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Ignis used his psychic senses to inspect the two masks. They appeared to be harmless—nothing more than finely crafted works of art. However, the gemstones and precious metals embedded in them were undeniably genuine. These masks were truly valuable.
Followers of Slaanesh were notoriously obsessed with gemstones and precious metals, harboring a pathological fixation on all things ornate and extravagant.
After donning the lavish masks, Ignis followed behind Jane Doe and stepped through the grand doors of the theater. He was genuinely surprised that no one conducted a body search—he was allowed to enter carrying weapons.
Either these people were exceedingly confident in their own strength, or they had contingencies prepared. Ignis sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter. After all, open threats were easier to avoid than hidden blades.
Contrary to the seedy exterior, the interior was pristine—one could even say it had been recently renovated. The lighting system was fully operational, clearly refurbished not long ago. By comparison, the Hollow within the Ballet Twins building had developed numerous electrical failures after only a few years. The decor was modern and fashionable. Ignis distinctly remembered that the fall of the Old Capital had been ten years ago—this building had to be at least that old.
Which meant these people had invested an enormous amount just to host a single auction.
There had to be more to it than that. The Greater Daemon of Slaanesh had suffered a setback the last time it clashed with him. Though not gravely wounded, it certainly knew he was a difficult opponent.
For a daemon capable of wielding Warp sorcery, the choices it would make when facing a troublesome enemy were easy to predict.
It would attempt to open a Warp portal—tearing a breach in the reality of New Eridu. This place was filled with living people, with fresh, vibrant souls. Such offerings were irresistible to daemons and Chaos gods. Once the portal opened, as more daemons poured through and a Warp storm formed, the veil of reality would tear apart, and this world's destruction would follow swiftly.
But opening such a portal required a large-scale sacrifice. Unlike Khorne's blunt and brutal rituals, Slaanesh's rites were intricate and elaborate, demanding countless performances to please the Prince of Excess.
So, gathering all these people—was it all for a sacrifice?
Even through the mask, Jane Doe sensed Ignis's agitation growing. She couldn't truly comprehend what he meant by "Chaos Gods," but seeing how tense this warrior had become, she had every reason to believe extreme danger lay ahead.
She needed to keep his focus on the mission at hand. In his current state, he was far too likely to expose himself.
"Those attendants aren't worth staring at. Keep up, you stupid lump," she snapped, maintaining her disguise as an irritable rock bassist, then turned and kicked the Salamander hard in the shin.
Only then did the Salamander realize he was about to collide with the attendants lined up on both sides.
They wore canine-themed masks, each breed carefully matched to the wearer's height. The masks were astonishingly lifelike—the fur glossy and natural, far too real to be artificial.
Which meant these masks were likely more than mere disguises.
A burning sensation flared across Ignis's face. These attendants had clearly already been corrupted by Slaanesh, reduced to puppets of a Chaos God.
Guided by the masked attendants, they followed the other invitees into the theater's main performance hall.
Guests were scattered across the tiered seating in small clusters, clearly divided into groups. Though everyone wore masks, it was obvious some recognized one another—the ornate disguises posed no obstacle at all.
Jane Doe led him to a corner seat. Nearby sat a quiet-looking girl. Despite the lack of signal inside the Hollow, she continued fiddling with a smart terminal in her hands.
Ignis found her curious. Compared to the other invitees, she looked like an ordinary high school student—plain clothes, no makeup visible beneath the canary mask. While there were other young people present, they were dressed extravagantly and behaved flamboyantly.
Noticing the towering figure wearing a far more elaborate mask than most, the girl glanced at him without the slightest hint of fear. Ignis silently retracted his earlier judgment—this young lady was anything but simple.
"Wow, there are really a lot of entertainment industry types here," Jane Doe muttered, nudging him with her elbow. "See them? The ones wearing chicken, duck, and goose masks—chatting away like crazy."
She was referring to a large group seated near the center front. Their clothing was meticulously styled, their speech refined, even their laughter politely concealed behind hands. Unfortunately, the poultry masks only made them seem unbearably noisy to the Salamander.
"Let me see… these ones are easy to recognize. Top idols, rising stars, and the agencies behind them," Jane Doe continued. "Oh wow, isn't that that super-famous male idol? So, he came too." Though she spoke with mock dismay, she was already thinking about when to dig up their criminal records.
"Arrest them?" Ignis asked in a low voice.
"People in this industry using illegal drugs is nothing new. I just didn't expect them to be using this," Jane Doe replied sharply. "Look how hyped they are—there's definitely a problem."
Her sharp gaze behind the cat mask reminded the Salamander of their first meeting, when this Thiren woman had insisted on calling herself a Cat Thiren despite being clearly rodent-like.
"Did you see that perfume bottle?" Jane Doe gestured subtly.
Ignis had noticed it. An elderly rooster had pulled it from his inner jacket pocket. The liquid inside shimmered in a gorgeous pink-violet hue. He pressed the nozzle, and silvery mist sprayed out. Those nearby inhaled deeply and immediately looked euphoric.
"So, they turned it into perfume," Ignis said quietly as the group fell into a dazed silence. "After we destroyed the processing plant last time, they must've tried every method to extend their remaining stock."
"See the one vaping?" Jane Doe added. "That's a newcomer several directors are pushing hard. Variety shows, two TV dramas, even a movie—he's genuinely at the peak right now."
The New Eridu Public Security criminology expert reclined lazily, legs draped over the seat in front, pretending to play on her phone while secretly recording video evidence.
"Can this prove who's under the masks?" Ignis asked.
"Of course not. But once I get back, I'll compile a list and leak some information online. Obsessive fans will follow them—someone's bound to screw up," Jane Doe replied. She finished recording, then deliberately opened a mobile game and cranked up the sound.
