The Emperor’s Angel of Death

In the pitch-black steel jungle, a massive and powerful body slowly moved, trying to lower itself, ensuring that its feet made no sound each time they left the ground and landed.

"This is the dark and cruel forty-first millennium. The Great Emperor has sat upon the Golden Throne of Terra for over a hundred centuries. He is the Master of Mankind, ruling over all with the will of a god; the Lord of the Galaxy, commanding millions of worlds with endless armies; a corrupted and decaying body, writhing in agony as he barely maintains himself with the technological divine power of the Dark Age; the Master of the Imperium, who is sacrificed a thousand souls daily to prolong his wretched existence—"

He whispered these words, which he had recited hundreds of times, while around him, more figures shrouded in shadow began to move.

The terrain here was complex, with numerous facilities, so they had to surround the target from multiple directions.

This would be a hunt, a silent hunt.

"Even in this eternal death throes, the Emperor's vigilance remains unwavering. Mighty fleets traverse the daemon-infested warp, the only path between the distant stars. Immense armies fight to the death in the Emperor's name on countless worlds. The strongest among them are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, genetically enhanced super-soldiers, yet even they can only barely withstand the many enduring threats—xenos, heretics, and enemies even worse. They threaten every world, stealing what belongs to the Emperor, and must be utterly destroyed."

Gradually, he approached the target, but this did not make him relax, because he was facing the most cunning, most ferocious, and most greedy enemy.

To prevent his scent from spreading, he tightened his cloak again. Years of operating in the shadows had made camouflage almost instinctive.

He was the shadow, he was vengeance, he was death.

He was hunting the thief who had dared to intrude into human territory, recklessly plundering what should rightfully belong to the Emperor, a robber, an inhuman predator.

He had failed several times before, which he could not tolerate. Failure was more terrible than death for someone like him, but the opponent was too cunning, too swift. It always seemed to sense their approach in advance, always able to escape from their carefully laid traps with incredible speed, and defiantly make a mess of the surroundings.

So this was the last chance. He could not fail his bloodline, could not fail the Emperor, and could not fail himself.

Crouching on the ground, pressed against the towering metal cabinet, he quietly extended a mirror attached to his dagger. Don't underestimate this primitive method; the furry alien had an almost instinctive sense for any instruments or devices.

Through the mirror, he saw it. In the light filtering through the gaps in the cabinet, the ugly, bloated shadow was clearly visible, and cold mist was spilling out from inside.

They had tried to freeze this bastard to death, but it didn't work. It could escape from inside out of thin air.

It was a sorcerous thief, but even so, it would tremble under the blade of the Emperor's Angel of Death.

He vowed, and swore.

Then, he made a gesture, and his comrades began to deploy a device, an anti-psyker device.

At the same time, two other figures, one thin and one short, approached from the left and right, while above, a blurry shadow had deployed a positioning device.

The hunter crept almost on his belly, slowly reaching under the freezer.

Then—

"For the Emperor! Kill this thief!!!"

Rozeem abruptly threw off his cloak and stood up, drawing the flamer from his waist, and at the same time, all the lights in the kitchen instantly turned on.

There, on the messy top of the freezer, was a corpulent feline with orange fur and stripes on its back. It had a large head, a broad forehead, a thick, long tail, short, slightly pointed ears, large, round eyes of a strange green color, and a pink, oval nose on its dignified face, flanked by three whiskers on each side, giving it a somewhat cunning air.

In its mouth, it held half a devoured ant-meat roll. This was Rozeem's specialty, one of the most popular dishes in the Chapter's refectory, but the plate that had been full of meat rolls now had only a few scraps left, the rest having gone into the thief's belly.

"Tonight's supper is roasted thief-cat!!!"

Rozeem directly pulled the trigger, and the blazing flames surged into the freezer, instantly causing it to crackle, and then the entire back exploded in sparks.

However, the sound of dishes rattling made Rozeem turn his head.

The thief-cat, which should have been roasted, had somehow run to another cupboard, and was standing on its hind legs, hands on hips, its large belly sticking out, walking mockingly through a pile of neatly arranged porcelain plates like a proud king, knocking the plates off one by one with its tail, smashing them into pieces on the floor.

Clearly, it was taunting the once again failed hunters.

"Hmph! I knew you'd use illusory clones! Go!"

As the air suddenly tightened, the fat cat immediately sensed unease, returned to all fours, and began to run.

"Waaaah!!"

Dogo suddenly jumped up from the side, his plasma axe slashing onto the cupboard with a crackle, overturning and smashing hundreds of porcelain plates in a shower of sparks and lightning, but without touching even a hair on the cat.

"I'll beat you to death, you stinky cat!!"

Isvin also fired his laser gun continuously, but to no avail, except for hitting a pile of pots and pans.

"Waaagh!!!"

Kren simply pulled out his rotary cannon and fired wildly at the walls and ceiling, anywhere he saw a flash of orange.

The kitchen instantly became like a battlefield with bullets flying everywhere, but the fat cat darted and dodged among the jumbled objects, not at all hindered by its corpulent body.

Just as it crossed a washbasin and headed straight for the window, a large pile of things suddenly fell from above. The cat immediately turned nimbly, dodging the attack from above, but the small metal balls that fell seemed to have a life of their own, extending numerous wires that wrapped around the surrounding objects, immediately blocking the window and various vents.

The fat cat could only turn and run towards the door.

"I'm going to hang you in a tree! Skin you alive!"

So in the spacious kitchen, large enough to accommodate hundreds of people, a group of people frantically chased a big orange cat.

It seemed to have been driven into a corner, and Loken was constantly trying to block its path with his gun that could fire white goo, but it still exuded a playful air, as if it was still toying with them.

When Rozeem waved his frying pan, trying to use his melee skills to catch it, it ducked to dodge, then pounced backwards, knocking over an oil jar. Rozeem stepped on the oil and staggered a few steps, almost falling.

Others also tried to catch it, but all failed.

Okay, although there are no 500 monthly tickets, I can feel everyone's support for Old Mo, so let's add an extra chapter.