Chapter 48: The Glaus Family (2/5)

"Go to hell, Gross."

"All of you should be put on the pyre, you disgusting bloodsuckers."

Seeing the holographic advertisement materialize before him, Hawke could no longer restrain himself, unleashing a vicious curse.

Yet no matter how he cursed, the holographic projector continued to broadcast commercials for Gross No. 1 Vitality Tonic.

After a long moment, it finally switched to playing some mindless television dramas meant to pass the time.

Hawke lay on his bed, trying his utmost to calm himself down and suppress his rising fury.

The influence of the Gross family spanned across multiple systems. To someone like Hawke, they were an unimaginably terrifying existence.

Aside from impotent rage, there was nothing he could do.

Giving in to anger would only make his harsh life even harder.

Numbness was the best state of being.

With enough numbness, one would not feel too much sorrow, and could immerse themselves in the faith of the Emperor to endure this hopeless existence.

He did not know why he was even angry.

Everyone lived this way: born, working, marrying, raising children, and dying early.

Their corpses would be reclaimed by the Food Association, sent to processing plants, and turned into sterile nutrition bars capable of filling an empty stomach.

For centuries, for millennia, people had lived like this, generation after generation.

Why should he feel angry?

Yet Hawke desperately wanted to be angry. He felt as though some intangible force, wielded by this vampire-like family, had stripped him of countless precious things.

If he had children, they would inherit the exact same fate.

If he chose not to have children, he would be sentenced by the courts and reduced to wandering the wastes as a vagrant.

Such a life was bleak and despairing, stagnant as a pool of dead water, offering not a single glimmer of hope for change.

Hawke rolled over. Another heavy thought weighed on his mind: Ban was dying.

And the only thing Hawke could do was collect his friend's corpse while hiding in a dim room, cursing at a projector.

Hawke contemplated whether he should simply commit suicide as well.

What was the point of struggling so bitterly in this world?

"May the Holy Emperor burn you all to ashes."

Hawke muttered a final curse under his breath.

With that, a bitter smile twisted his features.

The priests would never burn the Gross family; they only burned poor wretches like Hawke who had no coin to offer the church.

Outer orbit of the Natar system.

Auspex probe serial number Natar-19-18 drifted in the cold, silent void of space.

This was an Imperial monitoring satellite, constructed from a blend of machinery and human flesh.

The sole purpose of this auspex probe was to monitor activity along the warp routes in the vicinity of the Natar system.

This colossal satellite had hung in the void for decades, bearing witness to countless starships.

With the opening of the Great Rift, the number of passing warp vessels had dwindled significantly.

After all, the existence of warp storms had turned subspace navigation into an extremely perilous endeavor.

The auspex probe had enjoyed a long period of quiet.

Today promised to be yet another peaceful day.

The machine spirit was just about to log the day as one without major incidents when, suddenly, an anomalous warp surge rippled from the Empyrean into the material universe, captured instantly by the auspex probe.

A massive fleet was rapidly approaching the Natar system.

The received data underwent automated auditing through the probe's vat-grown neural layers. Responding to the machine spirit's command, the auspex scanner pulsed the warp and received feedback.

The returning data prompted the machine spirit to swiftly classify the event as a critical emergency.

Information bearing the etched Aquila array was quickly transmitted via transmitter arrays to the relevant departments of the Natar system government.

At that moment, the scribes responsible for data collation were busy checking transport vessels operating both within and beyond the system.

Before a data console, a scribe interfaced directly with the information network via neural cables.

His duty was to print out pertinent information from the data net and hand it over to the other administrative staff.

Accompanied by a series of mechanical clicks, the brass and gold-plated console hummed to life, its indicator lights flashing to signify that data was being received.

The scribe convulsed slightly as a rush of information flooded his brain. He began using delicate, bird-claw-like fingers to strike the steno-keys of the machine suspended before his chest with practiced proficiency.

With a sharp clatter, the printing process concluded.

A servitor assigned to clerical duties shuffled over, collected and collated the printed documents, and delivered them to a supervising official.

The supervisor merely glanced at the pages through a mechanical cybernetic eye before breaking into a panicked sprint.

He abandoned his current tasks altogether.

The Natar System Council.

"That fool Guilliman should open his eyes and see how deeply loved and respected the Gross family truly is. We have ruled this planet for so many years, guiding the people of the Natar system like the sun itself. They look upon us as their spiritual leaders and offer us their unwavering loyalty."

"And now, he actually intends to strip away our authority, completely disregarding the fact that these lost children of the Empire rely on the protection of the Gross family."

The Planetary Governor sat in his elevated seat, shouting indignantly.

Not a single council member seated below dared to utter a word in response.

If such treasonous words were overheard by the Inquisition or the Ecclesiarchy, they would be hauled off to the pyre on the spot.

Insulting a Primarch was unquestionably a crime of the highest terror.

"When I think about it, I cannot help but weep. What terrible fates will befall those foolish commoners once they lose the protection of the Gross family? They will go hungry, be driven from their homes, and ultimately plunge into utter chaos."

At this, a tear actually welled in the Planetary Governor's eye.

He waved his arms dramatically, continuing his lengthy diatribe.

"Guilliman is nothing short of a demon. He seeks to usurp his father's throne, which is why he suppresses loyalists like us who serve the Emperor, attempting to sweep families willing to die for the Emperor into the dustbin of history. He elevates worthless wretches who will only lead humanity to ruin, simply because those sycophants pledge loyalty to him alone!"

"My Lord, speaking in such a manner is bound to invite a tempest."

One council member carefully weighed his words, attempting to stem the Governor's unhinged rhetoric.

If this fool kept talking, he would drag the entire Natar System Council down to destruction with him.

"Let the storm rage with all its fury! Let that damned demon come! As a Primarch, he is utterly incompetent and utterly despicable. The Gross family knows no fear; we possess the most pious faith and loyalty in the entire Imperium. We keep the Emperor forever in our hearts, and we are ready at a moment's notice to sacrifice our lives to defend His realm!"

The Planetary Governor slammed his hands on the desk and stood up, his corpulent, layered body trembling with theatrical agitation.

Just then, a man hurried through the doors of the council chamber and whispered a few words into the Planetary Governor's ear, instantly freezing the frantic official in his tracks.

"What did you say?! The divine Primarch is descending shortly? Isn't he still leading the crusade and advancing toward the Konor industrial system?" The Governor's face drained of all color, turning deathly pale.

"We do not know, my Lord. The auspex arrays outside the system have scanned the *Glorious Prima* navigating through the warp. An entire fleet is bearing down on the Natar system."

"Damn it! Quickly, order the various noble houses to prepare to welcome the Primarch! Also, mobilize the Planetary Defense Force. Drive those imperial rabble away from the main thoroughfares, leaving only the wealthier citizens visible, and warn them to sing praises of the glorious Gross family!"

The Planetary Governor rapidly barked out a series of frantic orders.

No matter how fiercely he cursed in private, he knew too well that a Primarch's majesty could not be slighted; otherwise, the Emperor's Angel of Death would erase the Gross family from the stars entirely.

Dismissing his aide, the Governor swept his gaze across the assembled council members. "You all know what must be done, don't you? The moment I hear even a whisper of bad news, your entire lineage will be wiped from the cosmos. The Gross family has stood tall for millennia; we are as eternal as this great Imperium. Do not harbor foolish notions of crossing us, or disaster will surely follow."

With that chilling warning, the Planetary Governor rushed out of the hall.

The remaining council members exchanged anxious glances before scrambling after him.