Pest Control (I)

A superhuman roar echoed from afar, but Azrael ignored it, focusing his attention elsewhere. He hadn't yet realized it was a valuable talent, but that didn't matter, because he would always use it well.

Years of training, genetic modification surgery, and innate alertness allowed him to detect a faint rustling sound coming from above. An idea arose in his mind and was then put into practice.

Azrael turned, raised his sword, and the energy field crackled and flashed with blue light in an instant. A fleshy body screamed as it was attached to his sword.

The creature's four hands were still flailing, its long, sharp claws scratching incessantly at his shoulder armor, causing sparks and the metallic wail of metal.

Azrael twisted his wrist forcefully, then swung his arm violently, severing the failed attacker in half at the waist. Yet, it was still alive; its four degenerated—perhaps evolutionary to them—claws struggled, trying to kill Azrael.

The Dark Angels took a step back, narrowly avoiding the chaotic and frenzied attack, then thrust out its sword, piercing its head completely.

Thick, fresh blood splattered out, staining the mine floor red. This blood wasn't the green described in the documents, nor was it the pus Azrael had ever seen; instead, it was almost indistinguishable from human blood, only excessively viscous.

This discovery fueled his hatred for these Xenos even more; without a second thought, Azrael knew exactly why this phenomenon had occurred.

But now was not the time to think. A tremendous force, accompanied by a roar, shattered the wall. Amidst the flying debris, another purebred Genestealers pounced on him, its four deadly claws growing ever more terrifying in the confined space.

In an instant, Azrael realized he couldn't dodge the attack, so he adopted a different strategy. He slightly raised his sword, charged forward, and rammed the pureblood's attack headfirst into it, sending it flying.

Its claws didn't even have time to leave a scratch on his Power Armour, and this wasn't the end. Azrael calmly slashed horizontally, splitting the monster in two from top to bottom.

Despite the seemingly easy victory, Azrael knew in his heart that he had actually brushed with death twice, and now was not the time to celebrate; his mission was not yet complete.

Azrael sheathed his sword, turned, and ran. An indescribable, dense sound came from behind him. He didn't need to look back; he knew what those sounds meant. But all he needed to do now was run.

He ran toward the direction from which the roar had come, silently counting the seconds.

In the eleventh second, he passed a turnoff lined with crates. In the thirteenth second, a deafening roar came from behind him, and flames from the explosion, carrying fragments of flesh and chitinous carapace, flew past and landed in front of him.

At the nineteenth second, he reached the second-to-last marked location. At the twenty-second second, another explosion occurred. At the twenty-fifth second, he leaped up, rushed out of the cave, and jumped down from a height of nearly six meters.

Countless Xenos surged out from behind him, accompanied by flames, screams, and a bloodthirsty hunger.

They were met with the Dark Angels' explosive bombs, Phosphex flamethrowers, and plasma, as well as Asmodai's deafening roar.

Azrael selectively ignored the last one. He didn't dislike Asmodai; he simply refused to listen to the roar. He was already tired of it when they were still bait in the cave, and for that reason, he even temporarily blocked Asmodai on the communication channel.

He stood up, sheathed his sword, and walked to the side of another Dark Angels, who was squatting beside the corpse of a Genestealers, observing and recording.

"Captain Sapphister," Azrael called out, "The mission is complete."

His captain gave a perfunctory "hmm," followed by a long silence of more than ten seconds.

Azrael was puzzled, not understanding what could possibly warrant such a great deal of effort from the captain, but he soon realized, as Sapphister had already taken the initiative to explain.

"Look at this monster, Azrael, do you know what it is?"

"A mutant," Azrael replied quickly. "Extremely strong, their physical strength even surpasses ours, and their attack power is formidable. Unfortunately, they are mentally challenged, making them easy to deal with through teamwork and tactics."

"Yes, teamwork and tactics."

Sapphister stood up thoughtfully. He wasn't wearing a helmet, nor did he need one; an Iron Halo silently awaited him behind his head.

"In reality, any enemy can be dealt with through cooperation and tactics, but you'd better forget that idea before kicking it while it's down."

"Why, Captain?" Azrael asked, puzzled. "Isn't this information from the Inquisition?"

Sapphister turned around and looked sternly at Azrael. He had a genetic mutation that gave him white hair, which was considered an ominous sign.

His lower face was covered by an exquisite pale gold mask, concealing the missing parts. The maker cleverly used the curves of the metal to mimic his former lips and chin, making him look almost identical to before, even more imposing.

"Teamwork and tactics are for when we can still use them, but soon we'll be in a much worse situation than we are now. Look around, Azrael, how many third- and fourth-generation hybrids do you see?"

"They don't number much, do they? This means we've already reached the heart of their the Nest. The further we go, the more pure-blooded and genetically mutated monsters we'll encounter."

"They are endless, but our numbers will never change. You must learn to adapt, Azrael. Tactics are complex and varied precisely so that we can adapt to different situations and use them as needed."

"So, Captain, having no tactics is also a tactic?"

Sapphister didn't laugh, but a similar emotion clearly flashed in his gray eyes beneath his white hair.

He nodded, then returned to the center of the group, issued new orders, and began communicating with the other squads, instructing them to regroup around him.

The Lion El'Jonson's requirement was to act covertly, so the three hundred Dark Angels who accompanied him were temporarily divided into combat teams at the beginning of their landing. Carrying a large amount of heavy firepower, they entered the intricate underground system of this quasi -Hive City through various means to re-examine the mines and drainage pipes.

