"Holy Father, may Your light shine upon this sunless Hive depths. May Your gaze guide us to overthrow this unworthy Planetary Governor and establish a world free from oppression."
In a corner of the Hive City's Underhive, a cult leader robed in clerical vestments knelt before a statue, praying.
What a majestic statue—clad in magnificent armor, raising a glorious sword high. Its upright posture before the cult leader seemed as martial as the God-Emperor Himself. Superficially unremarkable; in the Imperium of Man, worshipping the God-Emperor is among the most common sights.
The sole issue...
This God-Emperor possessed four arms.
Setting aside the cult leader's Genestealer-tinted perception, one could see they venerated a Tyranid Genestealer over three meters tall, approaching four meters.
Its alien-esque bald cranium, gaping maw, tongue long enough to lick its ears. Four insectoid claws, exceptionally sharp, capable of effortlessly crushing human skulls. A thick tail rigidly extended behind—its vital status indeterminable.
A substantial Purestrain Genestealer. At this size, it could bisect standard Space Marines like common soldiers and contend with Terminators.
Beyond this cult leader, hundreds of congregants gathered behind, all bearing Genestealer physical traits. Among them, obvious Purestrain adults—yet only two meters tall.
"Chieftain!"
A hybrid Genestealer rushed into the chapel, whispering urgently.
"Those xenos resist fiercely. Our offensive is halted."
Hunters are incomparable to Zerglings. These elite Hydralisks, each statistically enhanced, naturally disadvantage the Genestealer Cult.
Indeed, if even a Hunter cadre couldn't hold, this enemy would require Ultralisks to defeat. The Overmind would immediately extract Izsha and retreat.
"Incompetents!"
The cult leader backhanded the hybrid, displeased. "You've failed the God-Emperor's expectations! Now, before His presence, repeat what you just said!!!"
"Yes. Our offensive is halted. Those xenos resist fiercely."
The chapel erupted in murmurs. Cult members rose, faces contorted with fury.
"Those xenos refuse to meekly accept death!"
"Such blasphemy! This sacred Hive cannot tolerate xenos existence!"
"Slay them all! SLAY THEM ALL!"
Clearly, the frontline Genestealer setback enraged the cult—primarily directed at the Zerg Swarm.
"You hear this? Our kin's sentiment! They cannot endure xenos presence within this God-Emperor's city. Gather our forces. Maximum strength. Annihilate them. FOR THE GOD-EMPEROR!!!"
"FOR THE GOD-EMPEROR!!!"
Cult members shouted in unison, retrieving arms. Some drove armored vehicles stolen or illicitly purchased from the Astra Militarum. Over a dozen Leman Russ tanks.
Imperial bureaucracy's corruption knows no bounds—even selling Astra Militarum ordinance privately!!!
This escalated beyond skirmishes.
Over thirty percent of the Underhive's populace mobilized. Genestealer Cult membership already comprised half the Underhive. Without Zerg Swarm intervention, an 'uprising' against the Upper Hive would soon commence.
Fortune favors the timely.
Having roused her congregation's battle fervor, the cult leader turned toward the colossal Genestealer statue, bowing piously. "I shall deliver victory unto you, Supreme God-Emperor."
Profoundly surreal.
One momentarily cannot discern true heresy. But this is Warhammer 40K's quotidian reality.
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Elsewhere, Lower Hive civilians collectively manifested infection symptoms. The Lower Hive, densest civilian region, rivals the Underhive in population.
Recent days: Toxic Nests disseminated Zerg virus through ventilation and aqueduct systems. Widespread fever, coughing, cutaneous cysts—commonplace maladies in Warhammer 40K Hives. Mostly disregarded.
Some sought physicians.
Yet physicians themselves exhibited infection symptoms, powerless beyond prescribing analgesics and antipyretics. Patients resumed daily life. Thus, viral dissemination accelerated.
Especially in taverns, chapels, ports, barracks—severe infection manifestations.
Even specialized military medics proved helpless.
"Itch intolerable."
An officer scratched at his cystic hand, inquiring the medic. "Truly no remedy? I'm to meet senior officers shortly. This intolerable pruritus precludes presentation."
"You're not alone."
The medic raised his tunic, revealing abdominal cysts—with incisions.
"I attempted excision and drainage. Regrowth persists. This is contagious—atypical contagion. Resembles plague pathogens documented on other worlds. Perhaps prayer to the Emperor is indicated."
"You assume I haven't tried? The Ecclesiarchy are sicker than I. Damnation. What malady is this?"
Cursing, the officer departed.
This illness had degraded planetary defense force combat readiness. How would he report to superiors?
But no report was necessary.
That night, the Zerg virus activated. Lower Hive and Underhive residents awakened, pupils uniformly shifting to bestial yellow, phosphorescent in darkness. Strange utterances escaped their lips.
"The Overmind... calls me."
They rose like marionettes, some seizing arms, others empty-handed. They traversed Hive streets, conduits—resembling plague-walkers.
Entire regional civilian populations were Infested. Only isolated hermits or Cult members infiltrating the Lower Hive remained uninfected.
Upon sighting these Infested, combat commenced.
Infested pounced upon the uninfected. One Cult member, merely seeking fresh air, discovered rows of Infested beyond his threshold. He attempted to shut the door. Infested noticed, their hand blocking closure.
Further Infested surged, prying the door open, flooding the Cult member's dwelling.
Outcome predictable: the Cult member was rent asunder.
And these Infested multitudes now marched toward the Underhive.