"Argh, it hurts!"
Screams of agony echoed one after another.
Some were pierced through the chest, dying swiftly.
Others had half their heads vaporized, the remaining half still boiling in its own heat.
Some were cut in half at the waist, dragging their upper bodies across the ground in torment.
The scene was not particularly bloody; the high heat had cauterized the wounds, leaving almost no blood spilled.
What filled the air was not the stench of blood, but the pungent smell of charred flesh.
In just thirty seconds, the battle was nearly over.
Dozens of mutilated corpses lay strewn across the ground.
Lasguns might not be the best weapon, but saying lasguns were not good enough was almost impossible.
"Stay alert!" Durm kicked a still-twitching corpse at his feet, confirming all enemies were dead.
He glanced at his lasgun's energy indicator, less than a third depleted, and they still had spare power packs.
These thugs had survived too long underground, never witnessing true technology.
In their limited understanding, "guns" were crude homemade firearms, slow to load, wildly inaccurate, and sometimes prone to exploding in the user's face.
In underground gang fights, they were accustomed to the ancient shield-wall tactic:
Using two unlucky souls in the front row as meat shields to absorb the first volley, while the rear ranks charged in for close-quarters combat.
This time, however, they were gravely mistaken.
Lasgun beams had far greater penetrating power than conventional bullets.
The beams easily punched through the front-row meat shields, cutting down several more lives behind them.
Lasguns were made to kill, and they did so with brutal efficiency.
"This must be what Father calls 'information asymmetry,'" Nagul said, crouching to examine one of the corpses, showing no fear.
This was not his first time seeing death. Not long after he was born, his father had slaughtered their way through the Corpse-Grinders' camp, and later wiped out the Viper Gang in the hive.
The only difference was that his father preferred snapping enemies' necks rightward, aside from their limp necks, the dead looked like they were sleeping.
Though the scattered limbs and severed stumps were gruesome, Babel's children had grown up in hardship and were long accustomed to death.
These thugs, relying on their numbers, had charged headlong into the lasguns' firepower, foolishly believing that being ten times the patrol's size guaranteed victory.
It only made the patrol's killing more efficient.
Durm said, "Nagul, we're pulling back!"
Nagul nodded and fell back into formation.
Though all their ambushers were dead, no one could guarantee there weren't more dangers ahead.
Their mission was routine patrol, not pest control, not worth the risk.
Sending someone back for reinforcements while the rest stayed put would be even more foolish.
Not only could a lone runner be ambushed in the labyrinthine tunnels, even sending two might not be safe.
But pulling more people back would leave the remaining squad vulnerable.
Rather than agonize over the dilemma, the better choice was to withdraw to Babel, regroup, and return in greater force for a thorough sweep.
There was no point guarding these corpses; they would not come back to life.
The squad swiftly retraced their route back to Babel. Durm instructed the others to rest in the main hall and went alone to Caelan's quarters.
He knocked, received a response, and entered: "Teacher, we encountered intruders."
Caelan looked up from the teaching materials he was compiling. "How many?"
Durm answered, "Over seventy, all dead. But they didn't feel like a proper gang; more like a band of scavengers."
"I worried there might be more ambushes, so I pulled everyone back."
"Any casualties?"
"None."
"You did the right thing."
Caelan nodded slightly. With enemies hidden in the dark and themselves in the light, attacking rashly without full preparation was the worst move.
"Have the other teams returned?"
Durm shook his head, "Not yet. Perhaps they encountered no danger."
Though Babel was only a settlement of half-grown children, Caelan's fearsome reputation was enough to deter the underworld's gangs.
Over the years, gangs had indeed coveted Babel's resources, but every gang that dared invade had been wiped out entirely.
And none of them even made it past Babel's gates. The outermost perimeter of Corridor 6 was sealed by a steel door.
The door had firing ports, and patrol teams stood guard around the clock, with a guard room inside the corridor.
Unless someone opened the door from the inside, attackers outside were nothing but target practice.
With these robust defenses, even if Caelan were absent, Babel would remain secure.
Though the steel door could be breached with melta charges but the underworld only had crude firearms and at most some black powder, nothing capable of blowing anything open.
Even if they could blast through the steel door, Babel's children were all soldiers; the armory could equip everyone. Enemies would never break through the corridor.
Now, with sudden new intruders appearing, either these people were completely ignorant of Babel's terror, or they were confident in their backing.
Given the intruders' idiotic behavior, they were probably genuinely ignorant.
These intruders might be an isolated incident, the chance of another patrol encountering danger was low, but they still had to stay cautious.
Caelan ordered, "Activate the Red Emergency Protocol. From now on, Babel must remain on high alert."
"Summon all children over ten, organize them according to training units, and issue weapons according to uniform standards."
Durm aksed, "Teacher, do we really need to mobilize that many?"
Though Babel had only been founded three years ago, it had already taken in tens of thousands of children from underground and the outskirts.
Many had risked their lives to flee their original gangs and join Babel voluntarily.
The reason was simple: free corpse-starch bars every day was enough to draw them in droves.
But even if they initially came for food, they had gradually integrated into Babel under Caelan's education.
Caelan's energy was limited; he could not teach every child at all times.
Babel employed a senior-to-junior mentoring system. Children like Durm, who had received Caelan's earliest teachings, now served as teachers to others, handling both cultural and military training.
As a result, many newcomers did not fully understand Babel's beliefs, but they were still willing to fight and die for it.
This was not about noble ideals, it was simply the refusal to go hungry again.
Those who had seen the light could no longer endure the darkness.
Was that not also a form of "from frugality to extravagance"?
