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Chapter 310: A Warning of Prophecy
🕑 Added 2026-01-11 09:00:07 +0000 UTCAfter answering Yoan’s doubts through direct and practical demonstration, showing precisely how his grandfather had acquired such powerful knowledge, Khurai shut down the holographic projection. The image collapsed into static fragments before vanishing.
He closed the ancient, leather-bound book with deliberate care and handed both it and the inert projector in it to Yoan.
Before Yoan could ask why such priceless relics were being entrusted to him, Khurai allowed himself a faint, tired smile and spoke first.
“You seem capable of interpreting the relics,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. “Can you tell me the composition of that medicine? If you can, then all of this will be yours.”
Yoan turned his gaze to the small vial containing the water-purification tablets. Data streams cascaded across the lenses of his augmetic eyes, cogitator runes and chemical indices resolving layer by layer as the vial’s contents were dissected at the molecular level.
None of the components were natural.
Several compounds could only be refined within the most advanced facilities of the Talon Sector, where they were normally reserved for nanite-based medical elixirs and high-grade restorative agents, materials that bordered on priceless archeotech by Imperial standards.
The Beisu System clearly lacked the industrial depth, Mechanicus presence, or sanctioned STC derivatives required to synthesize such substances. But that did not mean that once the water-purification tablets were exhausted, District One Hundred would be forced to return to drinking contaminated sump-water.
“If the goal is water purification,” Yoan said calmly, his tone devoid of condescension, “there are simpler methods.”
He turned toward the wall. A narrow beam of coherent energy projected from his augmetic eyes, biting into the stained plascrete with surgical precision. In moments, a complete schematic appeared, layered, annotated, and accompanied by detailed manufacturing tolerances, material substitutions, and step-by-step assembly instructions intelligible even to underhive fabricators.
It was the same purification machinery Qin Mo had once used in the underhive to purify water. Less convenient than dissolvable tablets, but infinitely more durable. A machine that, once constructed, could operate indefinitely so long as it was properly maintained, purifying water without degradation and without reliance on rare chemical inputs.
In fact, a variant of the device had even been miniaturized and integrated into standard-issue power armour for frontline troops, capable of filtering bodily or other fluids into potable water during extended campaigns.
When the etching was complete, Yoan accepted the ancient book from Khurai, turning it once in his hands, but did not immediately stow it in his pack.
“Are you certain you want to give this to me?” Yoan asked. “Didn’t you say your family would never sell it?”
“I will die,” Khurai replied calmly. There was no melodrama in his voice, only acceptance. “Perhaps one day, like my grandfather, I’ll be killed by some monster lurking in the dark or by a knife in a corridor when someone decides that they don’t like me.”
Yoan nodded. He considered that outcome highly likely.
“Everything my grandfather accomplished vanished with his death,” Khurai continued. “I don’t want that to happen again. If I must die, then at the very least, I want to leave District One Hundred with a permanent source of clean water.”
“Will you give these schematics to other districts?” Yoan asked.
Khurai hesitated. He suspected Yoan feared he would attempt to monopolize the design. After all, food, water, and breathable air were currencies of power in the lower hive, more valuable than thrones or promissory scrip. After some thought, he chose honesty.
“No. If I do, the gangs and profiteers will hoard massive quantities of water, then unite to destroy both the machines and the schematics here in District One Hundred. That way, they’d control something even more profitable than those purification tablets ever were.”
“It seems you’re not a naïve fool blinded by false kindness,” Yoan said, nodding in satisfaction. He then extended the ancient book back toward Khurai.
Khurai froze, staring blankly at the book, his hands refusing to move.
Only when Yoan pressed them into his hands did he speak again.
“Keep it. You may need the knowledge inside someday.”
At that moment, Khurai realized something, but before he could ask, Yoan had already turned and left the hidden chamber.
....
As he ascended toward the surface levels, Yoan opened a secure vox-link to Anruida, transmitting everything he had learned from Khurai.
