Chapter 528: Cleansing the Weakness by Three Points

The pale blue feathers on Rokasna's body were faded, and new golden feathers covered Rokasna's body. These feathers exude a pious atmosphere, but if someone can remove the feathers and observe carefully, they can find that the roots of these feathers are glowing with an indelible faint blue.

"Okay, your new image is quite good." Tzeentch was very satisfied with Carlos's work efficiency, clapped his hands and showed a mirror in front of Rokasna.

Looking at the reflection in the mirror carefully, Luokasna felt like one of those bad students from the University of Impossible Graduation who had fallen into the Sixth Street of Orgies.

Golden color. He hates golden color.

Rokasna was still melancholy, so Tzeentch raised his hand to tear open a crack, grabbed Rokasna's neck and threw him in.

"Good job, my student!"

While the world was spinning, only this sentence reached Rokasna's ears.

After waiting for his vision to return and the dizziness to disappear, Rokasna touched his head and groaned in discomfort.

It feels a little off, a little rough.

Lokasna looked at his hands and found that his body had turned into that of a mortal, and his smooth and neat feathers had turned into rough and rough skin.

Where am I?

Struggling to get up, Rokasna observed the surrounding environment. He tried to predict with his psychic eyes, but found that he could not pry the sea of ​​psychic energy, and could only condense a trace of power from the steaming water.

This is a human nest. The dim and dilapidated walls are covered with soot, rust, and traces of mixed blood from various creatures. Fragments of words from more than a thousand or even ten thousand years ago can be found at the bottom of the hive city. There are deformities and monsters living in this garbage pit.

Listening carefully, Luokasna heard the buzzing sound in the blocked pipe. He despised the roughness of mortal ears, which prevented him from making clear distinctions from such subtle sounds.

There were footsteps, at least 20 people, coming in this direction. No, the footsteps of these 20 people were heavier. There were footsteps before them, the staggering steps of the old, weak, sick and disabled.

Is this a hunt or a safari?

Luokasna snapped his fingers. He could have created a fire storm that destroyed the city and destroyed the land, but now he could only create a fireball the size of a mortal fist.

He covered his face helplessly, this fireball was not enough to give the lust demon some psychedelic smoke.

However, this light did have some effect, and those who fled in the darkness panted towards the light.

A group of people appeared in front of Lokasna. They were wrapped in rags and strips, as well as protective gear made of various scrap metals.

Their condition was not good, with hunger and disease ravaging the group. The person running in front was still intact, but the guy behind the crowd was injured and bleeding.

The steaming sweat, stench, and blood mixed together, and Rokasna frowned. He was surprised that there was no disciple of Nurgle among this group of desperate people.

Although the souls of these people are a little small and weak, they can barely be eaten. After careful torture and preparation, they can have a good flavor.

Luokasna felt a sense of hunger filling his body. He subconsciously licked his lips and felt something calling him in his pocket.

Quickly reaching into his pocket, Rokasna touched a piece of parchment. When he opened it, he saw only one line written on the parchment.

"Help mortals."

What? Ask me to help these sick and weak people in front of me? Lokasna wondered if he had seen it wrong, and when he wanted to take a closer look, the text on the parchment disappeared, leaving only a poem praising the emperor.

Luokasna was silent for a while, then he took back the parchment. Holding the fireball in hand, he took a step closer to the crowd.

Every time he took a step forward, the crowd took a step back. These people who make a living on the underbelly of the hive city fear bandits as much as they fear psykers.

"Oh! Where else could you run! You should be honored to give your body to the Emperor!"

More than twenty armed robbers surrounded the crowd and Rokasna. They had automatic live ammunition weapons in their hands, and daggers and cutting knives modified from electric saws hung on their waists.

There is a backpack behind him, with a stick made of wood or steel inserted into the backpack, and several human heads stuck in it. Some of them have had their flesh and blood removed, leaving only clean bones. Some heads should be newly installed, with their necks attached. The fracture was still bleeding with blood.

The crowd fell into panic. They were at a loss when faced with a psyker and a group of bloodthirsty bandits. Helpless cries were heard. Several people were determined to struggle. Their legs were broken by bullets just after they ran a few steps. , then a harpoon shot, inserted into the struggling torso and violently dragged away.

"Even death! No one can resist! Give everything to the Emperor!"

This kind of fanatical and bloodthirsty roar reminded Lokasna of the believers of Khorne, but he really smelled the smell of belief in the Emperor from these bandits.

Rokasna threw a fireball at a bandit, but the power of the fireball was greatly reduced. Just a ball of condensed flames was thrown at the robber, and neither explosion nor melting was able to create it.

"Damn it. The psychic energy here is too thin." Rokasna cursed secretly, and then rushed towards the robber.

He must complete the mission given to him by Tzeentch.

The robbers opened fire on Rokasna, and the fire inevitably spread to the crowd. The already chaotic and tense crowd was running in all directions. Rokas snatched a sharpened steel bar from the corpse and barely used it as a spear.

Although the Tzeentch demon is good at magic, if he insists on close combat, he can still fight a few times.

If he can't beat the bloodthirsty demon, it should be no problem for him to bully you mortals.

Rocasna raised his hand to raise a layer of shield to block the attack of homemade bullets. The steel spear in his hand inserted into the gap of the armor at a tricky angle, and the tip of the spear broke through the leather under the armor and pierced the victim's throat.

The spear was pulled out, and blood spurted out under the pumping of the heart. Rocasna did not stop, and ran in the rain of bullets with the help of the complex environment and psychic shield. The spear in his hand had already harvested the lives of 9 bandits.

These bandits were not afraid of casualties. They rushed up more fanatically and used bombs to limit Rocasna's dodging space.

Damn. These guys are too fanatical. Rocasna felt tricky, and his body was already scarred by the fragments produced by the explosion.

Rocasna tried to catch his breath. It was hard for him to breathe in such a dry space with little spiritual energy.

A faint charging sound was heard, and Rocasna looked up, only to see a well-maintained hell gun aimed at him.