Thus, using his most accustomed harsh attitude, Gabriel Seth attempted to make these mortals get lost. He hoped this would wake them up and make them realize what they were truly facing.
"We aren't used to the hypocrisy of the Ultramarines. Who do you think we are? This is your last chance to get out alive!"
"Hi, I know. It's just the Red Thirst and the Black Rage, right?" Walter waved his hand dismissively, appearing exceptionally relaxed. He even carried a hint of excitement, his tone filled with the characteristic fearlessness of a player.
"Don't worry, it's not like someone forced us to come. When the Military Committee posted this mission, a bunch of people scrambled for it. We fought hard to grab this slot, so why would we leave?"
He only meant to say that they didn't care about the potential friendly fire casualties caused by the Flesh Tearers' curses. They had come with a "fanboy" mindset; in fact, they wouldn't have come if those two legendary curses weren't part of the package.
But his nonchalant attitude was like a blunt knife, savagely carving into Gabriel Seth's tormented heart.
'Just the Red Thirst and the Black Rage?
This mortal dared to use such a casual tone to describe the chapter's curse? Seth spent every day and night contemplating how to escape these two terrible fates!
His battle brothers were tortured until they no longer looked human, tearing apart their own comrades in fits of frenzy and suffering the agony of self-reproach when sane! And yet, this mortal spoke as if it were a trivial matter.
What do you know! Do you have any idea how we feel!'
An uncontrollable rage surged into Seth's chest, and his eyes practically spat fire from within his helmet. He felt his emotions being pulled by some invisible force. He took a sudden step forward, his massive power armor emitting a heavy roar, causing the caught-off-guard Walter to stumble back half a step.
"Then stand still right now!" Seth roared. "Wait until I take off my helmet, and I'll suck you dry until you're a mummified corpse!"
He thought such a blatant threat would terrify this arrogant mortal and make him understand that the horror of the Flesh Tearers was no exaggeration.
As it turned out—Walter thought this was a quest prompt.
"Oh, you're a bit thirsty? You should have said so earlier," Walter said, not intimidated at all. Instead, a look of sudden realization dawned on his face as he broke into a smile.
He took off his helmet, revealing a clean-cut face. With an attitude as if he were simply handing a bottle of water to a thirsty companion, he drew a combat knife from his waist. Without hesitation, he slit a gash across his own neck. As blood gushed out, he gestured, "Please?"
Seth was stunned for a full minute. His towering frame froze in place, staring dead at the bleeding wound and the "kind" face of the mortal. His chest heaved violently—out of sheer fury.
"Are you offering me charity?!" Seth's voice squeezed out from deep in his throat, carrying a hysteria bordering on collapse.
He felt it was a miracle he hadn't succumbed to the Black Rage right then and there; this insult made him angrier than any whisper of a Chaos Daemon.
He violently crumpled the deployment order into a ball and slammed it onto the ground. "I am an Astartes! I carry the blood of Sanguinius! I am ten thousand times stronger than you! And yet you treat me with the attitude of giving alms to a beggar?!"
"Uh—" Shaken by Seth's sudden, world-shaking roar, Walter shrank back, an innocent expression on his face. He looked at the blood-red giant before him, who had started losing his temper for no apparent reason and was shaking with rage. He asked cautiously,
"So... are you still drinking?"
Seth felt like he was about to explode. He bellowed: "Even if I, Gabriel Seth, die in battle! Even if I die outside, blown to bits by a Necron anti-matter bomb, I will not drink a single drop of your blood!"
After his roar, Seth's massive power armor emitted a dull thud as he turned and left. His pace was heavy and swift, and he soon disappeared into the shadows of the nuclear power plant's depths, leaving behind a group of mortal soldiers staring at each other.
Walter scratched his head, his face full of confusion. He looked in the direction Seth had vanished and muttered softly: "Sigh, why the sudden change of heart? Besides, if you don't want to drink, then don't drink. Why yell at me?"
He turned to the other players—his teammates—and said: "Damn it, why are you just standing there? Hurry up and help me bandage my neck! Luckily I cut the vein and not the artery, otherwise I would have wasted one of my *unintelligible* (lives)—"
He complained while urging the people around him. Several players rushed forward, clumsily pulling out first-aid kits to carefully treat his wound.
After the bandaging was done, Walter rubbed his neck with a thoughtful expression: "To be fair, I feel like this Flesh Tearers Chapter is a bit temperamental. We might need to watch our wording when talking to them next time. We can't trigger their sensitive hearts."
The other players began discussing noisily, equally baffled by Seth's reaction.
"True. I feel like that guy was a bit... conflicted. Captain, you exposed your neck for him to suck like he asked, but then he got even angrier. Does he want you to let him suck or not?" one player asked in confusion.
"If you don't do what he says, he's unhappy. If you do exactly what he says, he's still unhappy—isn't this just our Perturabo? He's basically a high-level tsundere!" another player joked.
"Daaaamn, it's a bit tricky. How are we supposed to coordinate with them? How do we even farm Favorability points?" someone began to worry about future mission cooperation. After all, it would be a huge problem if the Flesh Tearers started Team-Killing for real.
"I think this must be a hidden plotline! Look, first he tries to scare us away, then he threatens to drink blood, and when you offer it, he gets mad. This shows he's struggling internally. Maybe he's testing if we truly want to stay," a player proposed their "plot analysis."
"Alright, alright, the battle hasn't even started, so let's not over-analyze our allies," Walter stopped the players from letting their imaginations run wild. He clapped his hands to signal for silence.
"After all, being tortured by the Black Rage and the Red Thirst makes it normal to have some personality flaws. It's all part of the 'setting,' so let's be understanding. The more he acts like this, the more depth the character has. He's worth farming favorability for. I'll go meet their Chapter Master first to discuss the distribution of defensive forces."
"In the worst-case scenario, we'll just fight our own battles on our respective sides. Having Astartes can't possibly be worse than not having them," Walter added optimistically. He believed that no matter how "conflicted" these Flesh Tearers were, they were still allies—and incredibly powerful ones at that.