Chapter 3: The Inquisition's Shadow

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The air of the underhive was suffocating, a blend of smoke, decay, and grime that clung to Kel'Acthar and Elara as they navigated the twisting alleys. Shadows stretched endlessly, and each corner felt like it held something watching, waiting. The deeper they descended, the stronger the faint taint of Warp energy became—a trace, elusive but distinct, that Kel'Acthar’s sharp senses could detect.

The two Inquisitors, moving as seamlessly as they could in their assumed roles, didn’t exchange many words. Each instinctively knew what the other sought: any trace of their target, the Changeling who had embedded itself in the hive.

“We’re getting close,” Kel'Acthar murmured, his voice low. His nostrils flared as he picked up the faint, shifting scent of their target. “I can smell traces of him. He’s been through here.”

Elara, her face set in a mask of restrained contempt, only nodded, careful to maintain her assumed role. The Changeling’s influence could be sensed as if faint webs stretched across the hive, winding through the minds of the weak and spreading seeds of doubt and corruption.

But as they pressed further, another sound interrupted the silence. Heavy, armored footfalls echoed against the metal walls, drawing nearer, and in an instant, they were no longer alone.

A squad of Black Templars, their black-crossed power armor gleaming even in the dim underhive light, emerged from the shadows ahead. Their eyes, piercing and suspicious, took in the sight of the two figures in front of them. The Templar commander, a scarred warrior with an imposing presence, strode forward.

“You two,” he barked, his voice gruff. “Identify yourselves.”

Kel'Acthar held his ground, his stance relaxed but prepared, keeping his eyes fixed on the Templar. “No business with you, templar,” he replied, keeping his voice rough, as he would for a common underhive thug.

But the Templar’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he took in Kel'Acthar’s horns, his beast-like features, and Elara’s cloaked figure beside him. “A beastman with a noblewoman down here? It reeks of heresy.”

Elara remained silent, knowing it was best for her companion to take the lead. She sensed the tension mounting as the Templar’s hand moved to his weapon.

“Hands where we can see them,” the Templar demanded.

Kel'Acthar clenched his jaw, though he slowly complied, raising his two-fingered hands. Truth and Cull gleamed faintly in the dim light, the Imperial Aquila etched into each knuckle duster. The Templar’s eyes flickered with disdain, but he didn’t back down.

“Nice trinkets,” the Templar sneered, then turned his attention to Elara. “And her? Show your face.”

The Templar reached out, as if to pull back her hood himself, but Kel'Acthar moved quickly. With a single swift motion, he headbutted the Templar, his horns colliding hard against the helmet with a resounding clang. The force knocked the Templar off balance, and Kel'Acthar followed up with a punch from Truth, hitting squarely against the Templar’s armored chest.

The other Black Templars reacted instantly, weapons raised. Kel'Acthar met the first Templar’s strike with a brutal swing from Cull, and the impact was enough to send his opponent staggering. But before the Templar commander could raise his weapon to strike back, Elara stepped forward, her voice cutting through the skirmish.

“Enough!” she commanded, pulling back her cloak to reveal the Inquisitorial seal pinned at her shoulder. The emblem gleamed in the dim light, a symbol of her authority.

The Templars froze, weapons still raised but eyes wide with shock and confusion. The commander’s expression shifted, his gaze moving between Elara and Kel'Acthar as he processed her words.

“Inquisition?” he repeated, suspicion giving way to a hint of respect.

Elara’s voice was cold, every word dripping with authority. “Yes. I am Inquisitor Elara Valenhurst, and my companion, Inquisitor Kel'Acthar. Lower your weapons. Now.”

The Templar’s jaw clenched, but he reluctantly lowered his weapon, nodding for his squad to do the same. “A beastman… an Inquisitor?” he muttered, clearly struggling to mask his incredulity.

Kel'Acthar fixed him with a hard stare, his expression unflinching. “You have a problem with that?”

The Templar commander hesitated, then shook his head, his tone carefully neutral. “No, Inquisitor. My apologies for the misunderstanding.”

Elara nodded, her gaze icy. “See that it doesn’t happen again. We’re here on Inquisitorial business, and your interference has already delayed us.”

The Templar nodded, still visibly uncomfortable, but he gestured for his men to step back. “Understood, Inquisitor. We’ll withdraw.”

With a final nod of acknowledgment, the Templars moved away, disappearing back into the shadows. Elara watched them go, her posture rigid until she was certain they were alone.

Only then did she turn to Kel'Acthar, her expression a mixture of exasperation and reluctant approval. “You could have let me handle that.”

Kel'Acthar shrugged, his lips curving in a faint, unapologetic smile. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

Elara sighed, rolling her eyes. “Just… next time, try to avoid headbutting Templars.”

Kel'Acthar’s grin widened. “I’ll think about it.”

As they resumed their journey through the underhive, the brief encounter left a mark of unease in the air, but they pressed forward, determined to complete their mission. Every step brought them closer to the Changeling, the scent of Warp energy growing stronger as they ventured deeper into the darkness.

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