149: Chapter 149 Prison

The design of these vehicles looked very similar to the Defense Force vehicles on Outpost Planet.

Heavy Stubbers were also mounted on the roofs.

"Holy crap, there actually are people!"

Slaanesh was startled, but as an old hand, he immediately entered role-play mode.

He knew he couldn't fire his weapon right now; he had to follow the plot.

Fortunately, for the sake of playing this game, Slaanesh had spent a lot of time learning the natives' Low Gothic, and his spoken language was quite proficient.

He immediately raised his hands high, making a harmless gesture of surrender.

"Hey! Brothers of the Defense Force! Don't fire, I'm one of you!"

Slaanesh shouted loudly,

"I am a private guard of Lord Governor Mobius of the capital! My ship got lost and crashed in that sandstorm just now!"

Hearing Slaanesh's shout,

A large group of fully armed Defense Force soldiers immediately dismounted from the tracked vehicles.

However, what made Slaanesh feel very surprised was...

...that the discipline of these soldiers was a bit too good.

They pushed open the car doors at almost the same time, their movements in dismounting perfectly synchronized.

A dozen people surrounded him, and not a single one exclaimed in surprise at a tin can falling from the sky; there wasn't even any eye contact or whispering among them!

They were like a group of mechanical puppets that had lost their independent consciousness, their movements exuding a creepy, absolute synchronization.

"The quality of this Defense Force... seems much stronger than those soldier ruffians in Coastal City," Slaanesh muttered to himself.

At that moment,

A man dressed in officer's attire walked up from behind the crowd with an expressionless face.

Looking at Slaanesh's crimson Power Armor, he squeezed out a very stiff fake smile that seemed measured with a ruler.

"Welcome, lost guard."

The officer spoke,

"Her Excellency the Warden has already learned of your plight. She has prepared an Interstellar Communication Station for you in the city to facilitate your call for rescue from the capital. Please, get in the vehicle."

Hearing this, Slaanesh's brow furrowed sharply beneath his helmet.

This was very unreasonable!

He had been staring at this group of people just now.

From the moment he got out of the car until now, this officer hadn't pressed any communication headsets at all, nor had he reported the situation to anyone.

How did that so-called Warden know his identity and give instructions within seconds?

Telepathy? A Psyker?

And...

...a Warden? Could it be that this harsh planet was a giant interstellar prison?

But on second thought, Slaanesh realized this fit the cruel setting of Warhammer.

Outpost Planet was used as a garbage dump, and this nearby sandstorm-ravaged planet was used as a prison for high-risk criminals; this setup was very logical.

"As long as there's hidden plot content."

Slaanesh nodded. Being bold due to his skill, he directly followed them onto a tracked vehicle.

The convoy sped across the desolate plains.

Slaanesh sat by the window, silently calculating the vehicle's speed and travel time.

After driving for about thirty kilometers,

He poked his head out.

On the horizon ahead, a city wall that stretched as far as the eye could see suddenly appeared!

The wall was over a hundred meters high, giving off an intense sense of visual oppression.

Anti-aircraft Autocannons and Heavy Laser Towers were densely mounted atop the wall.

But what made a chill run down Slaanesh's spine was...

...that more than half of the heavy weapons on these walls weren't pointed at the wasteland outside, but were fixed firmly toward the interior of the city!

"Muzzles pointed inward? This really is a damn prison! And they're guarding against the prisoners this strictly?" Slaanesh swallowed hard.

The convoy drove into a narrow, heavy metal city gate.

While passing through the gateway, Slaanesh made a rough estimate.

The thickness of this Blast Wall was estimated to be a staggering hundred meters!

After passing through the wall, the entire environment changed abruptly.

A deafening cacophony rushed toward him.

As far as the eye could see, there were dense, low, grey buildings that seemed never-ending.

The air was thick with the strong smell of blood and rust.

Various groans of pain, shrill wails, and the crisp sound of whips lashing flesh were continuous.

Slaanesh listened carefully.

He found that most of these screams were not coming from the surrounding houses.

It seemed they were penetrating the heavy ground, coming from deep underground.

While passing a row of low houses,

Slaanesh saw the houses were filled with armed Prison Guards, and on the floors of the rooms were heavy iron grate doors standing open, with bottomless dark stairs behind them.

But he didn't ask any questions and could only follow the convoy further in.

Ten minutes later,

The group finally arrived in front of a tall building in the center of the city.

This so-called tall building was actually only five stories high.

It just stood out like a crane among chickens compared to the slum-like low bungalows outside.

Slaanesh was taken to the second floor.

This was a tastefully decorated banquet hall.

Red velvet curtains hung on the walls.

Slaanesh's gaze was instantly drawn to a huge oil painting hanging on the wall in the center of the hall.

It was a very abstractly styled portrait of a deity.

The figure in the painting wore a halo and golden armor.

"Judging by the composition of the golden armor, this should be the Emperor sitting on the Golden Throne."

As an amateur fan of the Warhammer lore, Slaanesh examined the painting closely.

Suddenly, he noticed a strange detail.

"Wait, the Emperor in this painting... why does he have four arms?"

Slaanesh frowned, frantically searching his mind for related lore settings.

The Four-Armed Emperor? Why does that name sound so familiar?

While Slaanesh was deep in thought,

The side door of the banquet hall was pushed open.

"Welcome, guest from afar." A woman's voice, slightly raspy and full of mature charm, rang out.

Slaanesh turned around, his eyes lighting up instantly.

Walking in was a young woman who looked to be in her thirties.

She wore a very tight, sleek black professional suit that perfectly outlined her voluptuous and fiery curves.

