[You are crawling. Limb coordination increased. Strength and endurance increased.]
Inside a garbage shack filled with scrap metal and broken junk, a tiny figure was skillfully scurrying all over the place.
Her adoptive father had already raised her for a month.
That pitiful mutant was a kind and decent man. With his care and the help of the talent Hunger Endurance, although the things she ate could hardly be called proper food, she was at least able to survive.
During this time, some of her memories from her previous life had gradually begun to awaken.
It was now very clear that she had reincarnated into the world of Warhammer, a horrifying grimdark place.
What was the Warhammer universe?
If she had to sum it up in one word, it would be this:
A cesspit.
If the universe was a dark forest, then in Warhammer that forest had long since been burned down by all the different races until nothing remained but an endless ash-covered plain.
And then everyone stood on that plain of ashes and started throwing something called Chaos at each other like filth.
As a reincarnator, she was in serious danger.
Because it seemed there were four terrifying entities that especially liked to snatch souls like hers.
As for exactly which four horrifying things they were, she still had not remembered.
Worth mentioning was the fact that her subconscious told her that not remembering was actually a good thing.
If she was not mistaken, then she was currently in the underhive of a hive world.
The underhive was dangerous in every possible sense.
There were murderous gangs here, scavengers constantly preying on one another, carnivorous beasts that would swallow people whole, and mutants that would eat children without even leaving the skin behind...
But she had already experienced that for herself.
If not for her adoptive father, she would have died outside long ago.
Besides that, she had also realized one more thing.
There seemed to be something missing between her legs.
Still, all of that was secondary. What mattered most right now was grinding her stats through the system as fast as possible.
Because this place was simply far too dangerous...
As if to prove that point, fierce shouting and vicious cursing suddenly came from outside the shack.
She, who had been crawling around, was startled badly, but quickly calmed down.
Because this kind of argument happened very often, and was usually followed by sounds of fighting and screams.
After a whole month here, she had already gotten used to it.
As she crawled carefully, making sure not to make a sound, she listened to the voices outside in confusion.
She had a vague feeling that the language they were using sounded somewhat like a blend of English and Chinese from her previous life.
[Exploring the mysteries of language and understanding the composition of Low Gothic. Achievement completed: Linguist.]
[Talent acquired: Unhindered Communication. Instantly understand all languages you encounter.]
Only then did she finally understand what the people outside were arguing about, because she had now comprehended a language called Low Gothic.
"I picked this up! I didn't steal it!"
"Bullshit! My mark is still on that V-engine. You call it picking something up when you found it in my damn house?!"
In the next moment, the sound of fierce fighting broke out outside.
She secretly clicked her tongue.
The people here did not seem very friendly.
After a while, the commotion outside disappeared, and she once again began crawling around boldly and quickly.
And so it went on. Whenever she got tired of crawling, she slept. Whenever she woke up, she crawled again.
She had no idea how long she had been doing this when the reassuring sound of the door lock being opened came from outside.
She immediately crawled happily toward the entrance.
Her deformed adoptive father came in carrying large bundles of trash on his back. His cleft lip curled into a horrifying smile.
Although that smile was still deeply sanity-damaging, she was no longer afraid of it.
"Mm, ah, ah."
Her adoptive father looked at the little one before him and excitedly said something.
What puzzled her was why she could not understand him.
Then she suddenly realized.
This poor man could not speak at all.
Her adoptive father did not notice the flash of pity in the little one's eyes. He gently took out a package from the inner pocket of what could barely be called a ragged coat.
He carefully tore open the packaging, revealing a dark rectangular bar that looked somewhat like a Snickers. Then he broke off a quarter of it into his own hand before giving the rest to her.
Before eating, he knelt down reverently, took out an extremely crude two-headed eagle badge made from scrap iron, held it up above his head with both hands, and let out a series of muffled sounds.
Watching her adoptive father's actions, she copied him and held up the food in her own hands in prayer.
She vaguely remembered that the two-headed eagle was called the Aquila, a sacred symbol.
Once her adoptive father finished praying, the two of them immediately started eating the food in their hands.
To her disappointment, even though the thing looked like a chocolate bar, it tasted absolutely awful, almost like chewing on a block of wax.
Still, it was better than those starch lumps soaked in foul water.
After they had eaten their fill, her adoptive father did what he always did. He sat on the ground, made muffled sounds at her, and started gesturing.
This time, she understood what he meant, because she could now understand sign language.
The sign language her adoptive father used was exactly the same as before, but now she finally understood what it meant:
"You must become someone useful to the God-Emperor."
"And then leave this filthy place."
She silently watched her adoptive father finish the entire set of signs and firmly engraved those words into her memory.
Become someone useful to the God-Emperor?
Right, what exactly was the God-Emperor again?
She tried hard to remember, but the only thing that came to mind was a completely unrelated phrase:
Toilet.
Her adoptive father patiently repeated the same set of signs three times before slowly getting up and starting to sort through the garbage inside the shack.
For a scavenger, selling trash to wandering merchants who periodically came down into the underhive was one of the few ways to obtain important supplies.
Watching her adoptive father busy himself, she began crawling again.
[You are crawling. Limb coordination increased. Strength and endurance increased.]
But suddenly, a thought appeared in her mind.
It seemed that she... still did not have a name.
Thinking of that, she decided to give it a try and nudged her adoptive father, who was sorting different kinds of junk.
Seeing him turn around in confusion, she pointed at herself and then struggled to open her mouth, squeezing out two words in the Low Gothic she had just learned:
"Name."
Her adoptive father was instantly struck as if by lightning. The metal plate in his hand fell to the ground.
A child who looked barely one month old could actually speak?
It took him a long time to recover.
Then, excitedly, he picked up an iron rod and wrote a line of crooked letters on the ground:
"Gal Vorbak"
She understood the meaning of the phrase.
Blessed Child.
After thinking for a moment, her adoptive father circled both "Gal" and "Vor" separately.
After finishing all that, he tried with all his might to say something, but his congenital defect kept him from expressing it clearly.
Only after his face turned red from the effort did he finally force out two sounds:
"Ga... Vo..."
Ga Vo. Blessed Child.
That was the name her adoptive father had given her.
[Achievement completed: A Good Name. A beautiful name implies a beautiful future.]
[Talent acquired: Eye-Catching. Your name carries special meaning. You are more likely to attract attention.]
Seeing that pop-up, Gavo sucked in a cold breath inwardly.
In the Warhammer universe, being easily noticed was not a good thing.
Because the ones paying attention to you might not be human.
(End of Chapter)
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