本章概述：

????????????亞歷桑德拉修女鑒賞藝術(shù)品。

????????????In which Sister Alessandra appreciates art.

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正文：

血液在我腳邊積聚。

我不確定怎會如此，可獸人在死后比活著的時候更沒吸引力了。并不只是因為氣味——盡管這已經(jīng)夠糟——而是因為它們的尸體腐爛的方式。

“帝皇保佑，”我在血泊中尋找我的獵物時哽咽地說。

總的來說，獸人喜歡響亮，粗魯?shù)谋?，所以它們?nèi)舴菍Π兹袘?zhàn)情有獨鐘，那就至少會帶一把爆彈手槍——如果不是一把完整的爆彈槍的話。我已經(jīng)不止一次看見獸人一邊沖擊龍騎兵和我的姐妹們的陣線一邊瘋狂地向天上開槍，因此我懷疑這更多是為了噪音而非任何實際用處。

即便如此，這也意味著它們中的大多數(shù)都應(yīng)該會額外帶幾發(fā)子彈。這些野獸裝模作樣地用作彈藥的破爛能否用于我的神圣的爆彈槍是另一回事，但我當(dāng)下不準備再挑挑揀揀了。

我翻出幾個從破損的武器上翻出的珍貴彈匣，短暫地考慮了再次在走廊上冰冷，凝結(jié)的污物中涉水而過，隨機又打消了這個想法，

即使我能設(shè)法讓我的胃容物不再返場表演，我也懷疑能在這場搜索中找到的任何東西是否仍然可用。

做出決定后，我爬出大廳，穿過我進入建筑物時穿過的破磚塊。安菲特里亞上的尸臭似乎明顯比剛剛腌漬過我的那種濃烈的惡臭更舒適些，所當(dāng)我低身潛入小巷時我感覺自己振作了起來。

我只前進了一米左右就被什么東西吸引了注意：

腳印，纖細到幾乎稱得上小巧玲瓏，被干涸的獸人血液印在小巷的地面上。

那么，穿過小巷的那個東西應(yīng)該是有實體的，而非是帝皇神意的粗略化身。不過，它依然在骯臟的獸人雜種頭上降下了毀滅，執(zhí)行了帝皇的旨意，那它就是帝皇的意志的化身。

這個念頭是個慰藉。

有那么一會兒，我考慮起了自己的去路。我可以繼續(xù)遠行。但我的給養(yǎng)不會支撐太久。我可以深入巢都中即便在獸人的搶劫熱情下也給養(yǎng)充足的地方，但那得冒著生命危險。而出于相同的原因，任何抵達的增援部隊都會尋找安菲特里亞巢都，所以我遇到友軍——無論來自龍騎兵還是來自我的神圣姐妹們的連隊——的概率也大大增加了。

我曾站在部署的前沿，所有新晉修女都要在這里證明她們的勇氣，而我在訓(xùn)練中的突出表現(xiàn)也讓我位列第一波登陸的連隊之中，不過這之后還有更多的連隊，更多我的姐妹們，而我也向帝皇祈禱她們的登陸能遠比我經(jīng)歷的更成功。

我懶散地追尋著腳印，并意識到它們也在向城市深處前行。我無法否認我的好奇心凌駕于自己的生存。繼續(xù)留在城市里對我來講更為明智，在這里我不僅能為帝皇服務(wù)，也有可能與我的姐妹們團聚，如果是這樣的話那我至少可以跟著這條足跡走。

我默默地對自己點點頭，下定決心，跟上了這些腳印。我保持低姿，并讓耳朵留意威脅。幸運的是，除了某些極不尋常的亞種外，獸人并不以潛行能力著稱，所以我至少在一定程度上自信只要能保持警惕，我就能避開任何大群的野蠻生物。

我一邊悄悄地前進，一邊開始小心地盤點從獸人那回收的物品。大量的明顯由獸人制造——如果能這么稱呼的話——的子彈被倒在了地上，我可不相信把它們裝進我的武器里不會導(dǎo)致炸膛。

出于運氣或是帝皇的仁慈，即便在挑出那些獸人彈藥后我也還有正好多于一個彈匣的彈藥，它們看起來都是從某個行星防御部隊哨所或者衛(wèi)軍單位那里搶來的。我停下來壓上爆彈，再把彈匣拍回原來的位置，供彈上膛，顯示屏從紅色轉(zhuǎn)向了顯示滿彈的健康的綠色。

我把剩余的幾枚爆彈壓進空余的一個彈匣，再把它收起來。

現(xiàn)在，如果我的左臂不再是一塊死重的話，我就會是一個足夠優(yōu)秀的精準射手，但在沒有另一只手臂的情況下我只敢把武器設(shè)在半自動擋。沒有左手來支撐這把活力四射的武器時連點射也有風(fēng)險。

