"Whoosh..."
With a thought from Gavo, a twisted flame suddenly appeared out of nowhere in her outstretched palm.
An Iota-level psychic talent counted as a medium-grade psychic ability, and its stability was therefore relatively good. On top of that, as a transmigrator, Gavo quickly grasped some simple ways to make use of psychic power.
"But I can't use this unless there's absolutely no other choice."
Gavo's eyes shifted slightly as she closed her hand and extinguished the invisible flame in her palm.
The reason was simple.
First, whenever psychic power was used, the soul of an intelligent being would shine brightly in the Warp, making it very easy to attract the attention of indescribable horrors.
Second, in the eyes of the Imperium of Man, if a psyker was not officially sanctioned, then at best they would be dragged away and burned as fuel for the Astronomican, the psychic beacon on Terra used to guide ships through the void, and at worst they would be lobotomized and turned into a servitor.
At the thought of either outcome, Gavo could not help but shiver.
Even her nonexistent little brother shrank back.
After settling on the principle of not casually using psychic power, she slowly stood up.
After another night's rest, Gavo's formerly near-fatal injuries had already healed to a remarkable extent.
When Medic learned of this, his pupils contracted slightly, and then he said in his usual unhurried tone,
"When you die in the strike team, I'll make sure to dissect you properly and study you."
Ignoring Medic's wonderfully auspicious words, Gavo asked,
"When are we leaving?"
Medic spread his hands.
"Whenever you want. Ironarm Boss originally thought you'd be bedridden for at least seven or eight days, but since you've recovered early, it just depends on when you want to go."
Gavo gave a slight nod.
"Give me a little time. There are some people I need to say goodbye to."
After getting Medic's permission, Gavo immediately went to find Mir and the others.
...
"Boss, don't go!"
Fish-Eyes looked miserable. After six years together, he had actually grown quite fond of the boss he used to be afraid of.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of them."
Mir stood with his arms crossed, and on his skinless face there was a very obvious trace of reluctance.
"Wuwuwu, be careful. Don't die over there. And if you do die, at least leave behind a whole corpse. Don't end up like that bald guy, impossible to piece back together."
Rabbit-Mouth wiped at the corners of his eyes and offered his heartfelt "blessing," only to be beaten to his knees and dragged away by Gavo right afterward.
...
"Old Bill, I'm leaving."
"You told me so many stories. When I come back, I'll tell you the stories I made for myself out there."
"Oh, and this guy here is the new listener I found for you."
Gavo dragged along a very unwilling-looking Rabbit-Mouth and said this to the visibly reluctant Old Bill.
After saying farewell to Old Bill and the Children's Gang, Gavo carried her adoptive father on her back and, following Medic, set out toward the Weepers Strike Team's base.
To be honest, she was a little nervous about this trip.
That was perfectly normal. Any normal person who had been tortured the way Griffin had tortured her, and then got told they would be working under him, would feel a chill in the soles of their feet.
And those people very obviously lived by fighting.
If they were not in a fight, they were on the way to one.
A place that dangerous was no different from a dragon's den for her adoptive father, whose lower body was paralyzed from a broken spine.
But her adoptive father insisted on going with her.
As a father, he absolutely would not allow little Gavo to stay alone among those cruel gang gunmen.
No matter how much Gavo grew, no matter what she became, he would always be her father, and she would always be his child.
He would love her unconditionally, until eternity...
...
After walking for who knew how long, a large camp full of bullet scars appeared before them.
From the faint smell of blood and gunpowder still lingering in the air, it was easy to tell that a fierce battle had taken place here not long ago.
Gavo's eyes swept over the dog-shaped emblem on the camp gate, stained with large amounts of dried blood, and she instantly understood.
This had originally been a Wild Dog Gang camp.
And now, the Tearblood Gang banner fluttering overhead made the fate of those wild dogs painfully obvious.
Once they entered the camp, Gavo's eyes narrowed, because Griffin was already waiting there with the rest of the Weepers.
Griffin glanced at the grotesquely ugly mutant on Gavo's back, and something flickered in his eyes, but the reaction vanished almost immediately.
Then, when his gaze landed on Gavo herself, a trace of genuine surprise flashed through his deep eyes.
"You healed faster than I expected, little one."
He spread his mouth into a hoarse, mocking grin, and the familiar smile instantly made cold sweat run down Gavo's back.
"Still, I remember only allowing one of you to join us."
At that point, a dangerous light appeared in Griffin's narrowed eyes.
"I'll take care of my father myself. I guarantee he won't interfere with the work I do for you."
Gavo answered without either lowering herself or showing defiance.
Griffin rubbed his stubbled chin with his iron hand and thought for a moment, then said in a somewhat joking tone,
"Well then, let's hope he doesn't die to stray fire in battle... Sharkteeth, take our guest to our little one's tent."
With that, he waved a hand and turned toward the large tent behind him.
"And you, come with me."
"Only after receiving the blood tear does one become a true Weeper."
Gavo hesitated slightly, then gritted her teeth and handed her adoptive father over to a cold-faced blond giant, before silently following Griffin into his tent.
The moment she entered, she rubbed her eyes.
Strange. Why was she hallucinating in broad daylight?
The tent was fully furnished and equipped. Behind the tent cloth made from some unknown beast hide, there were synthetic panels that served both to insulate sound and preserve warmth. Spread across the soft spider-hair carpet were ancient heroic totems, which served as decoration while also keeping dust away.
This was a residence that would count as comfortable, even luxurious, even in the mid-hive or upper hive, and yet it had appeared here in the underhive.
Of course, judging by the blood mixed with bits of brain matter splattered across the furniture, the previous owner of this place was never going to enjoy it again.
"Heh, these wild dogs did know how to live, didn't they?"
Hearing that voice so close behind her, Gavo instinctively nodded, then suddenly realized what she was doing and spun around at once, her body tightening like a startled rabbit's.
"Relax. Do I really look that much like a bad guy?"
Holding a long, slender awl in his hand, Griffin showed his yellowed teeth as the muscles of his face twisted into a terrifying grin that looked worse than crying.
Gavo glanced at the awl in his hand and cautiously asked,
"What am I supposed to do next?"
As Griffin pulled a small bottle filled with a strange crimson pigment from his coat, he replied indifferently,
"Take off the mask. What else would you do?"
(End of Chapter)
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