Date: 353.987.M41
Location: Hive Kathion
Sector: Lower Hive
In the dark corner of a silent quarters, Omega sat motionless as a stone, enduring the seductive whispers of daemons from the Warp. Throughout this time, he had been monitoring the situation closely, gathering intelligence from patrols and soldiers on the defensive line. The situation remained calm—too calm. No incidents had occurred, which was highly irregular. Unless someone or something was planning this, it didn't add up. These heretics possessed no grand strategy; they were usually unintelligent, rabid, and savage. This suggested someone was pulling the strings from the shadows—perhaps high-ranking cultists who still retained their sanity.
Heretics are unpredictable and should never be underestimated.
He let out a small sigh as his physical exhaustion slowly abated. The roaring in his head began to subside, leaving only the low hum of the air circulation system to remind him that he was alive in the present, not in that filthy past.
Beep!
A short alert tone from his personal vox-caster snapped Omega's eyes open. The purple light in his exposed eye shone with alertness. He immediately grabbed the device. The message displayed on the screen caused his cold heart to skip a beat.
[AUTHORIZATION CODE: RED PURGE - SIGNED: VALEN KORVAX]
A wave of relief washed over him, and he let out a soft breath. The two days of waiting, which had felt like an eternity, were over. His master was safe. And more importantly... Valen still trusted his instincts. He had been given the order to purge by any means necessary, provided that no target remained and the total elimination of the heretics was guaranteed.
Omega stood up. Under the gas mask that covered half his face, he was smiling. It was not a smile of joy, but one laden with cruelty. The fatigue from moments ago was discarded as if it had never existed. He donned his round red spectacles and leather gloves, concealing the signs of a rogue psyker beneath the guise of a cold executioner and the commander of the Korvax private military—second in power only to Valen.
He stepped out of his quarters, heading toward Central Command of the Lower Hive base. The sentries standing guard along the corridor straightened their posture and lowered their heads as he passed. The atmosphere around him was so frigid it was palpable.
When the blast doors of the command room opened, Omega walked straight to the main cogitator console, sweeping his gaze over the high-ranking officers awaiting his decision.
"Orders confirmed from Lord Valen," his voice rang out, resonant and decisive. "We have been granted permission. We are going in to wipe them out. Nothing survives—not a single life. Prepare yourselves. Summon 5,000 troops of the Korvax Household Guard to station here within four hours, and prep the heavy armored units for mobilization. In approximately five days, we will sweep the area to collect whatever remains after the chemical weapons have done their work."
While the officers scrambled to execute his orders, Omega's mind began to calculate furiously. He did not underestimate the enemy like common nobles did. He knew that if the heretics Thalric was harboring were truly disciples of Chaos, the danger would multiply exponentially.
'5,000 men... veterans with the best equipment money can buy,' Omega thought, staring at the strategic hololith. 'They handle riots perfectly. They slaughter low-level heretics like cattle... but what if they summon something worse? Like a Daemon? How much Warp energy can these soldiers withstand?'
He knew these soldiers were Valen's most powerful weapon, but they had limits. They could not fight everything. If it were low-level daemons, he could handle them. He wasn't sure if he could handle the stronger ones, but against any other enemy, there would be no problem.
Omega turned to Sergeant Kasian standing nearby. "Sergeant... order the sniper units and the chemical weapons division to be on high alert. We are not going into that zone to negotiate. We are going in to bury them under the rubble. And get Engineer 65-A to me. I want him to seal every vent and air duct connecting to that sector. Isolate our area from theirs completely. We will only enter after we are certain the chemicals have killed everything that cannot withstand them."
Omega paused for a breath before continuing, realizing that the controls for the ventilation and various systems of the Lower Hive were located here at this command base.
"Or if possible, override the controls for their ventilation and all exits on that side. Seal every way out. Trap them inside. It will make dealing with them much easier."