我的爆彈槍的機魂很是活潑，在發(fā)射時比其他同款式的爆彈槍更容易上跳。我曾把這個怪癖告訴了我的技師，他在與機魂溝通后向我保證它的工作參數(shù)在可接受的范圍內(nèi)，這個機魂只是比較年輕而熱情。與我多次并肩作戰(zhàn)的經(jīng)歷肯定能緩和它的熱忱，而我要做的只是抓得緊點。

積極點講，這把槍從來沒有卡過哪怕一次殼，我也將之歸因于機魂熱忱的本質(zhì)。

令我較欣慰的是，我和這個機魂都是新手。

當(dāng)我接近建筑物間的一個小開口時，我一直追蹤的腳印加快了速度，我也加快了步伐。在另一股內(nèi)臟的腥臭撞上來前我將將走到巷子口，我踉蹌著停下來，看到了新的暴力的壁畫。

小巷另一邊是一片城市雜樹林，曾被一小批綠皮當(dāng)作臨時營地，盡管具體有多少個只有帝皇知道。就像在走廊里的那些綠皮，這些也被屠宰得難以辨認。在高聳的樓墻上濺灑著尖頂建筑的完美刻畫，我片刻后意識到，這些“尖頂建筑”正在燃燒。

又過了片刻，我認出了安菲特里亞燃燒的天際線。

《燃燒的安菲特里亞》，這幾個詞從我心底一躍而起。這座描繪著首府城市的淪陷的悲劇壁畫值得被放進任何帝國畫廊。一幅捕捉暴力的暴力杰作，它的莊嚴肅穆罪孽般壓在我的靈魂上。

它既美麗又駭人，我比以往更能感受到追上這些腳印的需求。

我忽略了這個營地，完全不顧隱蔽地加速穿過它并掃視著遠處的邊緣以尋找更多的腳印。我倒是很容易便找到了它們，幾乎像是它們的主人故意想被跟上。我感覺自己好像被一位專業(yè)的策展人帶上了某條血腥的紀念館之旅，我急切地跟在腳步后面。

在心底，我開始為壁畫命名。

《神圣之風(fēng)》——走廊里的那個。一場如颶風(fēng)般迅疾的美麗、痛心的死亡

《燃燒的安菲特里亞》，就在這片雜木林里。對綠皮侵略者的劫掠和它們對人類的神圣事業(yè)施加的無情暴力的悲慘的警示。

我隨后穿過了一條室內(nèi)的小道，一群獸人明顯曾在戰(zhàn)斗間隙于此游蕩，卻被神秘的襲擊者徹底摧毀。它們身邊疏散過的商店和住房被畫成形似將死的人類的樣子，獸人則在他們頭上降臨，其身后籠罩著死亡的陰影。

《復(fù)仇必至》，我如此稱呼它，這是我最喜歡的一幅。

腳印經(jīng)過這里通向一個制造倉庫，那里曾有一大群獸人放縱地進行獸人式的搶劫后娛樂。起初我失望地以為這片區(qū)域大到任何一面墻壁都無法容納我追求的美麗作品。

可在我停在這些獸人殘骸——我發(fā)現(xiàn)它們比其他的都更為完整——的邊緣時，事情的真相震驚了我。

我花了點時間爬到一堆板條箱的頂部，并驚嘆于獸人被殺戮的方式：倒下的尸體形成了扭曲的山丘，血變成了河流和小溪。?坑坑洼洼的盔甲被修剪成一支軍隊在大地上行進的樣子。當(dāng)我跳下來并繼續(xù)追尋時，我對此稍作思考。

《被解放的普瑞萊克斯》，我如此決定。

我認為這些山丘看上去很像這顆星球的主大陸上的山區(qū)地帶，正如我在部署前從簡報板上看到的那樣，我想象著帝國衛(wèi)軍的裝甲部隊身負著帝皇意志的重量一路碾壓過去，從綠皮手中收復(fù)這個世界。

