Day 272, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Hive Karthion
Upper Hive
Refugee camp area near St. Lucia Church
Eric walked out of the examination room at a slightly slower pace than usual. Not because of the pain from his broken arm or ribs, but because his head was still spinning from embarrassment. Those three had really been thorough in their examinations. He had to strip completely naked. Standing in front of three naked men was a terrible feeling, but at least he was being examined like a commodity, not a human being. It made him feel a little better, but it still felt bad.
"Ouch... I hate to remember. Damn it..." His voice was soft, but he could still hear it clearly. However, more good news was rushing back to his mind.
Eric sighed slightly as the metal door closed behind him. Click. The sound was too loud to hear, like the end of the emotional torture he'd just been through, but it also reinforced the message, "It's already happened, and there's no going back."
He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. But his face was still red with embarrassment. At least… it was over. He was cleared. Not a cultist, not a mutant, not anything strange.
"The subject is cleared. No signs of contamination. You can continue living here as a citizen," Arbites said briefly but clearly before letting him out.
Good news, very good news.
He now had a shelter hundreds of times safer than the crumbling building on the side of the road. This church was fortified, with guards on duty, a system for closing the doors, a handful of survivors gathered around, and most importantly…
He was allowed to stay legally. No evictions, though there might be suspicion. No more guns pointed at his face. He would receive proper treatment, real treatment, not a careless bandage or a different clean cloth than the bandage.
"After this, you must see a medica. Understand?" Arbites, holding the file, told him calmly before leaving the room. Eric understood the word medica to mean doctor, because he wasn't sure if the similar word he knew and the one the future generation chose were sometimes lengthened to make it sound strangely aesthetic.
He almost cried with relief. For the past two days, he had been gritting his teeth and enduring the pain. He raised the gun with his left arm and tried to breathe through the pain in his ribs. Now… at least he'd get some rest, maybe get some food that wasn't corp starch, get some clean water, have a bed to sleep in, and someone to properly care for his wound.
He was much better, so much better he wanted to smile… but his face was still red.
Eric walked out into the main hall of the church. Sister Celianne was praying before a gold statue of the person known as the Emperor. She looked up with a gentle smile. Castra waved at Vann, glancing at her briefly as if to ask, "Did you pass?" but said nothing.
Eric smiled back… tensely.
"How were the results?" Celianne asked with concern.
Eric raised his left hand to scratch the back of his neck, trying not to make too much eye contact. He answered honestly that he passed.
"I did… pass. They said I was safe, uncontaminated… It's just… um…" he replied, pausing, blushing and nervous again.
"Then... why is your face so red?" Castra asked, frowning curiously.
"No... nothing!" Eric flinched. Celianne smiled, knowing more than she could tell. Vann glanced at him, as if he could tell what he was thinking.
"Have you ever been physically examined by the Arbites?" Vann asked, his tone slightly amused. Eric was silent for a moment before frowning and answering.
"... yes..." Eric replied, his voice almost faint.
"Hahaha, judging by your expression, you must be very reserved. Embarrassed, of course. But it's okay, you'll get used to it. That's just how they are," Vann said with a chuckle. Eric wanted to change the subject as quickly as humanly possible, but even though he was embarrassed enough to want to run away, he had to get used to it.
He was safe now, at least... safer than this morning,
and a million times safer than in the Lower Hive.
He looked up at the flickering candlelight above the altar.
He took a deep breath and thought to himself, "I'm so sorry."
Thank God… thank you so much, even if it means a lifetime of embarrassment.
"Now, if you have to report to the priest, stay with me for now," Sister Celianne said before walking away. She must have something really important to do, Eric thought to himself. But suddenly Vann stood up and said the same thing again.
"I have to report to headquarters. You two stay with me for now," Vann said before walking away. Eric rolled his eyes slightly.
Great, now it's just him and Castra. He doesn't know anything about the bureaucracy or the systems above. He's also unfamiliar with the place and the area. He'll have to improvise.
Eric and Castra walked to the makeshift infirmary, asking around. Inside the makeshift infirmary outside the church, a space separated by old curtains and the strong, stinging smell of disinfectant, Eric felt like he had stopped "running for his life" for the first time in months.
