Man, you guys really know how to make an atmosphere! All the candles, the robes. It's so cool!' He noticed the item hanging from the ceiling. It was an X-shaped rune, with a bar at the bottom and a skull in the center. He instantly recognized it.

  'You have a symbol of Khorne?! How great is that'!

  'Thank you,' said one of the hooded figures.

  That was when a blade was thrust into Michael's side. As he felt it, his eyes widened. His breath escaped his mouth as he looked at his side and saw the hilt of the dagger against it. In this moment, there was only one thing he could do.

  He laughed.

  'Alright, alright, you guys got me!' He said to the others. The room has exploded with laughter and cheers, while one of the others switched the lights on. Someone even shouted, 'Blood for the blood god!' In excitement.

  As Mike turned around, the hooded figure pulled back his cowl, revealing his face. It was Adrien.

  'Sorry about this. The others have insisted on a sort of initiation ceremony to be held for the new guy,' he apologized with a toy dagger in his hand.

  'Please, I would have been disappointed otherwise,' replied Michael. 'It is a little dark, but hey, it fits the setting! And you did it great! I mean, the symbol, the hoods, the candles—it's just perfect!'

  'Thank you, we worked really hard on it! Now, are you ready for some roleplaying?' Adrien extended his hand.

  'I was born ready!' Said the new guest while shaking the hand of his host.

  'Great, then there is only one thing left for you to do.'

  'Oh yeah? And what would that be?' Asked Michael.

  'Wake up,' said Adrien, in a voice that was not his own. The room started to feel odd. It got darker; items started to shift in appearance.

  'Wake up!' Said "Adrien" again, louder, almost shouting.

  An image of a mother and a little boy flashed before his eyes.

  'WAKE UP, HERETIC!'

  Michael Zion opened his eyes slowly.

  He turned and looked around. He was in a dark room made from steel, with only a small light giving any brightness to the dim room. There was a table under it, with a bottle and a glass, but nothing else was in the room. He felt cold and realized that he was half naked. He tried to get "up," but quickly realized that he could not do that. He was strapped to the wall by all four of his limbs with shackles, which rendered him unable to move.

  'Where—where am I?' He asked, scared out of his mind.

  The only answer he got was a hard punch to his face. He looked up dizzily and saw a man with dark skin looking down on him. He wore a power armor—or at least something that looked like it, Michael thought—of gold with a black cape, his eyes filled with contempt and disgust. Like someone who had to deal with a roach he found under his table.

  'Only I get to ask questions here, worm,' he said.

  While Mike gathered his breath, all of the memories came back to him. How the party really went down, what he did, and what he saw. What he had lost. An incredible amount of grief and sadness washed over him. He knew that he was awake, that this was not a dream nor hallucination anymore. The pain on his face reassured him of that. This was his reality. He wanted to cry when he remembered Robert, but he held back his tears for now. For he had noticed two additional things about his interrogator. One was the weapon on his hip, a pistol, which told him that his talking partner was serious. The other was the insignia on his chest. A stylized "i."

  'You are an Inquisitor,' he finally said.

  Lord Inquisitor Lucian smirked a little.

  'Huh. So even on your Emperor-forsaken planet, they know about our great organization. That is interesting.' He turned around and walked over to the table, pouring some of the liquid from the bottle. From the looks of it, it was some kind of wine.

  'That may mean that you know what awaits you should you not answer my questions or if I find the ones you give unsatisfying.'

  Michael looked at the inquisitor with confusion.

  'The Inquisition that I know of would not just strap me to a wall. They would give me a fair trial and questioning. They are the guardians of the Imperium, the righteous protectors from the horrors of the immaterium! Not just some people with power who go around torturing mindlessly'!

  The inquisitor had looked inside his cup, quickly emptying its contents.

  'Well,' he said. 'You are partly correct. I am the protector of the imperium, and I am righteous. I am the shield from the nightmares and threats that would tear apart His holy work. From the xenos, the witch, and the mutant alike. However.'

  He quickly walked back to Michael, slapping him in the face with the back of his hand.

  'I will not back down from using any means necessary to do that. I will not tolerate the remarks of some heretic trash from a world full of godless traitors! You will tell me everything you know of your world, because if you do not, I'm going to show you what torture really means!' He backed away from him, walking back to the table. 'And trust me, compared to other cases, I am being downright gracious with you.'

