Chapter 181: Moral Inquisition

Night fell.

Over five hundred survivors gathered around a bonfire—those who had escaped from the arena. Among them were Yaen, Chen Ye, Rod, a female demon, and the other captives. From eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight souls, less than five hundred remained. Among those who survived, only Rod and his demon companion seemed untouched by sorrow; the rest were weighed down, trapped in a somber silence.

"So…" Rod, weary to the bone, leaned into the demon's arms, his chin tilted as he looked at Yaen. "You're one ruthless character." Rod's words seemed to trail off, his remark born from recalling the events of the arena. In his eyes, Yaen had proven himself relentless. If he had so chosen, Yaen could have stormed the Foundry and saved everyone; both he and his power armor were forces unto themselves.

Rod was perceptive and knew exactly why Yaen had orchestrated his capture and withheld his power armor's support until it was most needed. It had been a trap, designed to lure Krevein into a deadly confrontation and stop the ritual.

Yaen offered no response, as though he hadn't heard Rod at all.

"If you're so strong, why didn't you shield everyone and fight your way out of the arena?" Rod asked with a grin. "Eight thousand lives lost… surely you don't consider yourself blameless in that?"

Though Rod fully understood Yaen's reasoning, he relished the provocation, unwilling to let such an opportunity slip by.

"The enemy was preparing a ritual with catastrophic potential if completed," Yaen replied, meeting Rod's gaze with an unflinching stare. "Given the choice between saving lives or halting the ritual, I chose the latter."

The prisoners looked up at Yaen, a glimmer of understanding crossing their expressions before they bowed their heads once more. Chen Ye, too, glanced at Yaen, silently acknowledging the wisdom of the choice. If he had faced the same dilemma, he would have acted similarly. The arena's bloodshed was no one-time horror; every solar cycle, lives were sacrificed in countless numbers, fueling a ritual whose completion would have doomed the Foundry World itself.

"Ah, so you used us as pawns. With your strength, couldn't you have simply hunted Krevein directly?" Rod prodded again, intent on agitating him.

Chen Ye shot Rod a glare, recalling the moment in the arena when he had asked Rod for Krevein's location, only to be met with evasion.

"I couldn't find Krevein," Yaen admitted without hesitation, "so I had to draw him out."

From the start, Yaen had devised a plan: he would pose as a captive, disrupt the ritual, and force the ritual master to appear. Only then would he summon his power armor—once Krevein had revealed himself.

"Pointless," Rod muttered, finding Yaen entirely impervious to guilt. With a shrug, he leaned back into the demon's embrace, conversing with her in a strange tongue.

Yaen studied the demon, realizing it was no mere alien. It was a true demon. He had heard of Chaos Warbands, who summoned demons to serve them. Rod was one such summoner.

Chen Ye cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "So, Rod, did you think we'd forgotten your treachery?" His eyes were hard as he glared at Rod. "Don't believe a little help in the arena has spared you. You're still an enemy."

Rod sat up, genuinely surprised. "I thought we'd become friends. In the Eye of Terror, allies are forged in combat. Sure, we may belong to different warbands, but we fought together—that's what makes friends."

Rod sounded sincere, as if he truly considered Chen Ye a friend, and Chen Ye's rejection wounded him.

Yaen almost warned Chen Ye not to believe a Chaos warrior's words, but Chen Ye knew better.

"His words are hollow," Chen Ye scoffed, turning back to Rod. "Spare us the act. I know you're just waiting to finish us off."

Rod paused, then shook his head with a trace of gravity. "I won't deny it—before, I did plan to kill you all. But now, I don't."

As the captives listened, an inexplicable weight settled in the air, like the taste of metal on their tongues. The forges cast an iron scent into the night, laced now with the unmistakable tang of gunpowder.

Chen Ye stood, eyes locked on Rod. "Let's settle this." He strode to an empty patch by the fire, gesturing for Rod to rise.

Yaen stood beside Chen Ye, his stance already signaling his position.

The captives, having witnessed Rod's fight against their foes in the arena, were hesitant to condemn him. But loyalty to the Empire left them no choice but to declare allegiance.

"This is between us!" Chen Ye called to the captives, urging them to step back.

Yaen's shoulder cannon was trained on Rod, who sat, unmoved by the firelight. The demon beside him sensed the shift, gripping her bone blade in preparation. Yet Rod raised his hand to still her, refusing her intervention.

"Get up and fight," Chen Ye declared, fists clenched. "I don't strike the defenseless."

"Calm down, young one," Rod chuckled, remaining seated. 

At the remark, Chen Ye bristled. "I've served for eighty-four years."

"Eighty-four…?" Yaen blinked, momentarily taken aback.

Rod didn't remove his helmet, so none could see his face. Most assumed Yaen and Chen Ye were of a similar age.

"A mere eighty-four years?" Rod's laugh was wistful as he looked skyward. "How long has it been since I left my homeworld? The one-hundred-and-twenty-ninth year of the 30th millennium… Or was it one hundred and forty?"