Clark Grenade's explosion destroyed the massive fan still running below. A weapon designed to punch through heavy vehicle armor was complete overkill against spinning fans.
The explosion shattered the rotating blades and crippled the transmission core. Taro jumped down, took a vial of green serum from his tactical belt, and dripped it onto his steel blade.
He stabbed it into the gap. The green liquid enhanced the Catachan Knife's penetration, and with Taro's effort, the gap was pried open.
"Dumb-Dumb, pull this open."
Dumb-Dumb kicked it, blasting open the cover sealing the fan.
"All right, that works too."
Climbing out through the opening Dumb-Dumb had made, Taro surveyed the air purification station. Aside from signs of battle and bloodstains on the floor, there was nothing inside. The red I beneath the station's brand name—the identification marking of the Inquisition—had been crudely scratched out.
"Tch... Are they killing anyone connected to the Inquisition on sight? Even people just working under its banner?"
Taro used his knife to gently lift a curtain that had not yet been torn down beside a window, peering outside through a narrow slit.
The streets were deserted. Only several upright crosses remained, with charred bodies tied to them. The iron plaques around their necks declared them heretics who had profaned the saints and The Emperor.
The Inquisition fortress in the distance was still under attack. The Tempestus Scions and Imperial Guard stationed around it continued to hold back the Penitent Army's assault.
Taro called Dumb-Dumb over and hurried onward. He had no idea how much longer those defenders could hold against the traitorous Battle Sisters.
They could not use the front entrance now. A useful habit Taro had developed on Catachan came in handy.
Just as every cunning beast left itself several escape routes, every Catachan sought