Among these tens of thousands, at least ten thousand were over ten and capable of fighting.
Babel's armory could equip them all, but mobilizing them just for pest control seemed excessive, didn't it?
Caelan replied, "This can be both a cleanup operation and a live-fire drill."
"War is coming. You must learn to adapt. This is an opportunity."
Cthonia's laws of survival had always been cruel, even children had to master the skills of survival and killing in danger.
Durm speculated, "You mean someone is behind these rats?"
Caelan nodded, "Though the under-dwellers are ignorant, they wouldn't foolishly provoke Babel. So why did they dare offend us?"
Durm's pupils contracted. "The hive nobles?"
"Only them."
Caelan had long anticipated the hive nobles' probing.
The number of students coming to Babel grew daily, and the food shortage grew with them.
To sustain this underground utopia he had built, Caelan frequently had to visit the hive.
And "borrow" from the underhive gangs that served as the nobles' enforcers.
He had not approached the spire nobles, not wanting to attract too much attention.
Underhive gangs died every day, no one cared how many.
But nobles were different.
Once a noble was killed, all nobles would go on high alert, stopping at nothing to find the culprit.
Though Babel was in the underworld, it was not isolated.
If the nobles followed the trail, it would not be hard to trace back to Babel.
Even though Caelan had not touched the nobles directly, the destruction of so many gangs had clearly raised their suspicions.
Erwin had warned Caelan earlier that many strangers had appeared in their town, all looking for the missing trucks.
Underhive gangs did not have that kind of reach, nor influence beyond the underhive, nobles had to be involved.
Since they had already traced it to the outskirts, it would not be long before they found Babel.
After all, Babel now had tens of thousands of people. Even if outsiders did not know the exact number, they could guess at least several thousand, and some might exaggerate it to hundreds of thousands.
And who was feeding all these people?
The underworld had millions of inhabitants, rats and mushrooms alone could not sustain them.
The grass these under-dweller sheep ate still came from the hive.
Though the under-dwellers could only scavenge industrial waste from underground rivers, nearly every significant underground gang had connections with underhive gangs.
Though Cthonia's resources were nearly exhausted, tectonic activity occasionally pushed precious gems and metal veins to shallow depths. These high-value items were hard currency between underground gangs and underhive gangs, sometimes with outskirt scavengers as middlemen.
Underground gangs mined the gems and traded them to underhive gangs for food.
Underhive gangs were not consumers, they were higher-level middlemen, selling resources to nobles for cash.
This was a complete production chain.
The finest gems became trophies for nobles to flaunt at banquets.
Even though nobles valued these gems, they still paid for them.
Nobles looked down on gangs; funding them was not about using them for any purpose.
It was simply to keep them rotting in the underhive and underground.
To nobles, gangs of any kind were worthless scum.
The nobles needed no contribution from these gangs, as long as they stayed underground and out of sight.
Seeing them would spoil their appetites.
To that end, the nobles did not mind tossing some corpse-starch bars to the scum.
And low-quality gems could be resold to upper-hive middle-class buyers, the nobles never lost money.
Since the two sides had always been connected, when the nobles traced the leads to Babel, they would naturally order underhive gangs to investigate.
Underhive gangs would outsource the task to underground gangs, who would outsource to scavengers, and the clueless scavengers would come looking for trouble.
Those thugs who had invaded their territory were probably just that.
These people were merely the nobles' pathfinders. Once the nobles confirmed Babel was a threat, they would send in the Planetary Defense Force to "suppress the bandits."
Now that Babel was exposed, continuing to hide would only mean passive suffering.
People could relocate, but territory could not.
Abandon land and keep people, you keep both. Keep land and lose people, you lose both.
But Caelan had no intention of retreating. They had to seize the initiative.
Babel had developed in peace for three years, it was time to strike hard!
"Teacher, what should we do?" Durm clenched his fists, his eyes gleaming with eager anticipation.
"We cannot sit and wait. If the underground gangs unite to invade our territory, it will be too late."
"Right now, they are still scattered, the situation favors us."
Normally, underground gangs would not unite easily but if the nobles offered enough incentive, the gangs would be tempted.
Money moves hearts; only interests could drive enemies to unite.
Once they united, Babel might still win, but it would be a pyrrhic victory.
And the nobles would lose nothing, their promises to the underground gangs were just empty words.
Even if the gangs were all wiped out, the nobles would not care.
After Babel's costly victory, underhive gangs would pour in, followed by the Planetary Defense Force.
"Nagul."
Caelan beckoned to the boy, who trotted over and threw himself into his arms.
"It seems I won't be able to give you an opportunity of your own."
"Father." The boy looked up. "Where is this?"
"Babel."
"Am I part of Babel?"
"Of course you are."
Nagul said, "Since every one of us is part of Babel, what's mine belongs to the collective."
"Your honor is my honor, and my honor is the collective's honor."
"Father, will you give Babel an opportunity?"
Caelan nidded, "I will."
"Then you are giving me an opportunity." The boy's expression was serious.
He did not envy the older brothers and sisters of Babel, nor anyone's achievements.
They were all fighting for Babel, for it to stand tall upon the earth, why draw such clear distinctions?
Other Primarchs had led their people to conquer worlds in just a few years, but at three, he was still a child.
He could not conquer Cthonia, nor could he save his people.
He understood that if he asked, his father would wait patiently for him.
But he did not need the glory of personally conquering the world, he just did not want to disappoint his father.
Caelan's hand rested on the boy's head. "I'm sorry you have to bear this."
But Nagul suddenly broke into a smile: "Father, I'm lucky."
Babel had lain dormant for three years, it was time to shock the world!