After evacuating everyone from the underground, Duanmu Huai activated the Geofire System, filling the entire subterranean network with molten magma. It was essentially the creation of an artificial volcano—but really, there weren't that many people left on this continent anyway, were there?
As for the prisoners who had been rescued… their condition was not good.
Many of them had been subjected to brain modification by the Beastmen—their frontal lobes removed, turned into obedient, mindless husks. For those poor souls, Duanmu Huai granted them the Inquisition's final act of mercy—a clean death. Others had not been physically altered but had suffered such cruelty and torture that some took their own lives even after being rescued.
Even so, some of them still walked out alive and returned to the surface.
Duanmu Huai did not particularly care what became of them. As he had said before, the Inquisition did not recruit the living. To join the Inquisition, one needed pure faith—and then to die for it. Only after death would their soul enter the Oblivion Realm, and then they could discuss formally joining the Starborne Legion.
There wasn't much Duanmu Huai could do about that. Despite his massive stature, he was still purely human—not one of those genetically engineered Astartes with three hearts and six lungs. Without a gene-seed, without tech-priests, there was no way to recreate the Astartes Legions of the old Empire. He simply had to find his own way to replenish his forces.
Though Duanmu Huai had no plans to shelter the refugees, they didn't leave. Instead, they settled in a small town not far from the fortress—which was only natural. The vagrants had wandered because of Beastmen attacks. But now, the land beneath their feet was filled with boiling magma. The Beastmen would never be able to tunnel up again. And with a fortress of steel warriors standing guard nearby, only an idiot would wander off into the unknown.
If they left and stumbled into a Beastman ambush, no god would save them.
Since the vagrants wanted to stay, Duanmu Huai didn't drive them away. Although this world's human population was small, that didn't mean it couldn't be conscripted in the future. Establishing a branch office of the Inquisition here to generate more recruits wasn't a bad idea.
And these vagrants were not entirely useless. Besides rebuilding their home, they began to contact other vagrant tribes.
Before long, word of the Inquisition spread across many settlements—rumors that they had descended from the stars, divine envoys sent to protect humanity. In their wrath, even the Beastmen trembled, their lairs reduced to ash in the fires of hell.
If you wish to protect humanity—to fight for the hope of our future—come to the Inquisition. This is the Promised Land of mankind!
Most vagrant clans dismissed these stories as nonsense—some delusion spread by madmen. After all, the world was already at its end. Who would believe a tale about gods descending to save humanity now? If gods existed, where were they before? Why only appear now?
But a few vagrants—those who still clung to faith and hope even in the apocalypse—decided to take the risk. They set out toward the land said to be under Inquisition control.
At the same time, news of the Inquisition naturally reached humanity's last fortress of hope—Jacinto.
"...Is this information accurate?"
A man in a suit asked grimly as he stared at the report in his hands. The officer in uniform standing before him nodded.
"We have interrogated multiple witnesses who can testify, and we've recovered actual combat footage from the battlefield..."
"Haah..."
The man in the suit frowned deeply, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. The man was none other than Prescott, Chairman of the Vyan Government Alliance. Formerly the vice-chairman, he had assumed leadership fourteen years ago after the former leader's sudden death during the Catastrophe.
Fourteen years.
To be honest, Prescott's feelings were complicated as he read the report. On one hand, he felt hope—perhaps humanity could finally defeat the Beastmen. On the other, he felt deep fear. The intelligence described a mysterious faction called the Inquisition, possessing warriors of unimaginable power. Their armor could withstand Beastman gunfire, and their weapons could easily pierce through Beastman flesh.
They even wielded subterranean bombs capable of breaching the planet's core.
And that was only the tip of the iceberg. Prescott understood immediately that this Inquisition was far stronger than the Vyan Government Alliance he commanded.
At the very least, the Alliance would never have dared attempt such audacious strategies—or won such decisive victories.
And if they could so easily crush the Beastmen… what threat could the weakened Alliance possibly pose to them?
From a military standpoint, Prescott was relieved to see such a powerful ally against the Beastmen. But politically, the existence of an unknown power with overwhelming force and unclear motives terrified him.
If the Inquisition wished to cooperate, they could have contacted the Alliance directly. Instead, they had chosen to establish their own stronghold far from the Jacinto Plateau. That decision alone revealed much about their intentions.
"...Colonel Hoffman, what's your opinion?"
Prescott looked at the officer before him. Hoffman thought for a moment, then answered.
"I believe we should cooperate with them. Our Lightmass Offensive needs support, and with the Inquisition's aid, we could reinforce Jacinto's defenses."
"That is true," Prescott admitted with a bitter smile.
The Lightmass Offensive was the Vyan Government Alliance's latest military operation—a desperate counterattack plan similar to the Inquisition's own tactics. Multiple elite squads would descend underground to locate Beastman strongholds and deploy Lightmass bombs to destroy them.
But unlike the Inquisition, the Alliance was not venturing below as a show of strength—it was a last resort. Their war against the Beastmen had been one of constant retreat, and this plan was born of desperation, a gamble to slow the enemy's advance.
In theory, with the Inquisition's support—and their drilling bombs—the plan's success would be much more likely. But...
"We are in no position to demand cooperation."
Prescott shook his head helplessly. Cooperation between powers was never as simple as shouting slogans about "protecting humanity." There always had to be something to exchange. And honestly, he couldn't think of anything the Alliance could offer that might interest the Inquisition.
In fact, if he were in the Inquisition's place, he'd probably just let the Alliance perish. Once the Vyan Government Alliance fell, the Inquisition would be the undisputed ruler of this world, with a military far superior to anything the Alliance could field.
"In any case, we must succeed this time."
Resolute, Prescott slammed his palm on the desk.
"Immediately issue an order—seal all information regarding the Inquisition. The Lightmass Offensive will proceed as planned!"
Only with results in hand could he face the Inquisition on equal footing. If he went now, he'd be nothing but a supplicant begging for aid—and once that happened, the Alliance would lose all leverage. Losing the upper hand meant surrendering control, and if the Inquisition chose to press their advantage, the Alliance could collapse entirely.
No matter what, the Vyan Government Alliance could not be destroyed under his watch!
Prescott clenched his fists, steeling himself.
"Do as I've said. Order the troops to stop spreading rumors about the Inquisition. Prohibit all discussion within Jacinto. Say it's just unverified gossip from the vagrant tribes."
Most Jacinto citizens wouldn't take it seriously anyway. Those who made it into the city already believed they had made the right choice—the Vyan Government Alliance was humanity's only hope. As for the Inquisition—no one had even heard of them. It all sounded like superstition. With proper censorship, the rumors would vanish quickly.
"...Yes, sir."
Though dissatisfied, Colonel Hoffman saluted silently and left.
Prescott exhaled, then turned toward the city outside his window.
He didn't know whether the decision he had just made was right—or terribly wrong.
(End of Chapter)