___________________________________
Date: 354.987.M41
Location: Hive Kathion
Sector: Upper Hive
Eric was resting in the cafeteria during his lunch break—a time that, whether in the future or the old world, was always precious. Lunch today was nothing special; just bread and canned meat as usual. He had heard the news that Gestalt had transferred to work elsewhere, and a new Tech-Priest would be coming to take over the maintenance duties for their department's machinery.
He didn't really care who the new handler of the machine spirits would be, as long as this newcomer didn't cause problems or impact their work.
Suddenly.
The sound of metallic footsteps, which usually sounded heavy, had a softer rhythm than expected. A figure in the crimson robes characteristic of the Cult Mechanicus stopped in the middle of the cafeteria. She slowly lowered her hood, revealing a face that made Eric forget to breathe for a moment.
"Greetings, everyone. I am Enginseer Lira. I will be overseeing the maintenance of your machinery in place of Tech-Priest Gestalt," Enginseer Lira introduced herself. Her voice was soft and resonant, pleasant to the ear, not dry and synthesized like most Tech-Priests Eric had encountered. The other employees simply nodded and gave short acknowledgments before returning to their meals with indifference.
To them, whoever came was just another mechanic, and the Mechanicus were generally unapproachable—everyone knew they were usually
eccentric and cold.
But for Eric... it was completely different.
He sat frozen, his eyes glued to Lira, unable to look away. Her crimson Mechanicus robes were tailored to fit her form, revealing curves that were incredibly attractive—a stark contrast to the typical disciples of the Machine God who often abandoned their human form for cybernetics. Some modified themselves harmlessly, while others became horrors, rumored to have spider legs or forms that could no longer be described as human.
She had smooth, honey-tan skin that stood out against her red robes—a rarity, as most Lower Hive residents had pale skin from a lack of sunlight. She had long, sleek black hair cascading down her sloping shoulders. But what captivated him most was her eye; she had an emerald green iris, though only one remained. On her back, she wore a pack with four mechatendrites that swayed gently as she stood.
Even though Eric was now in a female body and tried to adapt to it—adjusting his expressions, behavior, and habits—his deep-seated male psyche trembled violently upon seeing Lira's mysterious beauty. The nervousness that had faded began to well up until he had to hurriedly look down at his lunch plate, which now contained only bread. His face began to heat up for no reason.
She's gorgeous, he complained internally, trying to keep his hands from shaking and stopping himself from staring at Enginseer Lira like a creep. Why? Why does she look like a model who just walked out of a magazine?
When the red-robed figure of Enginseer Lira walked out of the cafeteria, the silence was replaced by the usual chatter. But Eric remained frozen, stiff as a board, arguing with himself in his mind.
What is wrong with me? he asked himself frantically, staring at the bread.
His thoughts were tangled like a rat's nest of cables. Deep down, he knew his soul was male, and appreciating beautiful women was something he had done all his life in the old world. But the reality was that his body was now female, and outwardly, he looked like a shy young woman. It made him feel confused and awkward.
If I stare at her like that... what will others think? Won't it be weird for a woman to sit here with her heart pounding because of another woman? He pressed his lips together tightly, imagining what would happen if he clearly showed his attraction. The nervousness spiked when he remembered Lira was Mechanicus.
Plus, she's an Enginseer, Eric! Don't they view love as a frivolous weakness of the flesh? Damn it... stop thinking about it right now!
Eric tried to pull himself together. He massaged his temples, muttering to himself out of habit.
Stay calm, Eric... You're just admiring beauty, that's all. It's nothing more than that. It's not like when you were staring at people in the communal showers.
But no matter how much he tried to fool himself, the image of that sharp, tan face with the emerald eye kept circling in his head. The desire to get to know her, or at least see her up close again, began to battle with his shyness and paranoia.
He exhaled wearily, quickly clearing his plate to return to his accounting desk. His safe space, filled with numbers and documents, was the only place that could help him escape this internal chaos.
