he group successfully located the Ecclesiarchy chapel in the Underhive. Their thod of searching was simple and crude; they simply grabbed any local Underhive resident they saw and asked: "Hey, neighbor, do you know where there's a shiny, eye-catching church around here?"
Upon seeing the "kind" Helldivers and the towering Claws of the Stars before them, these gentle Underhive folk hurriedly stopped in their tracks and enthusiastically pointed the way. Not a single person refused.
Following the directions, they soon arrived at a building that stood out starkly against the gloom of the Underhive. To call it "gold-shimring" was an exaggeration; its exterior walls were rely coated in crude gold paint, which had peeled away in many places to reveal the mottled brickwork beneath.
Nevertheless, in this realm of eternal twilight and despair, it remained the only place where one could feel a flicker of light and hope. The massive icons were stained by smoke and fire, yet they retained their solemnity.
When the church doors were pushed open, an old priest in coarse cloth robes, his face haggard but his eyes resolute, was kneeling before the altar in prayer. Hearing the commotion, he looked up. His body jerked violently when he saw the fully ard Claws of the Stars and the peculiar Helldivers.
In the next mont, he collapsed to his knees, tears erupting like a broken dam. His voice was choked with emotion: "Praise the Emperor! Praise the Emperor! My Lord, You have finally not abandoned Your lamb! The Emperor's rcy has finally descended!"
With tears and snot streaming down his face, he muttered prayers of thanks for the Emperor's guidance in sending these "Angels" to this forgotten corner.
The Helldivers had no ti for his sentintal display. Freeman directly stated their intent: "Father, we are here seeking help. A psychic sorcerer from a Tzeentch cult is causing chaos nearby. We need the power to eliminate him."
The old priest imdiately reined in his emotions, though the fanaticism in his eyes did not fade. He quickly replied: "Warriors of the Emperor, and you—the Emperor's ssengers! I will do everything in my power to help you! This is precisely the Emperor's will!"
He led the group through the church to a trapdoor hidden beneath the floorboards. Descending the dim stone steps, they entered a damp, cold basent.
In the center of the basent, a figure tightly bound by a large number of runic seals sat cross-legged on the floor. His eyes were tightly shut, his face etched with pain and struggle, yet he muttered a low, continuous chant. A strange sense of oppression filled the air, as if so invisible force was being forcibly restrained.
"Who—who is this?" the squad leader of the Claws of the Stars asked in a deep voice. He could feel the powerful psychic fluctuations emanating from the bound man.
The priest explained: "His na is Kalam. His psychic power is so imnse that it oppresses his cranial nerves, making it impossible for him to control. He unconsciously releases powerful psychic energy that warps reality and harms others. I have had to use my devout faith in the Emperor and so crude techniques to suppress this power."
He pointed to the yellowed seals and the simple runes carved on the floor. "Recently, the power of the seal has begun to fail. I have been deeply worried about this."
He looked toward the Space Marines and the Helldivers, his eyes gleaming with fanatical light. "But now it seems everything was under the Emperor's guidance! Your arrival is the Emperor's decree! The ti has co for this sealed one to show his loyalty to the Emperor!"
Hearing this, the Helldivers understood imdiately—wasn't this just a "Quest Item"?
"Take him!" Freeman ordered.
Several Helldivers stepped forward and carefully hoisted the bound Kalam. Although sealed, the man still radiated a palpable, surging power.
One player, responsible for carefully carrying the man, listened to the whispering and said with surprise: "He's reciting the Dictates of the Emperor."
This caused a flicker of respect to pass through the eyes of the Claws of the Stars. To possess such psychic power yet use faith to suppress it, even reciting the scriptures while unconscious—this was undoubtedly one of the Emperor's most devout servants. Now, their chances against the Tzeentch sorcerer had increased significantly.
Guided by the continuous recitation of the Dictates of the Emperor from the sealed psyker, the group reached their destination smoothly. Though Kalam's power was uncontrollable, his subconscious had an instinctive loathing and precise tracking for the foul stench of Tzeentch.
