Chapter 32: A Shock from the Inquisition
"I am not satisfied with this answer."
The power of biomancy twisted every cell of the Drukhari Kabalite's body. At the same time, thick nerves like coiling serpents burst from his flesh, burrowing into the pre-drilled holes in his skull.
It was a form of torture that no living creature could endure. The neural signals of every cell in his body being minced were sent flooding into his brain through the proliferating nerves. With his mind forcibly kept awake, the victim's soul was made to savor this agony, magnified a thousand-fold.
"Your strategic dispositions, your objectives, and who sent you?" the Inquisitor asked, her eyes glinting. At the very moment the xenos's body should have collapsed, she expertly maintained the critical threshold and posed her questions.
"Aaargh... haaah—"
The pained wails lasted only a short time before morphing into a low gasp, one that seemed to contain a kind of ecstatic release.
"Little mon-keigh, the pain I have experienced is far greater than this. Ahh... this agony... your methods are far inferior to those of the Haemonculi. But it is... novel. By the standards of your monkey-world, I could perhaps give you a passing grade. Heh heh..."
The Kabalite warrior tilted his head. His neck, grotesquely swollen from the forced growth of nerve clusters, suddenly split open. The indescribable pain once again drew a moan of pleasure from the xenos, whose face was already a ruin.
The silver-robed Sisters of Battle who had just entered the room looked on with disgust, slightly raising the muzzles of their meltaguns.
"..."
Faced with this seemingly impervious xenos, the young Inquisitor found herself in a dilemma. She simply increased the output of her psychic power.
"Ahhh—yes, just like that! Let me feel the pain! Ahhh—I'm beginning to understand those cowards who play with necromancy. So, pain without bloodshed can be so... invigorating..."
Even as his entire body screamed under the strain, the Kabalite's soul seemed completely unaffected. He even managed to taunt his tormentor.
"..."
The Inquisitor silently increased the threshold again, causing the Kabalite's body to swell even further. Ichor oozed from his ruptured skin, flowing over the ornate skulls decorating his armor before bursting forth in a spray as his proliferating flesh was pierced by the armor's sharp edges.
SPLAT~
The mound of flesh, which could no longer be described as humanoid, began to twitch violently.
The Inquisitor reined in her psychic power once more.
"...I have something to say... come closer... I have something to say."
He suddenly began to whisper, his physically weakened state no longer able to support his boisterous roars.
The Inquisitor and the Black Templar Marshal exchanged a cautious glance before stepping forward.
"The questions I asked before. Answer me!" she commanded coldly. But the instant the words left her mouth, her senses, which were constantly monitoring the xenos's body, screamed a warning, compelling her to dodge.
She tilted her head slightly. A sliver of bone, sharpened into a deadly shiv, shot out from the Kabalite's throat, slicing off a few strands of her hair.
"I will find you, little monkey," the twisted, swollen body writhed, pressing against the golden strands of hair that had fallen to the deck. The Kabalite's eyes were fixed on the Inquisitor, as if trying to burn her face into his very soul.
STAB!
At that moment, a blade pierced through his head from behind.
And in the Inquisitor's eyes, the Drukhari's gaze, which had been full of contempt, finally filled with the color she had been waiting to see: despair.
"Wait!"
"?"
Arthur looked with confusion at the Inquisitor, who had ceased her psychic assault. His blade remained steady, embedded in the xenos's skull. But the moment the psychic support vanished, the creature's proliferating body began to collapse. The pile of minced flesh formed a small mound on the floor before being scooped up by a waiting sweeper-servitor.
"Another xenos has exhausted its usefulness," the Inquisitor remarked, casting a troubled glance at the swordsman who had intervened. She didn't understand why, even after she had pushed their nerves to the absolute limit, these xenos still refused to talk, even finding pleasure in it, only feeling fear at the moment of true death.
"That was the last one," her companion, a Black Templars Marshal who had been silently observing the xenos, stated coolly. The candles atop his pauldrons cast a warm, bright light, and the three golden studs on his forehead gleamed. In truth, there was another Drukhari imprisoned in a sealed iron box behind them, completely deprived of all five senses. But everyone knew that such an interrogation method would not yield quick results.
"Do you think the Drukhari we kill can be resurrected?" Arthur asked, turning his head to look at his three equally stunned companions. They had entered the Ark Mechanicus with the Carcharodons, led by Tyberos himself. Archmagos Cawl had designated this plaza as their meeting place, but he had yet to arrive. Instead, the moment they stepped off their shuttle, they had witnessed a classic M41-style interrogation of a Drukhari xenos.
And these Drukhari, true to their reputation as the race that birthed a Chaos God, were completely insane.
The four of them exchanged glances. The casual brutality of this universe was truly bizarre. Stereotypes confirmed and deepened.
"Consider the daemons who could multiply but were still permanently killed by us," Ramesses said, being the first to recover. "The part of them we kill is gone for good. The parts that didn't encounter us won't have any memory of that death."
"Right." Arthur nodded, flicking the tissue fluid from his blade.
"Was that supposed to be a show of force?" Karna asked, a little shaken.
"That would be a bit childish," Romulus mused, looking around. He spotted the sigil of the Kabal of the Flayed Skull on a fragment of armor. Hah, so it's a wealthy Kabal. No wonder even a basic warrior was so unafraid of death.
"My apologies," the Inquisitor said, addressing the various groups with their differing expressions. The rosette of the Inquisition hung from her neck, swinging as she bowed. Romulus could clearly see the reddish-brown stains on her collar.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Inquisitor Aglaia Hesiod of the Ordo Xenos, Ordos Calixis." She gestured to the iron box behind her. "As you can see, I am assisting the esteemed Black Templars in the interrogation of this xenos. Unfortunately, I am not a specialist in this particular species and have been unable to extract any useful intelligence."
Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and stood coolly at the back of the group.
"Then our meeting is quite fortuitous," Romulus immediately stepped forward to smooth things over. "I trust our arrival can assist you in resolving your difficulties. I am Romulus, Kill-team Leader of the Deathwatch."
"Thank you for your generous assistance." Aglaia breathed a sigh of relief. As expected, the Deathwatch were easy to deal with. At least they treated an Inquisitor with the proper respect.