"Just work... don't pay attention to her, don't make eye contact... that's enough," he told himself with an unconvincing voice before rushing out of the cafeteria, heading straight to his office to tackle the two or three piles of documents waiting for him.
Eric tried to gather his scattered concentration back to the paper in front of him. The clack-clack-clack of typewriters echoed through the relatively quiet accounting department. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on keying in product codes and supply quantities.
But every time he closed his eyes to rest, the image of Enginseer Lira's face, her emerald eye, and her faint smile floated back in. Heat rushed to his cheeks uncontrollably.
"Dammit... stop it, Eric. Are you going to be like this every time you see a beautiful woman or a handsome man?" he grumbled, typing faster to escape his distracted thoughts. In truth, he had felt this way several times, whether it was meeting Vann or his own lewd thoughts in the showers. He wasn't sure why—perhaps it was the hormones of this new body.
However, it seemed the "Machine Spirit" of his typewriter was not sympathetic to his turmoil. Suddenly, the typebars jammed when he accidentally pressed down too hard, creating a harsh CRACK! The machine seized up, letters stacking on top of each other in a mess.
Eric frowned in frustration. He tried to wiggle the metal bars back into place, but it seemed something inside the mechanism was jammed far worse than his small bottle of sacred oil could fix. More importantly, he felt that if he pulled any harder, this ancient typewriter would break apart in his hands.
He stared at the problematic machine with irritation and despair. His mind raced with worry—he needed to finish his work, but how? Sending it to central maintenance meant... he might have to talk to her.
Great, Eric thought. This plays right into it. He smiled faintly before standing up and walking toward the room that used to belong to Gestalt.
Eric stood weighing his options in front of the technical department's door for a moment. He took a deep breath to summon his courage and suppress the lingering shyness. His slender hands smoothed his clothes before he knocked gently.
Knock! Knock!
Stepping into the room, he found the atmosphere completely changed. Where it was once damp and smelled of old oil, it was now organized and smelled of clean ozone. Enginseer Lira was bent over, inspecting a circuit board. She looked up with a friendly smile the moment she saw the visitor.
"Hello, is there something I can help you with?" Lira greeted him with a soft voice that invited relaxation.Eric felt so nervous his hands shook slightly.
"Uh... well, my typewriter is jammed. I tried to fix it, but it seems like the internal mechanism has a problem... I didn't bring it with me because it's quite heavy."
He noticed Lira didn't act cold or spout incomprehensible techno-dogma like Gestalt. She seemed enthusiastic and lively, a stark contrast to the image of the Tech-Priests he was used to. And she didn't look overly cybernetic either.
"Internal mechanism? I understand," Lira set down her tool and dusted off her hands lightly. "Don't worry. I'll go take a look at your desk myself. We can't let important paperwork pile up. I agree to help you fix it right now."
Her easy acceptance and warm demeanor made Eric feel indescribably relieved, even though his face still flushed a bit when meeting that emerald eye up close.
At the thick wooden desk,
Lira leaned down to inspect the typewriter's innards intently. Her hands moved dexterously amidst the soft clinking of metal, removing the casing to reveal a mechanism far more complex than expected. While she used a small screwdriver to adjust the gears, and Eric watched her work with curiosity, she broke the silence.
"Come to think of it, I don't know your name yet," Lira asked, her eyes still focused on the work. Eric answered immediately.
"I'm Erica de la Cruz," Eric replied softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I... I just moved here recently. Before this, I lived in the Lower Hive. By some stroke of luck, I got to live in the lower part of the Upper Hive and work here."
Lira paused slightly before giggling good-naturedly.
"That's a lovely name. But the Lower Hive? Wow, you must be quite capable to have pulled yourself up here. Most people are stuck there forever, but you're sitting here managing accounts in a safe zone. That's very impressive, Erica," she complimented. Eric felt his face burn red at receiving praise from such a beautiful and friendly woman.