Even though the atmosphere wasn't warm or comfortable,
it was "safe enough to sit and take a deep breath."
And for him, right now…that was enough. A middle-aged female camp doctor in a drab gown, covered in patches and stains of chemicals and blood, carefully examined his right arm. He sat down and looked at the strangely modern, terrifying medical equipment, but it had bloodstains on it. The doctor approached him and asked,
"Does it hurt?" She asked calmly, her hand gently grasping his wrist. Eric answered honestly, his feelings genuine.
"Um... it hurts a little, but I'm okay," Eric replied, unconsciously turning his head away. He wasn't used to having someone hold his broken arm.
"A little? Two ribs, a fractured arm, a bruise on the lower left chest... If you say 'it hurts a little,' that means you're quite enduring." The doctor raised an eyebrow slightly before pulling out a box of medicine. It was quite unusual.
"...I'm used to it. I used to—er, no... I just had to survive for so long. I'm used to it." Eric chuckled dryly, smiling slightly at the compliment. He didn't think about what he was saying, and the doctor didn't question him further. She just continued with her work.
The sound of bandages being pulled off, the soft clang of metal tools, and the breathing of refugees from behind the curtains filled the air from time to time.
Everything was quiet, but it was never truly quiet. Behind all those sounds...the echoes of the city shattering.
—— Bang... Bang... Bang ——
The distant sound of artillery fire echoed through the stone walls of the church. Eric involuntarily flinched, his left hand gripping the hem of his shirt a little tighter.
"Don't worry. The PDF patrol is still holding the perimeter. Everyone here is safe... Now, lift your shirt," the doctor glanced at him. He pulled out a syringe and told him to lift his shirt.
"Yes... just a little used to it," Eric smiled faintly. But in truth... his heart was beating very fast. The sound of gunfire in the city reminded him of the time he had to flee from the ground floor to this one. The sight of the needle made his heart beat even faster, but he obediently complied.
He breathed harder, his ribs stinging.
"Breathe slowly... like that. You'll get used to the sound." The doctor paused, looked down at him for a moment, and then removed the needle.
It was easy for someone who had been upstairs all along... but for him, these sounds weren't just sounds. They were images, memories, a deep, ingrained fear that was hard to remove. He nodded faintly.
"Yes, I'll try..." Eric said, looking across the room. The refugees were sitting quietly together. Some were bandaged, others were holding their children tightly. They all shared the same look: tired, exhausted, and paranoid.
Eric felt a pang in his chest as he looked at the scene. He wasn't alone in his fear. Everyone here had been affected by the war, and he had been injected with something that was good for his broken right arm.
"It's all right. Get plenty of rest. Don't use your right arm." The doctor put a healing agent in, and it should be fine in about a week or two." The doctor put a cast on him before applying the final bandage and letting go. Eric was amazed and curious at what the doctor had said. Medicine that could break a bone in one to two weeks? It was hard to believe, but it was possible.
"Yes, thank you." Eric bowed his head slightly. Perhaps this future world would have something truly modern, not something that looked like something straight out of the Steam Age.
As he was about to stand up, another gunshot rang out not far away, this time slightly louder.
—— Bang! Bang! Bang! ——
Followed by the sound of metal clashing from somewhere.
Eric paused for a breath, then slowly turned his head in the direction of the sound.
Yes…he was safe now. He was receiving treatment. He was under care, and every sound that came through reminded him…he was now in a state of war.
This calm might not last long.
He let out a long, slow breath, trying to calm his innermost emotions. Castra was still waiting outside the room. Eric took Castra's hand, leading them to find shelter around the church. Of course, he was demanding and sensitive about his privacy.
The safe zone surrounding the church was dimly lit by dimly lit lights that had been dimmed to conserve energy. The whispers of refugees mixed with the faint sound of gunfire from outside. But for Eric, it was still much better than in the Lower Hive.
He was leading Castra, a small, thin, and frightened girl, but she had been bright since the day they met in the lower hell. They were now walking around, looking for a place to rest. The girl was still squeezing his hand tightly, as if afraid that if she let go, she would disappear.
