Carsten's dreams have never been beautiful since he betrayed the Emperor. Most of the time, they are filled with bones, blood, rain of fire and destruction, and the endless fire of ashes and snow.
city.
His night was a long apocalypse. Occasionally, the dream did not plunge into a sea of fire, but instead saw an angry demon coming to his bedroom.
In an even more rare case, his dream was able to escape the torture of demons and doomsday. He dreamed that he went to a beautiful garden, filled with beautiful creatures, including beauties that he could never even see in his life.
And he can get the greatest pleasure in it.
But this situation was the worst for him, not because of the beautiful dream, but because of the despairing and devastating loss when he finally woke up from the dream.
Therefore, when he, like other humans, has to fall asleep, he must seek outside help.
A large part of his income was spent on buying drugs and narcotics, and alcohol was ranked as a distant but indispensable third place. If he wanted to sleep, knocking himself out was the only way.
He could do nothing but lie awake on the dirty, cramped cot with the fear of losing consciousness.
He calls the Big Three narcotics that help him sleep as his good friends. In fact, he is a hopeless drug addict.
Fortunately for him, even after being invaded, Paidu's black market was still filled with all kinds of drugs (that kind of drug), and his status as a security officer also gave him easy access to a large amount of contraband.
Despite their high prices, those drugs still provide many opportunities for desperate people.
Carsten considers himself a desperate man.
On that night when the sky was stained red with blood, Carsten's memories were only of death and screaming.
Only relying on those drugs can tear the dream into pieces, which is not pleasant, but it is much better than remembering it completely.
The drugs made it difficult to wake up, and thanks to them he fell asleep when the nightmare began.
"Well--"
Carsten turned over panting and heard someone in the corridor banging on the door with a gesture that would not give up until the goal was achieved.
Bang bang bang——
The sound of metal drowned out the shouting, but not enough to completely drown it out.
"Carsten! Carsten! Wake up!"
"What?"
A fuzzy, tearing feeling turned Carsten's conscious consciousness into a mess.
His mouth was dry, as if all the saliva flowed to his chest in his sleep. He instinctively wiped his face clean with the back of his hands. When he smelled the sour smell of the medicine, he couldn't help but frown.
"It's me, Dale! Carsten, open this fucking door!"
Dale was one of the few sect members who didn't offend him, but that didn't make his intrusion welcome.
Carsten groaned and pulled up the dirty pillow to cover his head.
"stop fighting--"
The banging on the door stopped for a few seconds, and when it rang again, Carsten's comforting illusion that the intruder was gone disappeared.
This time it was the sound of gold and iron, and the sound of knocks and alarms sounded together.
"Carsten! Get out!"
It's obvious that the other party is very persistent.
"alright!"
Carsten stood up, groped his way to the door, and kicked an empty bottle out of the way on the floor—perhaps drinking half a liter of fake wine with a sedative wasn't such a good idea.
He woke up from the drug-induced sleep with difficulty, and his limbs were as limp as cotton.
The security officer tried twice, but still couldn't open the door, but he was exhausted.
"ah!"
Suddenly, the door slid open at the wrong time and a fire extinguisher nearly hit Carsten in the face.
"Why did you smash my door with this thing?"
Carsten asked drowsily.
"Because you don't get up!"
"I don't want to get up."
Dale, who was wearing red priestly robes, glared at him.
"Everyone must be present, the bishop said."
Carsten squinted his eyes. It was difficult for him to see the face of the person in front of him clearly. It was floating in all directions like smoke.
"Oh my God, you're drunk again!"
"I always, after get off work."
Carsten muttered vaguely.
"Can't sleep..."
"Wake up! Something big is going to happen!"
In Carsten's eyes, Dale's ethereal face finally condensed into a horrifying oil painting.
He really didn't have much interest in the sect. When he joined, he mainly wanted to get bribes from the other party, open a back door for the cult, and get some cheap drugs from the sect.
"follow me!"
Dale didn't care about anything else, took Carsten's arm and dragged him into the corridor.
"where are we going?"
"where are we going?!"
Dale turned around and glared at him.
"Temple!"
"You are a bunch of trash!!!!"
Om Dir glared at everyone, and every tattoo on his face twitched with the rhythm of his muscles, but no one felt his unspeakable anger.
His two biggest confidants were part-time executioners, standing beside the bishop. They did not have the same beliefs as him, but they had the same ferocious expressions. While they were as weak and disloyal as other believers, they played the role of accomplices.
Om Dir is an illegal psyker, but his psychic powers are so weak that he can only be used as a street trick. In fact, not long ago, he was just a bad scammer.
But the invasion of Chaos gave people like him an opportunity. He gained stronger power by sacrificing the lives of others, so he was no longer willing to be a liar.
He wants to become a person who controls other people's life and death!
Therefore, he established the Eternal Redemption Sect, which attracted a large number of desperate and desperate people.
"One of our liaisons is missing, right outside our door, Chris, datapad!"
The person next to him handed over a data pad, and the bishop pressed a few brass buttons, then held it up for everyone to see.
A street can be seen in the video, and then at the entrance of an alley directly opposite the camera, a frightened face emerges from the darkness. He falls to the ground, and then reaches out to the light in front of him.
The next second, he seemed to be dragged back into the darkness by an invisible force, and the streets became empty again.
"Can anyone explain this?"
The room was filled with suspicious glances. Everyone's chest was full of breath and they shook their heads.
"No one? No one? Okay, then."
He raised his chin in Carsten's direction.
"Let's see what the security officer has to say."
"What?"
Carsten suddenly woke up and asked attentively.
Om Dill walked up to him, punched him so hard that the air almost knocked out of Carsten's lungs, and then pushed him aside.
"I shouldn't have counted on you, you damn loser."
Carsten curled up in pain and coughed for a while.
"I--"
"I'm asking you a question, Carsten!"
"I have no idea!"
Carsten gasped.
Om Dir raised his fist, preparing to attack again. The thugs around him were also shaking with bloodthirsty desire. Public executions were very common in the sect.
But the punch failed to land, and the howling interrupted it.
At that moment, dozens of heads moved back and forth, looking for the source of the painful screams.
But it seemed to come from everywhere, from the corridors, from the vents, even, as it were, from echoes in the metal.
When the screaming stopped, everyone was accompanied by strong tinnitus, but some people heard the sigh that followed: