Chapter 33

Alvin pushed open the creaking wooden door of the chapel, carrying a slab of Gro meat and Amasek, and found himself facing someone familiar.

Tucker sat on a chair, legs crossed, as if the chapel were his own home.

“Mr. Tucker, what are you doing here?” Alvin couldn’t help but wonder, but his expression quickly shifted with a sense of dread: “Could it be... the cult has launched another major move?”

Seeing Alvin’s serious face, Tucker guessed his thoughts and shook his head: “Relax, kid, it’s not as bad as you imagine.”

At this, Alvin exhaled in relief—he’d been overwhelmed by one bad news after another.

“Where’s Aruman?”

Tucker asked casually, still lounging with his legs crossed.

“Probably stepped out on some business—I’m not sure.” Alvin envied this relaxed demeanor, though he knew he could never achieve it himself.

Suddenly, Tucker’s gaze sharpened like a hawk, locking onto the bottle of ‘Amasek’: “Kid, you’re doing pretty well—can afford this stuff now?”

“You must be mistaken—this liquor belongs to Father Aruman; I’m just running an errand.” Alvin’s lips twitched—he saw right through Tucker’s plan.

It was too obvious; his eyes were practically glued to the bottle!

“Oh, so it’s Aruman’s?” Tucker suddenly understood, then in a blur Alvin couldn’t follow, he lunged sideways, hooked his arm around Alvin’s neck, and grinned: “Me and Aruman are brothers—we rolled through the same battlefield. Let me taste it for him.”

Before Alvin could protest, Tucker snatched the bottle of ‘Amasek’ away.

Thud!

The bottle opened. Tucker took a deep breath and wore a look of pure bliss: “Perfect—this is what real men drink. Amasek really packs a punch!”

Glug glug glug...

Before Alvin could react, Tucker downed nearly half the bottle in one go.

As fate would have it, Father Aruman walked in just then and saw Tucker guzzling Amasek like a drunk.

After a half-second silence, Aruman fixed Alvin with a look of bitter accusation—as if to say: Why didn’t you stop him?

Alvin wore a helpless expression: “Believe me, Father Aruman—I swear by the God-Emperor, I tried my best to stop him... but I couldn’t!”

"By Om Messiah, today I’ll kill this damn parasite on behalf of the God-Emperor!"

Without another word, Aruman’s mechanical arms swung a power axe, bringing it down in a crushing overhead strike aimed straight at Tucker’s skull—speed and force terrifying.

But the veteran of Kataran was no fool—he sidestepped effortlessly, flicked his long bangs aside with his pinky, and smirked: “Just two sips of your wine? Is that worth breaking brotherhood, Aruman?”

“Fine. Go buy me another bottle, and I’ll pretend this never happened.” Aruman sneered, raising his hand to fire a blast missile.

Boom!

The door, barely repaired days ago, shattered again.

Alvin instinctively ducked into a corner, waiting for these two ‘veterans’ to finish their ‘affectionate’ exchange—he truly didn’t understand their twisted relationship.

Had Tucker not moved fast, that axe would’ve split his skull into pulp.

Soon enough, the fight ended, and the chapel lay in ruins once more.

Tucker and Aruman sat amid the debris, shoulder to shoulder, passing the Amasek bottle back and forth, drinking heartily—no trace of their earlier murderous intent.

It was... insane.

“So what brings you here this time?”

Aruman, like Alvin, suspected the cult in the Underhive had escalated.

“The Hammer Gang wiped out the Bone Gang in the South District and now controls two districts.” At the mention of real business, Tucker grew serious, glanced at Alvin, and lowered his voice: “Our scouts report the Hammer Gang has suddenly acquired large quantities of... PDF standard-issue gear.”

He paused for a few seconds, gazing meaningfully at Aruman: “You understand what this means, right?”

“A high-ranking noble is secretly backing the cult.”

Aruman’s expression darkened, his voice hoarse: “And only a handful of families can supply PDF standard-issue gear.”

PDF, the Planetary Defense Force, was an armed force under the Viceroy’s command, entirely loyal to the local ruler.

On the Lothar Hive World, only the Viceroy Galken Hadley and his allied families through marriage controlled the Planetary Defense Force.

“Galken Hadley isn’t the type...” Aruman still couldn’t believe it, shaking his head: “If it really were Galken Hadley, why didn’t he kill you back then? Why exile you to the Underhive? That makes no sense.”

“I didn’t say it was Galken Hadley.” Tucker sighed—he still held a sliver of respect for the Viceroy.

Galken Hadley had once been a glory of the Astra Militarum, earning his title as Viceroy of Lothar through monumental deeds.

If such a hero had turned to Chaos, Tucker simply could not accept it.

“The list is too long. As far as I know, three families can supply PDF gear: the Hadley family, which controls the military; the Meyer family, which handles logistics; and the Cobb family, which oversees recruitment and training.”

“Uh... I think I know which family it is.”

At that moment, Alvin spoke up, meeting their startled gazes. He cleared his throat: “Actually, today I saw the cult’s psyker again—the one who appeared in the Underhive.”

“Where did you see him?” Tucker’s eyes widened, scanning Alvin: “Wait—if you really saw him, how are you even alive?”

That was a bit condescending... Alvin now understood, at least a little, why Father Aruman always wanted to chop Tucker’s head off.

“Today... wait—you saw him at the ‘Festival’?!”

Father Aruman’s mind moved fast—he instantly grasped the key point, his mechanical eye flashing red as if mirroring his inner turmoil.

"Praise Om Messiah—you’re exactly right."

Alvin’s expression turned grave, each word deliberate: “The cult’s psyker is Rasheed Hadley—the current Hadley family’s... first heir.”

“Rasheed Hadley? How could it be him?!”

Tucker nearly reeled from the shock, suddenly furious, growling: “Impossible! It can’t be Rasheed Hadley—you must’ve mistaken him, right?!”

Seeing Alvin’s confusion, Aruman’s expression grew complex as he explained: “Tucker once attempted to assassinate the suspected cultist heir of the Hadley family—Rasheed Hadley. He pleaded for mercy, and that’s why the Viceroy exiled him instead of executing him on the spot.”

So that was it—but why did Rasheed plead for Tucker?

Alvin stared at Tucker, who now looked hollow, whispering: “I know what you’re wondering. Back then... it was Rasheed who showed me the evidence proving Karran Hadley had fallen to Chaos. He gave me Karran’s movements and location—I succeeded because of him.”

“So... Rasheed used you to remove Karran as a stone in his path?”

Alvin suddenly understood, piecing it together: “Then, once Karran was gone, he took the first heir position—and eliminated you, his most dangerous rival!”

Tucker was in agony, fingers buried deep in his hair, eyes bloodshot like a feral beast: “I thought Rasheed was kind—he always showed compassion to us veterans. But I never imagined... it was him behind all this!”

“It’s not that simple, Tucker.”

A low, chilling voice, thick with suppressed rage and killing intent, slipped from Father Aruman’s teeth.

The usually calm mechanical priest now wore a look ready to devour men whole, his grinding teeth emitting a horrifying sound: “The annihilation of our 175th Regiment brothers—on a mission in the wastes—has to be tied to this bastard.”