"It's nothing much, really. I was just lucky. I managed to come up here during the war a year ago. I joined the PDF (Planetary Defense Force), and fortunately, I performed well on the battlefield and miraculously survived. My service record granted me residency rights here," Eric replied with a hint of shyness. Lira listened intently while she continued fixing the machine.
During the conversation, Eric tried to avert his gaze to avoid staring at Lira bent over her work in those practical red robes. Despite the cloth covering her, he could still make out her elegant and proportionate figure—her waist, her hips. She had the agile build of a woman who had undergone rigorous training.
Eric surreptitiously glanced at himself, touching his own waist. Although his current body had decent proportions—not too thick, not too thin—and his face was arguably pretty enough to rival hers, he couldn't help but feel jealous of the confidence radiating from Lira. She was elegant, assured, and unashamed under anyone's gaze. Unlike him, who was always shrinking back and paranoid, even though he was dressed much more conservatively.
"Alright, all done!" Lira closed the typewriter cover and performed a final rite he didn't understand before straightening up and brushing dust off her hands. "The mechanism was just choked with thick dust. Next time it jams, call me immediately. Don't hesitate."
She grinned broadly at Eric, making him feel that perhaps getting to know new people at work wasn't always something to be suspicious of. However, his heart was still beating abnormally fast being near her.
"Thank you so much, Lira," Eric said, his voice filled with unconcealed relief as he stroked the typewriter keys like a precious treasure. "If you hadn't helped, I would have been in trouble. I'd probably be stuck with this problem all day until the department head scolded me."
Lira laughed softly, her voice clear and cheerful. She crossed her arms slightly in a relaxed posture.
"It's no problem at all, Erica. It's my duty as an Enginseer to care for the machine spirits, to keep them happy and working. Besides... getting to talk to you like this is much better than being cooped up working alone in the maintenance room."
As she spoke, Eric felt his gaze inadvertently drop below her beautiful face again, drifting toward her chest and waist. Maybe it was the nervousness of standing near someone so charismatic, or just simple admiration, but he quickly pulled himself back.
SMACK!
He slapped himself hard in his thoughts to snap back to reality immediately.
Look at her face, Eric! Look at her eyes! he screamed internally, feeling guilty for the momentary lapse in manners. Get a grip. Why are you looking there? You're in a female body now... Hey! Even if you were a guy, you shouldn't do that! It's rude! Focus on her eye. The single eye.
Eric swallowed hard before hurriedly lifting his face to meet Lira's emerald eye, forcing a slightly stiff smile to mask his internal panic and scattered thoughts. He tried to act as natural as possible, even though his ears were burning red.
Trying to keep his gaze steady despite his racing heart, he continued the conversation to distract himself.
"So... are you from here originally, Lira?"
Lira shook her head slightly, leaning back against the edge of his desk. She looked relaxed and full of confidence.
"No, actually. I transferred from another Hive City on the other side of the planet. The atmosphere there is very different from here."
She began to gesture as she spoke, her emerald eye sparkling as she recalled her home. "The Upper Hive there is full of iron cathedrals scraping the sky. Marble bridges span between buildings decorated with filigreed brass. Everything looks luxurious and ancient, like something out of the past, but filled with the sound of steam engines and glowing blue energy pipes woven like spiderwebs. There's so much Gothic architecture, unlike here which is quite simple."
Eric listened quietly, visualizing it. In his head, it looked like the Victorian era mixed perfectly with Steampunk technology—very different from here, which had some Gothic elements but not nearly as much. But what he couldn't take his eyes off wasn't the story, but her mannerisms. Lira looked happy and proud of who she was. Her intelligence and elegance made her so charming he almost forgot to breathe.
Damn... she's so attractive when she tells a story, Eric thought, secretly admiring her radiant personality. He compared it to himself, always making himself small and paranoid, even though he wasn't particularly outstanding in anything other than his rather pretty face.
"That sounds like a wonderful place to live," Eric replied, his voice softer. The paranoia toward strangers faded, replaced by impression. "It must be beautiful and peaceful compared to an industrial zone like this."
Lira grinned. "It has a different kind of beauty, Erica. And it has its own dangers—the politics there are intense, and enemies are ready to stab you in the back everywhere. But finding something new here... like meeting you, is a good thing too."
Her casual words made Eric blush furiously again. He could only look down at the repaired typewriter, fidgeting with his fingers awkwardly.
Still, she had told him her story; it was time for him to share something too. He wouldn't let her do all the talking.
"Come to think of it... looking at me doing accounting like this, I used to be a conscript too, you know. I'm best with a pistol, specifically the quick-draw. In my platoon, no one was faster than me," Eric said, puffing his chest out slightly with a slip of pride.
Lira raised an eyebrow before letting out a hearty laugh.
"Really? Looking at such a beautiful, proper girl, I wouldn't have thought you were that skilled with a gun," she winked her remaining eye at him.
"Then... can I see with my own eyes how 'fast' your hands are?"
As she finished speaking, Lira reached under her red robes and pulled out an object, placing it on the desk. Eric's eyes went wide. It wasn't a Laspistol, a Plasma gun, or a standard autopistol. It was a Revolver—with a blued steel barrel and an intricately carved wooden grip. It looked like it had fallen straight out of the cowboy era.
Whoa... a revolver? In the 41st Millennium, people still use classics like this? Eric exclaimed internally. To him, it was an incredibly rare weapon. He thought they only existed in museums or private collections.
"Give it a try. I really want to see," Lira challenged with a smile. At the same time, he felt nervous. If he messed up, he would definitely lose face.
Eric took a deep breath. To be honest, he hadn't held a pistol like this in a long time—he mostly used a Lasgun—but he hadn't forgotten how to use it. He placed his hand by his side in a ready stance. Lira began a silent countdown, and in the blink of an eye when she nodded, Eric's hand moved so fast it was a blur. He grabbed the gun, drew it, and aimed at an imaginary target with stability and decisiveness in less than a second.
Lira paused for a moment before laughing softly and clapping her hands.
"Wow! That was really fast, Erica. That was amazing!"
Receiving such direct praise, Eric hurriedly put the gun down and looked away, hiding his eyes. His face was burning hot and visibly red.
"You... you don't have to praise me that much. It-It's just basics. I'm not that good. Just muscle memory," he mumbled shyly. In his past life, few people had complimented him so directly, especially a woman as beautiful and confident as Lira. Most people lately just praised his looks.
He lowered the revolver. In his opinion, the grip wasn't quite right for his hand, but it was usable.
Then, Eric realized something. He shouldn't be slacking off like this; if someone saw him, he'd be in trouble.
"I'd love to keep talking, but I have to get back to work," Eric said, handing the revolver back to Lira. Unknown to him, his eyes were filled with regret—regret that this precious, happy time was ending.
She smiled warmly before replying.
"I understand. Good luck then," Lira answered, taking the revolver and tucking it back under her robes before turning and walking out of the room.
______________________________________
Date: 354.987.M41
Location: Hive Kathion
Sector: Lower Hive - Thalric Territory
Amidst the darkness of the dead industrial zone.
In a dilapidated concrete hall devoid of electricity, lit only by flickering tallow candles and old oil lamps, the smell of dampness and rust hung heavy in the air.
Kael, a former lieutenant of the Thalric private army turned rebel leader, pounded the map table in frustration. Before him stood four or five high-ranking core members, their faces equally stressed.
"I told you to keep those test subjects and the insane ones under strict control!" Kael shouted. "They are mindless! They are starving! Letting them escape to the Korvax border was a fatal mistake! Now Valen knows!"