  Mike looked at the floor. His face was aching; he could feel blood in his mouth. He was supposed to be scared; he was supposed to be angry or sad; he should have begged for mercy from the inquisitor. And yet, he did not. He did not feel... anything, other than the physical pain. How could he? Everything he knew had been turned upside down, stripped away from him. He did not have much, and yet even that was lost now. All he had was his life, and what good would it do for him to keep that at this point? He knew that if the stories were anything to go by, he had not many things to look forward to even if he could get out of this room. The best-case scenario for him would be to be put into the guard on a front line of a far-off world and die to a terrifying creature of the universe.

  If death is the best I can hope for, then let's get on with it. He thought.

  'Alright, inquisitor. If you want information, I will tell you everything I know. I promise I will be honest and that I will tell you no lies. But you may not like what you will hear,' he said.

  Lucian looked at him with contempt.

  'Is that so? And tell me, why?'

  'Because of my knowledge from the universe, you know,' Michael simply stated.

  'Explain.'

  'My world does know the Emperor. It does know the Imperium—albeit in some cases it seems, inaccurately. It does know of the immaterium and various secrets of various xenos species. But not as reality,' he stopped for a moment. He could only guess the reaction to the next thing he will say. 'We only know it as a fairy tale. An idea from some writer's head, which is made up purely for entertainment purposes and to sell products with its name. In other words, everything you know—your organization, the knights, the Emperor himself—is purely fictional for us.'

  The lord inquisitor quickly stood before Michael and grabbed him by his neck, slamming him into the wall.

  'If that's true, then I should just virus bomb your entire planet for thinking this heresy! Why should I waste my time with a world full of insane people?'

  Lucian's grip tightened on Michael's neck. Struggling to talk, he answered.

  'It's... not insanity... to not presume... the impossible.'

  The questioner looked into the eyes of his prisoner. Looking for any sign of lies or trickery in them. For almost a minute, he strangled the boy, making sure of this. Finally, he let go and let Mike continue. Gasping for air, the interrogated answered.

  'You have to understand... My people, we are not even close... to your technology,' he cleared his throat. 'My planet's greatest achievement in space travel at the moment is getting a person to the orbit of Mars! As it stands right now, we can barely even dream about leaving the solar system, let alone colonizing others! Even our satellites are unreliable, and most of them break down at the edge of this system. Most of us had accepted that life outside of our planet most likely exists, but we have no exact proof of that. Until this day, I did not know for sure myself! Not to mention the demons. Those were a fiction to me and all others until a lesser monster of Khorne stood before me.'

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Lord Lucian listened to Michael, trying to comprehend just how far behind this world was compared to Terra in terms of technology. Despite the apparent similarities, it did not seem as if this world would hold anything of value to him or his search. But the mention of the blood god broke his line of thought.

  'You know the names of the Dark Gods?' The lord inquisitor asked, trying to hide the contempt in his voice, so his prisoner would tell him more.

  Michael nodded.

  'Khorne, the blood god; Tzeentch, the changer of ways; Grandfather Nurgle, the plague god; and Slaanesh, she who thirsts. They are all part of the tales and stories, which I told you about. I am not sure if you call them by the same name or not, nor if my knowledge is accurate about them, though'.

  Inquisitor Lucian has unholstered his gun and pointed it right at the head of Michael Zion. Such knowledge from such a pitiful world in any other case would be the irrefutable proof of corruption, which would need to be put down quickly, before it is allowed to spread. In any other case, he would pull the trigger.

  Michael has stared at the weapon. To be honest, that was the reaction he hoped for. He knew that this knowledge was forbidden in the setting, and evidently, it was forbidden in the real world too.

  Well, at least some of the things have to be right, he thought. If I am right again, this is a plasma pistol. It will pop my head, like a balloon.

  'Go on, shoot me,' he said to his captor. 'I know my fate. I knew it the moment I saw the imperial knight on the streets. I saw demons. I fought demons. The knowledge of chaos only makes it stronger, so go on. I have nothing left to live for,' he locked eyes with the gunholder. He knew that at this moment his life could end. That his pain could finally end. He was ready to go.

  But Lucian put away his weapon and gave a little smirk.

  'Oh, you do have one thing to live for,' he said tauntingly. 'To give me answers. To help me achieve my goals and to aid the imperium through that. You will not get the end you crave until that is done.'

  Michael let his head fall forward again, not saying a word. The inquisitor continued.

  'Now then. From the report I got from Sir Ghallian—the scion of the imperial knight you saw—I see that you stared in confusion and shock to see his steed. What do you know about the steeds of the knight houses?'