Anruida cross-referenced the information with records extracted from the scanned texts of the Governor’s private librarium. The conclusion was clear: Khurai’s account of his grandfather was mostly truthful.
“What’s next?” Yoan asked.
“You already know,” Anruida replied coldly. “There’s no need to ask. A Governor’s House capable of employing purestrain Genestealers for assassination… such a family has no place existing at the Talon Gate.”
“You didn’t detect Genestealer genetic among the nobles?”
“No. Biologically, they are entirely human,” Anruida said. “But within the Talon Gate, traitors are as detestable as external enemies. I will identify everyone collaborating with the Genestealers, and I will purge them.”
“Understood. End transmission.”
....
Yoan returned to the surface, where the psyker guarding the entrance still stood.
By now, the thunder of artillery echoed through the hive. Macro-cannon impacts reverberated through the hab-blocks, and the distant shriek of alarms carried across District One Hundred. The district had already engaged the attackers.
Yoan prepared to join the defense, but before leaving the chamber he asked,
“In your visions, was this hive successfully taken by us?”
“I saw Beisu I stripped bare by the swarm,” the psyker replied. “But I also saw the Beisu System filled with void-fortresses… the Talon Fleet establishing a permanent defensive cordon.”
Yoan nodded. Then he asked, “You see two completely different futures?”
The psyker nodded instinctively, then paused, frowning, and shook his head.
“To be honest… I can’t see the second future at all. I couldn’t see you arriving. I can’t see what happens after you arrive either. In my sight, you’re already dead, a corpse long rotted away.”
Yoan’s expression sharpened.
“All prophecies concerning events after your arrival,” the psyker continued, “were told to me by my master. His psychic strength far surpasses mine.”
Yoan was genuinely startled.
The psyker lowered his voice. “Seventy years ago, on this very day, my master said something to me: ‘Tell the Soulless One that the Talon Sector will face a great calamity in seventy-one years.’”
Yoan stared at him, eyes wide. It sounded like the ramblings of a mad psyker… yet in this galaxy, madness and prophecy were often indistinguishable.
“I don’t know why,” the psyker muttered, confused, “but I feel like this memory wasn’t originally mine. And yet I know I heard him say it. It’s… wrong. Something is wrong.”
Yoan immediately archived the information, encrypting it at the highest clearance level, and transmitted it to the Lord of the Talon far away in the Talon System. He then turned toward the hive walls to join the battle.
....
The Spire
Anruida entered the Governor’s Audience Hall, a cavernous chamber of marble, adamantium filigree, and devotional statuary. After instructing the attendants to announce his presence, he waited in silence.
If the Governor appeared, Anruida would restrain him and tear the truth from his mind.
Footsteps approached.
The grinding rumble of tank treads. The grinding whine of fixed, twin-linked reaper autocannons being wheeled into position.
The great doors of the hall were pushed open.
The Noble Guard marched in.
They were composed of scions from various noble houses, men who might share the same infantry platoon and wear identical ceremonial uniforms, yet bore different heraldic crests upon their pauldrons, each signifying lineage, privilege, and loyalty bought with blood and coin.
The officer leading them was not one Anruida recognized from previous parades. He was a new face, his posture too confident.
[Genestealer Genome Detected.]
The alert flared across Anruida’s vision as his gaze settled on the officers.
Their presence meant the Governor already knew of Yoan’s investigation. He knew he had been exposed.
But how?
“Just a moment,” Anruida said, raising a finger. “How did your Governor know he’d been discovered?”
A hatch opened atop a battle tank stationed outside the hall. Hydraulics hissed as an officer emerged, smiling mockingly down at Anruida.
“Did you and that Soulless One really think only that lower-hive whore had a psyker?”
“Oh,” Anruida said softly, understanding dawning. “I see.”
He lowered his hand.
“Very well,” he said calmly. “Let’s begin.”