Her collar was slightly open, exuding a natural mature allure.

"Holy crap!" Slaanesh screamed internally, "This NPC's modeling is too good! It's totally the cool, mature 'big sister' style!"

"I am the Warden of this prison. You may call me Madam Mary."

The woman walked to the table and smiled slightly,

"We have prepared a sumptuous welcome lunch for you. Will you allow me, as your host, to dine with you?"

Alarm bells immediately went off in Slaanesh's head.

This much hospitality?

A Warden of a remote prison being this polite to a lost guard?

This was clearly not right! Good things that come for free usually mean instant death in the Warhammer universe.

Although Slaanesh was usually the type in the legion who spent what others earned, he still had basic anti-fraud awareness.

But on second thought...

"I'm a player! I'm the The Fourth Calamity who can revive infinitely! At most, I'll just lose a set of Power Armor, so what's there to fear? I have to experience this hidden plot to the end!"

Slaanesh nodded readily: "Of course, Madam Mary, it's my honor."

The two took their seats.

The long stone dining table was already covered with various foods cooked from unknown meats and fungi.

Slaanesh looked at these blackish things called delicacies and really had no appetite.

Instead, he was more interested in drinking with this beautiful NPC.

The official lore had mentioned that due to the mutation of yeast in the wasteland environment...

...the alcohol in this game had an indescribable, unique kick and mouthfeel.

In the real world, Slaanesh was a complete alcoholic.

He simply took off his helmet, picked up his glass, and frequently toasted with Madam Mary, gulping it down.

After a few rounds of drinks,

Madam Mary seemed to be unable to hold her liquor.

A seductive flush appeared on her fair cheeks, and her gaze became hazy and silky.

She suddenly stood up, glass in hand, and wobbled away from the head of the table.

She walked straight to Slaanesh's side and sat down closely against him.

Slaanesh was secretly observing the structure of the hall while drinking.

Suddenly feeling a waft of fragrance, he turned his head and saw Madam Mary's voluptuous body already pressed against him.

Because she was leaning forward, the bottomless cleavage in her neckline was fully visible.

"Holy shit!" Slaanesh was ecstatic, "This level of explicitness! This fan service! Has a good plot finally come my way?"

However, what made his adrenaline surge even more was...

...Madam Mary closed her eyes, her red lips parted slightly, and she actually tilted her head up and kissed him!

Slaanesh didn't care about anything else; he wrapped his hands directly around her slender waist, preparing for a cross-dimensional adult experience.

However...

...the very moment their lips touched!

Slaanesh suddenly felt a cold, hard, barbed tubular foreign object violently pry open his teeth and stab deep into his mouth and throat!

*Puchi!*

A soul-tearing sting instantly radiated from his throat.

Slaanesh's pupils dilated sharply, his vision began to spin, and his consciousness quickly became blurred.

"Fuck! I knew nothing good would happen... What does this old hag want? Is she using some life-draining technique?"

Slaanesh didn't see the system black screen representing death.

His consciousness felt as if it were wrapped in a thick swamp, in a state of semi-dreaming dissociation.

In his daze...

...he felt the hard layer of Power Armor on his body being crudely stripped off by a group of people.

Afterward, he was carried naked into a basement.

He didn't know how much time had passed.

Slaanesh's consciousness finally regained a hint of clarity.

But he felt with horror that his clone body was undergoing some kind of irreversible and terrifying mutation!

The hair on his head began to fall out in clumps.

His skin cracked inch by inch, and rough, hard purple scales grew out!

His knuckles and spine calcified rapidly, becoming covered in a thick, steel-like Exoskeleton Shell.

What surprised him the most was...

...a sharp pain of bones tearing came from both sides of his ribs.

Along with the squirming of muscles, two deformed arms with sharp, mantis-like scythe claws burst directly out of his back!

Slaanesh lowered his head with difficulty, looking at the four dancing, deformed arms on his torso.

In his mind, the portrait of the Four-Armed Emperor in the banquet hall flashed like lightning.

"Holy crap!!!"

Slaanesh's scalp tingled with shock, and he tumbled and crawled off the operating table,

"Genestealer?!"

At this moment, his memory finally connected with that terrifying lore from the Warhammer background!

The so-called Four-Armed Emperor, the so-called Genestealers!

This was the vanguard infiltration method the Tyranids loved to deploy into human societies before sending their main hive fleet to invade a world!

Genestealers would use this "Kiss of the Abyss" containing parasitic eggs to assimilate and infect humans.

These infected humans would breed frantically underground, establishing a massive Cult Network.

On the surface, they disguised themselves as normal humans, but at the genetic level, they only obeyed the Hive Mind.

When the Tyranid main fleet blocked out the sky...

...these monsters lurking beneath the Hive City would swarm out, coordinating from within to dismantle human resistance forces as quickly as possible!

Slaanesh fully realized the severity of the situation.

No wonder those soldiers' movements were so synchronized; they were all damn well mentally linked by the Hive Network!

"The whole planet has been infiltrated by bugs. Wait, then why haven't I been linked? It must be that players are immune to this kind of parasitism!"

Slaanesh didn't think too much, not even bothering to look at his current monster status panel.

He chose to force a logout on the spot!

The real world.

Slaanesh sat up, tore off his helmet, and grabbed his phone from the table, drenched in sweat.

He opened the official game forum and directly posted a bolded, red, pinned warning thread:

[Emergency Combat Report! Extremely Urgent! I was a guest on a neighboring planet, and as a result of being forcibly kissed by an NPC, I grew four arms! Tyranids have appeared next door to our home base!!]