Segmentum Obscurus, Gothic Sector, Imperium.
Inside an armored transport vehicle bearing the insignia of the Hive City Law Enforcement, on the capital planet Abyss Port.
"Verifying prisoner information. Name: Horatio Cochrane, Physiological Age: 16, Identity: Leader of the 'Labor Gang' in the PW-P-15 Megaport Freight Zone. Involved in an incident and arrested half a year ago, suspected of multiple crimes including murder, smuggling, and organizing strikes. Sentence: Death penalty…
Information is correct. Report to Adeptus Arbites Commissioner Farida Hood."
[Death penalty?]
The sensitive word triggered Horatio's professional instinct.
His Hood was roughly yanked off. Inside the confined space, stale air mixed with the stench of sweat and decay, stinging his nostrils.
A blinding beam of strong light hit Horatio's thin but handsome face. Before he could instinctively dodge, his dry eyelids were roughly pried open.
His cerulean eyes darted around uneasily. He swallowed, but it felt like swallowing razor blades, and his body felt as weary as if it had fallen apart.
"Pupil verification, identity confirmed." The strong light from the flashlight finally disappeared from his eyes.
Horatio took a long time to recover. In his blurry vision, he saw the shackles on his metal bionic arm and his natural left arm. He instantly realized that the prisoner these people were talking about was himself.
[I transmigrated…?]
He vaguely remembered being hit by a speeding truck while assisting in a car chase. Most of his other memories were missing, including his own name.
Before he could be surprised, a torrent of memories surged into his mind like a tidal wave.
Through these memories, Horatio obtained information that left him dumbfounded.
He, a meme-cloud Warhammer fan cultivated by group chats, had actually arrived at the end of the 41st millennium in the Warhammer world.
What does that mean?
That great Emperor, who symbolized light and hope, and led humanity to launch the Great Crusade across the galaxy, had already been stabbed by his 16th son, Horus, the former Warmaster of the Imperium, with a sword onto the Golden Throne, which his group mates jokingly called the 'Golden Toilet,' during the Great Heresy ten thousand years ago.
The various Primarchs, as powerful as demigods, either rebelled, disappeared, or fell into slumber.
Without the guidance of the Emperor and the Primarchs, advanced technology did not lead humanity to a greater and more glorious era. Instead, in rigidity and blind faith, it plunged the entire human civilization into the darkest abyss.
If one were to say that he, in his previous life, was born in an era of extreme involution, where all industries were full of fierce competition, at least there were basic human rights and survival guarantees.
But in this dark and desperate 41st millennium, one could be devoured alive both physically and spiritually.
What's more, it was critical.
There weren't many years left until the 'Hundred Victories' topknot launched the Thirteenth Black Crusade against the Imperium, and Cadia was blown into a void-mine.
[It's one thing to come to this detestable world, and I accept this life-worse-than-death time node, but how did I, a dignified coastal law enforcement officer, wake up to become a death row inmate?!]
Horatio's vision went black. This was truly being hit by a mud truck—a stroke of 'luck.'
Before this 'stroke of luck,' he was originally a law enforcement officer whose main job was coastal law enforcement raids, a true 3K Ancient Terra (21st century)Zhengyingqi!
A law enforcer reduced to a prisoner—anyone would have a mental breakdown.
Horatio felt a burst of bitterness in his heart, almost screaming, 'I have rendered meritorious service to the Imperium, I have shed blood for Terra! You cannot do this to me, I want to see the God-Emperor! I want to see the God-Emperor!'
Although the disparity was great, as Horatio slowly exhaled a long breath, his mindset adjusted accordingly.
With his excellent psychological fortitude, he did not cry and wail, wallow in self-pity, or despair and wait for death like a Gretchin whose toe had been stepped on.
He wanted to know what had happened before and after, to see if he could use his extensive legal knowledge to defend himself and reduce his sentence.
But after looking through his memories, good heavens, he was thoroughly screwed.
