Shock from the Inquisition

"I am not satisfied with this answer."

The power of biological psychic energy twisted every cell of the Drukhari warrior captain, while countless thick, snake-like nerves erupted from his body, burrowing into his already chiseled-open skull.

This was a torture few living beings could endure; the neural signals shredding every cell in his body flowed back into his brain along the proliferating nerves.

Accompanied by a forcibly awakened consciousness, the victim's soul would savor this pain, magnified countless times over.

"Your strategic distribution, your objectives, and who drove you to come here?"

The Inquisitor's eyes shimmered; at the very moment the subject's body should have been on the verge of collapse, she skillfully maintained that critical threshold and asked her question.

"Ah... hngh--"

The agonizing wail lasted only a short while before turning into a low, guttural moan, seemingly containing a sense of release.

"Little monkey, the pain I have experienced is far greater than this. Ah—your methods are far inferior to a Haemonculus, though they are still somewhat fresh. By the standards of your monkey world, I can barely give you a passing grade. Heh heh..."

The warrior captain tilted his head, causing his neck—bloated and grotesque from the forcibly grown nerve clusters—to split open. The indescribable pain once again drew a comfortable moan from the alien, whose face was already a ruin.

This caused the Sisters of the Silver Rose who had just entered the room to reveal expressions of disgust, slightly raising the muzzles of their Volkite Charger.

"..."

Faced with this seemingly impervious alien, the young Inquisitor fell into a dilemma, then simply increased the intensity of her psychic output.

"Ah—that's it, let me feel the pain. Ah—I'm starting to understand those cowards who play with necromancy. So, pain without blood can be this pleasurable..."

Even though his entire body was screaming in agony, the warrior captain's soul seemed completely unaffected, and he did not forget to open his mouth to provoke the Inquisitor torturing him.

"..."

The Inquisitor remained silent and increased the threshold again, causing the warrior captain's body to swell further.

Tissue fluid spilled from his ruptured skin, flowing down his armor shell—which was decorated with ornate skulls—before erupting in large quantities as the proliferating flesh was pierced by sharp edges.

Squelch.

This mass of flesh, barely recognizable as humanoid, began to convulse violently.

The Inquisitor withdrew her psychic energy once more.

"...I have something to say, come closer... I have something to say."

He whispered suddenly, his physical weakness no longer able to support his wild roaring.

The Inquisitor and the Marshal exchanged a cautious look before stepping forward.

"Answer my previous question!"

She commanded coldly, but the moment the question fell, her senses—constantly monitoring the changes in the subject's body—sent a signal that made her dodge rapidly.

She tilted her head slightly, and a bone fragment, polished into a sharp blade, shot out from the warrior captain's throat, grazing a few strands of her hair.

"I will come for you, little monkey."

The twisted, bloated body writhed, crushing the golden hair that had fallen to the ground. The warrior captain's eyes were fixed on the Inquisitor, as if he wanted to carve this face into his soul.

Thwack!

At that moment, a blade pierced through from behind him, shattering his skull.

In the eyes of the Inquisitor, the gaze that had always held contempt now surged with the color of despair she had been waiting to see.

"Wait!"

"?"

Arthur looked suspiciously at the Inquisitor, who had stopped maintaining the spell; the blade remained steady within the alien's skull.

But the proliferating body structure began to collapse the moment it lost the support of the psychic energy. The fragmented corpse piled up into a small mound, which was then shoveled away by a Servitor that had been waiting nearby.

"Another alien has exhausted its utility."

Glancing at the Blade Guard who had struck, the Inquisitor wore a troubled expression.

She could not understand why, even after she had squeezed the nerves of these aliens to the limit, they could still refuse to speak, and even derive pleasure from it, only feeling fear at the moment of true death.

"This is the last one."

Beside her, the Black Templar Marshal, who had been staring at the alien, reminded her coldly. The candles piled on his shoulder pauldrons emitted a warm, bright light, and the three golden studs on his forehead shone brilliantly.

In fact, inside the sealed iron crate behind them, another Drukhari, completely deprived of his five senses, remained imprisoned.

But everyone knew clearly that this method of interrogation would not yield results quickly.

"Do you think the Drukhari we kill can be resurrected?"

Arthur tilted his head, looking at the three people beside him who were equally shocked.

They had entered the Mechanicus Ark along with the Carcharodons, led by Tyberos.

Archmagos Cawl had designated this plaza as the meeting place, but he had not yet arrived, leaving the group—who had just stepped off the shuttle—to witness an interrogation of a Drukhari alien in the style of M41.

And this Drukhari was truly worthy of being a race that could spawn the Chaos God Slaanesh; the level of madness was off the charts.

The group looked at each other; the style of this world, revealed inadvertently, was truly bizarre.

The stereotype has deepened.

"Think of a daemon that can split itself, yet we still hacked it to death."

Ramesses was the first to recover his composure.

"The part we killed ceases to exist, and the part that never made contact with us lacks the memory of that death."

"Hmm."

Arthur nodded, flicking the biological fluids off his blade.

"Is this supposed to be a show of force?"

Karna was struggling to hold it together.

"That would be far too childish."

Romulus looked left and right, catching a glimpse of the Flayed Skull Kabal insignia on the fragments of armor.

Heh, so it's a wealthy Kabal. No wonder even a warrior captain is so fearless.

"My apologies."

The Inquisitor greeted the group, whose expressions varied, and as she bowed, the Inquisition seal hung straight down. Romulus could clearly see the reddish-brown stains smeared across the lapel.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Imperial Inquisitor Aglaia Hesychode, from the Order of Origin."

She gestured toward the iron crate behind her.

"As you can see, I am assisting the lords of the Black Templars in interrogating the xenos. Unfortunately, I am not specialized in the knowledge of this particular breed, and I have been unable to extract any useful leads."

Arthur held his sword and stood at the back of the formation, looking quite aloof.

"Then our timing for this meeting is truly coincidental."

Romulus immediately stepped forward to smooth things over.

"I trust our arrival can assist you in resolving this predicament. I am Romulus, captain of this Deathwatch kill team."

"I appreciate your generous assistance."

Aglaia let out a sigh of relief.

The Deathwatch were indeed easier to deal with; at the very least, they treated an Inquisitor with the proper respect.