Inside the transfer station, David listened to the manager's report.
Byrne noticed that David's gaze occasionally drifted toward the abandoned ore pile to the south. Then, he raised a hand as if by accident. A close guard beside him caught the signal immediately, discreetly stepping back half a pace and facing the direction of the waste pile.
Byrne shifted his focus, sending his psychic threads toward the area. The ore pile was massive; besides substandard rocks, it was littered with rusted tools. At a glance, it looked ordinary. However, as the threads reached deep into the pile, Byrne sensed someone hiding within.
It seemed the Governor was not as simple as he appeared. He had sensed the anomaly even before Byrne did.
Meanwhile, David continued to listen to the manager's report with a flat expression. He occasionally interrupted to ask about ore yield and worker wages in a monotone voice, as if this were truly just a routine inspection.
The manager continued his enthusiastic report, spittle flying. "Governor, rest assured. This transfer station delivers ore to the refinery on time every day without fail. Even the workers below are honest, law-abiding folk."
David nodded, his gaze sweeping over the abandoned ore pile once more. "Being law-abiding is good. However, the Lower District is a mixed bag; it's inevitable that idle personnel might slip in. You should remain vigilant, lest the transfers be delayed or an accident occurs."
David's tone grew slightly heavier on the last few words. The smile on the manager's face froze, and he bowed quickly. "Yes, yes, Governor. I will assign more men to conduct thorough patrols immediately and ensure no outsiders get close."
The inspection continued. David stopped by a conveyor belt, watching the ore piling up on the slowly moving machinery. The manager explained, "Governor, the ore from the Lower District is naturally of lower quality, and with the aging equipment, sorting efficiency has remained low."
David nodded without speaking. He bent down to pick up a stray piece of ore and examined it. At that moment, Byrne's outward-reaching psychic threads detected movement from the person hidden in the waste pile.
"Governor, over here is our sorting area, if you please..." The manager was still introducing the site, completely unaware of the lurking crisis.
David raised a hand to interrupt him. His gaze fell casually toward the eastern ore pile as he said plainly, "No need. I've seen enough to understand the situation here."
As he finished speaking, he exchanged a look with his three close guards. The trio understood instantly, quietly forming a triangular formation to shield David in the center.
Perhaps feeling the distance was close enough, a figure suddenly lunged out from the ore pile like an uncontrolled beast, pouncing toward David. The man's face was hideous, his eyes bloodshot, and his skin a sickly dark green. Viscous black fluid seeped from his pores from time to time.
There was no doubt: this man was a follower of Nurgle.
He gripped a scythe imbued with the power of decay. Even before he drew near, a nauseating stench of rot swept through the area, making the air feel thick and contaminated.
"David Rick, give me your life!"
The Nurgle cultist let out a raspy, maddened roar filled with deep-seated hatred. Dark green Chaos energy surged frantically around him, and the black fluid dripping from him corroded small pits into the ground beneath his feet. He leaped into the air, raising his long blade high and hacking down at David, the wind from the blade carrying the scent of putrefaction.
The workers in the station were scared out of their wits, screaming and scattering in all directions. The once orderly transfer station fell into instant chaos. Ore scattered across the floor, and the conveyor belts continued to grind mechanically, the harsh friction adding to the panic. The manager's face turned deathly pale, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, shivering uncontrollably.
Faced with the sudden assassination attempt, David remained composed, showing no sign of panic. His three close guards were already prepared. The moment the scythe swung down, they raised their hands simultaneously. In an instant, a psychic shield manifested. Three pale blue light shields interlaced to form an airtight defensive barrier.
The scythe slammed violently into the energy shield, producing a deafening metallic clang. Violent Chaos power exploded, sending a dark green shockwave outward that blew away the surrounding scattered ore. The three guards jolted, their hands numbing from the massive impact, and the energy shield nearly shattered.
"Protect the Governor!" the guard captain barked. The team members who had been dispersed for security rushed toward the center, raising their rifles at the Nurgle cultist and pulling their triggers without hesitation.
A dense hail of bullets poured out toward the assassin. However, the cultist showed no fear, laughing maniacally as he swung his blade. But this time, he didn't strike at the Governor. Instead, he turned the blade inward and slashed a deep wound into his own left arm. Then, he thrust the blood-stained blade into the ground.
In the blink of an eye, a massive amount of dark green fungus spread rapidly from the cultist as the center. These fungi were slimy and coated in an eerie luster, growing at an alarming speed and covering over a dozen meters in seconds. Wherever the mycelium passed, the hard ore was corroded into jagged pits, emitting an even stronger stench of rot.
"Hahaha! Today, I shall use the Grandfather's gift to turn you, David, and these dogs into nutrients for my ascension!"
The cultist laughed insanely. Dark green blood continued to pour from the wound on his left arm, dripping into the fungal patch and causing the mycelium to grow even more aggressively. Very soon, a few team members at the front couldn't dodge in time. The mycelium snagged their trouser legs, instantly corroding holes through them. A burning pain seared their skin, causing them to scream in agony.
"Not good! This is the plague mycelium of the Lord of Corruption! Everyone fall back! Get the flamethrowers from the vehicles to deal with these vines!"
Seeing the mycelium spreading across the ground, the guard captain's expression changed drastically. He had participated in operations against Nurgle cultists before and knew the horror of this fungus. Once fully entangled, it would take less than half a minute for a person to be corroded into a pool of pus.
The guards retreated at the command, but the mycelium spread far faster than imagined, chasing closely at their heels. Two members were slightly slower; their ankles were gripped tightly by the mycelium, and the dark green corrosive power spread up their skin instantly, followed by a chorus of screams. Within seconds, their lower legs became a bloody mess, with bone faintly visible.
Seeing the guards in retreat, the Nurgle cultist grew even more arrogant. "David Rick, today is your day of reckoning."
Before his voice even faded, the cultist flickered, stepping across the mycelium as he lunged toward David.