Although darkness enveloped everything like thick ink, and the air of despair was almost suffocating, for Alex and his companions, moving forward was their only option.
They had to temper their will amidst the endless shadows and carve out a path on the edge of the abyss of despair.
If there was no light ahead, they would ignite themselves, becoming torches to illuminate the path for those behind them.
If there was no smooth road ahead, they would use their flesh and blood to crush the thorns, forging a path of blood for those who followed.
This was not their burden.
Even Alex could have easily withdrawn, leaving this ravaged world behind.
They had already reaped generous rewards from this cruel era.
Even Sea Hare, who joined the latest, had accumulated enough points from past wars to exchange for substantial rewards, enough for him to start a new life in the stable 3k era—whether it was starting his own business or turning them over to the state for preferential treatment, it would be enough to ensure a lifetime of wealth and ease.
Alex was even more so.
In the 3k era, he had almost reached a state of perfection in wealth, career, and life that ordinary people could hardly imagine.
If he wished, he could embrace the happy life he once dared not dream of.
As for the boundless darkness and deep despair of the 40k era? That was nothing more than a crazy farce and a virtual game concocted by the British.
However, Alex could not convince himself with such a facile excuse.
Perhaps when he first arrived in 40k, he did indeed approach it with the mindset of experiencing a "super-large immersive live-action game."
But as time passed, and he became intertwined with the people of this era, he could no longer view them as cold NPCs.
They were living beings—they would wail in pain, laugh in joy, and silently perish in the flames of war and darkness…
And their future had already been crushed by the giant wheel of fate, leaving only boundless despair.
Alex became the only glimmer of light for them in their desperate lives, sinking into a dark world.
This was by no means an exaggeration.
Twenty years into the future, the moment the Great Rift tore through the galaxy, the entire Imperium would plunge into an abyss of utter despair.
Had Primarch Roboute Guilliman not awakened from his slumber and launched the Indomitus Crusade, reclaiming most of the territory, most of humanity would likely have become sacrifices for the Chaos Gods to toy with at will.
Even so, Guilliman could not become a savior, spreading divine grace to every corner of the Imperium.
He bore the grand ambition of saving the entire Imperium, his gaze fixed on the vast Star District map; how could he meticulously attend to a remote Sub-Sector?
At that time, without Alex's presence, the Rostov Sub-Sector could only rely on its own weak strength to struggle for survival in the torrent of disaster.
If fate favored them, perhaps a detached force from the Indomitus Crusade would arrive, bringing the return of Imperial glory.
If luck was slightly worse… in the vast galaxy, the tragedy of sacrificing an entire planet's sentient beings was as common as breathing, even occurring every moment.
Therefore, Alex truly could not bear to abandon the billions of lives in this entire Sub-Sector.
Even though reason told him that even without him, this Star District might not be utterly destroyed, the deep-seated conscience and moral sense within him, like invisible chains, firmly bound his departing footsteps.
Finally, after inspecting the roaring Forge World factories on Rostov III, Alex turned and left under the complex and concerned gaze of 32.
She could clearly feel the invisible, spine-bending burden on Alex's shoulders, yet she was powerless to share it.
Alex chose his responsibility, and 32 also held fast to her post.
Facing the slightly hunched back of her friend, burdened by his heavy responsibilities, the only thing she could do was supervise every production line with even stricter standards, ensuring that every product was flawless, thereby alleviating Alex's pressure.
—
On the other side, Alex, having left the Forge World factory, returned to his Inquisition-exclusive Black Ship.
He walked directly to the deep, cold black prison area inside the Black Ship, his purpose clear—he wanted to see the Sisters of Silences who loyally followed him.
The weakness and hesitation he inadvertently showed in front of his friends must be deeply hidden.
In front of others, especially these warriors, he must be the Inquisitor who is always decisive, resolute, and represents the will of the Imperium.
"Inquisitor," an Apprentice Sister still served as a sign language translator, although over the years, Alex had been able to roughly understand the Sisters of Silences' complex sign language expressions.
Alex's gaze fell on the Sisters of Silence he first met; her apprentice had now also solemnly taken the Vow of Silence, becoming a true warrior.
"Tell me, how many of you are there now?" Alex asked.
"Thanks to your protection and generosity, my order has been able to continue and grow over the years," the Sisters of Silence's sign language was swift and forceful, conveying her meaning through the translation of her apprentice: "Currently, there are seven full Sisters and five Apprentices."
She continued to express her deep gratitude: "Over the years, we sincerely thank you for all the help and support you have given us—allowing us to recruit new blood, providing us with crucial weaponry and all the resources needed for training."
She paused, conveying more important information: "I have successfully contacted several other scattered Sisters of Silence orders over the years, two of which have expressed a strong desire to relocate and wish to join us.
However, they are neither able to afford the expensive inter-Star District travel tickets, nor do they have ships to pick them up.
Furthermore, they urgently need standard weaponry to form an effective fighting force."
"Weapons and equipment are not a problem," Alex replied easily: "Although Rostov's production lines are strained, it is still possible to squeeze out capacity to build a few sets of armor and weapons."
He truly didn't care about this.
Although the Silent Sisters' exclusive equipment required extremely high craftsmanship, as long as Rostov's Forge World could temporarily adjust its production lines, manufacturing a batch was not difficult.
Even if it couldn't be met immediately, providing them with existing Battle Sisters equipment as a transition was entirely feasible.
In fact, the Sisters of Silences currently under his command, before their exclusive equipment was issued and during routine non-combat training, used Battle Sisters equipment.
This was not only to conceal their presence while the Sisters of Silences had not yet officially returned to the Imperium, but also a natural choice for these hardship-enduring Sisters to conserve precious specialized equipment.
Alex naturally tacitly approved of this.
He was always generous to these Untouchables, knowing their irreplaceable value in countering Warp threats.
He even regretted not being able to deploy them in time when fighting those two half-crippled Demon Princes—otherwise, the outcome might have been very different.
As for the two orders not being able to afford boat tickets, this was common in the Imperium.
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