"Are we safe, Erica?" Castra asked, her voice a little uncertain.
"Don't worry. Once we're safe, we just need to find shelter," Eric said softly and gently. Castra didn't say anything, just nodded slightly.
But soon, a cry rang out, like someone who had just discovered a treasure in a shattered world.
"Castra!?" "Castra!!"
Eric paused, and so did Castra. The girl turned at the sound of the voice, her eyes widening with joy like he hadn't seen in days.
"...Mom? Dad?" Before he could say anything, Castra ran straight ahead, and the sight before him froze him in place. I wonder if her parents could have escaped as well. But what was PDF doing down there? Never mind, thinking about it gave me a headache.
A man and woman in slightly battered but still functional PDF armor embraced the girl with trembling arms. The woman cried so loudly that many turned to look before they lost interest and went about their own activities. The man's knees nearly buckled as he held his child tightly, as if afraid she would disappear before their very eyes.
"...our child...Castra." Eric stood there, staring blankly at the scene. His heart felt a gentle squeeze. For the first time in days, he felt something truly warm in this crazy world.
When he came to his senses, the couple turned to him.
Castra's father stepped forward, slowly walking before standing in front of Eric and making to kneel, but Eric quickly raised his hand to stop him.
"Wait! Don't do that!"
The man's smile wavered, his eyes still bloodshot.
"You saved our child...we can't repay you enough." Castra's mother bowed her head deeply, her voice trembling so much she could barely speak.
"If it weren't for you...she wouldn't have survived."
Eric's heart was pounding, not out of fear. But because he was both shy and warm, he smiled.
"It's nothing... in fact, I'm even happier... to see you two again," he said with confidence. Castra turned to look at him, tears still on her cheeks. But for the first time... the girl smiled brightly at him.
"Thank you, Miss Erica," her mother said.
Eric's heart skipped a beat in a strange way.
He smiled back and gently patted the girl's head.
"Take care of yourself, Castra. I hope we meet again," he said goodbye, and he felt a few tears welling up in his eyes.
"Yes, I wish you the best of luck. May the Emperor protect you, and I hope we meet again," she said brightly.
Finally... he no longer had to be the emergency guardian of this child, and his shoulders felt lighter than ever before.
And then he watched her walk away with her parents. Eric sighed in relief before he continued looking for a place to stay. This would be a great ending.
Right now, though.
He felt a little sad sometimes, but if possible, he wanted to see her again in the future. And this made him think:
What would happen to his parents now?
But it was no use thinking about it. There was no way back. It was true that he was stuck in a future he knew almost nothing about, and he had to survive… The most important thing right now was that he was alive.
Eric continued looking for a place to stay. The air outside the church was filled with the smell of gasoline, smoke, and the rhythmic sound of metal, like an industrial factory mixed with some strange religious ritual he'd never seen before.
Eric walked slowly, his left arm supporting his right arm, which was loosely held in a cast. When he reached the open space…
He had to stop and stare for several seconds.
The Tech-Priests were all bowing around a tank, chanting in an incomprehensible language, a mix of people chanting and the murmur of machinery.
"Oh… that… is crazy…" Eric muttered, his breath catching a little. That tank looked like something… designed by someone who had drunk six bottles of alcohol and hadn't slept in three days.
It was about 4 meters tall, about 3 meters wide, and about 6 meters long. Its hull was an ancient design… like a British Mark V tank from World War I. It had a large gun turret mounted on top, and a large laser cannon mounted on the front. The Tech-Priest pressed his metal hand against the hull like he was hugging a puppy.
"What the… is this?" He used words instead of the curse he really wanted to say. As far as he could see, the Tech-Priest was…sprinkling oil like holy water, striking the tank's armor three times like a ritual, and chanting, "Omnissiah, pless the machine spirit," over and over.
Eric stood there, bewildered. He had been in a woman's body for about a month, fighting strange creatures, escaping four-armed aliens, encountering bald religious fanatics, and walking corpses.
But watching the Tech-Priests pray for the tank might have made him realize… okay, this is a bit strange, but considering all he'd been through, it might actually be normal.