腳步繼續(xù)沖刺，而我奔跑著跟隨，在尋找下一幅杰作的同時我的手臂在體側(cè)無力地叮當(dāng)作響。我又追逐了幾分鐘，跟隨著腳步的蜿蜒曲折，直到——

“神皇在上……”當(dāng)我在一個巨大的帝國廣場前停下腳步時，我敬畏地喃喃自語。一座綠皮尸堆填滿了整個廣場中心，它們的武器破碎散落，它們的尸骸面目全非。

我過了一會兒才把目光從尸山上扯開，隨即發(fā)現(xiàn)了令人不安的東西。

更多的腳步。

并非如我接近它時所料的那樣環(huán)繞著尸堆。

又有四條路徑從城市的不同方向逼近，一共五條完美地勾勒出的足跡通向獸人尸堆。我的這條應(yīng)該是最新的，那么我正看向的是……

“哦不，”我咕噥著，用力咽下一口唾沫。

這不是一條毀滅之路，這是個誘餌。

做出這一切的東西想要盡可能多的獸人發(fā)現(xiàn)這些即便是最愚笨的獸人都能輕易發(fā)現(xiàn)的蹤跡，而且還留下了足夠多的戰(zhàn)利品和廢墟，即便獸人無法欣賞藝術(shù)品也能對此保持興趣。

而如果我已經(jīng)發(fā)覺了這一點，那么——

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

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原文：

Blood pooled around my feet.

I wasn’t sure how, but these Orks had managed to become even less appealing in death than they were in life. It wasn’t just the smell either, although that was bad enough, it was the way their bodies festered.

“Emperor preserve me,” I choked the words out as I fished through the gore looking for my quarry.

To a one, Orks loved loud, crude explosions, and so if they weren’t favoring melee exclusively, then they always carried at least a bolt pistol, if not a full bolter. I’d witnessed more than one Ork charging down the ranks of the Dragoons and my own Sisters while wildly firing their weapon straight up into the air, so I suspected it was more about the noise than anything practical.

Still, it would mean that most of them should be carrying at least a few extra rounds on them. Whether or not whatever crude shot these beasts pass off as ammunition would work in my sacred bolter was a different question, but I wasn’t about to be picky at this stage.

I turned up several magazines worth from broken weapons, and I briefly considered wading through the cooling, coagulating mess of the hallway for more before dismissing that idea.

Even if I could manage it without the contents of my stomach attempting another encore performance, I doubted anything I would turn up from such a search would still be usable.

With that decision made, I scrambled out of the hall and through the cracked block of the hab I’d come in through. The charnel stink of Amphitria seemed significantly more pleasant compared to the packed-in stench that I’d just finished marinating in, so I found myself in a buoyed mood as I hunkered down and crept into the alleyway.

I made it only a meter or so before something caught my eye.

Footprints, slender and almost… dainty, were pressed into the floor of the alley in dried blood.

Orkish blood.

Whatever had passed through that hallway had been physical and real, then, and not just the raw manifestation of the Emperor’s divine will. Still, it had wreaked ruin upon the filthy mongrel Orks, it had done the will of the Emperor, and so it was the will of the Emperor.

That thought was a comfort.

For a few moments, I considered my path. I could move farther afield, but my supplies would not last forever. I could go deeper into the Hive where supplies would be plentiful, even with the Orks’ penchant for looting, but that would risk death. By that same token, any reinforcements arriving would seek the Hive of Amphitria so my odds of encountering friendly forces, either from the Dragoons or from companies of my own holy sisterhood increased drastically.

I’d stood at the vanguard of our deployment, where all newly minted Sisters must prove their mettle, and my high training marks had been honored with being placed among the first landing companies. There would be more companies though, more of my sisters, and I prayed to the Emperor their landings would be far more successful than mine had been.

Idly, I tracked the footprints, and realised they too led deeper into the city. I could not deny my curiosity, above and beyond my own survival. It was more sensible for me to remain in the city where I could not only do the work of the Emperor but potentially rejoin my sisters, and if that were to be the case then I could at least follow these tracks.

I nodded silently to myself, reaching my decision, and turned to follow the footprints. I kept low and trained my ears to listen for threats. Orks, fortunately, were not known for their stealth capabilities beyond certain highly unusual subbreeds, so I felt at least moderately confident I could avoid any larger gaggles of the brutish creatures so long as I was vigilant.

While creeping forward I began to carefully take stock of what I’d recovered from the Orks. A large number of the rounds went onto the ground, being clearly of Ork manufacture if one could call it that, and I didn’t trust that loading them into my weapon wouldn’t just blow it up.

By fortune or the grace of the Emperor, even after casting aside the Ork rounds I was still left with just over a magazine’s worth of ammunition, all of which looked to have been looted from a PDF defensive post or Guard unit. I paused to load my bolter, then slammed the magazine home, racked the feed, and was rewarded with the display flicking from red to a healthy green as it showed a full magazine count.

I pressed the several remaining shells into a spare magazine and stowed it.

Now if only my left arm weren’t a dead weight. I was a fine enough markswoman but without my other arm I didn’t dare set my weapon to anything but single-shot. Even burst fire would be too risky without my left hand to brace the lively weapon.

