The Blacksmith Association had once again received a specific request for Ignis to forge a fine blade. The client was very generous with payment, but the requirements were quite demanding.
They wanted a hunting knife made using a five-layer composite construction: two pieces of twisted Damascus steel combined with three pieces of finished steel. Furthermore, the handle and sheath must be made of deer antler and feature intricate carvings inlaid with silver.
If not for Ignis's Fire-Sight and exceptional muscle control, this order would be a nightmare to fulfill. The client also demands completion within a week, promising prompt payment upon delivery.
However, while the request is urgent, the offered price is certainly not low.
It's been a long time since he received such a large order, and combined with his own unsettled state of mind, Ignis actually failed during the water quenching process this time. Delamination appeared on the blade; the steels failed to fuse together properly.
Fortunately, he started over quickly, stacking the steel billets to create the Damascus steel. By handling the process with even greater care this time, Ignis finally succeeded. When the blade was immersed in acid, a beautiful, flawless pattern was revealed.
Deer antler was an uncommon material for knife handles and sheaths. It requires frequent oiling and maintenance; otherwise, it easily cracks and warps. It's also prone to deformation and breakage during processing. Only by carefully sanding away the surface layer and reapplying color can its unique luster be revealed.
Ignis guessed that something this troublesome definitely wasn't meant for a practical tool. It was most likely destined to be a beautiful display piece in some wealthy household.
But that had nothing to do with Ignis. His only concern was ensuring the finished product met the client's specified requirements exactly.
By the time he completed the silver inlays, it was already dark. Ignis contacted the Blacksmith Association via his phone, confirmed someone was on duty, and then headed out to take the metro there. He needed money recently; the general design for his motorcycle was complete, all that was left was the funding to solve the next step of the manufacturing process.
It would be best if Markus could handle the custom manufacturing. If not, he'd have to build it himself. While he wasn't as proficient in machinery as his brothers of the Iron Hands, he could still fabricate the frame for an internal combustion motorcycle. It might just lack somewhat in aesthetics, but that wasn't a real problem. If necessary, he could always add metal reliefs; And Ignis was quite skilled in that art form.
The Blacksmith Association receptionist was utterly astonished. This giant smith had completed such a complex blade in just a single day. And the quality was exceptionally high, perfectly fulfilling every single one of the client's demands. Using twisted Damascus steel in a five-layer composite process... even if the legendary master smiths of the Blacksmith Association were to attempt it personally, it would still take them a considerable amount of time to achieve perfection.
Mission accomplished, Ignis was in a rare mood to stroll around outside for a while. He went to a nearby night market to look around and discovered that the food here was quite similar to what he knew before his service to the Emperor. Though predominantly Western-style, he could still see classic street food stalls: barbecue, skewers, marinated dishes, and the like.
In his good mood, Ignis simply bought some food from these small stalls, one to support local businesses and to scout the market for Vesmir and the others.
Then he realized that a significant number of the food stalls in New Eridu used pre-made products. Thinking about it, it made sense; the technology here wasn't backward. The prevalence of pre-made products was likely about saving the time people spent on meals.
Although New Eridu's labor regulations demanded reduced overtime, well... the rise of pre-made products was almost inevitable.
But the difference in taste between pre-made products and truly handcrafted meals was still vast, especially for a Space Marine with exceptionally sensitive taste buds.
When he emerged from the metro station, it was already deep into the night. Apart from the sound of machinery operating in a few nearby small factories, almost no other sounds could be heard. With his Space Marine enhanced hearing, he could pick up on some people's anticipation for a newly opened breakfast stall, causing a slight, involuntary upturn at the corner of Ignis's mouth.
After turning a corner, Ignis saw Nekomata. The small cat-girl, swinging her two tails, was crouched under a streetlight, teasing a stray cat. Ignis pulled out his phone and checked the time; it was past midnight. Normally, Nekomata should already be asleep by this hour. Wasn't her usual time for feeding her 'little siblings' around eight or nine o'clock? Why was she out so late today?
And shouldn't she be surrounded by a whole crowd of cats? Why was there only one? And why did that cat seem somewhat... reluctant?
Ignis hadn't deliberately suppressed the sound of his footsteps. Nekomata's ears swiveled first, followed by her head.
"You're only coming back now?" She patted the cat fur off her clothes and swayed left and right as she walked towards Ignis. When she got within a few steps, Nekomata sniffed the air. "You went to eat good food alone? And didn't bring anything back for us?"
There should be prepared food ready to eat in the fridge at all times. What's strange about Nekomata today?
Before he could process it, the small cat-girl grabbed Ignis's right hand and pulled it, pressing it against her small chest.
Almost simultaneously with her action, Ignis's left hand reached behind his back, grabbed his shotgun, and with a horizontal flick, racked the slide. In that split second, it was already pressed against Nekomata's head, and he pulled the trigger.
A gunshot shattered the quiet night. The dragon's breath round, carrying searing flames, blasted Nekomata's head apart and set it ablaze. The smell of burnt meat and blood filled the air.
Nekomiya Mana's headless body fell to the ground with a soft thud.