He had actually transmigrated into the body of the 'youngest famous gang boss in history.'
This young man had crashed and lost his memory eight years ago. After enduring a terribly miserable orphanage life, he spent five years scrambling in the Lower Hive. At 15, he led the exploited port laborers to rise rapidly among the various gangs, becoming the 'King of the Port District' through his own abilities, bringing a brief glimmer of light to the chaotic port residents.
He only killed heinous individuals. The so-called smuggling was merely buying goods directly from manufacturers and selling them to the poor. As for organizing strikes, that was simply what the public demanded.
The reason he attracted the attention of the Hive City Enforcement Office was mainly because he stepped on some people's toes, not because he was 'wicked to the core.'
They had designed hundreds of arrests, but each time he cleverly evaded them, leaving them empty-handed.
After finally being caught when he was vulnerable, and imprisoned for a year, for some unknown reason, the Imperial Department of Legal Affairs took over his disposition from the Hive City Law Enforcement.
Horatio's breathing became ragged. He knew very well what this meant.
Forget about a reduced sentence; he wouldn't even have a chance to defend himself.
If he couldn't escape now, once he entered the Adeptus Arbites fortress, he would truly be unable to escape.
Horatio twisted the ring on the middle finger of his iron hand, taking a deep breath.
[I need to find a way….]
He turned his tired eyes, cautiously glancing around.
The vehicle was filled with armed personnel, masked and helmeted, fully equipped.
He himself was tightly sandwiched between two larger men, personally experiencing "survival in the cracks." A violent escape was unlikely.
Through the text on their uniform armbands, he could discern that those in black and white striped uniforms were Hive City Law Enforcement, while the two silver-armored men sandwiching him were Imperial Department of Legal Affairs escorts.
The escorts' fingers rested on their automatic weapon triggers, standing by in strict readiness. Even through their helmets, one could feel their intensely oppressive and cold gazes.
With the intuition gained from so many years as a law enforcer, Horatio always felt there was something indescribably strange about the Hive City Law Enforcement sitting on the opposite side of him.
—Their eyes were even more nervous than his, a death row inmate.
Just as he struggled to twist his body, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position from which he could observe the entire interior of the vehicle, his elbow accidentally poked the waist of the escort on his left.
"What are you moving for! You stinking maggot from the Lower Hive!" The escort squeezed beside him, who had been grunting impatiently, suddenly became inexplicably enraged. With a loud shout, he grabbed his shock maul and swung it at Horatio's head.
As a well-trained law enforcer, Horatio almost instinctively raised his arm to block.
Zzzzt—!
The sound of metal clashing echoed through the small interior of the vehicle. A blinding electric flash erupted the moment the shock maul met the metal bionic arm.
The escort was startled—the shock maul in his hand had instantly lost all power, yet the kid hadn't taken any damage.
"I just charged it yesterday! What the hell, what did you do, kid?!" The escort pressed the shock maul in his hand, his face contorted with disbelief.
Horatio didn't say anything, just snorted coldly and lowered his head.
"Heh heh, argued with your wife again yesterday, huh, brother?"
The escort sitting to Horatio's right chuckled, reminding him: "Calm down, Farida Hood is here. Get your image right. Want to grab a drink after work?"
"This is truly unbelievable… Hmph!"
The escort, who wanted to beat Horatio to vent his frustration, clicked his tongue in displeasure, exhaled a long breath, and sat back down.
Horatio lowered his head, his cerulean eyes falling on the bionic arm that had saved him.
Buzz—
Something on his right bionic arm, like an energy bar, suddenly lit up one segment, emitting a hum.
[What is this?]
Before Horatio could wonder, the next second he found himself in a strange space.
It was pitch black all around, with no discernible contours, only his own body glowing faintly.
Buzz—That strange sound again.
