Day 296, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Hive Spire
The neon lights in the conference room reflected off the metal plates on the table, casting straight lines of circling motions. Valen Korvax stood near the window. Papers and holograms piled on the table, witnesses to his own thoughts. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were as cold as sharpened blades.
Four days ago, he hadn't been idle. After his younger brother informed him of the possibility of geenstealers infiltrating the nobility, he saw an opportunity to eliminate rivals, or those he disliked, from the power struggle in the hive city. He ordered his men to meticulously record guest attendance, piece together courtier testimonies, search for loopholes in accounts, and investigate the relationships between rival families and the strange cultists who had risen up in the lower hive. Every piece of information, even fragments, was incorporated into his mental equations. His informants were more adept at sniffing and gathering information than hunting dogs, provided they received sufficient funds.
"The evidence, everything is interconnected," he muttered to himself in the room before picking up the small hologram again. The small connections between the orders from outside, the movements of servants transferred to other families, and the report of the missing warehouse attendant all pointed to something dirty lurking in the upper echelons of the city. The information he saw brought a smile to his face, though a part of him feared the risks involved.
The next morning, the meeting was called again by Inquisitor Korvin Hale to plan the next level of the battle. Nobles from various families and high-ranking PDF chiefs took their seats, but Vann's seat remained empty. His despised younger brother was at the front lines. Valen knew it well; that rascal was awful, proposing the idea of using so many armored vehicles to break through their defenses but then not being in the meeting room to plan how to deal with others on the day of the actual attack.
Today's meeting would, as usual, discuss battle plans and potential risks, but there was nothing particularly interesting. Valen's only concern now was whether he could gain prestige and eliminate his rivals, or whether he would suffer further humiliation and become even more hostile, or worse, be killed. Valen stood up when the opportunity arose, his voice cold and steady as he spoke:
"I have evidence of contamination among our high-ranking members. There may be someone who is a geenstealer. I request an immediate investigation." The people in the room stopped talking, stunned, whether by disbelief or curiosity, but all eyes turned to him. Valen walked to the holographic table in the center of the conference room and inserted a data disc.
The screen briefly went dark before coming back on, revealing financial trails, confidential messages, audio recordings, and everything that could link the Malvernis family as supporters of the geenstealers.
"How dare you! How dare you accuse me like this?" Nerol Malvernis, the family leader, stood up, pointing angrily at him. Valen remained unfazed and offered little response.
Valen walked unhurriedly to the corner of the table, his pace almost a subtle hint of the hidden truth. He stopped in front of Nerol, the man with a sharp smile and a clear vision of his position. He observed the people in the room, as he always did, but there was something Valen had accumulated, enough to confirm his intentions.
"If you are truly sincere, let me prove it," Valen said calmly, a clear lack of respect in his voice.
"What do you mean, you rude bastard!!!" Nerol roared agitatedly, immediately raising suspicion among the nobles present. But he didn't care, reaching out and swiftly yanking the neatly attached wig from Nerol's head.
Unlike Valen, the two rival noble families preferred excessive luxury and opulence in their attire, their hairstyles and clothing often being conspicuously eye-catching. While they did possess some luxury, it wasn't so extravagant as to inconvenience or bother others…except for the common people under their care.
The action seemed rude to many, but Valen didn't care. He knew that letting politeness cloud his judgment was his biggest mistake at this moment. The wig fell from his head, revealing not just smooth human skin, but a textured surface with faint, scaly patterns radiating from the crown of his head. The nobleman's once sparkling eyes were now strange and inhumanly still. The sounds in the room seemed to momentarily vanish.
Valen didn't smile broadly, nor did he show any flamboyant delight. Instead, his face contorted with a chilling satisfaction, like someone who had strategically placed a crucial move on a chessboard and found it perfectly positioned.
"It's a Genestealer," he said slowly, not to shout, but to emphasize the fact. When the words left his lips, the people in the room rose, their conversation becoming boisterous, but not laughter. It was a tension mixed with fear and bewilderment.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
And before Nerol could react, he pulled out the bolt pistol concealed in his clothing and fired several more shots at Nerol Malvernis's torso.
Inquisitor Korvin Hale watched the scene for a moment. He didn't need to consult anyone. The responsibility in his eyes extended far beyond fleeting politics. He stepped closer, conducting a preliminary inspection with the habitual touch of a man who weighed religious and political measures, then sighed softly.
"Order a thorough investigation. Everyone in this room must undergo verification, and I will dispatch the Inquisition's investigation team immediately. Any further contamination will be swept away without exception."
The order was a verdict. All the men and women in the room knew what it meant. The test of patience and the manipulation of power was upon them. Valen watched as his rivals' men were escorted out one by one. The sound of soldiers' footsteps echoed both inside and outside the room. Members of the family who had been touched were being led away; even mere suspicion was enough to bring about their downfall in this system.
