The silence in the Ghoul Stars was a thing of profound, terrifying beauty. A century-long war, a conflict that had consumed billions of lives and turned an entire sector of space into a charnel house, had ended in a single, silent moment. The Penitent Crusade fleet, battered and scarred from a hundred years of defeat, now drifted in a void filled with the inert, silent husks of their enemy.
On the bridge of the Fist of Piety, Lord General Maximillian stared at his tactical display, where every single red icon had turned a dead, lifeless grey. He listened to the vox traffic, a rising chorus of disbelief, of prayers, of soldiers weeping with a joy they had forgotten how to feel. The Saint had not just given them a victory; he had given them an end to their nightmare.
Aboard the Whisper of Judgment, Rimuru and the Deathwatch returned to the Obelisk. The reception in the hangar bay was starkly different from any they had received before. The grim, professional Inquisitorial agents and crew did not cheer, but they stood in utter, reverent silence. They bowed their heads as Rimuru passed, their eyes filled with an awe that bordered on religious terror.
In the strategium, the mood was equally transformed. Varrus, Kael, and Arken stood waiting. The holo-lith showed the silent, victorious battlefield.
"The Crusade is won," Varrus stated, his voice a low, heavy rumble. "You have done the impossible, King Rimuru. You have extinguished a fire that we believed would burn for eternity."
"They were a threat," Rimuru said with a simple shrug, sheathing Soulcleaver. "So I removed them. Now, about our arrangement…"
Before he could finish, the holo-lith chimed, displaying an incoming priority communication. It was Canoness Celestine, her face a radiant, beatific mask of absolute, vindicated faith.
"Lord Inquisitor!" her voice rang with the fervor of a prophetess. "The miracle is complete! The Emperor's light, through His chosen Saint, has purged the xenos filth! The crusade is victorious! I am preparing my fleet to escort the Saint on a tour of the reclaimed worlds to bless them, and then we must proceed at once to Ophelia VII, the holy synod of our faith, so that he may be properly venerated!"
Her plan was clear. She intended to parade Rimuru across the Segmentum, a living idol to reinvigorate the faith of trillions. It was Varrus's worst nightmare, a political firestorm that would shatter the secrecy of their mission and place Rimuru directly in the hands of the High Lords of the Ecclesiarchy.
"Canoness," Varrus interjected, his voice like silk-wrapped steel. "Your piety is a beacon to us all. However, the Saint's purpose is not yet fulfilled. His nature is a holy mystery that must be protected from the eyes of the unworthy and the plots of the Archenemy. To expose him now would be to risk the very divine instrument the Emperor has granted us."
"To hide his light under a bushel is the true heresy, Lord Inquisitor!" Celestine shot back, her fervor rising. "He is a symbol of hope! He must be shared!"
"His journey home is the key," Rimuru spoke up, once again becoming the calm center of the storm. He addressed the Canoness directly, his tone respectful. "Canoness, your faith and the faith of your warriors were a crucial part of our victory. It was your glorious charge that created the opening we needed." He was, of course, giving her credit she didn't entirely deserve, but it was a masterful political maneuver.
"My path home, however, is a long and perilous one," he continued. "It is a pilgrimage of its own. By completing it, I will not only return to my people, but I will also gather the knowledge and strength needed to face the even greater darknesses that plague this galaxy. Is it not the will of the Emperor that His instruments be honed to their sharpest point before the final battle?"
He had framed his personal quest in the language of her faith. A holy pilgrimage. Honing a divine weapon.
Celestine was torn. The desire to display her living Saint warred with the sacred duty to see a holy quest to its conclusion. "Your words… hold wisdom," she conceded, her voice tight with reluctance. "Very well. We will continue to act as your holy escort on this pilgrimage. But we will send word of your deeds. The Imperium will know that hope has returned."
She could not be dissuaded from that. The legend would grow, whether Varrus liked it or not.
With the immediate political crisis averted, Varrus turned to the final piece of the puzzle. "The bargain is upheld. King Rimuru, your chariot awaits."
He gestured to the main viewscreen. A new vessel, black as the void and bristling with arcane antennae, was approaching the Obelisk. It was a Black Ship of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, a silent, grim vessel whose purpose was to ferry the tithe of psykers from across the galaxy back to Holy Terra.
"The Silent Vigil," Varrus announced. "Its holds contain twelve thousand sanctioned psykers. Their combined, focused psychic potential, channeled through your array and governed by your will, should be more than enough power for your first series of jumps."
The ominous, prison-like ship docked with the Obelisk. The air grew cold, and a palpable wave of psychic dread washed over the bridge—the collective, unconscious misery of the thousands of doomed souls within.
Varrus, Kael, Arken, and Rimuru made their way to the docking umbilical. The great, sealed hatch hissed open. Beyond it lay not a welcoming party, but a dark, oppressive corridor and the silent, black-clad wardens of the League of Blackships.
Rimuru stood at the threshold, about to take the next great step on his journey home. He now had a map, a power source, and an escort of two of the most powerful and dangerously obsessed factions in the Imperium.
He was a king, a god, a saint, a heretic, a weapon, and a traveler.
He was a prisoner of his own legend, surrounded by allies who were also his wardens, each with a different, conflicting vision for his destiny. And as he prepared to step into the psychic misery of the Black Ship, he knew that the battles he had fought so far were merely a prelude. The true war, the war for his own purpose and freedom, had only just begun.