The moment the rosette smashed into the crystal fissure, there was no explosion.
Only an extremely sharp screech, like fingernails scraping violently across a blackboard.
That was not sound. It was a vibration that drilled directly into the brain matter.
The amethyst core burst like a stomped eyeball, thick purple pulp splattering out, drenching the sacred Inquisition emblem and emitting a sizzling, corrosive sound.
Cyril felt the rosette in his hand burn like a red-hot branding iron, but he did not let go. Instead, he pressed that emblem in another half inch with even more force.
"Run!"
He roared. This time, he did not use any disguised voice, simply shouting at the top of his lungs.
Lil Mouse had long been scared stiff. Hearing this roar, he jolted as if electrocuted. Carrying his emaciated brother on his back, he plunged headfirst into the drainage outlet full of black slime.
Cyril turned and ran.
Behind him came the crisp sound of shattering glass as dozens of cultivation tanks burst simultaneously.
The green nutrient fluid mixed with purple psychic sparks instantly ignited those dozens of half-dead experimental subjects into human torches.
They no longer convulsed or moaned. In this final destruction, they let out a unified, maniacal laughter.
It was the final madness before their souls were utterly shattered by the power of Slaanesh.
"Deceiver—!"
A roar full of electrical static pierced through the sea of fire.
The blast door had not fully opened yet, but the Rust Sage, disregarding everything, used his servo-arm to tear open the half-inch-thick steel plate and forcefully squeezed in.
What he saw was hell.
His "Ascension Sanctuary," the product of three years of painstaking effort and countless resources, was now nothing but a sea of purple ruins.
And that "Mr. Valdo" standing on the altar, who had just destroyed everything he had.
Cyril did not look back at him. His feet slipped, and he lunged toward the drainage outlet, scrambling inside using both hands and feet.
"Kill him! Full firepower saturation!"
The reactor in the Sage's chest shone blindingly bright. The six mechanical tentacles on his back flailed wildly like mad. All weapon systems unlocked at this moment.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Heavy bolter rounds swept over the altar like a torrential downpour, pulverizing those sacred skulls into dust.
Cyril had just thrust half his body into the pipe when several stray rounds shaved off a chunk of rubber from his heel.
"Ah—!"
A scream came from not far away.
One-Eyed Jack was sent flying by the shockwave, crashing into a load-bearing column like a dirty rag.
A broken steel reinforcement bar pierced through his chest, pinning him dead to the column.
His single eye was still rolling, fixed intently on the direction where Cyril had disappeared. Bloody foam bubbled from his mouth. "Bastard... Valdo... Even as a demon... I won't let you go..."
BOOM!
An even larger shockwave arrived.
The amethyst completely disintegrated. The Warp energy, now unrestrained, began indiscriminately devouring the surrounding matter.
Half of the Rust Sage's body began to melt in the purple flames.
It was not melting from high temperature, but mutating at the material level.
His mechanical arm turned into a limp, fleshy sausage. His steel mask grew teeth. The red sensor became a bloodshot human eye.
"No... no!"
Watching his once-proud mechanical body degenerate into ugly flesh in the chaos, the Sage let out a despairing howl.
He suddenly stopped firing.
That newly grown human eye stared fixedly at the black drainage outlet. There was no anger in its gaze, only a bone-chilling clarity.
It was a final rally before death.
"Valdo..."
The Sage's voice traveled into the pipe, carrying a venomous prophecy.
"You don't know... whose offering you destroyed..."
"She will find you... that purple hand... She is above... in the Upper Nest..."
The voice cut off abruptly.
Purple flames engulfed the Sage, transforming him into a twisted, indescribable mass of flesh.
Cyril desperately crawled forward inside the pipe.
Behind him was scorching heat and deafening sounds of collapse.
The pipe was extremely narrow, its walls coated in sticky, greasy sludge. Every movement required overcoming immense resistance.
Lil Mouse dragged his brother ahead, his cries and shouts mixing with the rumbling, hard to make out.
"Don't stop! Try stopping if you want to become roast meat!"
Cyril kicked the sole of Lil Mouse's shoe.
A tongue of purple flame licked into the pipe opening, grazing the bottom of Cyril's foot.
The sensation was not like a burn, more like countless tiny needle points stabbing into his nerves.
Like parasites wriggling through intestines, the three struggled wretchedly in this sewage pipe for a full five minutes.
Until a faint glimmer of light appeared ahead.
It was an underground river in the Underhive, or rather, a massive open sewer.
Splash.
Splash.
Three figures tumbled out of the pipe mouth, landing heavily in waist-deep filthy water.
The icy, bone-chilling dirty water instantly submerged their heads, also cutting off the destructive explosion behind them.
Cyril struggled to surface, wiped the sludge from his face, and took deep breaths of the foul, rotting air.
He had never found this stench so comforting.
The rock layer above their heads was still shaking. Stones occasionally fell into the water, splashing black spray.
The Iron Crow Gang's lair, that sinful "Ascension Sanctuary," was finished.
Cyril dragged his heavy body ashore and lay flat on his back on a pile of moldy garbage.
His lungs ached as if burned by fire.
He felt his sleeve cuff.
The rosette was still there, but its surface was pitted and corroded. The "I" emblem representing the Inquisition had become blurred.
In that moment just now, he had truly felt the system's power.
That pure, domineering golden radiance, though just a visual effect, was the perfect catalyst for that unstable Slaaneshi crystal.
Was this the so-called "God-Emperor's protection"?
Cyril curled the corner of his mouth, revealing a row of white teeth in a soundless laugh.
This was clearly the victory of a master swindler.
"Sir... big brother..."
Lil Mouse collapsed not far away, clutching the unconscious boy tightly in his arms.
His whole body was trembling. It was impossible to tell tears from sewage on his face. His eyes, still full of terror, stared at the distant ventilation shaft still smoking.
"Are they... all dead?"
"Dead."
Cyril sat up, wanting to find a cigarette, but felt a soggy lump of pulped paper.
He casually threw away the useless wad, his gaze turning cold and hard.
"The Rust Sage, One-Eyed Jack, and that so-called Sanctuary all became history."
Lil Mouse opened his mouth as if to say something grateful, but his gaze fell on the brother in his arms, and his expression dimmed again.
The boy was quiet. Too quiet.
Although the wound on his back had stopped bleeding, the cavity left by the violently ripped-out interface gaped like a mouth that could never close.
"My brother... he has no feeling in his legs."
Lil Mouse pinched the boy's calf. No reaction. "And his hands... no feeling either."
Cyril looked at the boy.
The spinal nerves were not completely severed, but the brutal implantation and the even more brutal removal just now had caused irreversible damage.
In a place like the Underhive, this meant he was a cripple.
Even a burden.
There were no happy endings in 40k.
"He survived," Cyril said flatly, without a hint of sympathy. "That's already one in ten thousand luck."
"But..."
"No buts."
Cyril stood up, wringing out the filthy water dripping from the corner of his clothes.
"Severed nerves are severed nerves. There are no high-end cybernetic surgeons here who can reconnect them for him. He'll most likely spend his life lying down or being carried by someone."
Lil Mouse's face turned deathly pale, his arms tightening around his brother.
"But I... I can take care of him."
"Suit yourself."
Cyril did not spare another glance at the brothers.
His mind was full of the Rust Sage's final words.
"The purple hand."
"She is in the Upper Nest."
Cyril instinctively touched the spot on his chest where he kept the rosette.
The wound on the real Inquisitor's corpse was caused by purple psychic energy.
That dead Inquisitor, before dying, had also seen a hand painted with purple nail polish.