  'How does this help you?'

  'Answer me!' Lord Lucian raised his hand along with his voice. The interrogated had no clue; why would this even be a question to him? He could not know more than an inquisitor and a knight scion! Not to mention that this had nothing to do with the chaos rebellion of his world, nor the planet's current situation at all! An absurd thought had occurred to him, and he could not help but chuckle.

  'You are confusing me more than the behavior of the Bloodletters.'

  His questioner looked confused.

  'What?'

  'The three demons,' he explained. 'They acted nothing like I would have imagined. They were mostly just wandering around, as if they could not find anything to do. From the tales I know, they were supposed to be these ferocious beasts, but they were more like confused old men, not finding their glasses in the morning until they noticed my presence.'

  The inquisitor rubbed his chin, lost in thought. He had never heard of a minion of Khorne acting like this before, if this was true. It could be related to...

  He shook his head and snapped back to the matters at hand. He will ask more questions about the details later, he decided.

  'It does not matter! Answer my question'!

  'Imperial Knights are bipedal warmachines, which are piloted by one of the nobles of a knightworld,' Michaels started to explain. ' Their technology has been left from the times of the Age of Innovations, originally designed there to help settlers of new planets. They were protectors and workers for the settlement, who over time became so respected among the residents that they became a nobility among them. That, combined with the throne's effects, has led these individuals to actually believe that they are the protectors and rulers by divine right of said planets. Because of the rarity of the knight suits, they are passed down from generation to generation. Because of that, and because said throne takes a sort of "copy" of each pilot, they can hear "ghosts" of their ancestors, guiding them and giving them advice. In the "modern" era of the setting, their planets are feudal societies, enduring the test of time still. Those loyal to the Imperium take part in various campaigns against the xenos and heretics of the galaxy. They make close alliances with either the imperium as a whole or with the tech priests of Mars. They are protectors of the innocent, warriors of the Emperor of Mankind, and rulers of their fiefdom'. He took a momentary pause, looking at the inquisitor's face. 'That is my knowledge of them in a nutshell.'

  Lord Inquisitor Lucian was surprised. For a good minute, he just stood in his place with shock on his face.

  'Fascinating,' he said finally. 'It seems that you know this topic well. But why would your world have such accurate knowledge on the knights of all factions'?

  Michael started to laugh again, as he realized a sad truth about this moment. About his life so far.

  'What's so funny now?' His interrogator asked.

  'Normally, people can't wait for me to shut up about this stop. And now I am being interrogated by someone who wants nothing more than to hear facts that he already knows, while all I want is for him to shut me up permanently! What a fucked-up situation is that?' Mike was not one who would curse often, but this time he could not help it. His whole life, almost no one was interested in his hobby, and now that hobby not only came to life before him, but it would not let him have his so-desired end. The irony of life did not escape him.

  'Maybe if I start talking about the Knights of Steel, will you finally end me?'

  The inquisitor looked confused. Not about his prisoners' behavior. He saw many go wild or insane before during his interrogation. Truth to be told, most wanted to die at the start of it, much like Michael and Lucian would grant that to them in mere minutes, for they confessed everything and gave every piece of information they had by that time. And yet in this case he found himself more intrigued than ever. There was something off about this boy. He claimed he was from a backwater planet, where everything that was ordinary to the inquisitor was just a fantasy. Yet, he took up arms against the servants of the arch-enemy. He claimed that he wanted to die, yet cooperated without delay or attempts at deception. For the lord inquisitor, new liars, a great many. But this boy was not one of them.

  But mostly, more than ever, the mention of this faction interested him the most.

  'Knights of Steel? What are you talking about'?

  Michael let his head drop again.

  'Judging by your reaction, it seems my knowledge is not that accurate after all,' he said.

  'I will be the judge of that,' said the interrogator. He grabbed the chair and pulled it closer and poured another glass of the wine. He sat down in front of his prisoner, eyeing him with great interest.

  'Go on,' Lord Lucian said. 'Enlighten me.'

  Mike sighed and answered.

  'The Knights of Steel are a mystery even in the stories. They are described as a subfaction of the Imperial Knights. They pilot similar war machines, and they protect the people, but in a very different way. They are said to be superhuman in almost every way—in some stories they can even fight space marines in hand-to-hand combat, although admittedly, these are rare events and full of controversies'.

  Lord Inquisitor Lucian interrupted.

