the inside with a heavy metallic clang.
Yagg was the first to leap out. He landed heavily, his feet sinking into the soft, moist soil. A fresh scent, carrying the aroma of earth and fungi, instantly filled his nostrils. Yagg took a deep breath, looking almost intoxicated.
This was... real air? Warm air, carrying the breath of life? Not the recycled, stale atmosphere of Karl-2 that reeked of machine oil, rust, and blood.
He looked up at the sky. The vast blue expanse, fluffy white clouds, and the warm sunlight bathing his body felt incredibly pleasant. He reached out, feeling the pull of real gravity and the sensation of the wind brushing against his cheeks.
Yagg's eyes grew slightly misty. Born and raised in a drifting Squig ranch, he had never seen the blue sky or white clouds. He had never felt the sun or breathed natural air. On Karl-2, the sky was always a black void, the air was always foul, and the ground was always cold alloy plating.
He had once thought the entire universe was like that. Only today did he realize how beautiful a world could be. He realized feet could tread on soft dirt, wind could blow against a face, and sunlight could be so warm.
"Waaagh! Is this Dorido? It's so Waaagh!"
"By Gork! Are those clouds? They're so white!"
"I can feel the wind! It's blowin' on me!"
The remnants of the Hokage Clan hopped out of the ship one by one. Like country bumpkins entering a grand city for the first time, they shouted and cheered with excitement. They rolled on the grass and ran through the mushroom groves, experiencing the reality of this beautiful planet. Like Yagg, most of them had spent their entire lives in the steel cage of Karl-2. To them, Dorido had only been a legend. Now, they were finally here.
Yagg watched them and clenched his fists. An unprecedented longing surged in his heart. He wanted to rise above. He wanted to become powerful. He wanted to own all of this.
There were still too many things in this world he hadn't experienced. He couldn't go back to being just a little Grot scavenging for scrap. He wanted to become a Greenskin Warlord like Boss Ragnar. He wanted his own planet, his own army, and his own stewing pots! One day, he would return to Karl-2, defeat Itachi fair and square, and take back everything that belonged to him!
Just then, a series of messy footsteps approached. A group of Greenskin Boyz wearing yellow and black armor, clutching choppas and big shootas, emerged from the mushroom forest. They were a patrol from the Bad Moons Clan, alerted by the sound of the crash.
The leader, a massive brute carrying a giant power axe, roared at Yagg: "Oi! Where'd you lot come from?"
"Which clan are ya? Why'd ya fall outta the sky?"
Yagg instantly suppressed his excitement, plastering a fawning smile on his face. He hurried forward and bowed deeply to the brute.
"Big brother, don't misunderstand, we mean no harm," Yagg said with a grin. "We're from Karl-2. We've come to bring news!"
"News?" The brute frowned, scanning Yagg from head to toe. He couldn't quite tell if this was a Greenskin or a Grot. For a Grot, the size was a bit too large—almost like a normal Boy. But the facial features were unmistakably Grot-like.
"Karl-2? What news?"
"Something terrible has happened!" Yagg acted out a look of frantic urgency. "Karl-2 has been overrun by the Humies! Boss Siss and Boss Chandler are both dead!"
"We barely managed to escape. We need to tell Boss Ragnar immediately!"
"Karl-2 overrun by Humies? Siss and Chandler are dead?"
The patrol leader's power axe hit the muddy ground with a heavy thud, vibrating the surrounding mushroom spores. His eyes went wide. He first eyed Yagg suspiciously, then glanced at the smoking scrap-metal ship half-buried in the forest. Finally, his gaze fell on the ragged, terrified Hokage Boyz.
Greenskins generally didn't lie, though they certainly exaggerated. But the fear in the eyes of these Boyz wasn't faked, and that broken ship couldn't have been fabricated on the spot. Karl-2 hadn't sent any messages for nearly a week, which was already strange.
"Fine, follow me." The brute scratched his bald green head, shouldered his power axe, and turned around. "Consider yourselves lucky. Boss Ragnar is just finishing his third lunch."
"If anyone dared disturb him during breakfast, they'd be chopped up and thrown to the Squigs."
Seeing things were working out, Yagg quickly signaled his men to follow, his steps light and fast. If the Greenskins of Dorido didn't take them in, they were finished.
Passing through the dense forest of giant mushrooms, the landscape suddenly opened up. Vast fields were filled with mushrooms and tubers of every color. Countless Greenskin Boyz worked stripped to the waist, harvesting fungi or chasing stray Squigs. Massive iron pots stewing food were visible everywhere.
The scent of stew mixed with the fresh fragrance of the mushrooms. The air was filled with noisy shouting and an overflowing, vibrant energy. This was Dorido. Unlike the cold, oil-and-blood-soaked steel cage of Karl-2, this was a true Greenskin homeland.
After walking for about half an hour, a mountain-like structure appeared on the horizon. It was originally Dorido's largest central grain silo, sixty meters high and covering the area of hundreds of football fields. Now, it had been completely converted into Ragnar's palace. The thick alloy exterior walls were covered in crooked yellow and black graffiti, depicting grinning Greenskin faces and massive "WAAAGH!" lettering.
The original blast doors had been replaced by an archway made from mammoth ribs and salvaged Imperial tank armor. Two rows of Bad Moons Boyz, all over three meters tall, stood at the entrance. They carried heavy dakka and boasted massive bellies, their eyes fierce enough to intimidate anyone.
Entering the palace made Yagg gasp. The cavernous warehouse hall had no partitions, and the floor was piled high with various trophies: dismantled lance batteries, banners embroidered with noble crests, twisted mecha wrecks, and mountains of human skulls. In a corner, dozens of Gretchins used whips to drive fat Squigs into boiling stew pots.
And at the very center of the hall sat the most "Waaagh" Greenskin in the entire Calixis sector.
The throne of Ragnar.