Mont felt an invisible iron fist strike his chest, and all 27 of his ribs simultaneously let out a crisp crack.
"Psyker?!" Mont was stunned for a moment.
But he quickly regained his senses, enduring the pain to brandish the dagger in his hand, which was covered in putrid blood.
A sizzling, bubbling stream of blood sprayed from the dagger, shooting towards the stern-faced man.
However, the man's figure suddenly vanished from his spot, and the blood missed, splashing onto a nearby pipe.
The metal pipe was instantly corroded with small pits, emitting plumes of white smoke.
The man's figure suddenly appeared behind Mont.
Mont bit his tongue, his mouth instantly filling with blood.
He spun around abruptly, spitting a mouthful of blood at the man.
The mechanical hand on top of the man's head formed a palm.
In an instant, an invisible wall seemed to block the man's front, deflecting the corrosive blood.
"Where did such a powerful psyker like you come from in the Lower Nest?" Mont demanded in a deep voice.
However, the man remained silent, only for the Superpower Hat on his head to point at Mont again.
Mont quickly rolled away, only to see a half-meter wide pit crack open in the ground beside him.
It was as if an invisible heavy hammer had smashed it open.
Mont's eyes were bloodshot, realizing the opponent's formidable strength.
He spat out a little blood from his mouth, moistening his lips.
"Defile my blood, flies dance."
"Intolerable itch, feed maggots with blood."
Mont softly chanted a few short phrases. A layer of fine foam emerged from the blood flowing on the ground, as if tiny maggots were writhing in it.
"Wait, Mont, stop!"
Marquite's shout rang out as he stepped between the stern-faced man and Mont.
"We mean no harm!" Marquite said to the man in front of him.
Alexander looked at the tall, hooded man in front of him, then glanced at Mont, who was tightly gripping his blood-stained dagger.
No, buddy, you call this 'no harm'?
I haven't done anything, and this guy with a dagger just rushed at me like it was an emergency.
What? Do I look that scary with my handsome face?
Do you have an issue with my Lion's face, which is full of righteousness?
And whose good person's blood is corrosive anyway?
Alexander glanced at the blood sizzling on the ground. If that blood landed on him, he'd at least lose a layer of skin.
These two are indeed cultists.
"My name is Marquite, and this is my brother Mont. We are... scavengers, yes, scavengers."
Seemingly noticing the deep distrust in Alexander's eyes, the tall, hooded man who called himself Marquite quickly explained:
"We came here to look for valuable things. Mont must have mistaken you for a patrolling gang member, which is why he suddenly attacked you."
"I apologize on his behalf."
"Brother." Mont looked up, seemingly displeased.
But Marquite shook his head at him fiercely.
So, they mistook me for a gang member. Alexander eyed the two with some suspicion.
He remembered the emperor tarot card with a winged figure drawn in the white light earlier.
But it's better to avoid trouble. Alexander waved his hand, signaling that the matter was over.
While the device on his head gave him powerful superpowers, it also consumed a lot of energy.
If it came to a fight, who knew if these two hooded men would pull out some Nurgle magic?
"Sir, you seem to be a psyker?" Marquite called out to Alexander, who was turning to leave.
Alexander glanced at Marquite, not answering his question.
He didn't want to waste any time on them, not just because of the danger.
The Old Eight District was a large area of the former Upper Hive, not small, and its internal structure was as complex as a labyrinth.
Furthermore, there were many patrolling gang members around, so finding the PDF's outpost within it would not be easy.
He didn't want to waste time.
"No, I mean no harm."
Marquite chuckled, saying in a gentle tone:
"I just wanted to say that we might all be unwelcome people here."
"Why can't we cooperate?"
He patted Mont's back and said, "As you've seen, my brother's blood is corrosive... I also have similar abilities. We used this to corrode a hole in the ground and dig our way down here."
"And you? How did you do it? Your psyker power seems to allow you to teleport."
Marquite paused, then pointed to the ground and said:
"We found a PDF outpost down below. It's covered by a lot of rubble, and no one can get in."
"But your teleportation ability, perhaps... could it take us inside?"
"..." Alexander stopped, looking at Marquite: "You said a PDF outpost?"
"Of course, we can cooperate––––––"
Before Marquite could finish, Alexander shook his head and turned to leave again.
"Wait."
Marquite tried to call out to Alexander again:
"More than lies, schemes, and deceit, I trust tradition, inevitability, and love like family."
"What I just said contained no lies. I can take you to see the location of that PDF outpost."
Alexander frowned slightly.
Indeed, these two were clearly cultists.
But cultists also differed; those who worshipped the Lord of Change often favored lies and deceit.
However, cultists who worshipped Nurgle sometimes displayed sincerity, simplicity, and trust akin to family members.
Although Nurgle's followers were still dangerous, at least their probability of lying was much lower than that of a Lord of Change's followers.
With the teleportation and arbitrary ring provided by the Superpower Hat on his head, even if there was danger, his chances of escaping were still very high.
And also...
Alexander remembered the omen of that emperor tarot card... a cooperation requiring patience and communication.
The emperor tarot cards were said to be connected to the Emperor's will itself.
"Emperor, you're the one making me cooperate with heretics; don't blame me."
Alexander muttered softly.
"I can help you enter the PDF outpost."
He glanced at the two behind him, saying with some caution:
"Take me there."
"I'm glad we can trust each other." Marquite said in a gentle voice: "Please believe me, everything we do is for everyone's benefit."
"I'm not interested in what you want to do. I guess you're probably not interested in the weapons in the PDF warehouse either."
Alexander shook his head, saying to Marquite:
"You take what you want, I take the weapons, it's that simple."
"Of course."
Marquite smiled gently, his good temper chillingly eerie:
"As a symbol of mutual trust, may I know your name?"
"...Name?" Alexander frowned.
"Yes, name." Marquite smiled: "As collaborators, we should at least know each other's names."
Alexander nodded and said, "Alright then."
"You can call me... Leman Russ."