Chapter 54: A Perfect Plan Ruined at Its Inception

The Tzeentchian cultist, beholding the towering giant amidst the throng, felt the vulture-like head sprouting from his nape snap upright, emitting a shrill cry of exhilaration. In that instant, a cacophony of a thousand voices erupted within his mind.

"Unleash your flames! Incinerate him to ashes!"

"Swiftly! Release the inferno and melt him!"

"…and more!"

The cultist's azure eyes blazed with fervor, and searing flames, radiant as las-beams, lanced toward Nimrod.

The gene-forged Primarch took a great stride to the left-front, planting his foot firmly before pivoting to the right-front in a fluid motion.

The blue flames, akin to a fire-hose's torrent, pursued Nimrod's zigzag advance with relentless precision.

The Tzeentchian cultist paid no heed to the demise of his mutant minions. Hundreds, nay, thousands of mutants were engulfed by the azure conflagration, their agonized screams echoing as they perished in torment.

The vulture-head screeched once more, its sharp beak viciously pecking at the cultist's bald scalp.

"Argh!"

The cultist unleashed a cry laced with pain, yet interwoven with notes of delight and perverse revelry.

A crackling sound resounded in his skull as another vulture-head sprouted, far shorter than the one at his nape.

With another piercing cry, the cultist's beak, the nape-beak, and the cranial beak opened in unison.

Three torrents of pink flame converged, weaving a vast net in the air, ensnaring the giant who had leapt skyward.

Nimrod's pupils contracted, his "Warp Insight" revealing a truth imperceptible to mortal eyes.

He discerned that the flame from the nape-beak was the deepest magenta, positioned highest.

The torrent from the cranial beak, a pale pink, streamed from the lower left.

The flame from the mouth-beak, a vivid pink, surged from the lower right.

At their confluence, the three fiery streams spiraled and fused into a singular maelstrom.

Abruptly, Nimrod opened his maw, unleashing a thunderous roar that shook the heavens.

Within a hundred meters, dozens of mutants staggered and collapsed under the sonic assault.

Jorginho's Sixth Regiment, positioned farthest, felt the roar's oppressive reverberation dull their ears.

Marlena swayed briefly before regaining her composure. She spied a Sixth Regiment warrior, charging into the mutant horde, freeze in a stupor from Nimrod's roar, only to be struck on the shoulder by a mutant's blade.

With a flick of her hand, Marlena unleashed a surge of bio-psychic energy toward the warrior.

His shoulder mended at a visible rate, and with a furious bellow, he swung his sword, cleaving the dazed mutant asunder.

Marlena advanced swiftly, then paused in astonishment. The noble named Zalewski had already recovered from the roar's effect and was charging toward the battlefield where Nimrod clashed with the enemy.

She thought to herself: [*His willpower is so formidable? Only slightly inferior to mine!*]

Dismissing her puzzlement for the moment, Marlena turned her gaze to Nimrod, soaring through the air.

The gene-forged Primarch, adhering to the sixteenth tenet of "Osberh-Vaya," swung his heavy halberd with precision, each strike targeting the nexus where the three flames intertwined.

A resounding explosion erupted, the halberd's terrifying force shattering the equilibrium of the pink inferno.

Scattered droplets of pink flame fell like a cascade of fireworks.

Before the Tzeentchian cultist could react, Nimrod materialized before him.

The Primarch's hand shot out, seizing the neck of the cranial vulture-head, and with a mighty heave, hurled the cultist earthward.

The Tzeentchian spun like a windmill, crashing into the ground with bone-shattering force.

As he struggled to rise, a figure darted to his side.

Zalewski, power sword raised, brought its blazing blade down upon the cultist.

The cultist's vibrant feathers were incinerated by the sword's disruption field, prompting another ear-piercing screech.

The ruination of the radiant plumage, a gift from the God of Wisdom, kindled his fury. The nape-beak opened wide, spewing a torrent of blue flame in wrathful retribution.

The inferno surged toward Zalewski's face. He rolled desperately to evade, but too slowly—the blue flames bore down on his eyes, striking his frameless gold-rimmed spectacles.

A crackling sound rang out as fissures spiderwebbed across the lenses.

"High Priest!"

The Tzeentchian cultist cried out in disbelief, questioning his own senses.

The High Priest, Zalewski, reeled in shock, inwardly cursing: [I had infiltrated Nimrod's inner circle, the target designated by my lord.

Had you cooperated and died by my blade, I would have earned his trust, advancing my plan.

You incompetent fool, you've ruined my perfect scheme!]

Zalewski's eyes brimmed with conflicted torment. His left hand relinquished the ballistic shield, hesitating whether to risk all.

Lifting his left arm, he suddenly noticed his hand morphing into a claw, his spine beginning to contort, and his face itching as it twisted unnaturally.

The Tzeentchian cultist sighed inwardly, realizing the spectacles—guided to him by the God of Wisdom—were damaged, exposing his true nature.

He prepared to invoke "Teleportation" to escape, but at that moment, a bolt of lightning struck his arm, paralyzing him.

In the air, Nimrod, poised to unleash "Wailing," saw his eyes gleam with approval.

Marlena's reaction was astonishingly swift, launching a lightning strike the instant the cultist was unmasked.

[Remarkable. As a bio-psychic, she's more attuned to mutations than other psykers, but to detect it so swiftly suggests prior suspicion.

Astute and rapid!]

As Nimrod praised her inwardly, he descended upon the cultist's head, his halberd swinging toward the skull.

The paralyzed Tzeentchian, sensing the gust above, glared at his subordinate, destroyed by the disruption field, and spat venomously:

"You… wretched fool… my perfect… plan, just begun… ruined by you!"

With the final word, the High Priest felt control return, but he knew it was too late.

Nimrod's halberd crashed upon his head, extinguishing his nascent scheme.

Surveying the corpses of the two Tzeentchian cultists, Nimrod mused:

[Tzeentch's devotees are indeed cunning, plotting to infiltrate my ranks by sacrificing a subordinate, only to be undone by that same unwitting pawn. A darkly ironic drama.

Though I sensed Zalewski's oddity, I couldn't confirm his treachery. He might have possessed some unique talent.

Had his scheme not been thwarted by another Tzeentchian's blunder, it could have posed a genuine threat.]

Nimrod offered his silent assessment, then turned to Marlena, approaching, with commendation:

"A decisive strike. Well done!"

The purge of the Kemerovo Hive endured for a full shift.

To Nimrod's mild disappointment, the royal spire had been razed by the frenzied Tzeentchian's flames, wasting the hoarded potion ingredients.

Yet, reflecting on the serendipitous exposure of a lurking traitor, he found solace.

Nimrod proceeded to compound a "Sailor" potion, summoning Jorginho to elevate him to Beyonder status before issuing orders:

"Remain in Kemerovo. Eradicate the mutants, restore hive order, and reinforce the Sixth Regiment."

Thereafter, Nimrod departed Kemerovo with Marlena, Rosicky, and others, rendezvousing with Thierry.

He immediately advanced toward the Omsk Hive, home of Altar Four.

In the Omsk Hive, Maria addressed her two assassin companions:

"Through interrogation of abducted nobles and careful observation, it is confirmed: King Mordel is naught but a reckless brute."