Chapter 9: The Gentle Healing Nun and the Kindhearted Scribe Nun

Young Hospitaller Elena and Sister Dialogus Atoria nodded with great solemnity; they both bore tasks of vital importance.

Elena’s burden was relatively light: she merely needed to survive and ensure the gene-seed was safely returned. Atoria’s mission, however, was far more arduous. Although intelligence on the massive, ochre-colored beast had been gathered, the creature had since recovered its full combat capability—essentially resurrecting at peak strength—meaning she would likely need to collect much more data. Their small, integrated communication systems would remain active, allowing them to receive continuous updates on the beast from the Space Marines as they carried out their final assault.

"Go! Sisters, you are not members of the Order Militant; you need not participate in this battle," the Canoness said, patting the two young sisters on the shoulders.

To die on the battlefield, to never retreat, to serve the Imperium and the Emperor with one's life, and then to have one's soul return to the Golden Throne—these were the oaths that bound the Battle Sisters. Non-combatants like the Hospitallers, the Dialogi, and the Famulantes who served the nobility were exempt from such rigid martial constraints.

The Hospitaller nodded and, together with the white-haired Dialogus, walked toward the cave where Rod was hiding. The Hospitaller wore a white habit, her features delicate and youthful; at perhaps eighteen or nineteen, she had surely only recently joined the Order. The Dialogus was dressed in a brown habit and appeared to be in her mid-twenties.

Watching the two sisters approach, Rod felt a surge of helplessness. *Dammit, why did you retreat here? Have you no loyalty to the Imperium? No devotion to the Emperor?*

But now, with no other place to hide, Rod let out a frustrated sigh. He began to consider his next move. If the two showed hostility, he would have to trigger his monster augmentation immediately to secure at least some means of self-defense.

The two sisters soon entered the cave. The initial encounter was awkward. Rod remained poised to activate his augmentation and spring into action to subdue the two young women, while the sisters were shocked to find a civilian hiding in such a place.

Indeed, despite his strange attire, Rod was clearly a pure human. The sisters could distinguish this, and thus he was classified simply as a civilian.

"Ahem! Hello! Konnichiwa," Rod said, offering an awkward smile and a wave from his hiding spot.

Rod had previously considered picking up the gear of a fallen Guardsman to pass himself off as a soldier, but knowing the Imperial sisters’ penchant for executing deserters, he had abandoned that plan. *Let’s see if we can communicate; if not, I’m going full monster mode.*

"???" Atoria, what language is he speaking? There are civilian survivors here!" the Hospitaller, Elena, exclaimed.

"Hmm, his language is strange. It sounds like three different dialects of Ancient Terran, all greetings. I can understand some of them," Atoria replied. As a qualified Dialogus, she was required to be proficient in a vast array of knowledge, including various ancient Terran tongues. Having joined the order in her early childhood and studied for over a decade, she possessed a wealth of information and could naturally decipher the fragments of ancient language Rod had used.

"Do you understand Ancient Chinese?" Rod asked. *Forget it, let me try my native tongue. No, that won't work. Let me try English.* As for the other greetings, he was somewhat familiar with Japanese, but only from what he had picked up in adult films.

"That language is indeed very ancient—a relic of the Old Terran era. I can understand a little. Wait a moment," Atoria said. She took out a device resembling a Bluetooth earpiece, tapped a few times on her smart-instrument to adjust the settings, and placed it on Rod’s ear.

"This is a translator. It will translate your speech into High Gothic, and you will be able to understand the High Gothic we speak," Atoria explained. This was a standard tool for a Dialogus, capable of recording countless ancient Terran languages and even the tongues of certain xenos races, proving invaluable when deciphering ancient texts.

"Thank you. As you can see, I am just a civilian," Rod said, though he remained on high alert.

The Hospitaller, Elena, smiled gently. She stepped forward, brushed her hand against Rod’s forehead, and produced a small instrument to collect a hair sample for genetic analysis. After returning to Atoria’s side, she nodded in satisfaction.

His skull structure was perfectly symmetrical, his genetic profile was purely human—perhaps even excessively pure—and there were no signs of corruption, mutation, or radiation sickness. He was a perfect citizen of the Imperium.

"You are lucky, civilian, that it was us you encountered," Atoria remarked. "If you had run into the Battle Sisters, they would have used their chainswords to decapitate you the moment they saw you."

She was not joking. The Battle Sisters were fanatically devoted to the Imperium; encountering a civilian on the battlefield, they would end their lives immediately to spare them from the corruption of the Archenemy or the atrocities of xenos, thereby ensuring their souls returned to the Golden Throne. As for why they used chainswords rather than bolters, it was simply to save ammunition—a single civilian was not worth the cost of a shell.

The Hospitallers who tended the wounded and the Dialogi who recorded the data were far gentler than the Battle Sisters. As long as one was not a servant of Chaos or a vile xenos, they were merciful. The rank-and-file Guardsmen preferred the Hospitallers; who would want to be around Battle Sisters who were more muscular than they were, constantly ill-tempered, and occasionally neurotic? The Hospitallers, who cared for the wounded and comforted their souls, were the true objects of their affection.

Young Elena offered a healing, radiant smile. She knelt before Rod, placed a small, fair hand on his chest, and spoke in a voice as gentle and kind as she could muster:

"Do not be afraid. You will soon return your soul to the Golden Throne."

"..." Rod.