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"I'll be back as soon as I can." Ignis patted the truck's driver-side door. "You need anything?"
"Eh, I would like to buy something." Billy sighed. "But Boss Nicole's docking my bonus this month, so forget it."
At Markus' invitation, Ignis had dragged Billy up early to drive him here. Gray Street's black market was the largest and most complete among all the black markets in New Eridu. Basically, if you wanted to get something less-than-legal, you could get it here. Some Hollow Raiders also sold the strange things they found in the Hollows.
On the way to Markus' shop, the Salamander saw quite a few interesting items—like an all-in-one old-style CRT computer. No idea if it could still boot, but the retro factor alone would fetch a good price. Who knew—maybe somewhere in a Hollow of this world, an IBM 5100 was still lying around, waiting for this world's John Titor.
But more than John Titor, Ignis was concerned about his autocannon. After the barrel blew open, he'd inspected the receiver himself. The internals weren't too bad, but the area around the firing pin had suffered heat damage from extreme temperatures. It could still fire, but next time the explosion wouldn't stop at the barrel—the whole thing would go to pieces.
He'd considered reforging it himself. But if he could get a better off-the-shelf product—or if Markus had a more mature solution—that would save him a lot of trouble. The Promethean Cult preached self-sufficiency as a core doctrine, but if he could procure a good part, Ignis wouldn't refuse an easier path.
And given the ultra-high thermal output of the secondary refined ether fuel, if he continued using Dragon's Breath Canister Shells made from that fuel, modifications to the autocannon were absolutely necessary. As his primary long-range offensive tool, the autocannon either needed repair or a full rebuild. The real issue was time. Did he even have enough time to do the work? Markus had called him for a job, and odds were he'd need the cannon.
Ignis mentally reviewed the types of ether-alloys he owned. Taking weight, heat resistance, and strength into account… none were particularly suitable. Which made sense—he'd bought those alloys for forging blades, not for cannon barrels or receiver blocks.
He wondered whether that big purple mushroom had any suitable materials.
Markus "Lightning" Red had apparently changed hairstyles over the past few days. The party-goer still wore a hip-hop patterned shirt and his oversized laser shades, but that purple afro had somehow become a blue aircraft-wing pompadour. To be honest, Ignis was a little jealous of the guy's hair volume. To fit comfortably in a helmet, Ignis always kept his hair as short stubble or just shaved it clean.
With that hairstyle coupled with the Salamander's obsidian-like skin, facial scars, and those flame-red eyes, most people kept a respectful distance from him.
"Long time no see, my friend Ignis." Markus walked over, the airplane-head bouncing with each step. "Seeing you really cheers me up."
Ignis took the offered handshake. The man squeezed hard, and under those laser shades, the dark circles beneath his eyes were heavy.
"Good to see you too, Markus." Ignis lowered his voice. "Got into trouble?"
"Nice weather, isn't it, my friend? Come on, let's talk business." Markus let out a loud laugh, his lightning-shaped earrings rattling with the vibration. But the Salamander could hear it—the tone wasn't quite right. "Come, inside."
Ignis guessed the guy must've been bothered by something serious; maybe he hadn't slept in days. He followed him into the underground firing range—where another person was waiting.
It was Jaxcalibur Squad's Captain, Jaxcalibur-01—the one who used infrasonic weapons.
"Motherf— this is absolute crap!"
The moment they entered the range, Markus yanked off his shades and slammed them to the floor. He almost stomped on them too, but remembering he still needed them for disguise, he put his raised foot down reluctantly.
"God-damn it!" he swore again, unleashing a full barrage at some unknown target—cursing around someone's mother as the center, relatives as the radius, dad as auxiliary, ancestors as the conclusion—painting full circles of profanity.
His fluency made Ignis wonder if the guy had been a rapper before becoming a black-market dealer, or maybe had done comedic crosstalk under a bridge somewhere. He cursed nonstop for ten straight minutes without repeating himself once, leaving the Salamander stunned. He'd heard some Chapters cursed mid-battle, but the Salamanders fought properly. No such nonsense. Even in the few joint operations with other Chapters, everyone had been polite and disciplined, seldom using foul language.
Ignis looked helplessly toward Jaxcalibur-01. The man, still wrapped in his combat suit, simply spread his hands—no solution. Clearly, until Markus vented his full curse-meter, nothing could be done.
But the Salamander wasn't here to listen to someone rage. He needed the autocannon barrel problem fixed.
The man—chattering like a Noise Marine—finally stopped only after Ignis lifted him by the collar.
"What? I can't curse a little?" Markus pointed to the corner of his mouth. "Look at this—look! I'm so pissed my mouth's breaking out in blisters."
"I can see that you're furious. But hold that thought first." Ignis set him down and showed the autocannon, its muzzle blown into metal frays. "Do you have anyone who can make me a high-temperature-resistant barrel?"
"How the hell did it end up like this?" Jaxcalibur-01 stared, stunned. Last mission, this thing had been perfectly fine, providing reliable fire support.