But Ignis did not stop there. Switching the shotgun to his right hand, he continuously racked and fired. In mere seconds, successive gunshots, erupting muzzle flashes, and pellets imbued with ether fuel tore into the small, 1.42-meter-tall body, ultimately reducing Nekomata to carbonized remains.
Ignis gasped for breath, cold sweat streaming down his face in rivulets, his gun hand trembling slightly. He tried to keep firing, but only the sound of the firing pin striking empty echoed. Ignis immediately grabbed shells from his belt, feeding them into the chamber. His hands shook somewhat; the first shell took a bit of effort to load.
It wasn't that Ignis felt offended by Nekomata's actions. It was because the moment Nekomata grabbed his hand, the golden handprint on his face burned as if on fire.
Whatever was clinging to his hand, it wasn't anything good. Definitely not.
Even after his sustained barrage shattered Nekomata's corpse, the burning sensation on his face hadn't diminished in the slightest. Ignis immediately shouldered his weapon and began scanning his surroundings. The enemy was hiding somewhere, undoubtedly targeting him.
Clap. Clap. Clap. He heard a series of applause from behind him. Ignis immediately turned and fired towards the source of the sound.
The dragon's breath round fired again, the burning pellets briefly illuminating the figure of his assailant.
It was a creature, male on the left and female on the right, somewhat shorter than him. Its skin was a pinkish-purple, scaled, with curled ram's horns and a long, snake-like tongue flicking out. Its face was adorned with a strange, mask-like decoration covering only the eye on the female half. It had four arms: two had transformed into pincer-like claws, resembling those of a crab or scorpion, while the other two remained normal human hands. It wore a diaphanous skirt covering its waist and hips. On its chest, a metal bra, engraved with blasphemous symbols of the Chaos Gods, covered only half. Its two legs, clad in silk stockings, ended in hooves at the ankles, but these hooves had slender, high-heel-like protrusions, resembling some bizarre form of high-heeled shoe.
It was that Slaaneshi Daemonette, the one that had once infiltrated his dreams, now appearing before him in the flesh.
"Oh, what a heartless, ungrateful man," it emitted a sigh in an exceptionally soft and beautiful female voice. "As the saying goes, 'one day as husband and wife means endless devotion all your life.' We did, after all, share a bed once. Yet you strike with such cruelty. Space Marines truly are monsters without blood or tears."
"They don't even have functioning balls anymore, of course they can't be considered human," a second, sharp, grating male voice, like a dwarf from a play, chimed in. "Just the Corpse-Emperor's tin can toy soldiers."
Ignis ignored its prattling. He worked the lever, ejecting a spent shell, racked a new one, and fired at it again.
After the gunshot, the target fell. But the body lying in the pool of blood wasn't the Herald of Slaanesh; it was Anby. The pale-haired girl's face was full of disbelief. She touched the gaping hole blown in her torso, looked at the burning wound, and, in her shock, closed her eyes.
"My, not even sparing your own comrade?" the female voice mocked, the sound now coming from the left. "The fires of vengeance are truly unbearable."
Ignis turned and fired again.
This time, it was Belle who fell. She did not die peacefully; the dragon's breath round shredded her lungs, and she slowly suffocated in agony.
"This time it's the guide," the screeching, blackboard-scratching male voice rang out again, accompanied by a few strange laughs. "She saved you from peril several times! Heartless, ungrateful man! Heartless and ungrateful!"
The next gunshot's victim was Qingyi. The large Intelligent Construct's mechanical body was torn to shreds by the shotgun blast, internal wiring and coolant exposed, limbs shattered. The dragon's breath fuel ignited her body, flames slowly consuming her inorganic eyes.
"Oh, it's that robot. Didn't you think she was quite cute?" This time it was the affected female voice again. "What a ruthless hand, without a moment's hesitation."
Boom! The gun flashed again. The figure falling before him was now Jane Doe, wearing the same outfit she had on during their previous fishing trip. The rogue woman's head was completely blown off. If not for her long tail still twitching faintly, it would be hard to connect the remains to Jane Doe.
"She asked you out three times. Why didn't you ask her out even once? Such a fickle man. Did you ever consider that she might have been waiting for you to ask her out?"
This time, Ignis's finger on the trigger hesitated slightly, but he still pulled it.
This time it was Nicole. The cunning hare was utterly shattered by the shotgun blast. She fell onto her back, her impressive figure becoming a burning torch.
"She took you in, gave you a home, and you gun her down without a second thought. Oh, such a good soldier for the Corpse on the Golden Throne. Dutiful and devoted. Devoid of blood and tears. Hahahahaha!" The female voice lamented, condemning Ignis's actions.
"Will you kill this one?" the male voice shrieked in excitement. Ignis felt his eardrums were about to burst.
He turned, the gun barrel pressed against a soft form.
A tanned girl, the only cloth on her body being the gloves and stockings covering her arms and long legs. Below the fake collar on her neck, the fading marks of strangulation were still visible.
Iori!
Ignis's pupils dilated. His breath caught.