Vera, a middle-aged woman and the group's tactician, countered with a cold voice. "It couldn't be helped, Kael. We didn't have enough food to feed them. Besides... did you think we had the resources to control them? Those things aren't harmless. No one wanted to go near them."
"In exchange for exposing ourselves ahead of schedule?" Kael gritted his teeth. "Valen Korvax isn't that fat slob Thalric who spends his days drinking wine and sleeping with women sent by the Ecclesiarchy. Valen is smart and ruthless. He won't let us breathe. He's going to send an army."
"Then we prepare," interrupted an old man named Horg, a man of intense faith. "We have people hidden in the alleyways. We have booby traps. We have the faith of those who want to be free from that stupid ruler who gives all our tax money to the church... We will fight."
"We could fight... if we had time," Kael sighed, pointing at the old map. "Order everyone to the inner defense lines. Seal the main tunnels. Prep the heavy weapons we stole. If the Korvax soldiers breach, we bring the tunnels down on top of them."
"What about the civilians?" Vera asked. "The villagers who aren't fighters?"
"Use them as shields, or have them carry ammo," Kael cut her off. "We have no choice. This is a war for freedom. Sacrifice is necess—"
But before Kael could finish...
Hiss...
A faint sound of leaking air interrupted him. Everyone in the room fell silent, looking at each other in confusion.
"What is that sound?" Horg asked, frowning.
"A gas leak? There hasn't been gas here for ten years."
Kael's nose twitched. He caught a scent drifting on the wind... a sickly sweet smell mixed with the acrid tang of burning chemicals. It wasn't the familiar smell of rust or waste.
"This smell..." Vera muttered, before her eyes widened in panic. "It's not a leak... Chemical weapons!"
Suddenly, a faint green mist began to seep in through the vents and cracks in the iron door, like a formless reaper.
"Masks! Get the gas masks out!" Kael screamed, his calm leadership vanishing instantly. He dove toward the emergency supply crate in the corner.
But inside the crate... there were only three functional masks left. There were six people in the room.
"Back off! I'm the leader!" Kael shoved Horg against the wall and snatched a mask, strapping it over his face frantically. His breathing came in loud, muffled rasps through the filter.
"You bastard! You said we were brothers!" one member shouted, trying to snatch a mask from Vera. But Vera was faster; she pulled a knife to threaten him and donned a mask herself.
"Urgh... Cough! Cough!"
The sound of coughing began to echo through the room. The members without masks collapsed. They tried to cover their noses and mouths, their faces contorting in agony from asphyxiation. Horg, the old believer, tried to pray, but his voice turned raspy and eventually fell silent. Their bodies went still, one by one, amidst the thickening green fog.
"Go! Get out of here!" Kael's muffled voice ordered Vera. The two survivors with masks rushed over the bodies of their former comrades to the large iron blast door—the emergency exit to the mid-level industrial zone.
Kael spun the valve wheel madly, hoping to open it and flee to a sector with clean air.
Clank... Clank...
The valve turned only an inch before stopping dead. It was locked from the outside.
"No... that's impossible," Vera's voice shook. She tried to help Kael pull, but the door wouldn't budge even a millimeter.
"Open! Open damn it!!" Kael shouted at the cold steel door. He began pounding on it with his fists. "You Korvax scum! Open this door! Damn you! I curse you all!!"
The sound of their pounding echoed back uselessly. There was no response from the other side. Only a terrifying silence. Kael slumped against the door, watching the green mist that had now completely swallowed the hall and the bodies of his allies.
He realized in that second that this wasn't a war... it was pest control. And they were the insects trapped in a jar, being fumigated.
"It's over..." Vera whispered under her mask, her voice filled with despair. "They've locked us in here to die."
And in the dim darkness of the Lower Hive, the desperate knocking on the door slowly faded, leaving only the hissing of the deadly gas continuing its work, until the five days were up and the Korvax private army would enter to sweep away anything that was still breathing.