"Clang..." The melodious tolling of bells echoed once again above the Underhive.
During this period, the landscape of the Underhive had undergone a dramatic transformation. The Sons of Rusty Iron, once a marginal force, had become inexplicably aggressive. They first rebranded themselves as the "Sons of the Tide" and then launched a massive expansion into the surrounding territories.
With the factory zone firmly in their grasp, the remaining gangs were merely struggling to survive. Their tactical coordination was no longer a mindless charge; no one knew what had changed within their ranks. Survivors from the gang wars whispered of terrifying xenos fighting alongside the Sons of the Tide.
Normally, the Arbites would have descended to stabilize the situation and maintain the balance of power between gangs to prevent a single faction from dominating, which could threaten the Hive's stability. Yet, for some reason, the Enforcers who usually intervened at the slightest disturbance remained silent, allowing the Sons of the Tide to annex other factions at will. If this continued, the Underhive would inevitably be unified under one banner—a feat last seen during a massive cult uprising long ago.
At a gang outpost, Alexei watched a rival faction making a desperate last stand. He patted the shoulder of a tall man beside him. The man instantly understood, signaling to the gang members behind him. They advanced through the ruins in three-man fireteams with professional precision. Any resisting enemies were picked off one by one, and heavy weapons emplacements were neutralized through coordinated flanking.
Finally, amidst cries of surrender, the resistance ceased. Another gang had been annexed.
Alexei nodded with satisfaction. These were the elites he had handpicked from the original Sons of Rusty Iron. After being integrated into the Hive psionic network via Infestors, their tactical efficiency had increased exponentially. Unfortunately, the capacity of the network was limited by the number of Overlords, so he had to reserve most slots for his Swarm, otherwise he would have linked every human under his command.
"Two gangs left," he whispered. The day of a unified Underhive was drawing near.
He had already established a Terran base capable of mass-producing SCVs. The fully automated factories required only a few trained humans to operate, guarded by a handful of burrowed Roaches. Excess workers were diverted to food synthesis plants or fungal farms to boost local production. Others were trained to pilot SCVs into the depths of the Underhive, clearing centuries of refuse and excavating ancient ruins—who knew what Archeotech might be buried there?
Alexei's ambition was vast; he wanted to revitalize the entire Underhive. Ordinarily, with the Hive City dumping its waste down constantly, this was an impossible dream. However, Alexei's Zerg and Terran structures were perfectly capable of "digesting" these dregs and turning them into fuel for his rising power.
As he mused, the elite squad members returned, dragging captives from the rival gang. Looking at the dust-covered, terrified men, Alexei cleared his throat and shouted, "Don't be afraid. Join the Sons of the Tide, and I won't harm you."
He glanced at their expressions and added, "Otherwise... my bio-labs are short a few human test subjects."
At those words, the captives nodded frantically, shouting their allegiance. After tallying the numbers, Alexei sent them back with his subordinates. He then took his burrowed Roaches for a stroll, hoping to scavenge something valuable.
He looked at the Power Sword engraved with a double-headed eagle in his hand—spoils of war from a previous gang leader. Clad in flak armor and wielding the blade, he wandered through the ruins. He didn't understand why this gang had chosen such a barren area as their headquarters; there were no power stations, water treatment plants, or food sources.
Until he found a room standing abruptly alone amidst the debris.
"What's this?" Curious, he looked at the locked door. He ordered a Roach to emerge and spit acid, melting half the door away. Inside, he found a storage rack covered with a cloth.
"Looks like a weapon..." He stepped forward and pulled the cloth away. A beautifully crafted dagger lay there. Unlike his standard-issue Power Sword, this dagger looked less like a combat tool and more like an ornate decoration.
Alexei wasn't excited; instead, his expression turned strange. Something felt off. He thought of a tragic figure: Fulgrim, the "Phoenix." It was common knowledge that Fulgrim's fall began with a sword possessed by a Greater Demon of Slaanesh. Now, while being hunted by a Tzeentchian force, a highly suspicious dagger suddenly appears...
But Alexei picked it up anyway. Give me a break, he thought. The Emperor himself decreed I wouldn't be affected by the Warp. The safest place for this blade is with me.
He examined the dagger, noting the dozens of fine gems embedded in it. "This looks a lot like Slaanesh's style..." He pocketed it and left.
Half of the factories in the zone had been dismantled by Alexei, replaced by Terran Command Centers and SCV production lines. Watching the SCVs weave through the facility, he checked his progress. "In a few more days, I'll unlock the Barracks to produce CMC-400 Power Armor and C-14 Gauss Rifles." At that point, his gang's combat power would reach a whole new level.
He walked through the renovated factory district to the area below. Unlike the rumbling machinery above, the ground here was covered in thick Creep, providing constant nutrients to the Swarm. He had moved his main Hive here, leaving only a few Queens and Zerglings at the old landfill. The Hive beneath the factories was thriving; every local organism had been converted into biomass—three-meter centipedes, virus-laden bats, and giant semi-humanoid rats. Their useful genetic traits were being integrated by Abathur.
The combat power of these Zerg units was now leagues beyond their initial state. Alexei intended to use his accumulated biomass to summon another Hero-tier unit. While Abathur handled evolution, Alexei needed a commander to manage the daily operations of the Swarm.
His eyes fell on a silhouette on his panel. "I choose you, Zagara.