The training cycle has officially ended. The fifty chosen ones were escorted away from the weathered training camp and stepped for the first time into a region that most of them could never reach in their lifetime—the top hive of the main hive.
As the transport ship pierced through the thick clouds of pollution, a completely different world unfolded before them.
This is the top of the Hive Tower, the absolute pinnacle of power and luxury in Necromunda.
The towering, spiky buildings pierce the sky, their surfaces covered with self-cleaning alloys and luminescent crystals, shimmering in the thin atmosphere.
A massive anti-gravity platform floats between buildings, forming an intricate three-dimensional transportation network, where various glamorous private aircraft glide silently along pre-designed light-filled routes.
Looking around, one sees rows of private palaces belonging to the powerful and wealthy.
These buildings not only pursue height, but also indulge in extreme luxury in the details.
Some buildings have exterior walls made entirely of polished black obsidian, inlaid with a gold eagle emblem; others feature a streamlined design with an outer layer of color-changing alloy plates that refract a dreamlike halo in the sunlight; still others are sculpted into the shape of a soaring eagle, with a huge ruby embedded in the eagle's eye that remains clearly visible from a thousand meters above the ground.
The main airport is filled with ornately decorated starships, their smooth hulls adorned with the crests of various powerful families.
Ground crew, dressed in well-tailored uniforms, operated the anti-gravity platform to maintain the ship.
Amazingly, in this world constructed of metal and crystal, patches of greenery are interspersed.
A meticulously maintained garden is protected beneath a huge transparent dome, where towering ancient trees and exotic flowers coexist, and an artificial waterfall cascades down from a 30-meter-high rockery, creating shimmering ripples in the pool.
Some of the more luxurious palaces even have private gardens suspended in the air, supported by anti-gravity engines, like floating oases.
The headquarters palaces of the various departments of power in the empire stand majestically in the core area.
The black fortress walls of the courthouse are covered with surveillance cameras and automated turrets; the temple of the Mechanicus is a moving metal mountain, with countless thick pipes pulsating like blood vessels; the administrative buildings are in the neoclassical style, with white marble colonnades stretching for kilometers, and golden imperial eagles shining brightly on the lintels.
The air was filled with a fresh scent that had been filtered multiple times, a stark contrast to the filth of the hive below.
Behind the massive glass curtain wall, one can vaguely see people dressed in fine clothes strolling through the brightly lit hall, while servant skulls carrying drinks weave among the guests.
However, these chosen ones from the bottom and middle hives had no time to appreciate this vastly different world.
They walked silently along the gleaming alloy corridor, their boots striking the ground, the sound echoing in the empty passageway.
Their gazes were resolute, their minds and bodies still basking in the afterglow of three months of rigorous training, as they were being led to the fortress that stood at the very heart of the hive, named after its Primarch—the Spear of Dorne.
The inside of the fortress is a completely different world from the outside.
The vast space was filled with the hum of machinery, the faint scent of incense, and an atmosphere so solemn it was almost frozen.
Here, they will face their final and decisive test.
Osiris' massive mechanical body stood beneath a colossal imperial statue, his crimson optical lens sweeping across the fifty faces before him, faces hardened by countless trials yet still bearing a barely perceptible hint of tension.
He did not explain the specifics of the test, but instead announced the rules directly.
"Luck is also an indispensable part of strength." His synthesized voice echoed in the magnificent hall, carrying a metallic quality. "And the Emperor is watching you."
If you deserve this glory that leads to power, then His will will guide your hands and qualify you.
He instructed everyone to stand before the imperial icon and offer a brief prayer.
The statue, cast in dark gold metal, stands ten meters tall, and the emperor's gaze seems to penetrate the surface and reach the depths of the soul.
Under this imposing gaze, the candidates unconsciously straightened their backs, and even the most unruly Kax softened his sharp gaze and showed due respect.
After the prayers were finished, a mechanical priest walked up to the crowd carrying an ordinary black metal box.
The box has no decorations on its surface, except for a small opening at the top that is just big enough for one hand to pass through.
When the box is opened, you can see fifty identical skewer sticks neatly arranged inside, made of some ivory-colored material, and indistinguishable from the outside.
"Each person draws one." Osiris' order was concise and clear, devoid of any emotion.
The atmosphere froze instantly.
A tense silence filled the air, with only the faint hum of the ventilation system and the involuntary heavy breathing of some people.
No one knew which color would signify success and which would mean elimination, and this uncertainty intensified everyone's inner turmoil.
Cesare took a deep breath. His aristocratic upbringing allowed him to maintain a facade of composure, but his fingers, reaching for the box, trembled slightly.
He carefully drew out a stick and immediately covered it completely with his palm.
Kax's actions were quite the opposite. He quickly and decisively reached into the box, drew a lot, and immediately clenched it in his fist.
At the same time, he scanned his surroundings with a wary gaze, slightly turning his body to the side to maintain a defensive posture.
As if carrying out a routine command, Groom silently stepped forward, precisely drew a lot, and then held it firmly in his rough hand, his face expressionless.
The other candidates reacted differently: a young man from the bottom hive closed his eyes and muttered something, his finger tracing the Eagle Emblem on his chest; a young man from the middle hive was pale and almost dropped his lot when he drew it; and a tall young man deliberately straightened his collar before drawing his lot, trying to maintain his last bit of dignity.
When the last person finished drawing lots, Osiris spoke again, his voice exceptionally clear in the silent hall: "The one holding the red lot is selected."
After a brief pause, he added, "Those with white cards will be handled differently."
The moment the words were spoken, a suppressed gasp filled the hall.
Everyone looked down at the fortune slip in their hands without prior notice. Some breathed a sigh of relief, some stared in disbelief, and some slumped their arms down in dejection.
Twenty red tokens, symbolizing the path to the extraordinary, were revealed, and their holders' faces instantly lit up with barely suppressed excitement and joy.
The other thirty people holding white slips of paper turned pale instantly, their faces showing confusion, resentment, or deep disappointment.
They stood there, waiting for that unknown "other arrangement," their hearts filled with bewilderment at being abandoned by fate and unease about the future.