A lone Imperial shuttle slowly drifted into the gaping maw of the genesis.
Behind it lay the dark, gaping muzzles of dozens of Imperial warships.
Before it stretched the bottomless, softly lit hangar bay.
The interplay of light and shadow made this tiny shuttle look like a small boat drifting into the dwelling of a deity—insignificant, yet filled with an unyielding determination.
On the bridge of the genesis, the atmosphere was as rigid as iron.
Angronia had already stepped down from the dais of the throne, clutching her chainaxe in one hand. Under her dark red power armor, every muscle was tensed to the limit.
Like a lioness poised to strike, her amber eyes were locked onto the real-time feed on the screen, a low, suppressed growl of Battle Intent rumbling in her throat.
Fogremia stood with her arms crossed beside Leticia's throne.
There was no Battle Intent in her beautiful purple eyes, only the scrutiny of an art critic.
She was analyzing—analyzing the shuttle's flight path, analyzing the invisible psychic aura surrounding it.
"What a crude performance."
A look of disdain curled the corner of Fogremia's lips.
"It is full of mortal hesitation, probing, and posturing. Compared to Sister's composure, it is nothing more than a child's scribble."
Sanguinia stood on the other side. She wasn't looking at the screen; instead, she frowned slightly, her azure eyes gazing toward the hangar bay as if she could pierce through the layers of deck plating.
"Such a heavy soul..."
She whispered softly, her voice filled with pity.
"Her wings are stained with ten thousand years of dust and fatigue."
Three Primarch Sisters, three completely different reactions.
Yet, subconsciously, their bodies all moved to shield Leticia and the sleeping Terrania on the throne behind them.
Only Leticia remained calm and composed.
She didn't even look at the screen, simply extending a finger to gently twirl a lock of Terrania's golden hair, savoring its soft texture.
It was as if the person arriving was not an iron-blooded Saint commanding the Empire's most fanatical legion, but merely an ordinary guest who had booked an afternoon tea.
"Goddess."
Valeria's voice broke the eerie silence.
She stepped forward with mechanical strides, the data pad in her hand displaying a newly received communication request.
"The target shuttle has issued a formal docking request."
Her voice was somewhat dry.
"Passenger identity confirmed... Adepta Sororitas, Grand Abbot of Saints, Morwen Val."
Valeria gasped when she read the name.
In the textbooks of the Political Commissar, this name represented the most stubborn, iron-blooded, and unquestionable faith in the Emperor.
She was a living legend, the holy law walking among men.
Let her board the ship?
How was that any different from inviting a hungry tiger into one's own sheepfold?
"This name..."
Fogremia's brow furrowed.
"I remember her, a stubborn old relic."
"Then let's crush her!"
Angronia's voice was simple and direct.
Leticia finally raised her head.
She glanced at the extremely nervous Valeria, then at the battle-ready Angronia, and shook her head with a laugh.
"Valeria."
"Present."
"Approve her docking request."
"Goddess?!" Valeria looked up abruptly, her gray eyes filled with disbelief.
Leticia's voice was calm, yet carried an unquestionable magic that instantly smoothed away the agitation in Valeria's heart.
"No need to prepare an honor guard; that would be too deliberate."
Leticia's gaze swept over everyone, and she added with a smile.
"And no need to prepare a prison."
"Go, prepare some refreshments."
"We are welcoming a 'guest'."
"..."
Valeria fell silent.
Looking into Leticia's bottomless black eyes, which held a hint of playful amusement, all her tension, doubts, and fear vanished in an instant.
She understood.
In the eyes of a deity, mortal fleets and blades were no different from teacups and snacks.
They were all just... pieces placed on a chessboard.
"As you command, my Goddess."
Valeria stood straight, gave Leticia an impeccable military salute, and turned to leave quickly.
Her steps were once again filled with steel-like will and absolute confidence.
Inside the hangar bay.
The massive space was filled only with the low hum of the shuttle's engines as they powered down.
The Imperial shuttle landed steadily in the center of the deck.
The ornate golden iris emblem reflected cold light under the soft illumination.
The next second.
Hiss—
With a sound of hydraulics, the cabin door slowly opened.
A cold, murderous aura, as if condensed from ten thousand years of prayers and war, poured out from within.
A figure stood alone at the top of the ramp.
It was a female figure clad in ornate silver-white power armor.