The machine spirit of my bolter was a frisky one and had a tendency to leap more than other bolters of its model when it was fired. I’d brought up the quirk to our Enginseer and he’d communed with the spirit, and afterward assured me that it was working within acceptable parameters and that the bolter’s spirit was simply young and enthusiastic. Enough experience in battle alongside me would surely temper its fervor, they had said, and that I needed only give it a firm hand.

On a more positive note, this bolter had never once jammed on me, and I chalked that up to the eager nature of the spirit as well.

That and I took some comfort in the fact that the spirit of my weapon and I were both novices of a sort.

The footprints I’d been following sped up to a rapid sprint as I approached a small opening between buildings, and I increased my pace. I barely reached the mouth of the alley when another wave of visceral stink struck me, and I staggered to a stop as I took in the new mural of violence.

Past the alley was a small urban copse that had been being used as a makeshift camp by a small number of Greenskins, although how many was a secret only the Emperor now knew. Like the ones in the hall, they were butchered almost beyond recognition, and over the walls of the rising buildings was splattered a perfect rendition of high-spired structures that, I realised a moment later, were burning.

It took me another moment to recognise it as the skyline of Amphitria itself.

Amphitria Burning, were the words that leapt to mind. This was a tragic mural worthy of any Imperial Galleria, depicting the sack of a capital city. A masterpiece of violence capturing violence and the gravity of it weighed on my soul like a sin.

It was beautiful and terrible, and I felt more than ever the need to catch up to whoever owned those footprints.

Ignoring the camp, I sprinted through it now heedless of stealth and scanned the far edges for more footprints. I found them easily enough, it was almost as though their owner wanted to be tracked and found. I felt as if I were being led on some kind of blood-soaked tour of a Hall of Remembrance by an expert curator, and I trailed behind the steps eagerly.

In my mind, I’d begun naming the murals.

Divine Wind, in the hallway. A beautiful, harrowing death of such wrenching speed as to have been carried on hurricane-force winds.

Amphitria Burning, in the copse. A tragic reminder of the depredations of the Greenskin invader, and their uncaring brutality towards holy human endeavor.

I passed a small interior street next, where a group of Orks had apparently just been roving between fights, only to be utterly unmade by the mystery assailant. The walls of the evacuated shops and residences around them had been painted to resemble dying humans, with Orks descending upon them, and behind the Orks a shadow of death encroached.

Vengeance Inevitable, I called that one, and I liked it most of all.

Past that the footprints led to a manufactorum warehouse where a large group of Orks had been engaged in the enthusiastic and perennial Orkish pastime of looting with abandon, and at first I’d been disappointed, thinking the area too large for any of the walls to hold my pursued’s beautiful work.

The truth of the matter struck me just in time for me to come skidding to a stop at the edge of the gory remains of the Orks which, I’d realised, were in far more intact condition than any of the others.

I took a moment to scramble to the top of a stack of crates and let out a sigh of wonder at how had the Orks had been slain in such a manner that their fallen bodies now formed curving hills and their blood made rivers and creeks. Pitted armor had been shorn in just such a way to appear as an army marching across the landscape, and as I descended and continued my pursuit, I gave it some thought.

Praelex Liberated, I decided.

I thought the hills looked quite like the mountainous terrain of the planet’s primary continent as I’d seen it on the briefing slate I’d perused prior to deployment, and I imagined the Imperial Guard with its armored contingents grinding along with the weight of the Emperor’s Will behind them to retake the world from the Greenskins.

The footsteps continued at a sprint and I followed at a run, my arm clanking weakly at my side as I sought after the next masterpiece. I trailed for several more minutes, following the twists and turns the steps were taking until finally-

“Oh… God-Emperor,” I muttered in awe as I came to a flagging halt in a large Imperial Plaza.

Filling the entire center was a mound of Greenskin corpses, their weapons broken and scattered, and their bodies ruined beyond recognition.

It took me a moment to rip my gaze away from the pile of the dead and look around it, and noted something troubling.

More footprints.

Not circling the mound as I might have expected from approaching it.

Four more trails approaching from various directions in the city towards the pile, five trails of perfectly outlined prints leading to a pile of Orkish dead. Mine was likely the latest, and what I was looking at now was…

“Oh no,” I mumbled, swallowing hard.

This wasn’t a path of destruction, it was a lure.

Whoever had been doing this wanted as many Greenskins as possible to find the trails, trailS that even the dimwitted Orks could follow without issue, and had left behind enough looT and ruin to keep them interested even if they couldn’t appreciate the artistic masterpieces.

And if I had found this, then-

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”