Ghostface's serious demeanor undoubtedly influenced Calgar. The Lord of Macragge suppressed his smile, his expression turning solemn. He contemplated for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the data slate.
"Aside from these locations, it is also possible they are on other planets within the Orpheus Sector," Calgar spoke slowly, his voice low. He knew all too well that the tentacles of Chaos reached everywhere; chaos and despair were the perfect breeding grounds for them.
"Those planets have fallen into a state of total anarchy. I shudder to think how far the cults have progressed there."
Ghostface shook his head slightly. "There is no need to worry about the other planets—once the Necrons awaken, no problem will remain."
The command center fell silent for a second or two, save for the faint hum of machinery. Ghostface's words were brief but filled with a chilling implication: the awakening of the Necrons would utterly wipe out all sentient life, including the Chaos cults entrenched on other worlds.
Calgar was the first to break the silence, skillfully pivoting the conversation back to the hive city at hand. "So, how do you plan to handle the Underhive? Do you have a plan?"
"How else can it be handled?" Ghostface replied, his tone returning to its usual flat affect. "Now that you are here, the Astartes and the Helldivers can coordinate a sweep to clear out the opportunistic gangs and the remnants of the cults.
Then, let the Ecclesiarchy preachers spread the Word to ensure no major issues arise in the short term and stabilize the people's faith. As for what happens after that—only the Emperor knows."
"I fear even the Emperor might not know," Calgar sighed, agreeing with Ghostface's perspective. "But this is enough. Ensuring nothing goes wrong during the war is our limit. Anything more is beyond our current capabilities."
In the face of a total Necron threat, any administrative effort that distracted their focus was a luxury they couldn't afford.
"As for the timing," Ghostface said, his tone turning grave again, "my suggestion is to act as soon as possible. According to the Adeptus Mechanicus data on the binary stars, five years ago, they were perfectly normal with a life expectancy of tens of millions of years. But when they re-measured at our request recently, they were shocked to find the stars have become unstable, as if they reached the end of their lifespan. Predicted remaining life—less than one year."
Calgar's expression became incredibly grim. The lifespan of a star is one of the grandest and most stable natural laws in the universe; such a violent change was anything but ordinary.
"Then who do you think—is behind this?" he asked somberly.
"The Ordo Malleus believes it must be the work of the Archenemy," Ghostface answered. "Only the Great Enemy possesses such psychic power to influence the existence of two stars."
"I want to hear your opinion!" Calgar interrupted the citation.
"I... don't know," Ghostface replied. This time there was no hesitation or speculation, just a frank admission of the unknown. This actually made Calgar trust him more. Ghostface continued, "But we must consider the Chaos threat. If they intervene while we are in a bloodbath with the Necrons, it will be like a tightly packed sandwich suddenly having a sausage shoved into it. The situation will spiral out of control!"
"In that case, the Underhive and the Bottom Hive must be swept immediately," Calgar decided instantly, his voice resolute. "Time waits for no one. I'll leave the Helldivers' arrangements to you; I will coordinate with the Astartes to prepare for a full-scale purge."
The heavy iron gates groaned open under the roar of hydraulic mechanisms, revealing the deep darkness leading to the Underhive.
A company of one hundred and twenty Helldivers, led by Company Commander [FREEMAN], stood side-by-side with ten Astartes from the Astral Claws. They were the first purge force to enter this unknown territory.
However, they weren't met by the cold air they expected, but by a stench so thick it was nauseating—a mix of rotting corpses, aged garbage, and chemicals that hit them like a physical blow.
"Holy crap, why the hell does it smell so bad!" one Helldiver blurted out, instinctively waving his hand to dispel the invisible odor.
"Wait, aren't we wearing gas masks?" another soon noticed the anomaly. Their "Ghost Masks" came with built-in filtration systems capable of blocking almost any biological or chemical toxin.
"How can we smell it, and so strongly? Did the 'Red-Robed midgets' cut corners on the equipment?"
"No," spoke the Astral Claws squad leader, a burly warrior, his voice muffled by his helmet and tinged with solemnity. "I believe this has nothing to do with the Mechanicus—because I can smell it as well."
The Helldivers realized the implication immediately. Astartes power armor is a completely sealed life-support system that should block 100% of physical odors. If even they could smell it, the stench wasn't physical; it was the work of the Warp—a manifestation of foul energy.
"No way? We just got down here and it's already Resident Evil 16 or Left 4 Dead 4?" one Helldivers quipped, his tone a mix of helplessness—and excitement.
"There really is something wrong with this Underhive!" Freeman looked at the Astral Claws leader. "Big brother, what do you think?"
The squad leader shrugged. "I'm watching with my eyes."
Clearly, the experience of fighting alongside the Helldivers at Prandium had influenced even the rigorous Astral Claws, teaching them to relax their tense nerves occasionally.
With that, he took a large stride toward the source of the strongest stench. The Helldivers and other Astartes followed suit, their bolters and lasguns pointed alertly in every direction.
Along the way, they encountered numerous scenes of murder and gang warfare. Many players looked on curiously, but they did not intervene. First, they were on a mission with a tight schedule and needed to find the Chaos lair quickly; second, it was impossible to tell right from wrong. Morality in the Underhive had long since collapsed. Whether an attacker won or a victim counter-killed, the victor would immediately loot the body or even resort to cannibalism to sate their hunger.
Countless eyes watched them from the shadows. The denizens of the Underhive stared at the heavily armed squad like hungry beasts. But no one dared to strike. To survive in the Underhive, one must learn to hunt those weaker than themselves—and this squad clearly did not fit that description.
They soon arrived at the epicenter of the stench: an open-air mountain of corpses. Massive piles of rotting bodies were heaped high like hills, emitting a suffocating foulness. Strangely, despite the rot, no scavengers had come for them—neither for valuables nor for meat.
"Doesn't look like anything's out of the ordinary?" Freeman, being bold and eager to trigger a quest event, was the first to step forward. He used the barrel of his bolter to poke the face of a corpse that looked relatively intact. The skin broke, oozing pus accompanied by an even stronger stench.
"Ugh, that's a bit disgusting," Freeman couldn't help but mutter.
The corpse opened its eyes and said in an unfriendly tone, "What are you doing? Didn't your mother teach you not to comment on people's looks?"
"Lady, if you're offended, wait till you smell yourself."