Eric tried to ignore it and continued looking for a place to stay, or he could ask the clerk if there was one. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if the war ended and he survived.
Eric thought that there might be more opportunities here than down here. He might even apply for a higher position and live a comfortable life. But he hoped it would be that way.
And he hoped it wouldn't get any worse, because things were starting to get better.
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Hive Karthion
Hive Spire
The command hall on the top floor of Hive Karthion shook slightly with the impact of the battle below. The power generators worked hard, creating a low, continuous hum. The war table in the center of the room projected a holographic map of the entire Hive. The occupied zones glowed red, while the Imperial defenses were a dark blue, scarcely in number.
Lord Valen Korvax, a black-haired man dressed in expensive attire, leaned against the war table, one hand gripping a metal-tipped staff and the other pressing data on the screen. His expression was composed, as if he were calculating the outcome of a thousand wars at once. He was deeply frustrated that, while he had only wanted to expand his family's power by sending forces down to the lower hive, he had been disturbed by the heretics and mutants. Furthermore, a fairly large-scale war was taking place, causing widespread repercussions.
Around him stood a skilled PDF officer, a Hive security commander, and experienced fighters from the upper ranks, all with grim expressions.
"…Sector D-17 has fallen, my lord. There's no signal from the last patrol,"
one of the officers reported, his expression grave.
"Which cult?" Valen frowned.
"Chaos, but the attack pattern is different… twice as strong."
"And the mutants?" Valen asked calmly.
"They're still infiltrating Sectors 3 and 4. They're not attacking directly, but are infiltrating in small groups, disrupting our supply lines. We're just holding the front line now, and that's a blessing," another battalion commander replied almost immediately.
Valen nodded slightly, unperturbed. He knew the Hive's fate was steadily deteriorating, but he needed to demonstrate leadership determination, not fear. The 3D map gradually shifted, the red zone gradually expanding like an uncontrollable wound.
"We'll lose this Hive if we don't do something tonight," one of the senior PDFs said, his voice trembling.
"I know. We need to disconnect the Cultists and reset our defenses. If we can keep the Upper Hive, we still have a chance—" Valen replied shortly but firmly.
Suddenly... the heavy iron door to the war room creaked... creaking! Everyone turned, some even raising their guns automatically.
A man entered, a long, jet-black robe bearing the Inquisition symbol on his shoulder. His hair was short and sleek. His eyes held the coldness of someone who had ordered the burning of entire colonies without blinking. On his chest was the "I" symbol and the small circle of the Xenos Order.
The entire room fell silent.
A silence heavy enough to make anyone with a weak heart sit on the floor. Lord Valen was the only one standing tall and dignified. He tilted his head slightly in greeting. But he didn't bow his head high enough to avoid doing so.
"Your Majesty... Inquisitor, I thought the Ordo Xenos would respond to our request for help... but I didn't expect it to be this soon," Valen said politely but cautiously. The Inquisitor approached unhurriedly, his metal boots clicking against the ground. "Clang...clang...clang." Every step was a reminder that the Hive's fate was no longer in their hands. He stopped in front of a 3D map, scanning the red area like cancer, and spoke in a calm, yet sharp, knife-like voice.
"Your Hive is threatened by two of the most terrible threats the Empire has ever known: Chaos... and the Tyranid geenstealer." He glanced at Valen, and the room felt its temperature drop by a degree.
"This is not a war your forces can win by force," Inquisitor Korvin Hale continued. Many had stiff necks, as if cursed, some clenching their fists so hard they shook. And many were wondering what the Tyranids were.
"So… from now on, Hive Karthion will be under Inquisition control until all threats are eliminated," Inquisitor Korvin continued, his voice heavy enough to shatter hopes in a single sentence.
Everyone fell silent. That was the official declaration of the coup. Valen didn't argue with him, just sighed softly.
"If that's what the Empire wants… then I will comply," Valen said, more composed than anyone else in the room.
Inquisitor Korvin Hale nodded slightly before taking control and doing his job.
"Good. First, give me command of all forces, and let me handle it myself."
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Writer: This is a really heartwarming episode… right now.