When the doors closed, there was a moment of silence. Valen turned to look at the corner of the room, his cold eyes meeting the shadows of the hologram displaying positions and transportation. He smiled faintly, neither sorrow nor excessive elation, the smile of someone whose political struggle had finally come to a practical conclusion. He wasn't celebrating the deaths of his rivals, but silently allowing the flow of power to take its course. In his heart, he held a small but unwavering feeling.
This purge had made him stronger, and on the day of judgment, he would stand above all others. And that was his desire.
Now, only two families ruled Hive City, and soon, perhaps only one would remain.
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Day 296, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Upper Hive
Front Line
Eric didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but he immediately felt the ground was incredibly hard… or rather, it had been hard since before he fell asleep. He was more surprised that he could sleep in a place like this, on a rough surface possibly stained with blood or something else, on the front line where the enemy could attack at any moment. And after what had happened hours ago…
The stress and fear from the first battle left him feeling a multitude of emotions: fear, depression, sadness, disgust, and anxiety.
Eric slowly opened his eyes. He felt dizzy, as if his brain was still reeling from the gunfire hours earlier… He didn't know what was wrong with him, sleeping on the front line, a place still so risky, and where the people around him weren't trustworthy. If he continued like this, he might die or not be able to endure it any longer.
But as soon as Eric moved, he felt something covering him.
A blanket?
Wait…
It made Eric jump up in fright. He sat up, pulled back the blanket, and checked himself, just in case someone had done anything to him while he slept. Eric frantically checked everything—his equipment, his clothes, even his underwear. He even touched his chest. Luckily, everything was still there; his clothes were still stained with blood, the metallic smell still lingering.
Eric breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time felt ashamed and stressed… How terrible it was that he woke up with such thoughts first thing in the morning—terrible thoughts and the constant fear of being the victim.
Eric regained his composure, taking a deep breath, and his eyes fell upon someone sitting nearby.
Vann, in full uniform with even more armor than before, appeared to be a radio operator.
If that thing that Vann was carrying was actually a vox caster
He was leaning against the steel wall of the shelter, one hand holding Eric's chain sword—it was much cleaner now—the other carefully wiping away dirt with a cloth, like a calm father mending a toy for his daughter. My face flushed again; I was ashamed, tense, but incredibly relieved all at the same time.
Now, it was just Eric and… Vann was in the vicinity, not far from where Quas, Nicholas, Evan, and Brody used to be stationed.
"Are you awake?" Vann said in a flat tone without even turning to look at me, as he pulled out some kind of metal rod and used it to scrape away bits of flesh stuck in a small saw blade.
"Mm..." I replied softly, afraid of being overheard, even though there was no one else around. Eric sat still for a few seconds before daring to speak again.
"Um... did you... cover me with a blanket?" Eric asked, his voice filled with suspicion and uncertainty. Actually, while he was asleep, he was unaware of the occasional gunshots outside. Someone might have tried to hurt him.
"Yes, I saw you were cold," he replied, glancing at me briefly as if it were perfectly normal.
I quickly lowered my head. Okay, now he thought this was starting to resemble a scene from a romantic movie.
"Thank you..." Eric said softly, though there was a hint of uncertainty and doubt in his voice. Hearing this, Vann didn't reply, only continuing to scrape away the flesh with the metal rod.
"It's alright...next time, if you don't know how to maintain your weapons, don't use them...you're so irresponsible. You shouldn't leave the lassgun magazine like that; you should take it to the charging station to recharge it so you'll be ready to fight. As for the assault chain sword, you should clean and oil it every time, and refuel it because it uses a promethium-fueled engine. And you have to remove any bits of flesh, otherwise it might obstruct its operation...and you have to pray to the machine spirit to make sure it doesn't malfunction (and then he continued complaining for another 5 minutes)~" Vann began a long, drawn-out explanation, reprimand, and scolding that left Eric feeling slightly exhausted and almost falling asleep.
Eric felt more relaxed after several hours, even though there were still gunshots outside.
"I didn't do anything embarrassing just now, did I?" Eric asked, remembering waking up and examining himself.
"I didn't see anything," Vann replied calmly, but his tone suggested he was hiding something. Eric thought Vann must have seen him do something like that.
Oh great, Eric, what did you just ask…Vann He must have seen that embarrassing scene.
Eric sighed softly and looked at him again. He was quiet, strangely kind, and most importantly… he didn't make Eric feel apprehensive and afraid like others.
But there were still many questions bothering him. First, why did Vann seem to know where he was and could appear to him at any time?
_Or was he being tracked?_ Eric thought to himself with apprehension. Because if that were true, he might never trust anyone again.