Her stature was exceptionally tall, even more imposing than many Space Marines. The shoulders of her power armor were carved with burning double-headed eagles, and on her back was a massive war halberd burning with psychic flames.
She wore no helmet, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman worn by the passage of time, yet still retaining its majesty.
A head of short silver hair flowed like a lion's mane.
Her eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, as if they could pierce through a soul and see through all vanity and lies.
Her very presence was like a walking cathedral; the weight of her faith caused the air in the entire hangar bay to freeze.
Grand Abbot of Saints, Morwen Val.
On the bridge, everyone held their breath.
Angronia's breathing grew heavy; she could already feel the solid, mountain-like, pure power of faith emanating from the other woman.
It was a power completely different from theirs, yet equally terrifyingly strong.
Just then.
Leticia slowly stood up from her throne.
She carefully adjusted the sleeping Terrania in her arms to a more comfortable position, letting her little head rest on the soft cushion.
Then, she turned, her long black hair cascading down like a waterfall.
Her gaze swept across the three Primarch Sisters beside her.
"Let's go, Sisters."
Her voice was as calm as a casual stroll.
"Let us go and meet this..."
A meaningful smile curved the corner of Leticia's lips.
"Saint lost in the old era."
With those words, she took the lead and stepped toward the hangar bay.
Fogremia and Sanguinia followed immediately, one on the left and one on the right, like the most loyal wings.
Angronia lagged half a step behind, following the three in silence, her burning amber eyes scanning every inch of shadow around them with vigilance.
The four women walked toward the hangar bay.
This scene was clearly presented in every corner through the ship's surveillance.
Leading the way was the black-haired goddess with hair like the night; she walked with composure and an indifferent expression, as if strolling through her own back garden.
To her left was the silver-haired Perfect Sword Princess, her posture elegant, purple eyes smiling, every step landing in the rhythm of beauty.
To her right was the golden-haired holy angel, her wings slightly tucked, blue eyes compassionate, holy radiance flowing around her.
Behind her was the red-haired Valkyrie of fury, holding a waraxe, her amber eyes burning with pure Battle Intent, silent, yet filled with destructive oppression.
Four women with vastly different styles, yet all possessing god-like, breathtaking beauty that mortals could not imagine.
Four beings radiating distinct, yet equally powerful divine brilliance capable of distorting reality.
They walked side by side just like that.
No army was arrayed, no banners were unfurled.
But this image itself was the strongest visual shock to the old Empire!
It was the most thorough spiritual crushing of mortal faith!
This was a procession of deities!
This was the scroll of a new era, slowly unfolding before the Saint of the old era!
Morwen Val stepped off the ramp, her metal boots striking the deck of the genesis.
A dull "thud" echoed.
Her gaze was as sharp as a hawk's, and she locked onto the four figures walking toward her instantly.
Upon seeing them, even Morwen Val, a battle-hardened Saint with a will as hard as steel, felt her pupils contract violently!
Impossible!
Her first reaction was that it was impossible!
How could such... perfect beings exist in the mortal world?
Those four figures seemed to have materialized all the concepts of "beauty," "divinity," "power," and "majesty" in the universe.
Her faith, the cognition she had upheld for ten thousand years, was subjected to an unprecedentedly violent shock at this moment.
Her gaze swept across the silver-haired Fogremia, and alarm bells rang in her heart—it was a temptation of ultimate perfection.
Her gaze swept across the red-haired Angronia, and she felt that pure Battle Intent that made even her take notice.
Her gaze swept across the white-winged Sanguinia, and a strange, inexplicable feeling of longing to kneel and worship arose from the depths of her soul!
Finally, her gaze locked firmly onto the black-haired goddess in the lead.
Before those bottomless black eyes, she felt as if all her disguises, all her majesty, and all her faith were instantly seen through.
She felt as if she were no longer the Grand Abbot of Saints of the Empire.
But a naked mortal standing before a true god, waiting for judgment.
Morwen Val used all her strength to steady her body, which was almost trembling.
She gripped the war halberd in her hand, using the cold sensation of the weapon to forcibly wake herself from that divine pressure.
She raised her head, staring directly at the approaching Leticia, and with all the willpower of her life, squeezed out a sentence from between her teeth.
Her voice was cold, hoarse, yet carried a hint of... trembling that she herself had not noticed.
"Are you 'the fifth calamity'?"
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