They moved through several narrow, dark passages until the view suddenly opened up into a massive underground plaza. It was no longer a scene of ruin but filled with a bizarre, twisted "splendor."
Symbols of the Tzeentch cult were everywhere—warped runes, shifting patterns, and most noticeably, countless blue feathers. They lay scattered on the ground like snowflakes, so even spinning slowly in the air, emitting a faint magical glow.
In the center of the plaza, atop a high platform hastily built by cultists, a Tzeentch sorcerer stood tall.
He wore a mask made of blue feathers, and his body was painted with various symbols. He was delivering an impassioned speech, his voice filled with unpredictable charm—at tis a low whisper, at others a high-pitched war song.
During his speech, he accompanied his words with psychic tricks—flickering runes appearing out of thin air, faint illusions floating in the sky, and material inducents like conjuring tempting food or shiny, cheap trinkets.
The Underhive residents watching the speech were stirred into a frenzy. Though they were ragged and haggard, under the influence of the sorcerer's words and psychic power, their eyes shimred with fanatical tears, as if they were seeing salvation and hope. The scene was far more magnificent and grand than the dilapidated church with its lone priest, and far more filled with the temptation of corruption.
"This should be the quest location, right?" Freeman whispered to his teammates, a hint of caution in his voice. With a scene this grand, he couldn't fail to feel the imnse danger within.
The Claws of the Stars squad leader didn't answer Freeman. Instead, he turned to the Helldiver carrying the sealed one and said: "Give him to ."
The Helldiver blinked. Though he felt the Space Marine's tone was sowhat cold, he complied, shifting his posture and carefully handing Kalam over. The sealed man seed to foresee his fate; his recitation of the Dictates of the Emperor grew faster and more urgent.
Without a second word, the mont the squad leader took hold of the sealed man, he imdiately hurled him toward the Tzeentch sorcerer on the high platform!
"Holy sh*t?!"
"Is this how this man is supposed to be used?!"
"He's a human being after all. Isn't 'use' a bit of a wrong word to describe this?"
As it turned out, the squad leader's thod was extrely effective. The sealed Kalam flew at incredible speed, accurately smashing right into the face of the orating Tzeentch sorcerer! The latter had almost no ti to react.
BOOM!!
A violent psychic explosion, accompanied by a shockwave of pure energy, erupted instantly! Blinding light swallowed the entire underground plaza, destroying everything. The shockwave expanded with the force of an avalanching sea, forcing the Helldivers to struggle to remain upright, while the Claws of the Stars stood motionless like statues.
When the piercing light faded, the scene before them was unrecognizable. The grand high platform had vanished. The plaza was covered in scorched ruins and shattered stone. The previously fanatical Underhive residents had been turned into a uniform paste of flesh sared across the ground; the sll of blood and char mixed into a nauseating stench. All traces of Tzeentch—the blue feathers and the runes—had been utterly destroyed.
The Tzeentch sorcerer, seemingly having instinctively used his psychic power at the final mont, still had one breath left. He was charred black, his body twisted, crawling on the ground and emitting faint moans. He was clearly at death's door, but his stubborn vitality kept him from passing just yet.
Freeman looked at the tragic scene and couldn't help but complain: "When it cos to not acting like a human, you guys are certainly more decisive." He thought to himself that if a Helldiver were forced to do this, they would at least hesitate for a mont.
The Claws of the Stars squad leader was about to step forward to deliver the final blow when Freeman stopped him.
"Let us do it," Freeman signaled the other players to follow. "In case this guy has so suicidal trump card or tries to pull so nonsense before he kicks the bucket."
The Space Marine nodded in agreent. Though the Helldivers' behavior was eccentric, their caution was comndable.
And so, the Helldivers stepped forward and thoroughly finished off the dying Tzeentch sorcerer, ensuring he would never pose a threat to anyone again.
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