"And I'll dig up their criminal evidence personally. Ruin their reputations first, then send them to prison," she added, glancing to the side. "Oh? Those look like TOPS Alliance people. I'll observe them for now."
Her hands never stopped moving, the Snake game score climbing steadily, but Ignis could clearly see her attention fixed on the men in business suits.
They looked painfully out of place, yet had no choice but to stay. Some entertainment figures tried to approach them, only to be driven off by their attendants. Worse still, obvious gang members began surrounding them—crudely mocking, provoking conflicts, even shoving their escorts.
Eventually, the dog-masked attendants rushed in and forcibly separated both sides.
One gang member caught Ignis's attention. He hadn't joined the harassment, merely observing. When things calmed down, he helped a fallen businessman to his feet.
The gentleman was clearly shaken, staring fearfully at whatever hung from the leather-clad man's waist. His attendants rushed in, roughly shoving the man aside, nearly knocking him over. Even so, the leather-clad man didn't get angry—he raised his hands, signaling he was unarmed, and stepped back.
"Why would those people need narcotics?" Jane Doe mused. She was far more curious about what these respectable figures wanted with drugs.
More guests soon arrived, instinctively keeping their distance from Ignis's area. His massive frame was far too intimidating. During this time, Jane Doe recognized several more acquaintances and quietly added them to her investigation list.
Only the young girl from earlier remained seated nearby. the Salamander found himself oddly curious—she sat alone, absorbed in her device, like someone waiting for a movie to start.
His gaze earned him another eye-roll. Ignis thought the canary mask didn't suit her at all. With that fiery temper, a shrike mask would've been more appropriate.
His idle thoughts were interrupted by sudden music—the sound system had been restored as well.
Spotlights flared, illuminating the center of the stage. A figure rose from a hidden platform. It was the owl-masked man.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for honoring me with your presence at this auction," he declared theatrically, movements broad and exaggerated. His robe now glittered with even more jewels. "Though we all know today's true goal is a substance capable of delivering dreamlike bliss, we shall first present several unique pieces of jewelry."
He gestured, and a woman wearing a rabbit mask and a black bunny-girl outfit stepped forward with a tray.
"Our first item—a pinky ring crafted by one of our master jewelers."
He launched into an enthusiastic introduction, but most of the audience was uninterested. Though the sapphire was top-grade and the craftsmanship exquisite, few cared. Compared to Fantasy, beautiful ornaments were trivial.
Despite the lukewarm response, the owl-masked man remained animated, loudly praising the craftsmanship and recounting the sapphire's story.
Storytelling meant price inflation—but even so, one buyer emerged. The vaping idol snapped it up at the base price, beaming as if he'd struck gold.
Several more strange yet beautiful trinkets followed, most selling at base price. The buyers were mostly entertainment figures—these jewels would look great on camera.
"You seem more interested in those bunny girls," Jane Doe teased. "Should I prepare an outfit too?"
"Two outfits," Ignis whispered. "And one reverse bunny suit."
She narrowed her eyes and elbowed him hard.
The drawn-out jewelry segment began irritating some attendees. Some were impatient—or experiencing withdrawal—desperate for their fix.
When several bunny girls wheeled out carts, Ignis's facial mark immediately flared with pain.
"It's real," he said flatly.
"How do you know?" Jane Doe froze. The lids weren't even open yet.
"Anything connected to that substance causes a burning sensation. A… precursor from the blessing from humanity's protector," he replied after a pause. Saying he'd been slapped by divine power sounded worse.
When the owl lifted the covers, every gaze locked onto the stage. Brick-sized blocks of narcotics were stacked neatly—dozens of kilograms at least.
Rage surged in Ignis's chest. How many innocents had been murdered—organs harvested, blood drained—to create this filth?
He nearly leapt up, but reason forced him still. He needed to confirm whether this was everything. Acting too soon could alert them.
Clack. The canary-masked girl's phone slipped from her hands. When Ignis turned, he was met with yet another glare.
The drugs were auctioned by the block, each priced higher than the last. Early buyers paid less.
The hall erupted. Within a minute, prices tripled.
The owl-masked man's grin was unstoppable. This was perfect. The Savior was right—rich, artists, gangsters alike were all slaves to desire.
Jane Doe placed a few bids to avoid suspicion, but once prices soared, they stopped. The smuggling group she'd infiltrated only wanted reconnaissance. Buying in bulk was too expensive—later, scattered purchases would be cheaper.
The first buyer was the rooster. He strutted onstage like an award winner.
Then—
The hall doors burst open. In two seconds, a figure charged forward and hurled a strange cylinder at the drugs. A phone was strapped to it, counting down.
A bomb?!
But what shocked Ignis more was the attacker himself.
A Space Marine. Even with damaged armor, Ignis recognized him instantly. Mark VII Aquila Power Armor—helmet gone, face wrapped in cloth. Mustard-yellow plating. On his right pauldron, crossed downward swords—the insignia of an Assault Marine from pre-Primaris days.
The Chapter badge was battered but unmistakable: a black-and-white checkerboard bearing a bleeding red heart.
A Lamenters Space Marine. Here—of all places.
As the bomb left his hand, the Marine transferred his chainsword to his right hand, bracing to face the dog-masked attackers. Ignis noticed something wrong—the blade's disruption field wasn't ignited.
"For those I cherish, I shall die in glory!"
He roared the Chapter's battle cry and charged.
The attendees were utterly stunned. Who was this man? Where had he come from?
Even the owl-masked host was frozen in shock. Every entry was supposedly monitored—how had he gotten in? And that device… it was about to explode.
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