They have achieved remarkable results, especially Sapphister's squad. As things stand, they only need to regroup to break into the heart of this Genestealers cult, meet the so-called patriarch, kill him, and cripple the entire cult.

Standing in the ranks, Azrael carefully considered the entire tactic, but the image of the brand-new light guns he had seen in the crates not long ago flashed before his eyes.

He frowned, a hint of unease creeping in. Although he had already spoken to the senior officers about this, both they and Azrael himself knew that infiltrating both the upper and lower classes simultaneously was one of the Genestealers' unchanging strategies.

On Banjo-1, some nobles or officers must have already been infected, but they arrived relatively early, so there is still a solution—if the chieftain is killed in a surprise attack, the rest will be much simpler.

But will things really go that smoothly?

From the body of the last pureblood, the Lion El'Jonson pulled the Dionysian Spear. Staring at its hideous face, he couldn't help but wonder: what would a Xenos see when pierced by this spear?

"It's Xenos, so it can only see death," Leman Russ Russ said.

The Lion El'Jonson drew his spear and strode towards Karyl through the blood-soaked ground. One disadvantage of not wearing armor became apparent at this moment—his boots.

These thick leather boots, not designed for combat, were extremely slippery in this place filled with blood and gore, so he had to think ahead about where to land next with every step, making his gait quite strange.

Russ let out a soft chuckle, Lion El'Jonson ignored.

He had long since learned to ignore this stupid wolf in battle. If ten thousand years wasn't enough to teach him this, then he might as well just smash his head against the Dionysian Spear and die.

"And then come in and keep me company?" Russ asked languidly, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I have no problem with that, Lion, but could you bring in some wine?"

The Lion El'Jonson took a deep breath, banishing all the complex thoughts, including the idea of retaliating, from his mind before speaking to his blood-soaked companion.

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm wondering when the riots and rebellions will happen," his companion replied softly. "Such a large-scale purge—unless I can directly kill them through the psionic network, they'll definitely realize something's wrong."

"Therefore, the third and fourth generation hybrids among them are likely to swarm to the ground, incite the poor masses of Banjo-1, or directly assassinate several officials who are used to lording it over others in public to ignite emotions. I think their primary targets will definitely be military camps and communications facilities."

"Tell me you notified the local army, and then tell me why you didn't just use your psionic powers to kill them." The Lion El'Jonson demanded succinctly.

His expression was not pleasant, as if he was suppressing anger. Karyl was somewhat surprised by this, but he quickly realized that the anger was not directed at him.

The Lion El'Jonson slowly sat down on a broken the Rock.

This stone once belonged to a heavy wall. Three minutes ago, it was still sitting there doing its duty, until some force it could not resist shattered it in the blue light, sending it flying and crushing a group of Genestealers.

It no longer has any duties to perform, but the Lion El'Jonson doesn't mind giving it a new one for a short time.

He held the Dionysian Spear horizontally, resting it on his knees like a meditating Calibanite Knights, and closed his eyes.

Then came a long breath—when he opened his eyes again, Lion Aljonsen's deep green eyes had been replaced by a blue like glacial shards.

Leman Russ Russ laughed merrily, then stood up and stretched his neck.

"Oh, Uncle! It's been so long!"

He grinned and charged at Karyl with his spear raised. Kalil raised an eyebrow and glanced at him, but surprisingly did not dodge. Instead, he let Russ pick him up, though his voice sounded somewhat strange.

"I said, Russ."

"How?"

What's the deal with that way you address me?

Don't you think this form of address is appropriate?

Russ retorted with great enthusiasm, then burst into laughter and released his grip, letting Karyl land on the ground. His laughter was so bright that it seemed he had played a very satisfying joke.

"Suit yourself." Karyl shook his head. "But I really didn't expect you guys to be capable of doing this."

Russ winked at him. "Actually, it always could, Karyl, it just took this stupid Lion a long time to realize it. His Caliban way of thinking is like a knight's armor, only useful in a few situations, and nowhere near as good as our Fenrisian's keen sense of smell."

"Actually, I just want to know why he let you out at this time?"

"Because I asked him to," Russ said. "He owes me several favors, very large ones, so he has to listen to me at certain times."

Karyl wisely remained silent at this point, offering no comment, while Russ picked up on the Lion El'Jonson's earlier question, "So, did you notify the local army?"

"That was the first thing I did after sending out that key. Don't worry, Russ, I used psionic senses; not many of them are infected. As for now, they've probably been found and executed a while ago."

Russ nodded. "That's a bit strange, isn't it? They didn't prioritize attacking the defensive forces."

"That's because they've practically infiltrated all the nobles and officials," Karyl said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "My experience in the local Ministry of Adeptus Arbites building wasn't pleasant at all."

Russ clicked his tongue, picked up the spear, and then casually slung it over his shoulder. "So, one last thing?"

"Because I can't," Karyl replied calmly.

He pulled open his coat, revealing the unhealed hole to Russ. The Fenrisian's pupils suddenly contracted; a kind of intuition beyond reason helped him understand what Karyl hadn't been able to say.

But along with that came even more questions. He frowned for a long time, and finally couldn't help but ask.

"So, what are you now?"

Karyl smiled knowingly. "Right now, I'm just an ordinary Psyker trying to become human again—let's go, Russ, we need to get to the waterworks."

"Six seconds ago, the patriarch issued an order to its purebloods via the mental network, demanding that they proceed to Banjo-1's water plant and water circulation system."

Leman Russ Russ bared his fangs and nodded with a half-smile.