  'You know of the Astartes?' He asked.

  'The Angels of Death. The ultimate warriors were created by the Emperor himself. Yes, I know of them. They are recognizable to many even without any other knowledge of the tales.'

  'Interesting. But let's not deter the conversation. Continue,' ordered the listener, while taking a sip out of his cup. He acted like a listener to a great lecture, not an interrogator to a prisoner.

  Regardless, Michael continued.

  'As I said, the pilots themselves have incredible abilities. They are faster, stronger, more durable, and smarter than the average human, with a great affinity for machines. As if they could talk to them directly. Combined with the might of their suits, they are nigh unstoppable. Their steeds are more agile, stronger and are always ready to take on any role on the battlefield required, unlike the other knight suits we see in the setting. With time, they can even heal minor damages to their system, make new weapons from their armor, and act on simpler commands given by their pilots on their own. Each of them has a personality and an artificial intelligence as well. No one knows their origins; no one has ever contacted them. They usually rise from the crowd; as they live in disguise among the people, they use their incredible power to save humanity, and then they vanish without a trace. Silent protectors, helping humanity in their darkest hour. These are the Knights of Steel.'

  After the lecture reached its end, silence fell between the two, as the inquisitor thought about all he had heard and the imprisoned waited for a reaction. The tense void of words was broken by a beeping sound given by the lord's communicator. He quickly silenced it and stood up.

  'Well, nothing of the sort exists in the real world. I am afraid this story was just a waste of my time. But what else can be expected of a servant of the dark gods? Always scheming, lying, and trying to lead the righteous astray. Oh well, I hope our next meeting will be more fruitful. For your sake'.

  Hearing these words, Michael finally felt something for the first time since he had been here. He snarled at Lucian.

  'ENOUGH! You can do what you want with me!! Torture me, cut me open, beat me senseless, but you do NOT have the right to even suggest that I serve the chaos gods! I am NO cultist! I fought against them and slew them because they have threatened me and my home, and should I come across another of their kind, I would make sure that they would die by my hand, all of them'!

  Lucian turned back, smiling.

  'Well, well, well,' the inquisitor said. 'There is some fight left in you after all. Good. You are going to need it if you wish to survive. In the meantime, remember:' He walked closer to his prisoner, leaning in to his face. 'I have the right to call you anything I want. For I speak with the voice of the God Emperor himself! His divine authority is represented through me. My will is his will. Do not forget that'!

  Michael looked deep into the dark eyes of Lord Inquisitor Lucian. He started to realize now just how convinced this man was. How devoted he was to his religion. To his god. Something that eluded him so far. But something, he knew, he could use to finally have his eternal peace. So, he started laughing aloud. The inquisitor's face reflected irritation from this reaction.

  'I almost left out the best part of the stories! The greatest irony of the setting. Tell me, inquisitor, do you want to know what is one of the biggest sins in the eyes of your emperor'?

  Lucian could hardly contain his rage. Seeing this filled Michael with hope that his pain will soon be over.

  'It is you and your entire religion! For the Emperor of Mankind had made the decree of the Imperial Truth: there are no gods, including himself! If he could get up from his Golden Throne, he would personally burn down your whole church and organization! For in his eyes, religious zealotry is the one thing that holds back humanity, dooming it for all eternity. In other words, your god hates you and everything you ever stood for!'

  Michael saw the face of the lord inquisitor run rampant with rage. He looked like he wanted to shout. Wanted to reach for his plasma gun. But instead, he took a deep breath in and then let it out to calm himself.

  Then he punched Mike in the face with such force that he started to bleed. Then he hit him again. And again. Lucian grabbed his hand and hammered it into the wall continuously. As the beating went on, Michael's face became a bloody pulp. He almost lost consciousness again. But he did not cry out. Did not yell. Did not beg for it to stop. He just took it, in hopes that in the end he would just stop feeling anything. The pain, the void inside, the helplessness. He was ready to give up his life if it meant that those would go away as well.

  After a while the beaten could barely breathe, yet the inquisitor readied a blow again. Then, he looked at his hand. Full of his prisoners' blood. He stared at it for a moment. Then he let his hands drop. He got his clothes in order, turned around, and just left.

  He stopped at the door.

  'I know,' he simply said in a somewhat somber voice.

  Michael let his head drop again. He did not get what he wanted. He was still here and heard his interrogator, faintly, speaking to someone outside of the room.

  'He's yours.'