Upon hearing the man's words, Byrne's hand gripping the wrench froze. "Boss, what are you talking about? Psychic energy? I don't understand."
Hearing Byrne's continued denial, the man let out several loud laughs.
"Young man, stop pretending. Your psychic threads are as obvious as fireflies in the dark to me."
Realizing he had been exposed, Byrne cursed inwardly. Taking advantage of the man's apparent relaxation, Byrne suddenly spun around and swung the wrench with all his might at the man behind him.
In truth, Byrne had been worried about his psychic energy being detected. He wasn't wearing his peaked cap and couldn't use silent mode. However, he hadn't expected the opponent to notice so quickly.
Byrne's strike was fast and precise, leaving no room for a reaction. Unfortunately, the expected impact never came. The seemingly elderly shop owner twisted his body in a grotesque manner, sliding to the side like a slimy loach, narrowly avoiding the wrench aimed at his head.
Heh, this old fossil has quick reflexes.
Byrne's mind raced, but his movements didn't stop. The second the wrench swung through empty air, his right hand swiftly drew the Blackfire from the small of his back. He aimed the muzzle at the owner's head and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Bang!
The gunshot roared in the cramped back room. The bullet erupted from the muzzle, and in the blink of an eye, it struck the owner's forehead. Blood mixed with brain matter splattered instantly, painting a hideous red streak across the mottled wall behind him.
Seeing the owner go down with a single shot, Byrne felt no joy. He kept his gun raised, his expression grim as he stared intently at the fallen man.
Normally, a bullet to the forehead left no possibility of survival. But this was the world of Warhammer; once heretics were involved, common sense no longer applied.
Sure enough, a bizarre scene unfolded a second later. The fallen owner's dilated pupils suddenly constricted, his hollow gaze refocusing. At the same time, the gunshot wound on his forehead began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.
In just a few seconds, the hideous hole in his skull vanished, leaving only a faint red mark, as if the shooting had never happened.
"Heh... Heh..."
The owner slowly crawled up from the floor. His bones made "cracking" sounds as they shifted out of place. His already burly frame began to swell visibly. The well-fitting coveralls tore apart, revealing skin that was gradually turning a dark, murky green.
Byrne's pupils shrank. He could clearly see something writhing frantically beneath the man's skin.
"You are brave, young man, daring to charge into my place alone. Sadly, you chose the wrong opponent."
The owner's voice became raspier and deeper, sounding like a demon's whisper. As he spoke, his mouth opened, the corners splitting all the way back to his ears, revealing rows of jagged fangs. Deep green saliva dripped from the gaps between his teeth. The saliva that hit the floor hissed, corroding the ground into tiny pits.
Even more bizarrely, the owner's shoulders suddenly hummed, and the skin on his shoulder blades bulged wildly. With an ear-piercing sound of tearing flesh, two dark green fleshy limbs burst from his body, their ends forming claws covered in barbs.
"The Grandfather's blessing has allowed me to break free from mortal shackles. Kid, today you shall become the nourishment for my ascension."
Grandfather?
Hearing this term, Byrne understood. The shop owner was a follower of Nurgle. Nurgle is the Chaos God of plague, decay, and despair. His followers often view rot and disease as his divine blessings. The owner's transformation perfectly matched the characteristics of a Nurgle cultist.
Before the owner's roar could fade, the pair of fleshy limbs on his shoulders swung toward Byrne with a whistling wind. Before the claws even touched him, a thick stench of rot filled his nostrils, making Byrne's stomach churn.
In Byrne's psychic perception, those limbs were wrapped in thick Chaos energy, as if coated in a plague capable of dissolving anything.
Dammit, this is trouble.
Byrne cursed and kicked off the ground, retreating rapidly toward the side and rear, narrowly dodging the pouncing claws. The claws brushed past his shoulder and slammed heavily into the floor.
Crack!
The hard brick floor was smashed into two deep furrows, with debris and dark green corrosive liquid splashing everywhere.
The moment Byrne landed, he pulled the trigger repeatedly. Three consecutive gunshots echoed in the confined space, the noise making Byrne's eardrums ache. Though time was short, all three of Byrne's shots were aimed at the target's vital points.
Faced with the incoming bullets, the owner simply ignored them. In an instant, the three bullets hit his chest, neck, and forehead in succession.
The moment the bullets touched the owner's skin, they were enveloped by a layer of thick, dark green slime. The kinetic energy of the bullets dissipated rapidly, and they stopped after sinking only an inch into the skin. Then, the green slime wriggled frantically, slowly wrapping and dissolving the embedded bullets, while the wounds healed before his eyes.
"Haha! Give up. Your attacks are useless against me now."
The owner threw his head back and laughed, his voice filled with madness. Then, a glob of dark green phlegm erupted from his mouth, flying toward Byrne.
Byrne showed an expression of disgust and instinctively held his breath, dodging quickly. Fortunately, his reaction was fast; the phlegm almost grazed his left shoulder before slamming into the toolbox behind him. The thick metal casing was instantly corroded through. The tools inside oxidized and blackened upon contact with the liquid, turning into a puddle of rusty water.
Byrne looked back, thinking with lingering fear, Such strong acidity. Good thing I moved fast.
Having dodged the attack, Byrne looked toward the door and grumbled internally, Dammit, I clearly pressed the pager. Why haven't Renee and Selena arrived yet?
It seemed he couldn't count on those two. Now, against this monster, bullets were useless. He could only try the power of the psychic ray. He hoped it could handle this guy.
While Byrne was thinking, another glob of phlegm flew toward him.
Tch, this never ends.
Byrne dodged again and immediately turned the adjustment knob on the side of the Blackfire. As psychic energy was channeled in, the body of the pistol glowed with a faint golden light, and intricate runic patterns emerged on the previously smooth barrel.
Once fully charged, Byrne pulled the trigger. A dark red psychic ray shot out from the muzzle, heading straight for the owner's forehead.
"Die, you monster!"
This time, the ray was not blocked by the dark green slime. It pierced right through the surface, exploding into a fist-sized bloody hole in the owner's forehead.