"What happened? He used that special fuel to make Dragon's Breath rounds. Obviously, the extreme heat eroded the barrel, the steel shot caused uneven wear inside, and boom—there you go." Markus looked at the detached barrel. "How's the inside?"
Ignis opened the receiver. Markus glanced in and shook his head. "I told you before—this thing was originally designed as a normal anti-aircraft gun. It can't withstand such extreme heat from that special fuel. Judging from the erosion, the receiver probably has only two or three drums left before it blows completely."
"So, do you have a way to make me a whole set of high-temperature-resistant parts? Price is negotiable." Ignis still hoped there might be an off-the-shelf solution.
"Honestly, New Eridu's Defense Force barely uses live-ammo weapons anymore. In an ether-powered age, thermal rays and laser weapons are mainstream. Only a few high-destruction systems still use traditional powder rounds—like rockets and various missiles." Markus sighed. "Your anti-air gun, as I said before, is an Old-Era piece from the Outer Ring. There's no off-the-shelf replacement. It's a one-of-a-kind relic."
The blue airplane-head party-goer put his laser shades back on. "As I said, if you can provide full schematics and technical parameters, it's doable. It just takes time. But right now…"
Markus scratched the back of his head, agitated. "You remember I mentioned one of my warehouses and factories got attacked, right?"
Seeing the Salamander nod, he continued, "Damn it—I lost almost half my weapon inventory and all my skilled technicians. Several engineers got taken out too! Motherf—!"
Seeing he was about to launch into another curse-storm, Ignis quickly cut in: "You run this kind of business—no guards on your warehouse and factory?"
"Guards? Of course there were guards!" Markus grew even angrier. "The 'Tiger-Plate' squadron was on rotation those days. Not as good as Jaxcalibur, but plenty in number. They've never had issues on their shifts. I checked their defense plans and layouts—very standard, very solid. And yet, my factory still got hit. Everything in the warehouse was hauled off. They didn't even trigger a single alarm. The transport team only noticed when nobody came out for inspection, and then reported it to me."
Ignis understood the capabilities of the Jaxcalibur Squad; their individual combat proficiency was comparable to an elite unit of the Astra Militarum. If slightly inferior, then still on par with a standard regiment. Considering the general standard of the New Eridu Defense Force, it indeed counted as a formidable troop. For such a unit to be erased this mysteriously, without even sounding an alarm, meant the enemy was extremely dangerous.
Stealth operations… fast elimination of large numbers… leaving the victims no chance to resist? Could it be followers of the Prince of Excess?
The thought circled through Salamander's mind, making him shiver. Why would they gather so many weapons? Preparing for a war? Planning a mass offering with the souls of the slain? The more he thought about it, the colder his back felt. At present, the only reliable combat strength was himself; the restoration work at Gotthardt's workshop still needed time. And even if he replaced his arm with Belobog Heavy Industries' mechanical arm or an engineering drill, his combat strength would still suffer.
"I've already relocated and rebuilt my warehouse and factory, but I still need time to recruit workers and engineers." Markus pulled his phone from his pocket. "Damn Razor and his damn Mountain Lion Gang. I didn't expect them to find my secret factory. My intel network shows they haven't received any food supply for about a month. How are they still active?"
About a month? Wait—wasn't that… not me. I didn't deliver the supplies… I only handed them over to Jane Doe.
While internally pushing away responsibility, Ignis asked Markus, "The factory and warehouse you lost—were they inside Hollow Zero?"
Markus hesitated, staring at the giant for a long moment. "Yeah. How did you know?"
"Guesswork." Salamander shrugged. "I also know the Mountain Lion Gang's nest is inside Hollow Zero. I just don't know the exact location."
"Interesting. Earlier you were asking me for intel on them, and now you're the one who learned the location first." Markus slapped Ignis on the leg. "Impressive. Looks like this time I need your help. Tell me where their hideout is—I'm ready to blast them to hell."
Ignis felt slightly embarrassed. "I acquired a data disk through… special channels. It contains their base coordinates, but it's encrypted. I've hired a hacker to crack it. Once it's decrypted, I'll settle accounts with Razor."
"Good. Count me in." Markus nodded, eyes darkening. "The Jaxcalibur Squad will operate with you. And I'll pay handsomely for the coordinates."
Salamander's eyes drifted to Jaxcalibur-01. The steady soldier only gave a slight nod, indicating no objections.
"But you'd better prepare yourself. Razor is… not normal anymore." Markus rubbed his temples as he mentioned the Mountain Lion Gang's leader.
Although Jane Doe had already mentioned the man's mutation—one resembling a Bloodletter—Ignis wasn't particularly afraid. First, because the Warp levels in New Eridu were severely limited; even a warband champion of Slaanesh could barely manifest usable psychic power. Second, he carried the Emperor's blessing, and if necessary, he could burn Razor's demonic form with the golden psychic fire gifted by Him. Most importantly, Khorne's daemons rarely used tricks; they were straightforward, unlike Tzeentch or Slaanesh, who loved surprises.
