On the luxuriously appointed upper-nest observation deck of Rhea IV, Ghostface wasn't enjoying Amasec or admiring the view above the clouds like everyone else.
He was squinting through the lenses of his gas mask, looking down with a detached gaze at the aristocrat district, which was far too prosperous for his liking.
Freddy walked over, gnawing on a high-end steak he'd pilfered from somewhere. Following Ghostface's gaze, he asked indistinctly, "Still staring? What, you've taken a liking to this place? Thinking about buying some property here for your retirement?"
Ghostface shook his head, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather. "Not at all. I'm just thinking about whether there's a chance to make a wrong right."
"Make a wrong right?" Freddy stopped chewing, looking at him with confusion, clearly unable to follow Ghostface's train of thought. "We haven't even done anything here yet. What wrong are you talking about?"
Ghostface turned around, leaning back against the railing. "We've investigated with Phorosand Joker, and we've basically confirmed there are no Genestealers here, right?
"But..." Freddy started.
"But—Huron and his lot don't know that." Ghostface added giddily.
His voice carried a hint of mischief.
"Tell me, what do you think would happen if I proposed this: since we're already here, why not just go ahead and blast all these nobles into oblivion, then go back and report to Huron that they were actually deep-cover Genestealer hybrids, and finally let the Mechanicus players in our warband take over the management here?
How many votes do you think this proposal would get in the Soldier's Committee?"
Freddy was stunned, his steak nearly dropping to the floor.
"Holy—" Freddy swallowed the food in his mouth, his expression conflicted. "Don't, man. I'm not even talking about the feasibility of the suggestion or how many people would agree. I'm talking about the morality—isn't that a bit too much?"
Ghostface arched his eyebrows in surprise, though it was invisible behind his helmet. "Why are you starting to talk about morality? Have we done fewer wicked things in the past?"
"That's different!" Freddy waved his hand, his expression surprisingly serious. "The Lamenters are fighting alongside us, aren't they?"
He pointed at the yellow giant talking to Joker in the distance.
"Look at Chapter Master Phoros and that honest, simple look of his. That guy genuinely considers protecting mortals his mission.
I think we should be a bit more moral during this time; let's not commit a massacre right in front of them. It would make things awkward for the Lamenters, wouldn't it? We can't be too disrespectful to our allies."
Ghostface fell silent for a few seconds, seemingly weighing the pros and cons.
"Fine," he finally shrugged, abandoning the tempting plan. "Seems like you've got a point."
With that, Ghostface stopped looking at the aristocrats who were destined to escape this calamity and turned toward the Thunderhawk gunship on the landing pad.
Freddy watched his back and asked subconsciously, "What are you doing now? Not going to keep looking at the scenery?"
Ghostface waved his hand without looking back, speaking in a relaxed tone: "Going back to the ship to summon a Slaaneshi demon! We used up the Daemonette we caught last time, remember? Since we're free now and have waited long enough, it's time to catch a new one."
Back on his flagship "Death Awaits" ship, Ghostface navigated familiarly to the designated "Summoning Room."
The room had been heavily reinforced; the walls were covered in chaotic runes—some were legitimate Chaos eight-pointed stars, others were "prayers for good loot" doodled by players. Around the room, hundreds of heavily armed players were already standing by. Heavy bolters, melta guns, and even plasma cannons were preheated, their muzzles aimed squarely at the formation in the center of the room.
The air was filled with a strange, burnt smell—it was a special incense containing a very hardcore ingredient: the ashes of Blanks. To Warp entities, this scent was even more repulsive than poison gas.
"Start it up. Any Daemonette will do; we mainly need one for emergencies," Ghostface waved his hand casually.
The player in charge of the summoning nodded and began chanting the convoluted spells. At first, everything was normal; purple mist began to fill the air, and that familiar, sickly-sweet fragrance tried to overpower the stench of the burnt ashes.
But soon, things went wrong.
The lights of the entire warship flickered, and a heart-stopping pressure descended upon the room. It wasn't the kind of pressure a common low-level demon could bring; the surrounding veil of reality shrieked under the strain, and the purple mist became so thick it was almost liquid, turning a nauseating deep red.
