Chapter Text
Day 353, Year 987, 41st Millennium
Planet: Opell III
Today, everything remained exactly the same.
Eric woke up and went through his daily routine, just as he did every other day. There was nothing particularly special about the events of the day.
However, a thought suddenly struck him: Is this truly the best I can hope for right now? It had been approximately one year since he found himself in this dark future.
He felt that life here in the Upper Hive—the habitation layer for the middle class—was safe and stable. It wasn’t as physically grueling as the labor below, though everyone still had to dedicate themselves to their work. It was a stark contrast to the denizens of the Lower Hive, who toiled endlessly, facing toxic pollution, hazardous manufactorums, criminals, mutants, and gangers.
He actually liked this life. It was boring, devoid of excitement, and safe. He knew he couldn't expect much more from a world ruled by a totalitarian regime where access to information was strictly limited.
Some truths could not be spoken.
Indoctrination and the brainwashing of the populace through the Imperial Creed were absolute. Yet, it was still better here than down below. The enforcement of religion wasn't as suffocatingly intense here. The people in the Upper Hive were relatively reasonable, though they possessed plenty of cunning. There were also a lot of "normal" civilians here, which, paradoxically, was another reason why the Upper Hive could be terrifying and dangerous in its own right.
I shouldn't be thinking like this, or complaining, Eric thought. My living conditions are far better than they used to be.
Right now, he should be focusing on how to maximize the utility of the oven he had just bought, and what kind of meals he could conjure up from the ingredients available in the Upper Hive markets.
Cooking a Grox steak in the oven isn’t a bad idea. It might even turn out well... but... I can't cook.
Maybe just marinating it with salt and pepper will be enough?
But the next problem is: How do you actually cook a steak using an oven?
As Eric pondered this while walking along the walkway, flanking a road with light traffic, he heard someone shout a greeting.
"Good morning, Erica."When Eric turned around, he found Vann. Dressed in a neat uniform and looking sharply groomed, Vann walked toward him with a cheerful, friendly smile. Eric turned fully toward Vann, returning the smile and greeting him immediately.
"Good morning to you too! You look very sharp today," Eric greeted, adding a compliment.
Vann chuckled slightly before replying,
"Thanks for the compliment."Vann fell into step beside him, adjusting his collar and looking as if he wanted to discuss something. Eric prepared to ask how Vann was feeling about his new job; for Eric, having a casual, friendly conversation made him feel at ease.
Suddenly, Eric realized something—if he stood here talking, he would definitely miss the train. If he was absent or late, he would get an earful, or worse, have his salary docked. That was unacceptable.
"Uh... sorry, I can't talk right now. I have to go," Eric said softly, turning his back to walk away.
Vann, however, didn't stay put. He quickly caught up to Eric.
"Why the rush?" Vann asked curiously.
"I’m going to miss the train," Eric replied, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice as he wondered why Vann was following him.
"If my supervisor finds out I'm late or absent, I’m dead... And by the way, why are you following me? Shouldn't you be heading to the office?"
"Don't you remember? We take the same train station. There's nothing wrong with walking and talking, is there?"
"Right!! I completely forgot," Eric said, his voice laced with embarrassment. He noticed that Vann, with his longer legs, was easily matching his pace, chuckling softly at Eric's forgetfulness.
"You know, for someone so shy, you’re also quite forgetful. I wonder what you look like when you make a mistake and get scolded by your boss? And forgetting that I use the same station... or were you perhaps thinking about someone else?" Vann teased, tilting his head up slightly, looking annoyingly cheerful.
"Stop it right now... I have made mistakes before, and getting yelled at isn't funny! Also, I wasn't thinking about anyone. I was just thinking about... uh... trying to cook for myself, that's all," Eric retorted, his voice pitching higher in his flustered state.
How could he be thinking about anyone else? He barely had friends, let alone a lover. Vann’s insinuation felt like an insult. Being spoken to like this was incredibly irritating. Why did Vann enjoy provoking him so much?
"Cooking for yourself? ...I know the food in the Lower Hive is trash, I get it... Or maybe," Vann raised an eyebrow, wearing that smirk Eric hated the most, "are you practicing your housewife skills, preparing to cook for someone special?"