"Take a look at this." Markus handed Ignis his phone, playing surveillance footage.
Soldiers in protective gear were firing, every corner of the building rigged with explosives, heavy machine guns set up in narrow corridors. As Markus had said, the Tiger-Scale Squad had prepared countless traps, creating multiple kill zones with explosives and heavy firepower.
But the attackers were wrong.
The one leading the charge was unmistakably Razor, already morphing into a Bloodletter-like creature. His skin was fire-red, his horns piercing through his helmet. His left arm's metal components had fused with his flesh, forming a shield of bone and metal. He blocked heavy machine gun fire with it, and the explosives triggered along the corridor fizzled uselessly. In Salamander's eyes, the shield shimmered with a faint red aura—clearly a blessing from Khorne, the kind that weakened ranged and explosive damage.
The creature's lower limbs bent backward like a beast's, its feet ending in clawed monstrosities. Howling, it stormed into the machine gun nest. The right arm wielding the chainsaw axe had grown bone spurs at the elbow; the entire limb was blood-red. The axe roared, and with a single sweep, soldiers' heads were torn off.
The moment the machine gun fell silent, Mountain Lion Gang members surged behind their mutated leader. They too ignored the Tiger-Scale Squad's gunfire; bullets left shallow wounds at best. Only a few unlucky ones shot in the head or heart dropped to the ground.
Several of Razor's personal guard had mutated as well—their bodies bulked up, chaos eight-pointed stars or blood god sigils carved into their arms. They moved fast—faster than the Tiger-Scale soldiers expected—and hacked down anyone within reach.
"When the attack happened, not a single man escaped." Markus sighed regretfully. "I thought hiding the warehouse and factory inside a Hollow would keep it safe. But after the assault, they couldn't even call for reinforcements."
As Markus said, Tiger-Scale sent out several squads trying to break through, but all were intercepted. The soldiers fought bravely to the end, even drawing knives to engage the mutated gang members in close combat—but it was meaningless. Their courage was crushed, and their skulls torn off.
To be honest, even if reinforcements had arrived, it would have changed nothing. These enemies were well into full mutation. In many ways, they were already a Chaos cult capable of performing sacrifices in the under-hive.
In the final portion of the footage, Ignis saw the Tiger-Scale commander dueling Razor with an ether greatsword. Although the commander was a competent warrior, he was far too weak against a nearly fully-transformed Bloodletter-spawn. Razor blocked every strike with his shield, then rammed him into the wall.
Just as Salamander thought Razor would use the chainsaw axe to behead him, the creature unexpectedly dropped the weapon, reached out, and grabbed the commander's skull.
Accompanied by incomprehensible blasphemies, Razor's right hand ignited with daemon-fire. The commander screamed as the flesh on his skull burned away, leaving a pale bone shell.
Laughing, Razor tore off the skull and held it before the camera, showing it off—fully aware someone would eventually watch the recording.
In the final frame, he casually tossed the skull aside and walked away.
"Looks troublesome." Ignis exhaled.
A Bloodletter—Khorne's daemon-troop. Thankfully he doesn't have one of their cursed hellblades. Those things can cleave any armor, and a single cut means certain death.
"That Razor is practically turning into a full Ethereal aberration from ether corruption." Markus growled. "Damn it, why couldn't the erosion kill him first?"
"I'll notify you immediately if I find anything on Razor." Ignis reasoned that infiltrating the Mountain Lion Gang's nest could indeed be troublesome alone.
Especially since the enemy had seized a considerable amount of weaponry and would certainly construct a dense firepower web and countless traps. Khorne bore the title of the War God; while His followers were often consumed by rage, they weren't necessarily tactically ignorant. The Salamander did not dare assume Razor's group, after acquiring so much armament, would behave like mindless berserkers who only charged and screamed.
The Jaxcalibur Squad was small in number, but their electronic warfare capability was highly valuable—they could detect ambushes and traps ahead of time, preventing unnecessary losses during the assault.
"I'll wait for your good news. But your autocannon—I really can't repair it." Markus rubbed the scorched interior of the receiver. "The factory will need another month before production resumes. If you can wait, fine."
"No need. I'll handle it myself." Ignis realized he would have to rebuild it. "Do you have any heat-resistant ether alloy here? I want to review the specs and consider purchasing some."
"Yes, yes." Markus scrolled through his phone. He had recently acquired a batch of newly test-forged alloy from a metallurgical lab. Salamander continued, "Also, keep an eye on news from the Outer Ring—specifically regarding Perelman."
"Oh? You're after that Public Security bounty too?" Markus didn't look up. "Yeah, it's a big one. Lots of people will be competing. I'll keep an eye out for you."
Their later discussion focused mainly on ether alloys. Salamander spent a sum ordering a batch from Markus, preparing to forge a new autocannon on his own.
Of course, aside from the autocannon, he still needed true heavy armored support.
He wondered how Gotthardt Stahlgrief's Leviathan Dreadnought restoration was going, and when it would be ready for mounting its mechanical arms.