Cecilia was also extremely vigilant upon seeing Lynn.
Although Lynn was wearing Astra Militarum gear, Astra Militarum guardsmen are all mortals; finding a living guardsman in a Hive City abandoned for tens of thousands of years was strange enough.
Every muscle in Cecilia’s body tensed.
She sat by the fire, straightened her back, and stared intently at Lynn.
Not standing up was a way to hold something back, preventing the other party from gauging her true state.
Her hands appeared to rest flat on her knees, but in reality, her fingers were slightly curled, ready to form a fist, block, or grab anything that could serve as a weapon at a moment’s notice.
This man before her…
a boy?
Astra Militarum standard-issue gear wasn’t anything high-end, but it wasn’t something ordinary people could randomly acquire either.
The biggest problem was that Astra Militarum guardsmen don’t operate alone, and this person was far too young—young and soft, not looking like a soldier who had undergone Imperial Guard training.
The position he stood in was delicate: quite far from her, with the entrance to the cave system directly behind him.
This distance and position made it convenient for him to run away.
Choosing to stand there meant he was afraid of her.
Cecilia’s eyes flashed.
Cultists wouldn’t be afraid of a lone Sister of Battle; they would simply swarm her like a hive of bees, shouting the Blood God’s name, eager to chop her head off and use it as a drinking cup.
This person, in all likelihood, was a civilian.
…
Lynn absolutely refused to get any closer.
Such reaction speed and aggressive readiness to counterattack—she was truly worthy of being a strictly trained Sister of Battle.
She was mutated now, and he really couldn’t be sure if she was still the original Sister of Battle.
What if he got too close, and the Sister jumped up and forcefully gave him a punch?
Who could he reason with then?
With one punch down, the Sister of Battle would have to drop to her knees and beg him not to die.
…
The two confronted each other just like this.
The atmosphere was incredibly heavy.
The fire burned between them, crackling.
The grayish-white light from the top of the Hive City fell on Lynn, drawing his shadow out very long.
Cecilia’s vertical pupils flashed with golden light amidst the interwoven firelight and gray light, like two polished pieces of amber.
Both sides in the standoff were wary, acting somewhat like frightened birds, and neither spoke first.
Cecilia’s eyes swept across Lynn’s face, his equipment, his hands, the dagger at his waist, and the cave entrance behind him.
Lynn took a deep breath, knowing that continuing this stalemate was pointless, and spoke up first.
“You insult the four Gods first.” Cecilia furrowed her brow slightly: “?????
What?” “One insult per God.” Lynn’s tone was so serious it didn’t sound like a joke at all.
The fire crackled.
Cecilia stared at him for three seconds, and then the corner of her mouth twitched.
Okay, this was indeed a good method.
While this method sounded a bit crude, in this forsaken place swarming with cultists, it was truly a highly efficient means of identification.
No matter how well Chaos cultists disguised themselves, making them open their mouths to insult the true Gods they worshipped would probably cause them to instantly explode into Chaos Spawns.
They’d rather just die directly.
Truly, it’s something you never think of until someone says it, and then you’re startled by how obvious it is.
Why hadn’t anyone come up with this method before?
Cecilia even felt a bit of appreciation for the child in front of her.
She spoke, pausing after each word, the sharpness in her eyes piercing: “Khorne’s throne will surely collapse beneath the holy sword of my Lord.” “Any of Tzeentch’s schemes will shatter in the brilliance of my Lord.” “Nurgle, let it be the next time the garden gets burned again.” “Slaanesh,” she said, the last one filled with undisguised disgust, “is more disgusting than the rats in a Hive City.” Cecilia had cursed them, and now she made him curse the four Gods: “Your turn.” Lynn cursed them without hesitation as well: “Khorne is all brawn and no brains; Nurgle is a rotten bastard; Tzeentch…
is an innocent, kind-hearted little blue bird.
Slaanesh…” When it came to Slaanesh, Lynn was at a bit of a loss for words.
Neither male nor female?
Attracting men?
Selling ass?
He thought about it, and finally spat out three words as a lethal finisher: “…Not sexy enough.” Cecilia choked a bit.
Such a venomous…
insult.
He essentially fundamentally denied Slaanesh’s very divine throne.
But Cecilia was also much more relieved; he probably wasn’t a Chaos cultist.
To infiltrate an Imperial stronghold, cultists could recite an entire holy tome of the Emperor, they could brand themselves with over a dozen two-headed eagles, and they could kneel at the doors of a grand cathedral and cry for three days and three nights, but they could absolutely never be this foul-mouthed toward the four Gods.
Evil Gods truly exist in this world, and a follower talking smack to the four Gods would explode into a Chaos Spawn on the spot.
Lynn proactively cursed a few other races as well: “The Necrons are extinct.
Congratulations to the Aeldari for having a child born named Slaanesh.
Orks just go ‘WAAAGH WAAAGH your mom’ all day, a bunch of idiots.
T’au…” Lynn looked up at the ceiling: “What’s a T’au?
Is there such a race in 40k?
No impression.” Cecilia almost couldn’t hold it in.
The T’au race was far away in the Eastern Fringe of the Milky Way galaxy, out on the borders, and the history of their civilization, counting from the Stone Age, was only about 6,000 years.
Whenever those old-timers in the Imperium of Man who had lived for tens of thousands of years mentioned the T’au, it was always: “What T’au?
T’au what?” “No need to mention the Tyranids, right?
A bunch of animals.” He cursed them all.
This person cursed xenos even more fluently than he cursed Chaos.
Necrons, Aeldari, Orks, T’au, Tyranids—not missing a single one, hitting the nail on the head for each one, the kind of insults that would anger them if they heard them.
Cecilia couldn’t help but smile slightly.
This truly was a very effective method, because in Warhammer 40K, honor and faith are above all else.
Even if a spy had a mission, they couldn’t possibly curse their own masters and race.
Good, he confirmed that both sides were human.
Cecilia stood up from beside the fire, didn’t step forward, stood in place, and raised both hands to her sides, palms facing forward, just like Lynn had done earlier, indicating she had no weapons.
Her movements were very slow, slow enough to give Lynn ample time to react.
Lynn also stood a bit straighter and raised his hands.
The two sides slowly approached until they met.
Cecilia could see clearly now; the person opposite really should be young enough to be called a boy.
He was fair-skinned and tender, with clear eyes, possessing a kind of clever naiveté from growing up in a safe environment since childhood.
“Sister of Battle, Cecilia.” Cecilia extended her hand.
Her voice was a bit hoarse, perhaps from not drinking enough water for a few days, or perhaps her throat was just naturally like that.
Lynn looked at her extended hand; it was a forearm greeting, clasping arms, the etiquette between Imperial military personnel.
He had seen this gesture.
In Warhammer games, if a mission was completed excellently or if they were very happy to see you, those Space Marines would call each other brothers and then grasp your forearm.
Lynn hurriedly extended his hand as well, grasping her forearm: “Hello, Sister.
My name is Lynn.” Sisters, in a dangerous cesspool like 40K, as long as everyone is human and hasn’t betrayed humanity, then they are all brothers and sisters.
After completing the greeting, Cecilia let go of his arm, took a step back, and sized him up again.
“You’re alone?” she asked.
“Alone.” “What are you doing here?” Lynn thought about it and decided to tell a partial truth: “I don’t know; I woke up in this cave.
I was chased by cultists for several days, stole their supplies, hid in this Hive City, and then I saw you.” “Then what’s with the Astra Militarum gear on you?” “mwehehe..
I stole it from the cultists’ storage room.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Thaniel_a_goodch Please remember to vote!
Thaniel_a_goodchild.