Eric’s face flushed red, and his hands balled into tight fists. He tried to restrain himself from punching Vann in the face, just like he had done when they met on the battlefield.
Regardless, he really wanted to drive an uppercut into Vann's chin and punch his remaining good eye out.
Why is this guy so damn annoying?!
"Stop talking nonsense, Vann. I am NOT practicing cooking for anyone! Get that through your head! I just want to eat good food," Eric snapped, his voice hardening as he ordered his 'friend' to shut up. He glared at Vann with anger and annoyance, his brows knitting together. Passersby glanced at the pair briefly before hurrying on.
"So scary!" Vann feigned fear, raising his hands in surrender before laughing softly at Eric's unamused expression.
"You know, you seem more lively today... But I’m still curious, has no one hit on you yet? You’re quite pretty, you know... Still single?" Vann grinned roguishly.
Hearing this, Eric felt goosebumps of pure rage, steam practically blowing out of his ears.
"VANN!!! THAT'S ENOUGH!!!"
______________________________________________
Day 353, Year 987, 41st Millennium
Location: PDF Command Center, Hive Kathion
Specific Location: General's Private Office
Time: Approximately Noon
Inside an office decorated with dark oak furniture and the faint scent of incense and spices, Vann enjoyed a moment of midday respite. He sat relaxed in a padded leather chair, holding a cup of expensive porcelain tea, sipping it calmly as he gazed out the window.
The political situation appeared calm on the surface, but he knew better. Beneath the veneer of peace, chaos churned. Many nobles were vying for the position of Planetary Governor, and the competition was constant.
He suspected that something drastic might happen soon—perhaps a noble attempting to use military force to seize the Governorship. The chances were slim, as the opposing factions constantly checked and balanced each other, ready to retaliate if anyone stepped out of line. It was a fierce, protracted stalemate, but not an impossible scenario for violence.
Vann had already chosen his side: his brother. It had taken a lot of pleading. Initially, he had no desire to join Valen—he despised his brother. But after being persuaded and listening to Valen's reasoning, he had softened and finally agreed.
He certainly wouldn't have joined if Valen had the ambition to become Governor himself. But right now, his brother had too many headaches to deal with to care about titles.
Which is good, Vann thought. He didn't want to imagine Valen as Governor; the administration was already authoritarian enough. Under Valen, it might become absolute tyranny.
BANG!
The office door was thrown open without permission. In walked the burly figure of Colonel Draco, a former slum ganger who had climbed the ranks with his fists and battlefield achievements. Draco swaggered into the room, rudely spitting synthetic gum into a wastebin.
"Hey, Boss!" Draco called out the old nickname out of habit.
"Your plan is truly wicked, you know. I saw you walking and talking with that pale-faced girl on the way to the train station this morning... Looking at how shy and innocent she is, I give it a week. She’ll be yours for sure," Draco laughed heartily, slapping Vann’s desk. BANG.
"Man... I forgot that our Boss was the number one 'Ladies' Man' of Sector D slums ten years ago. A girl who looks that weak and harmless... prime prey, right Boss?" Draco spoke loudly, showing zero respect or fear toward Vann.
Vann did not laugh. He set his teacup down on the saucer with a soft but resonant clink. He looked up at Draco with his single remaining eye. The gaze was cold and fierce, silencing Draco immediately. He hated when people spoke to him like that.
"Draco... I am not that womanizing gang leader chasing skirts anymore. Leave the past ten years in the past. And if you want to keep your tongue to speak nonsense, watch your mouth," Vann said in a low voice, his tone indicating his limited patience.
"Besides, if I were courting her, I’d use a different method. And if I were actually doing it, you would have seen me taking her to the bedroom already. Get that into your thick skull," Vann replied with irritation. He had no intention of romancing Erica; that would be foolish.
Just looking at her personality, he knew that pursuing her would only bring trouble.
Since being exiled and given a second chance by his brother, Vann had spent over five years fighting in the savage Lower Hive. He used brutality, cunning, and everything he had to build a gang and expand his influence until he was a powerful figure.