A broken mirror slowly assembled before his eyes, with strange symbols appearing on its surface. But soon, these symbols rearranged themselves into Low Gothic that Horatio could recognize—
'+ Confirmation: Dark Son +'
'+ Status: Activated +'
'+ Energy: 1 / 6 +'
'+ Psychic Power: 5 / 6 +'
'+ Corruption: 1 / 6 +'
'+ Soulfire: 9 / 10 +'
After a quick assessment, Horatio's eyes widened in astonishment.
This was actually a talent tree, and there was something similar to an experience bar next to it.
The 'experience bar' was now just a little bit short of filling up one segment, and the first skill on the talent tree had already been lit up.
It was a basic skill called "Precognition Shard."
"Consumes one charge, one Soulfire, increases corruption by one, can reveal fragments of events desired to be known in the short term. Passive: There will be a premonition when fatal danger occurs...?" Horatio slowly read out the Low Gothic displayed on it.
[Come on, let me see if things can turn around.]
Horatio extended his iron hand, and the accumulated energy flowed from his fingertips into the Precongnition Shard as a warm current, silently increasing the black-purple corruption bar by one segment.
Several bizarre and fragmented images flashed before him, brief yet containing information that was shocking enough.
The Hive City Law Enforcement around him were indeed fakes; they intended to use Horatio as a demonic host to summon a Slaanesh demon into the world.
[Is this what will happen in the future...?] Horatio furrowed his brows.
As a transmigrator, Horatio found it unbelievable, but the original body's memories were not unfamiliar with this.
In his memory, he was chasing Evil Cultists who were performing a ritual when he was suddenly attacked by a monster. After being injured and losing an arm, he hid in an abandoned Saint's Abbey, where he obtained this prosthetic limb from a saint's sarcophagus. After transplantation and activation, this special ability called "Precognition Shard" was lit up.
Unfortunately, he had lost too much blood at the time, and even though he had predicted the actions of the Hive City Law Enforcement, he was ultimately captured and imprisoned.
Upon realizing he was on a bus heading to hell, cold sweat trickled down Horatio's temples as he nervously stared at the row of fakes opposite him.
[...I must survive.]
Whoosh—
The rear hatch suddenly opened, interrupting Horatio's thoughts.
A woman, suspended in mid-air using a jetpack, slowly descended onto the carriage floor, as light as a dragonfly skimming water.
"Miss Hood," the two escorts saluted in unison.
To maintain vigilance and prevent the prisoner from pulling out their pistols the moment they stood up, they performed only a brief salute.
Horatio turned his head to look at the newcomer.
Her head and face were covered by an advanced holographic combat analysis system and a high-grade air filter, obscuring her features. She wore custom-made, finely crafted carapace armor, which, despite numerous battle scars, was immaculately clean.
Because it was custom-made, the chest plate was modeled and fitted perfectly to her figure. Combined with the black, high-grade tactical combat bodysuit she wore beneath, it made the woman appear tall, well-endowed, and strikingly heroic.
Although the girl was beautiful, she gave off an inexplicable sense of discomfort, making people instinctively want to keep their distance from her.
Horatio vigilantly scrutinized her. Though her physique was mature, her demeanor suggested she was a relatively young girl, perhaps not much older than himself.
However, since she was an Imperial Department of Legal Affairs specialist, why wasn't she dressed like a Mechanicus Arbiter?
And why did the escorts address her as 'Miss' instead of by her rank?
The girl approached him, examining something with the analysis system on her head.
Horatio remained calm, his handcuffed fingers skillfully and nimbly forming a series of police hand signals.
[There's an insider.]
He was gambling, betting on the 'ancestral law cannot be changed.'
The other party took a deep breath, clenching her fists, seemingly quite displeased with the meaning conveyed by his small gestures.
Horatio observed her every move, and the moment a cold snort escaped her, he instantly leaned back, dodging a punch aimed at his nose.
Thud!
After her punch missed, the girl, like an enraged lioness, easily yanked Horatio, whose frame was not much larger than hers due to his long-term life in the Lower Hive, and slammed him hard against the cabin wall.