"How did you get here…?" Eric asked in an uncertain and slightly wary voice. Actually, he wasn't concerned about finding Vann on the battlefield, since Vann was also a PDF. He was more curious about how Vann could find him. Vann simply tilted his head and slowly turned towards him before answering:
"To join the battle, of course. Don't you think so?... Besides, there's a big attack tonight. You should hurry and prepare yourself… instead of just sleeping like this, someone might hurt you." Vann said with a hint of reproach in his voice. But the last sentence made Eric think.
"Damn it! Today's the big offensive. We're going to infiltrate enemy territory, and it's an urban environment. Fighting in a city is pretty bad in this kind of environment and situation. From yesterday's single battle, Eric could assess and analyze the situation using his logic. These enemies are incredibly skilled in urban combat. A head-on assault like this means fighting in their stronghold, and they're forced to do the same.
Eric imagined the cramped buildings and fierce CQB or even CQC battles. It was practically a nightmare for someone like him who's not good at close-quarters combat.
It's true, when he's not being careful like this, he's at risk of becoming a target, whether from the enemy or even other recruits.
Then Eric decided to ask about something that had been bothering him for a long time, something he'd wanted to ask for ages but never had the chance.
"I'm not accusing you, but how did you know where I was?" "It feels like you can pop up anywhere," Eric asked, his voice slightly accusatory towards Vann, his gaze fixed on Vann's yellow eyes.
"How hard could it be...to find you...there aren't many people with silver-white hair and such a beautiful face...besides, I don't think any woman would dare sleep in a place like this after the first fight," Vann said, his tone teasing and reproachful. Eric's left eye twitched slightly in anger. How dare Vann insult him like that? Even without saying it directly, Eric knew Vann was indirectly calling him lazy. But his anger was quickly overshadowed by embarrassment.
"Stop talking like that!!!" Eric shouted back, his voice irritated, yet his demeanor and tone made him look cute in his own way. Vann just chuckled softly.
"Two days ago you told me you were going to find another job, didn't you? Can you even read and write now~" Vann teased Eric, his voice laced with amusement. Eric gritted his teeth slightly.
_Of course. What kind of language is this? It's incredibly difficult to read, like a mix of many languages combined into one, with characteristics of all of them combined. And there's no dictionary for him to learn from! Not even books or dictionaries, he barely has the time to study._ Eric thought to himself.
"This isn't something you should be talking about right now, you know!" Eric said, his voice trembling from embarrassment and accumulated stress. Unconsciously, his face was flushed red from embarrassment and anger, and his defensive demeanor made him look more like someone sulking than angry.
"Can't accept the truth, can you?" Vann said with a smile. Even though Eric couldn't see his smile through the mask, he knew for sure that Vann was smiling.
Thump!
And what Vann received was a punch to the face.
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Under the Hive
The air below the Under Hive was heavy and thick, filled with the smell of old oil and iron dust from ancient machinery. The narrow, vibrating metal surface beneath their feet guided the four members of the Kill Team through narrow passageways that few dared to traverse.
The silver left arm insignia of Deathwatch reflected the faint flickering lights.
"I still think we should have more people," satros space marine from the Malevolent Marines muttered in a low, resentful tone. "We're going to decapitate all the brood to speed up the mission and prevent this planet's downfall, yet they're making the main force of the invasion plan… and look, the Inquisitor sent the four of us to deal with the Ganestealer Matriarch. It's incredibly unfair, isn't it?"
"Because of orders like that, the strategic points where the rest of our team need to assist the humans in retaking the territory are crucial to the outcome of the battle. This time, they've poured a massive amount of manpower and tanks into retaking it. It's a total gamble." "If some of us don't go help and they lose, then we lose too," Hakron, a space Marine from the Monitor, replied curtly, his voice cold as if reporting statistics.
"And why aren't some of the Adeptus Astartes doing their Adeptus Astartes work, but instead guarding the humans…?" Dreaven, a space Marine from the Black Dragon, with bone claws and horns protruding from his head, paused slightly at the word "humans," as if swallowing a word he didn't want to leave his mouth. "Instead of coming—"
"...The Genestealer is closer than we thought... I smell it." Hjolmir, a space Marine from the Blood Wolf, took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose, stopping to look at a pile of wreckage resembling old shipping crates, before reaching up to examine the deep, long claw marks.
The breathing of the other three men in their helmets paused, not from fear, but from the reality of the battlefield. They knew they would surely die a miserable death if the enemy realized they had infiltrated.
He continued in a calm, almost text-like tone:
"According to the reports, there's no sign of anything appearing at the edge of the star system. This is our only chance." "Should we eliminate it now, or wait for the Hive Fleet to arrive?"
Then the four space marines continued on their mission that would decide the fate of this planet.
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Pov Hakron at that time:
"Inquisitor Korvin Hale, I require all eight space marines, including myself, for this mission."
"I'm sorry, Hakron, I can only provide you with four."