Back then, as a gang leader in Sector D (under House Malvernis territory), Vann was formidable, handsome, and powerful, but his womanizing habits had been unchecked. He was charismatic, charming, and involved with many women, even the daughters of some nobles.
Until he decided to enlist in the PDF and reinvent himself. He rose from a common private through merit and a bit of trickery, eventually becoming a young General known for his tactical creativity, looks, and composure—though still mistrusted due to his history.
Draco paled and immediately stood at attention, saluting.
"S-Sorry, General! I was just... just joking, sir."
"People like me are not for you to joke about," Vann said, leaning back. "Remember this: soon, she will be just like you... someone for me to use. No, actually... she will be worth more than all of you combined. She possesses a brain and a decisiveness that you lack. Do not underestimate her just because you haven't seen her true capabilities."
Draco shifted nervously but couldn't help asking the question that had plagued all the subordinates.
"But Boss... permission to speak freely," Draco scratched his head. "Is it really worth it? Risking your life to save one woman in the middle of a battlefield? You lost men, spent a fortune on medical bills—hell, you spent so much you couldn't afford a high-grade bionic eye to replace that eyepatch. You could have left her there..."
Vann went silent for a moment. He touched the eyepatch over his right eye. A faint smile appeared—Draco couldn't tell if it was self-pity or pride.
"Draco... my investment wasn't just money or an eye," Vann said smoothly. "That day, when everything collapsed in the chaos... remember? When we were fighting to retake the sector from the Genestealers. We were pinned down between the PDF lines and the advancing Xenos. That giant tank—a Leman Russ—appeared, and the tide of battle shifted. Everyone panicked. Some cowed on the ground waiting for death. But that shy girl... the one you called innocent..."Vann paused, taking a final sip of tea.
"I was a tanker back then, Boss. I didn't see anything but that big tank," Draco interrupted.
"How many times have I told you not to interrupt? It's rude," Vann snapped, reaching for the pistol on his desk and pointing it idly at his subordinate.
"In that moment, I saw her. She might have been terrified, yes. But she made a decision no one expected. She grabbed an anti-tank grenade and sprinted through a hail of hybrid-xenos gunfire with a courage that would shame a veteran. She threw that grenade, destroyed the tank suppressing us, and stopped them from taking the giant elevator."Vann stood up and walked to the window, looking down at the view outside the Hive City—a landscape choked with toxic dust and smog, obscuring the massive mountains a kilometer away.
"She has rare qualities, Draco. Rare for someone from the Lower Hive. She has precise management knowledge, pistol skills that are sharp as if trained by a professional, and her appearance... most importantly, that courage hidden beneath the shy, insecure demeanor. It is the perfect mask. Think about it. Would you be worried about someone harmless like her? If, during a banquet, a beautiful, shy, insecure woman walked past you or approached you, what would you feel?"
"Two things, Boss. I wouldn't pay attention to her, or I'd be interested in her looks," Draco answered.
"Exactly. And then she would end you. Even though she looks timid, her marksmanship is excellent. She doesn't want to kill, but she will not hesitate if her life is threatened." Vann recalled seeing Eric in combat. He knew instantly: kind, shy, paranoid, reserved... but with a very low tolerance for being threatened.
"...Saving a life this valuable... for me, it is worth far more than the cost. When she is ready to 'work' for me properly, you will understand that my eye was a small price to pay."Draco fell silent, stunned. He had never seen Vann value anyone this highly.
"Understood, General. I will order the boys to keep an eye on her... uh, from a distance, sir."
"Don't let her face everything alone. Time will prove everything," Vann replied without turning back. "Now get out. I have a precious lunch break and paperwork to finish." He waved his hand, dismissing his subordinate.
___________________________________________
Location: Hive Kathion
Opell III
Hive Kathion was one of the smaller Hive Cities of the Hive World Opell III. Its spire reached only about 200 meters above the cloud layer, unlike the massive Hives elsewhere on the planet that pierced the upper atmosphere.
And this Hive City was facing a crisis.
The jet engines of a private Aquila Lander whined down as its wheels touched the private runway atop the Hive Spire. High-altitude winds whipped Valen’s expensive long coat as he descended the ramp.
