"Over here, heretic scum!" a voice snarled through clenched teeth.
The shout drew the attention of David and the fat zombie.
The soldier from earlier was trembling as he raised his laser gun and aimed it at the creature.
While David had been fighting, the White Shield had been scrambling to hook the scattered laser gun.
Nice assist bro, David thought, and immediately fell back.
The fat zombie sensed danger and charged the White Shield with a roar.
The soldier didn't fire blindly; he knew his condition, so he waited silently as the monster closed in.
"Die!" he growled, squeezing the trigger with his last ounce of strength.
Blind fire ruined the laser gun's accuracy; the bolts flew wild.
At such close range, though, the spray was enough—several beams slammed into the fat zombie's body.
The sizzle of roasting fat was sickening; the creature howled and swayed.
In its final moment its glowing green eyes fixed on the dying White Shield, and its bloated body began to swell like a balloon.
It's going to explode!
At this distance David could definitely survive if he turned and ran.
But the soldier was inches from the fat zombie; he saw it too, and for an instant terror and longing flickered across his face.
The feeling was burned away a moment later, replaced by iron resolve.
"Grandfather, father, mother… I'm coming to join you on the Throne."
He clenched one fist, thumped it against his chest, and shouted with all his might.
"Cadia stands!"
As the word "stands" left his lips, a figure shot into view, sprinting straight toward him against the flow.
The soldier's pupils shrank in shock.
"Damn it—get out of here!" he yelled at David.
The next instant he saw something he would never forget.
Facing the rapidly swelling corpse, the newcomer simply pulled out… a cube?
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
Square blocks hit the ground, locking together perfectly, stacking layer upon layer.
In the blink of an eye a crude stone wall rose, forming a solid barricade.
The sight defied every law of nature; the soldier's mind went blank.
In the shadow of the wall only his ragged breathing and the calm breath of the man beside him could be heard.
Boom—the explosion thundered against the far side of the stone.
Shredded flesh splattered the wall and slid harmlessly to the ground.
The soldier stared at the calm profile beside him, a man who seemed to hold every variable in the palm of his hand.
That was close, David thought, facing the wall, cold sweat trickling down his back.
Good thing I'd dug up enough blocks underground, plus the hand-speed I trained in years of PVP—danger averted.
He turned to look at the soldier.
The boy's lips trembled as he forced a smile, but with his horrific infected wounds it looked grotesque.
Up close David saw how young he was—barely sixteen, fitting Cadia's policy of starting them young.
His pupils were violet, eerily similar to the Eye of Terror.
The interface showed twenty max hearts down to five, and a debuff labeled zombie plague—timer: 72 min.
Seventy-two minutes—probably the moment the plague fully converted him.
David felt a pang of regret; even if he wanted to save the boy, he lacked the means.
After all, this was NGG's handiwork; he was just a man…a block-man.
'Wait—maybe I do have a way, he realized, eyes lighting up.'
If zombie plague shows up as a debuff, then it's still a debuff.
Does that mean milk can clear it?
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it sounded—until cold water doused the idea.
Cows had long gone extinct in the Warhammer universe; where would he find one?
Seeing the strange man remain silent, the soldier glanced warily at the stone sword in David's hand.
A weird guy with a primitive weapon, yet his moves rivaled the Kasrkin.
Was that last trick the power of the Warp?
His mind was torn—this man had just saved his life.
But the veterans of Kasrkin had told stories.
Some Chaos daemons love to play savior: give hope, extract secrets, then torture their victims to death.
Instinctively the soldier edged closer to the laser gun on the ground.
"My name's David. What's yours?" he asked.
The reply was tight lips and guarded eyes.
You look wary, but your heart's already sold you out.
David saw through the rookie's act; the glowing discount in the trade window had given him away.
Villager (Weaponsmith – Novice)
15 Coal → 1 emerald
16 emeralds (was 21) → Iron sword [Fire Aspect]
But why a weaponsmith?
In Minecraft, a villager's job depends on its workstation; in Warhammer, what decides it?
David guessed it might be tied to personal experience.
He cleared his throat.
"Ever forged weapons before?"
The boy's face twitched; he quickly smothered the flicker of surprise David caught.
That was an opening.
David followed with casual questions—today's date, where they were.
The soldier opened his mouth, almost answering.
"Why are you here?"
The boy swallowed and spoke.
"Damned ship forced its way into Cadia's airspace without clearance, ignored every warning."
With the plague sweeping the sector, Command ordered it shot down."
"Under that barrage, we still managed a crash landing," he continued.
"Our squad was sent to sweep." His voice cracked as he glanced at the scattered limbs.
"Inside were infected zombies—slow, harmless—until something fast tore our line apart."
He clenched his teeth and weakly punched the ground.
When the boy's ragged breathing calmed, David tried a new topic.
"Know where I can find cows around here?""
"Cows?" The leap between questions left the White Shield blinking.
"Yeah—livestock that gives white, drinkable liquid with a milky smell."
"Never heard of it," the boy said, shaking his head.
Looking at the kid—too weak even to talk—David let it drop.
After checking the minimap for hostiles, he settled the soldier there, planted a torch as a marker, and headed for the blast site.