Dealing with these pirates didn't take Duanmu Huai much time.
After all, whether it was him or the Night Sentinels, their main enemies were Chaos and daemons. Against this kind of ragtag, broken-down third-rate space pirates, victory was guaranteed with a single strike. Even the pirates that had boarded the merchant ship were slaughtered mercilessly by the Night Sentinels.
Duanmu Huai interrogated the trembling pirate leader, who was so frightened he nearly wet himself, and discovered something rather pathetic. Just like the run-down corridors he'd seen earlier, the pirates were utterly impoverished. This Grail-class cruiser was probably the most valuable possession they had.
In addition, they had imprisoned a number of abducted slaves from various planets — mostly humans, with a few alien species. According to the pirate leader, the only reason they attacked the merchant ship was to seize its cargo and food — their rations weren't even enough to feed the crew.
It was clear these pirates lived in misery.
Sending two Night Sentinels and the pirate leader to inspect the cargo and captives, Duanmu Huai sat down with a sigh. These pirates were such a disappointment. In his view, there was no challenge at all. If it had been some Dark Eldar, now that would have been more fun…
"Sir."
At that moment, a Night Sentinel entered, bowed respectfully, and said,
"The captain of the Risk Assessor wishes to see you."
"See me? Very well."
Duanmu Huai nodded. Soon after, a burly man in a fur coat stepped in. He wore a beaver-fur hat, sported a handlebar mustache, and looked every bit the shrewd and capable merchant. But when his eyes fell on Duanmu Huai seated in the command chair, he froze, his face turning pale. Hastily, he removed his hat, pressed it to his chest, and bowed.
"It is an honor to meet you, great Inquisitor. I am Dardaniel Solas, captain of the Risk Assessor. I thank you and your men for saving us from peril. Had you not come, I fear this time we would have—"
"That's enough. Spare me the formalities."
Duanmu Huai waved his hand.
"Let's talk business instead."
"Business…?"
"That's right."
He nodded.
"I can sell you this warship. In exchange, you need only give me some cargo."
After inspecting the interior, Duanmu Huai was completely disappointed in the Grail-class. Only a tenth of its weapons functioned, even the void shield generator was broken, and most of its systems were ancient and unreliable. It was a textbook case of looking impressive on the outside while rotten within. It would be less effort to build a new ship at his own void dock.
"You don't intend to keep this vessel?"
Dardaniel was clearly surprised. Though he knew the ship was in poor shape, in this age any starship was a priceless treasure. With the fall of the Imperium, places capable of building large warships had become scarce. Even a hull barely able to fly was worth its weight in gold to any void merchant.
"No."
Duanmu Huai had no need. He could build his own. Why waste time?
"Then… what kind of cargo do you want?"
"Something interesting, rare, mysterious. As long as I'm satisfied, that's enough."
Duanmu Huai narrowed his eyes, studying him. This was exactly why he agreed to meet Dardaniel and propose a trade. Traveling merchants often carried strange items, sometimes even relics. A few such relics, converted into [Construction Points], would be far more valuable than a Grail-class ship.
Not to mention, many relics were immensely useful. His current gravity gauntlet was one such treasure. For players, a good relic could remain relevant for multiple expansions.
As for whether the captain would agree, Duanmu Huai wasn't concerned. Most relics could only be wielded by Inquisitors, Space Marines, or psykers. His [Thunder Warhammer], for instance — something he swung one-handed in battle — would be impossible for an ordinary man to even lift with four hands.
In ordinary hands, such things were either kept locked away as heirlooms or worshiped as symbols of faith. Well… assuming they weren't relics of heretic warbands or Chaos gods. Otherwise, loyalty issues would have to be addressed.
And in that case, pirates might not be the greater threat compared to Duanmu Huai himself.
"This…"
Dardaniel hesitated but soon nodded.
"Very well, my lord. Please wait a moment."
He bowed again and left.