The girl's neck twisted a full rotation, lying tilted on her shoulder. Her lifeless eyes suddenly sprang to life, staring fixedly at Ignis.
His heart skipped a beat, then began to pound violently. Blazing fire rose from his chest. His brain was completely incapable of any further thought. The only idea was to find where the damned Slaaneshi thing was hiding. He would tear open the chest of this Chaos God's lackey and see if its twisted, androgynous heart could still beat after being set ablaze.
"Mr. Ignis... it hurts..."
Iori's words sent a shock through Ignis's body. His fingers trembled, unable to pull the trigger.
"Tsk, tsk, feeling soft for her, are we?" the female voice cooed. "You like this type? It's fine. Just willingly embrace the Prince of Pleasure. In the halls of excess, she can be with you forever."
As the Herald of Slaanesh's words rang out, Ignis closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
Iori was already dead. Her soul was taken by the Emperor.
Such cheap tricks pushed Ignis's rage to its absolute peak. The psychic power granted by the Emperor began to manifest, coating his entire body in a thin film of golden light.
"Come now," the Herald of Slaanesh purred, "The Dark Prince craves your soul. He will grant you every pleasure the world has to offer. Whatever kind of girl you like, whatever art you appreciate, all will be satisfied. Countless people will covet your works, countless will admire your art. Multitudes await your arrival, eager to befriend you."
The Herald of Slaanesh finally manifested its true form. Strutting on cat-like feet, surrounded by a hazy pink-purple mist and an indescribable fragrance, it walked to stand opposite Ignis.
It reached out a hand, attempting to touch Ignis's cheek.
"The Prince of Pleasure promises you, should you willingly enter his embrace, everything you desire shall be yours. Those girls were all wonderful, weren't they? Don't you yearn to hold them? Kiss them and step together behind the curtains?" the gentle female voice cooed. "That little cat was quite delectable, no? Don't you want to hold her properly, enjoy her body after a deep kiss?"
Its answer was only Ignis's wrath, and the shell that accompanied the gunshot.
The burning pellet was also wrapped in the Emperor's sacred light.
The Slaaneshi Daemonette tried to evade. Normally, with its speed, such crude kinetic weapons couldn't possibly harm it. But once tainted by the power of the Corpse on the Golden Throne, they could indeed injure it.
The golden psychic energy scorched its form. The Herald of Slaanesh let out a terrible shriek; it felt its very soul tremble, almost being banished from this world.
It saw the black giant draw a combat knife and a hammer from beneath his suit, charging forward with murderous intent. The agony of its soul burning made it nearly impossible to control its body, barely managing to dodge the initial attack.
Ignis saw the Herald of Slaanesh dodge and immediately launched a relentless series of follow-up strikes. His rage burned with a cold intensity. The Emperor had blessed him; today, this daemon would be destroyed, banished, here and now.
The knife and warhammer in his hands shone with a dazzling golden light. Ignis's eyes burned with crimson fury.
The Son of Vulkan fought with both hands, the combat knife and iron hammer striking in rapid succession. His speed was so great that even the famously agile Slaaneshi daemon struggled to parry, acquiring several new wounds from the combat knife.
The Herald of Slaanesh attempted to counterattack with its pincer claws. But the Son of Vulkan's skin was under the Emperor's protection. Even though its claws could normally tear through power armor with ease, today they were utterly useless.
Fear entered the daemon's thoughts for the first time. It had witnessed countless enemies, tempted innumerable souls into the Prince of Pleasure's embrace. But one like this, so highly regarded by its master that it was sent to this place lacking in Warp energy just to claim his soul, was a first.
If it failed in its mission, it couldn't imagine the tortures its master, the Prince of Pleasure Slaanesh, had in store for it.
But now, its opponent was clearly blessed by the Corpse-Emperor on his Golden Throne. It was no match for him in this state. A strategic retreat was preferable.
Ignis raised his warhammer and brought it down hard towards the creature's head.
The expected scene of a shattered skull and splattering brains did not materialize. Instead, there was only the sound of shattering glass. Ignis looked up. The surrounding scenery wavered, then shattered and fell away like glass.
The mutilated bodies on the ground–Nekomata, Anby, Qingyi, Jane Doe, Nicole, and Iori – all vanished without a trace.
So it was an illusion laid by Slaanesh? That damned daemon had prepared a trap for him without his knowledge. Ignis was grateful the daemon had provoked his anger; the intense emotion had allowed the Emperor's blessing to manifest manifold. Otherwise, he truly didn't know how he would have escaped.
Emperor, guide me. Guide me to find these monsters. Khorne, Slaanesh, it matters not. They shall be driven out. They shall be exterminated.
Looking at the once-again quiet streets around him, Ignis patted his own face and picked up the spent shell casings from the ground. He didn't want to leave any evidence for the Public Security Bureau, but the bullet holes in the ground and surrounding walls were another matter.
Ignis sighed and began walking in the direction of home.
He saw Nekomata at the door. She waved at Ignis, then turned and went inside.
Yes. This was how Nekomata, the adopted stray cat, should behave. That overly clingy version was clearly wrong.