Ghostface felt his scalp tingle. This terrifying sensation made him realize he'd messed up. He squinted and shouted at the player in the center of the formation: "Hey, something's not right! Should we stop?"
"I already stopped!" the player was drenched in sweat, his hands twitching uncontrollably as if pulled by invisible threads. "The ritual has been hijacked by something else! I can't control it—holy fuck!"
Before he could finish, the player's body bloated suddenly, like an over-inflated balloon.
"Bang!"
With a dull thud, the player exploded on the spot. The flesh and blood didn't splatter; instead, it was sucked into a rift in the Warp that had torn open out of thin air.
Immediately after, a massive head with curved horns and a face that was both terrifying and exquisitely beautiful forced its way out of the rift.
Those purple eyes scanned the room, emitting a voice that made one's bones go soft: "Sweethearts, we meet again. How have you been lately?"
At that moment, the respawn light flashed nearby, and the player who had just exploded respawned. He didn't even care about grabbing his gear; he took one look at the kill-log on his retina, turned pale, and screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Holy fuck! Fire! That thing is a Greater Daemon! The game panel says it's a Keeper of Secrets class!"
He didn't need to tell them. The moment that head poked out, the well-prepared players instinctively pulled their triggers.
"Dakka-dakka-dakka!"
"Zzz—BOOM!"
The cramped room was instantly filled with a storm of metal and energy beams. Bolter rounds exploded against the massive head, and melta beams scorched its perfect skin.
Ghostface even grabbed the urn filled with the ashes of Blanks and hurled it like a grenade: "Great, we hit the jackpot! This is the second time in this game I've encountered a Greater Daemon! Hit it hard, bros!"
"Ah—!"
The urn shattered against the Greater Daemon's face. The dust, which was incredibly toxic to psychic entities, caused it to let out a sharp, piercing shriek. Under the heavy fire and direct melta hits, the Greater Daemon, which hadn't even fully manifested yet, was actually forced to retract slightly.
With constant fire suppression and the weakening effect of the Blank ashes, it looked like they were about to force it back into the Warp.
"Wait! Don't hit the face! I'm here to negotiate!"
The Slaaneshi Greater Daemon, struggling to defend against the barrage, screamed in a hurry: "Just like last time, I'll deal with the Dark Eldar for you! I know you've run into trouble over there!"
"Do you take us for idiots!" Ghostface cursed while reloading his bolter.
"What if you kill us all as soon as you get out? Everyone knows a Keeper of Secrets is a born liar! Cooperate? In your dreams!"
"I can tell you my True Name!" the Greater Daemon panicked. It could feel the unstable rift failing to hold, and the firepower of these lunatics was simply too intense.
In the Warhammer universe, holding a demon's True Name meant having power over its life and death.
Ghostface immediately told the surrounding players: "Don't stop the DPS! Keep it up!"
He then turned sharply to the Greater Daemon and roared fiercely: "You speak first! We'll consider stopping after you do!"
"Bonnie!" the Greater Daemon shrieked a syllable.
But that didn't earn them a ceasefire. Instead, a plasma bolt slammed directly into its horn. After speaking, the Greater Daemon retreated significantly, with only its hands still desperately clawing at the edges of the Warp rift, trying to avoid falling into the endless turbulence.
"Stop firing! I can't hold on—damn it, these ashes are disgusting!"
"Just wait a while longer in the Warp," Ghostface said coldly, with no intention of stopping. "We'll summon you again via your True Name later. The situation here is too messy right now; it's not a good time for business."
"Tch—what a cunning human—" The Greater Daemon rolled its eyes helplessly as it looked at the closing rift and an incoming frag grenade. "Fine, my True Name is Bonnie Blue. Remember this name, sweethearts. I'll be back—"
With that, the Greater Daemon couldn't hold on any longer, let go of the edges, and its massive head retreated into the Warp turbulence with an expression of reluctance.
The rift, sustained only by its power, lost its energy and collapsed rapidly after a series of twisted fluctuations, finally disappearing entirely, leaving behind only the smell of gunpowder and a floor covered in shell casings.