I hum softly as I take in the massive APC before me. It's inspired by the Cougar design, though heavily modified. For one, it runs entirely on solar energy. Three high-capacity batteries power the vehicle, allowing continuous operation for up to five days on a full charge. I converted the top of the APC into a solar energy generator, allowing the car to run indefinitely as long as the sun is above it.
The main armament consists of a twin-linked heavy stubber mounted on the roof and a forward-facing rail rifle designed to shred anything in its path. The carrier can hold up to fifteen passengers—or eight, if we load it with ammunition and supplies instead. Not only that, the roof can carry one more twin-linked heavy stubber for a dual turret in case we need more firepower.
I've also constructed a few trucks and motorcycles for rapid-response deployment: seven trucks and ten bikes in total, each powered by solar energy that eliminates the need for fuel. Our mobility has improved dramatically.
The munitions stockpile is modest but functional. Especially with the new bullets Hannah bought from the black market. The heavy stubber fires a 12.7 mm long round, and the autoguns use 8.25 mm ammunition. Hannah's latest trade secured about 500 heavy-stubber rounds and 750 autogun rounds.
According to her, the goods came from a low-ranking cog-boy looking to fund his next rank-advancement—an under-the-table deal we can certainly exploit later. Perhaps he'll be willing to sell weapons next time, not just ammunition. I'll have to ask her. Perhaps we could acquire more heavy stubbers or, even better, lasguns. Those things are very reliable.
The power pack is easy to recharge as it only requires electricity. What makes them even greater is the fact that each of the power packs can fire seventy-five times before it needs to be switched.
After one last inspection, I nod in satisfaction. The APC is ready for action—either as an assault platform or a troop carrier.
"My lord! My lord!"
I snap out of my thoughts as one of the guardians sprints toward me. She stops, panting slightly.
"My lord, we have a situation. There is a group of people coming!"
"Who? Another refugee?"
"We don't know. Some are wearing prisoner uniforms—and there are abhumans among them. Captain Hannah asked me to call you there. She does not know what to do."
My frown deepens. Prisoners? Abhumans? Could these be the Darktide convicts? Has the canon timeline finally begun? I'm not sure. Taking a slow breath, I reply, "Let's meet them."
She nods and leads me toward the front gate, where I find Hannah and Kian with their squads, weapons ready. As I draw closer, I spot them—seven Ogryns towering above the rest. Their massive frames and booming voices are impossible to miss.
Interestingly, the Ogryns aren't dressed as prisoners, but the humans beside them are.
"What's going on here?" I ask.
Hannah glances at Kian before stepping forward. "They're refugees, my lord. They're asking for sanctuary."
I study the group. Many are bruised, and faint traces of Nurgle's corruption leak from their bodies—but not enough to mark them as cultists. I look at them one by one, making sure no cultist is in the group, and nod my head in satisfaction when I find none.
They are getting smarter because I found almost a hundred of them among the refugees in the past weeks.
"Let them in," I say finally. Turning to one of my guards, I add, "Tell the other to prepare food and water for them."
"Yes, my lord!"
We usher the refugees inside. Once they're seated and have begun to recover, I face them again. "Who leads this group?"
A thin, gaunt man raises his hand. Despite his malnourished body, his eyes still burn with resolve. He is someone who has a strong resolve not to die today and will keep fighting to stay alive. Impressive determination.
"First things first—your name?"
"Name's Jool, my lord."
"Jool, then. Tell me—why have you come here, and why are there prisoners among you?"
"There was a prison break in the lower hive, my lord," he says, voice trembling but firm. "I worked the cells there. These seven Ogryns— they were workers too. When chaos hit, they helped fight off the gangers and dragged me out. The Heretics blow the prison open and wreak havoc, and the gangers help 'em. The prisoners also helped us leave the battlefield. Most of 'em were locked up for stealin' water, not murder or performin' heresy. Couldn't just leave 'em behind after they saved us."
I nod slowly. "And the rest of them?"
"There's near two hundred, my lord. Slaves, mostly. They followed us here—nowhere else to go. We're all tryin' to get clear of the heretics and gangers that tore the lower hive apart."
The crowd shifts nervously. Their fear isn't of me killing them—it's of being turned away. They know that if I reject them, they will get a fate worse than death. At least in death, they do not suffer. I sigh and glance toward the horizon.
"I see. You mentioned gangers and heretics. What's happening down there? We've had no word for days. This sector's in blackout—no vox, no dataflow."
I really do need a way to receive updates from other hive sectors. Then again, I recall that Nurgle's cult spreads corruption through broadcasts. That's why the Rejects were tasked with cutting the signal—it infects anyone who listens too long. Risky business.
"Everything's fallin' apart, my lord," Jool says grimly. "Heretics blew the prison sky-high. Gangers joined 'em—helped burn the place down. Nobles won't let the word spread. They only care about their own spires and their own thrones. This sort o' thing makes 'em look weak, my lord."
"Do you think they'll move on this sector?"
"I can't say, my lord. But it's only a matter o' time before they do. No Arbites, no Enforcers, no Administratum presence here. Perfect place for 'em to take over."
"I see," I murmur. "Thank you for the warning, Jool. Eat, drink, and rest for now. I need to discuss this with my officers."
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| 3rd POV |
Eli Barthos snarled at the report before her. With a furious gesture, she unleashed a gout of virulent green flame that consumed the trembling cultist who had brought it. His screams filled the chamber as Nurgle's sacred fire reduced him to bubbling rot.
The others watched, not in fear, but in reverence. Their minds were long since corroded—pain and decay meant holiness in their eyes. They whispered prayers as the burning corpse collapsed into a heap of sludge.
Eli ignored them. Her god's whispers clawed at her skull, louder now than ever. As a psyker, she was bound to the warp, and through that connection she had found her true master. Nurgle's blessing granted her power beyond mortal ken—but it came with a price.
Once, she had sought elevation to daemonhood. Now, that dream felt distant. Each failure pushed her farther from her goal. Her god's disappointment was a wound she could not bear. His feeling of disappointment makes her mind and soul experience pain. That is the price for disappointing the Grandfather.
Grandfather Nurgle was angry. Not because mortals rejected his love—no, he could stomach that. He was angry because someone, or something, had thwarted his plan within the hive. Even after she had unleashed two thousand groaners, two thousand poxwalkers, and three hundred blessed warriors, the enemy persisted. Her army is gone while the enemy still stands.
And worse, Grandfather could not see them. A blank presence, hidden in the outskirts of Tertium, shrouded even from his gaze. Could it be a servant of the Corpse Emperor?
At the thought, Nurgle's roar echoed through her mind, shaking her to her knees.
Then came the whisper—soft, loving, sickly sweet. A vision of decay and deliverance filled her mind. The Grandfather had given her a new plan, a grand design that would bring glory and forgiveness.
She felt euphoric. Exalted.
She knows she will make the other priests angry at her. However, it didn't matter. Her god asks her for a sacrifice as part of his grand plan. She would please her god. She would ascend. She would achieve demonhood.
Eli turned to her followers, eyes blazing with plague-fire. The others look at her in awe as they can feel Nurgle's blessing leaking out of her body.
"Mobilize the others," she commanded. "We shall sacrifice an entire hab block! Prepare the ritual for our Grandfather! We will open the way—and welcome one of his beloved creations into this world!"
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