"You're the only one here who has betrayed the Imperium, Death Row Inmate 24601. Who gave you permission to use our hand signals!"
Her voice, transmitted through the respirator's sound array, was still clear and pleasant like a ringing bell, even though electromagnetic interference made it rough.
"You scoundrel, standing before you now is none other than the esteemed Hunter-Duke Vigilante of the Imperial Department of Legal Affairs, the daughter of the renowned Lord-Captain Alexander Hood, Lady Farida Hood! Who the hell are you calling an insider!"
The agitated man beside them also saw his small gesture and loudly reprimanded Horatio, his spare shock maul crackling.
Faced with such a lengthy introduction, Horatio reluctantly pursed his lips.
So it was a Hunter-Duke Vigilante; no wonder she wasn't wearing the standard Arbiter armor, though her current set was far superior.
Among the noble scions living in the Spire, there was no shortage of individuals who, for various reasons, acquired high-end custom gear and threw themselves into combat.
For mutual benefit, the Gothic Adeptus Arbites established the official Hunter-Duke Vigilante Corps, specifically for handling low-to-medium intensity operations requiring high-tech support.
It also served to gild these young people, giving them a good label when they formally entered the military and political systems in the future.
But she was so young, clearly lacking the seasoned experience of Arbiters. Considering the Evil Cultists' conspiracy, the purpose of assigning her to escort duty was obvious.
[Your department has an insider, sending you to your death.] Horatio sighed with a mix of mockery and helplessness.
Even though he knew he might get beaten, he understood even more clearly that if he didn't do something now, the visions in his mind would become reality, and everyone would die then.
He didn't want to be buried with them.
Out of concern that the insider might overhear, he continued to use hand signals: [Leave here, call for reinforcements.]
However, the next second, an escort's shock maul struck his waist.
Horatio tried hard to block with his prosthetic limb, but the handcuffs restricted his range of motion, and he was unfortunately struck.
"Ugh..." The stinging pain of the electric shock, accompanied by numbness, swept through his entire body, an unbearable tingling sensation, truly 'ecstasy and agony.'
Buzz— The empty energy bar lit up one segment again.
"Do you think the Labor Gang will still save you?" The Female Hunter-Duke grabbed Horatio by the collar, her voice turning unusually grim.
"I can tell you very clearly, Horatio Cochrane. The criminal organization you built has already collapsed, its assets divided by other gangs, and it has spawned a whole lot of maggots that we'll have to deal with later. But before that, I'm going to burn you alive."
"After being imprisoned for a year, I was suddenly transferred to the Adeptus Arbites. Don't you find that strange?"
Horatio's voice was very low, so low that almost only the Female Hunter-Duke could hear it through her audio system.
The Female Hunter-Duke's hand gripping his collar loosened slightly.
This one sentence from the young man before her indeed struck a chord with her.
Normally, the Adeptus Arbites would execute thugs first and question them later, or have the gangs deliver the bounty bodies themselves.
The precious cell space in the fortress needed to be reserved for those heinous, utterly irredeemable top criminals.
The scum caught by the Hive City Enforcement Office would simply not be transferred to the Adeptus Arbites.
That's why she had been puzzled for quite some time after receiving the briefing.
"I'll find out in the Adeptus Arbites's interrogation chamber, scum."
Horatio snorted, his cold, serious azure eyes fixed on the Female Hunter-Duke's tactical goggle:
"This vehicle won't reach the Adeptus Arbites at all. Think about it, why did the Hive City Law Enforcement across from me completely ignore my police tactical hand signals the entire time?"
The Female Hunter-Duke instantly realized something, flung her hand away, releasing Horatio. Before she could react, her arm was twisted behind her back.
The Hive City Law Enforcement sitting opposite suddenly stood up, one pulling out a large-caliber heavy bolter and directly pulling the trigger at the right escort's face.
Bang!