In the underground palace.
The genestealer patriarch seemed to sense something, staring intently at the entrance of the underground palace.
It suddenly turned its head, looking at the genestealer bishop.
As if receiving an order, the bishop bowed respectfully to the patriarch.
Then she left the underground palace with four preachers.
Mont knew they were going to intercept Leman Russ and Marquite, who were invading the Government Building.
It's about to be born, just a little more...
Mont looked at the beast in the biomass pool, its body growing stronger.
Most of the other Tyranids around had already decomposed, their biomass used to supply this giant beast.
Mont estimated that in another seven or eight minutes, this Tyranid Behemoth would be perfectly born and descend.
It was too late to stop it; even if its birth was interrupted now, it would only make its body less perfect.
Damn it, if only there was a chance to inject corruption into that genestealer patriarch!
To let the parasites in his body burrow into the flesh of that damned parasitic demigod, to let that genestealer be corrupted and suffer.
Suddenly, Mont paused.
He realized he had fallen into a blind spot.
He indeed couldn't get close to the genestealer patriarch to inject his internal parasites and Nurgle's corruption into its body.
But he could inject this corruption into the Tyranid Behemoth in the biomass pool before him.
Mont's body trembled uncontrollably, trembling with excitement and also with fear.
This biomass pool could indeed decompose flesh, but its primary function was still to create Tyranids.
The corrosiveness should not be too strong.
Some of the parasites within Mont should be able to survive.
Even if the parasites couldn't, he still had a large number of supernatural viruses within him.
These viruses from the plague God had both material and Warp-based transmissibility.
They could silently invade the Tyranid Behemoth's body through the absorbed biomass, corrupting its xenos flesh.
But how could he inject the supernatural viruses from his body into the biomass pool without being discovered?
Such a massive and powerful giant beast would require an extremely large quantity of viruses to corrupt it.
And with the genestealer patriarch watching right there, Mont had almost no chance to release the viruses.
Unless...
Mont looked at the biomass pool before him, watching the crowds continuously jumping into it.
A somewhat tragic smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Mont seemed to transform back into that seven or eight-year-old child with ugly horns on his head,
Hiding behind furniture, watching his mother abuse his elder brother with fear.
At that time, he wanted to gather courage and rush to protect Marquite,
But he couldn't do it.
"Leman Russ,"
Mont murmured in a hoarse voice, his sound carried to the ground by the vibrating wings of the small insects.
Some images appeared before his eyes, and the voices of angels echoed in his ears.
Mont actually hated those normal humans in the Lower Nest, and also hated the high-and-mighty Upper hive people.
They detested mutants, wishing they could kill Mont.
Mont also hated them and didn't want to save them.
It was only because Marquite said they had to save Ashford.
And Mont… Mont always remembered the sight of Marquite being abused by their mother.
He felt guilty for it and hated his own cowardice.
"Tell my brother I'm not a coward."
His trembling body stood up, and he walked step by step towards the biomass pool.
His pace quickened, gradually changing from a walk to a run.
Mont couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He remembered his mother's warm embrace, remembered playing with his brother.
He remembered that dim, narrow room in the Lower Nest, and also the crazed mother within it, the brother enduring the abuse, and himself hiding and trembling.
Only this time, Mont rushed out from behind the furniture and stood between his mother and brother.
"Also, I'm dying to save Ashford, damn it."
Mont finally cursed with a smile at the small insect by his ear, knowing Leman Russ could hear him.
Then, the viscous biomass pool swallowed him.
On the first floor of the Government Building,
Under the protection of a large number of plague zombies, Alexander and Marquite steadily advanced through the corridors of the Government Building.
Quite a few genestealer would occasionally rush out from doorways, windows, shadows, and overhead pipes,
Attempting to attack Alexander and Marquite,
But without exception, they were either smashed into meat paste by Alexander, devoured by Marquite's flies, or torn apart by the plague zombies.
Along the way, Alexander had lost count of how many genestealer he had eliminated.
But strangely, Alexander didn't know why… he felt no fatigue at all.
Instead, he felt his condition getting better and better.
His energy became more focused, his muscles were full of vitality, and his reactions grew stronger.
Alexander initially wondered if Khorne was manifesting?
But Sanguinius denied this.
And Alexander also vaguely perceived that what nourished him was not blood, battle, and slaughter,
But death, dark and cold death,
Pure, hollow, death without new life.
It was as if the deaths of those genestealer were nourishing Alexander, so that Alexander could bring more death.
Could it be that the Emperor, his elder, really gave him a buff?
Does the Emperor, his elder, command death?
Could it be that Nurgle next door also bestowed a blessing upon him?
Just as Alexander was pondering whether this feeling was his own delusion or a blessing from some deity,
Marquite looked at Alexander and asked in a deep voice, "What did Mont just say?"
At the entrance of the Government Building, Alexander had heard Mont's voice.
But then the small insect stuck to his ear never moved again, nor did Mont's voice come through again.
Marquite realized what this meant.
So he remained silent all the way until now, when he suddenly spoke to Alexander.
Alexander glanced at Marquite.
"He said, tell you… he's not a coward."
"Also, he died to save Ashford."
To be honest, Alexander didn't know what Mont had done.
At least explain the intelligence clearly before you die...
Alexander frowned, how did he feel that Mont might have set a trap for him?
Marquite's throat moved, then he nodded.
"Oh," he said softly.
Suddenly, Marquite stopped and looked at the dark corridor ahead.
"My flies tell me someone is coming."
Alexander nodded slightly, listening to the approaching footsteps in the distance.
A bald woman with four preachers and eight genestealer guardians stood at the end of the corridor, waiting for Alexander.
The genestealer bishop's gaze fell on Alexander.
It landed on Alexander's stern, rational face beneath his golden hair.
"So it's you."
In the genestealer bishop's eyes, psychic fire burned fiercely.
The scorching psychic flames seemed to want to burn Alexander to ashes:
"So it's you, Neoth."
"I thought you were a devout follower of the Four-Armed Emperor, but I didn't expect you to be entangled with the plague God's corpses."
"Who exactly are you, Neoth!!!"
Facing the genestealer bishop's questioning, Alexander remained silent for a moment, then slowly spoke:
"I am Rogal Dorn."