Valen’s face was etched with exhaustion. The Council of Nobles meeting to select the new Governor had lasted over 12 hours and ended in emptiness. The nobles argued over conflicts of interest; no one yielded. That fat pig Thalric proposed nonsense, and Lady Annes stared at him as if he were a maiden to be devoured. The meeting had been a massive waste of his valuable time.
"Welcome back, My Lord!" a shaky voice called out in relief. Ignatius, the loyal elderly butler, hurried over to bow, his face full of anxiety.
"You were gone so long. I feared negotiations had failed, or something terrible had happened... I could barely eat or sleep."
Valen sighed softly, waving away the concern.
"Just old people arguing about nonsense, Ignatius. Nothing to worry about. The meeting dragged on because there was no conclusion... boring as hell."Valen walked into the grand hallway of Palace Korvax. Towering walls adorned with stained glass and marble statues of ancestors and Imperial legends looked down upon them. The polished floor reflected his steady stride. Despite his fatigue, his posture remained elegant.
"I have prepared a warm bath and dinner, sir. And the fine wine from Necromunda that you like... Oh, right," Ignatius paused, remembering something. He pulled out a Dataslate with a blinking red seal and handed it to Valen.
"An urgent message from the Lower Hive, from your 'Left Hand'... sent 2 days ago with high-level encryption. I dared not open it."
Valen took the Dataslate, his brows furrowing. Omega was not someone who sent
messages frivolously. If he was reporting directly, it was a matter of life and death.
Valen’s fingers unlocked the gene-code on the screen, and the classified report appeared.
[CLASSIFIED REPORT: TO LORD VALEN KORVAX]
[FROM: OMEGA]
[SUBJECT: OPERATION CLEANSE - CODE RED & THREAT ANALYSIS]
"The peacekeeping mission on the border of House Korvax and House Thalric territories is partially complete. We encountered an incursion of heretics. They have lost their humanity completely. These are not just starving workers; they have been biologically altered into weapons with clear objectives."
Valen scanned the text with the eyes of an analyst until he stopped at a crucial paragraph. His eyes narrowed.
"From the ambush during our exfiltration, I found critical evidence: heavy weaponry used to engage tanks. I am declaring a Maximum Level Risk: I suspect House Thalric is betraying the Imperium... or is compromised. I propose you initiate a preemptive strike immediately. Before what they are hiding grows beyond what my lightning can stop."
Valen lowered the Dataslate. He stopped in the middle of the silent hallway. His brain processed the situation like a cogitator.
Fear formed deep in his heart, hidden under a cold mask. His Lower Hive territory had just recovered its infrastructure. He had poured massive funds into it. If he let these heretics—born of Thalric's negligence or treachery—spread, the damage would be catastrophic. The fragile production lines, the manufactorums he spent a fortune repairing—all would be destroyed.
And more importantly... Sanguinala was coming in two weeks. He needed this to be a perfect time to display his governance capabilities. He had even been benevolent enough to grant the workers a 3-day holiday and reduced their shifts from 20 hours to 19—a mercy he could barely afford.
Thalric... that irresponsible fool, Valen thought. I don't know if he is a traitor or just incompetent enough to let a Genestealer Cult infestation fester.
He had no time for committees or diplomats. The risk was too high. One slip, and the planet falls. They must be purged.
Valen turned to Ignatius, his face emotionless, but his eyes sharp as a power sword.
"Ignatius. Cancel dinner. Prepare the strategic comms room." His voice was simple, not shouting, but commanding absolute authority.
"Sir? Is it serious?" the butler asked, trembling.
"Just a minor urgency," Valen replied flatly, typing an authorization code into the Dataslate to reply to Omega immediately.
[COMMAND REPLY: TO OMEGA]
[FROM: LORD VALEN KORVAX]
[STATUS: AUTHORIZED]
"Permission granted to execute 'Operation: Nip in the Bud' as you see fit. Purge every location suspected of hosting the threat. No ID confirmation required. No negotiations. Do not limit the collateral damage—just ensure the heretics are annihilated. Use any method necessary. Finish it before Sanguinala begins in two weeks."
"The Emperor Protects."
He hit send, then walked toward his private office to plan for the political fallout. The opposition would ask questions, and they wouldn't let this go easily.