Even if he didn't quite understand those strange-accented, nonsensical proverbs, Ethereal An'ze quickly grasped the intent of the Gue'la known as Adam.
"That... is impossible."
An'ze shook his head, refusing flatly. "Gue'la, you might as well kill me."
If an Ethereal were to betray the T'au Empire, it would not only deal an unprecedented blow to the Greater Good but also cause unimaginable damage to the Empire's interests and order.
Just as he began to hesitate—wondering if he should draw his Honor Blade and commit suicide immediately to avoid the inevitable torture to come—An'ze watched in horror as the Gue'la before him flashed a faint smile.
"That's not necessarily true. In the universe, all things are possible."
Adam stared intently into the Ethereal's pupils, speaking slowly with a voice that seemed to carry a certain hypnotic magic.
"Say it with me: Blood for the God-Emperor, Skulls for the Golden Throne."
"Blood for the God-Emperor, Skulls for the Golden Throne!"
An'ze, who originally held nothing but disdain for such ignorant superstitions, actually found himself involuntarily repeating the phrase.
*Wait, what is happening to me?*
An'ze was struck with terror.
*Was that... Gue'la mind-science? No, some form of Warp sorcery?*
Unlike the lower-caste T'au, who were kept in the dark by the ruling class regarding the Warp, the Ethereal Caste actually maintained a baseline understanding of the Empyrean and its mental dimensions.
However, understanding was not the same as being able to defend against it.
Not to mention, Adam wasn't actually using Warp sorcery; it was purely the "brute force" of his Reality Bending ability. Even for an Ethereal, whose caste was designed to control other T'au for more effective combat, their conscious-level defenses were nothing special. They certainly didn't possess the intense Akiva radiation levels found in the Greater Daemons Adam had encountered before.
Faced with a Reality Bending modification applied directly to his consciousness, An'ze was utterly incapable of resistance.
The Ethereal's eyes gradually grew vacant, before a sudden flash of realization sparked within them.
"Ah! I never imagined that I was actually a believer of the Emperor!"
He stood up abruptly, his gaze as resolute as if he were about to join the Ecclesiarchy on the spot.
"For the Emperor!"
"For the Emperor," Adam replied with a straight face. He patted the Ethereal on the shoulder and handed him a teleportation beacon. "Now, your mission ahead is quite heavy. The Emperor is watching you. Return to that Custodian-class carrier for now. Good luck!"
Inquisitor Sibyl, her expression already long since gone numb, swung her sword again. A flash of psychic brilliance followed. Ethereal An'ze, now fully aware of his new mission, held his head high and vanished from the bridge with the posture of a martyr.
Adam turned around, noticing the odd looks he was receiving. "Why are you all staring at me?"
On the bridge, everyone present looked at the man they were destined to follow with dropped jaws and horrified expressions. Their brains simply couldn't process what they had just seen.
It seemed that every time they managed to adapt to Lord Adam's style of doing things, he would immediately pull off some world-shaking stunt to prove they were still thinking too small.
"Lord Adam... manipulating a xenos is one thing, but making him say 'For the Emperor' and become a follower of our Master... isn't that a bit too..."
After a long silence, Leonardo, the Custodian Commander, finally spoke, struggling to find the right words. His mind felt like it had suffered a total system crash.
*Does this technically count as heresy against the Emperor?*
"Oh, it's fine. The Emperor is an... an old gentleman. He's very open-minded." Adam waved a hand dismissively.
"And if He isn't?" Leonardo asked cautiously.
"Then it's still fine. I'm open-minded," Adam laughed.
---
*Is the battle over?*
That was the first thought that popped into the minds of the T'au soldiers aboard the ships floating in space.
At that moment, on every ship's sensor arrays, the mysterious vessel that seemingly belonged to the Gue'la flickered once and vanished without a trace. It was like a ghost; even the most powerful detection arrays could find no trajectory of its departure.
Consequently, a second thought arose: Did we win?
"We are victorious!"
The next moment, the holographic projection of Ethereal An'ze appeared on the bridges of all ships. With a determined gaze and a forceful gesture, he announced the news to all fleet commanders.
Unless under extreme circumstances, the T'au rarely questioned the leadership of an Ethereal. Thus, a second later, cheers erupted, echoing through every surviving T'au vessel.
However, the Ethereal's speech was not yet finished.
"My dear comrades, I must sadly announce that the Ke'lshan fleet has suffered grievous losses. Even High Admiral Valos has been confirmed fallen during enemy boarding actions. But do not mourn. Those who fell died for the Greater Good; their sacrifice has meaning."
His tone shifted.
"Now, in the name of an Ethereal, I declare that following the attack by the Iyanden Aeldari, the Ke'lshan Sept world is once again facing a most threatening catastrophe. We must return to Ke'lshan immediately to bolster our defenses. The enemies of the Greater Good are coming. We must stand united to turn our home into an impregnable fortress, or we will not survive this upheaval!"
All warships immediately complied with An'ze's orders, adjusting their headings in space and beginning to regroup.
As they reformed into a fleet, they exchanged rapid communications, tallying their damage. The losses were heavy.
While the unknown warship's ramming attacks had been terrifying, they hadn't actually caused massive casualties. However, during the subsequent precision volleys and the desperate charges of the T'au ships, numerous cruisers were heavily damaged and knocked out of the battle order.
Several Emissary-class light cruisers and Protector-class cruisers had been sunk. Of the remaining two Hero-class cruisers, Earth Caste emergency repairs and assessments concluded that only one could still limp along, while the other was declared abandoned, with only the survivors being ferried off.
Fortunately, the Custodian-class carrier remained relatively intact. As a battleship-equivalent unit equipped with a massive prow gravity shield, it wasn't easily sunk—especially since the Morning Wood hadn't used its main guns or ramming prow at full power against it.
Finally, the regrouping was complete.
Dragging their broken hulls, the T'au fleet's plasma engines slowly flared to life as they set course for the Ke'lshan Sept world.
In the invisible deep space far from the system's center—somewhere they couldn't see—the pure white hull of the Morning Wood sat nestled within an asteroid belt. It lay in wait like a predator lurking in a jungle.
On the bridge, Adam withdrew his gaze from the holographic tactical map.
"And now," he said, "the real show begins."