Meanwhile, the pirate leader, under the escort of two Night Sentinels, was brought back in chains, dejected. One Sentinel handed Duanmu Huai a list.
"These are all the captives?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Hmm…"
He glanced over the parchment, written in Low Gothic. Most were humans, the rest were weak aliens barely stronger than Ogryns. But then…
"Huh?"
Duanmu Huai's eyes narrowed at a particular entry.
"A psyker?"
He looked up sharply at the pirate leader.
"You actually captured a psyker? Where is this person?"
Frankly, he doubted they had the ability. In most worlds, psykers were akin to superpowered beings or sorcerers. For such scum to capture one? What were they, Custodians or Sisters of Silence?
"M-mercy, my lord!!"
The pirate collapsed in terror.
"We don't know for sure if it's really a psyker! We just heard that family had them for generations, so we grabbed the brat… and the child does have strange powers…"
"Where is this person?"
"Uh… right beside your chair, my lord…"
"What?"
Duanmu Huai turned, noticing at last a small, frail figure curled in the shadows beside his chair, unconscious — likely overwhelmed by his Aura of Terror earlier.
"Oh, come on…"
He picked the child up like a kitten, examining them. It was a scrawny child, filthy and ragged, wearing nothing but a dirty cloth. An iron chain was fastened around their neck like a pet's collar, their eyes covered with a strip of white cloth. Skin and bones, utterly pitiful.
But what caught Duanmu Huai's attention was the information floating above their head.
[Astropath (LV20) – Rare]
An Astropath?!
He blinked in surprise.
This was truly rare. Astropaths were essentially human signal relays for warships. In the Imperium, each vessel had one, tasked with condensing their thoughts and transmitting them through the Warp to another Astropath. That was how long-distance communication had once been carried out — a kind of psychic telepathy spanning the stars.
But now, such methods were mostly obsolete. Astropaths were vulnerable to Warp corruption — one moment they could be sending a message, the next, listening to a Chaos god whisper. And their transmissions were notoriously unreliable. Like the famous "telephone game," even a simple chain of whispers among mortals produced errors. Spanning galaxies, a message's accuracy was anybody's guess.
Still, this didn't make Astropaths useless to players.
They could sense signals from the Warp, and since the Warp lacked any concept of time, the messages could originate from centuries in the past or future.
In other words, Astropathic messages were always either late or early. As for arriving exactly on time… best pray to the Emperor.
Assuming He's still alive, that is.
But for players, this was valuable. Astropaths were perfect for exploring derelicts or death worlds. And players loved grave-robbing and ruin-delving more than anything.
As a Soulwalker, Duanmu Huai himself needed an Astropath's guidance. Searching ruins and soul cards would be far easier.
What an unexpected treasure.
He never imagined he'd find such a prize among third-rate pirates. It was already a great harvest. But then, when Dardaniel returned, he brought equipment that left Duanmu Huai even more surprised.
There were three items: a chainsword, a crimson power fist stained as if with blood, and a plasma pistol.
And none of them were ordinary.
[Death to Xenos]
[Crimson Fist]
[Left Hand of Justice]
"Hss…"
Duanmu Huai sucked in a sharp breath. These relics were well-known among players.
[Death to Xenos], the chainsword, specialized in slaying aliens and daemons, a supreme weapon against such foes. [Crimson Fist] was Terminator wargear, its power immense. Rumor said that with each kill, its energy field grew ever redder — as if stained by the enemy's blood.
Naturally, players suspected it might be tied to the Blood God.
As for [Left Hand of Justice], the plasma pistol's raw power wasn't exceptional, but it had a unique trait: the Tech-priest who forged it had performed precise prayers over its cooling and reliability systems. As a result, it almost never overheated or broke.
Players even joked about it as "the righteous plasma gun that never overheats."
Duanmu Huai stared at Dardaniel with suspicion.
Could your ancestors have ties to those thieving Blood Ravens?
(End of Chapter)