The moment the Tzeentch cultist spotted the giant among the crowd, the vulture head protruding from the back of his neck suddenly perked up and let out an excited screech. Countless voices echoed within his mind:
"Unleash your flames—burn him to ashes!"
"Quick! Set him ablaze, melt him down!"
"..."
The cultist's blue eyes blazed with fire, and searing flames shot forth like blinding laser beams toward Nareth.
The Primarch stepped forward to the left, then immediately pivoted to the front-right, zigzagging away. The blue flames followed him like a high-pressure water hose, tracing his every sudden turn.
The Tzeentch cultist showed no concern for the deaths of his own mutant followers. Hundreds were swallowed by the fire, screaming in agony as they died.
The vulture head shrieked again, stabbing its beak painfully into his bald scalp.
"AHHH!"
The cultist cried out in a mixture of pain, delight, and twisted satisfaction. A crackling sound echoed from his skull as another vulture head sprouted, this one much shorter than the one on his neck.
The cultist screeched again. All three beaks, on his mouth, neck, and head, opened wide.
Three torrents of pink flames surged into the air, weaving into a massive net that engulfed the airborne Nareth.
Nareth's pupils contracted. His "Warp Insight" revealed what the naked eye could not. He noticed:
The flame from the neck-beak was deepest pink and came from above.
The top-beak's stream was light pink, firing from the upper left.
The mouth-beak shot regular pink flame from the lower right.
The three streams spun at their convergence, merging into one. Nareth suddenly roared with earth-shaking fury.
Within a hundred meters, dozens of mutants stumbled and fell. Even the Sixth Company, led by Rogninho at a distance, heard the muffled roar reverberate through their ears.
Marlena staggered but quickly recovered. She saw a soldier from the Sixth Company who had charged into the mutant crowd, frozen from the roar, allowing a mutant to slash his shoulder.
She raised her hand, releasing a biotic energy pulse that hit the soldier. His wounds rapidly regenerated before everyone's eyes. With a roar, he cleaved down the stunned mutant.
Marlena pressed forward, only to be shocked to see the nobleman, Zaleski, had already shaken off the roar and was charging towards Nareth's battlefield.
'His willpower is this strong? It's only slightly weaker than mine!'
She set aside her questions for now and looked up at the leaping Nareth.
The Primarch used "Otsberg-Vaya" form 16 and swung his heavy halberd, each strike landing precisely at the nexus where the three firestreams merged.
With a thunderous blast, the force of the halberd shattered the balance of the pink flames. The scattered embers looked like exploding fireworks.
Before the Tzeentch cultist could react, Nareth appeared before him.
The Primarch grabbed the vulture-neck with one hand, spun him violently, and slammed him to the ground like a ragdoll.
The cultist crashed down like a spinning windmill. As he struggled to rise, a figure dashed in, Zaleski, his power sword raised.
The burning blade cleaved into the cultist's flesh, disintegrating swathes of his feathers. He let out a sharp, pained screech. His beautiful divine feathers, gifted by the god of wisdom, were ruined, enraging him.
The bird-beak on his neck opened wide and spewed blue fire at Zalevsky's face. He rolled to dodge, but not in time, the flame struck his frameless gold-rimmed glasses.
Crack!
Faint cracks formed on the lenses.
"High...Priest?!"
The cultist cried out in disbelief. Had he seen wrongly?
The high priest's heart sank. He cursed silently:
'Fool! I already infiltrated Nareth's ranks; he is the target our god has appointed. If you had just cooperated and died by my blade, I would've earned his trust. The plan would've advanced perfectly. Now my perfect plan lies in ruins—because of YOU!''
Zaleski's expression showed deep conflict. He dropped his riot shield and hesitated, should he risk everything?
He raised his left arm, only to see his hand morph into a claw again. His back bent unnaturally, his face tingling and twisted.
The cultist sighed inwardly; his enchanted glasses, guided by the god of wisdom, were broken. He was exposed.
He tried to activate his Teleport ability, but lightning suddenly struck his arm, paralyzing him.
Above, Nareth's eyes lit up.
'Marlena reacted that fast? She must have already been suspicious to strike the moment he was exposed. Impressive instincts!'
As Nareth praised her inwardly, he was already descending from above. His halberd came crashing down.
The paralyzed cultist saw it coming. Looking at his dead comrades, he cursed:
"You…idiot… my perfect… plan… ruined… before it even began!"
As the last word left his mouth, control returned to him, but it was too late.
Nareth's halberd smashed down, ending the High Priest's unfinished plan.
Looking at the corpses of the two cultists, Nareth thought to himself:
'Tzeentch cultists are always cunning. He tried to have a mole sneak into my ranks, but in the end, his clueless ally ruined everything. What an ironic tragedy. I had my doubts about him, but couldn't be sure; he could've had a rare gift. If not for the unexpected exposure, it might've caused me real trouble.'
Silently, he evaluated the situation, then praised Marlena:
"Decisive strike. Well done!"
The purge of Kemerovo Hive took one squad's time.
Unfortunately, the royal Hive Tower was incinerated by the frenzied cultist's flames, wasting all the stored magical potion materials.
Still, Nareth found comfort in the irony, the cultists had exposed their own spy.
He brewed a "Sailor" potion and gave it to Rogninho, turning him into a Beyonder. Then he issued his orders:
"You'll stay in Kemerovo, clean up the mutants, restore order to the Hive, and refill the ranks of the Sixth Regiment."
Then Nareth departed with Marlena, Rosicky, and the others to rendezvous with Thierry.
Their next stop: Omsk Hive, home of the Fourth Altar.
In Omsk, Maria spoke to her two assassin comrades:
"From interrogating and observing the kidnapped nobles, we can now confirm, this so-called King Modur is just a brute with more brawn than brains."