Day 272, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Lower Hive
In the refugee camp area near the Church of Saint Lucia
This must be his first night here.
Eric was beginning to feel uninhabitable here, starting with the shared women's showers (Writer: This might be a good thing for some, but for Eric, he'd rather skip the shower than shower in the same room as everyone else). He was also informed that he was staying in Room 27-B. As night fell, he quickly went, and upon seeing the state of his room, he was speechless.
Room 27-B, which was supposed to be a "square metal box that could fit one person," had three bunk beds. The only light was a pale yellow light that flickered rhythmically, as if it could go out at any moment. His room in the lower hive was even more spacious and comfortable.
(Writer: Imagine how bad it must have been for Eric to say that the room in the lower hive was more comfortable.)
Eric, in his resting clothes, received Wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and plain cloth pants, he climbed up to the third bunk and sat with his knees bent on the narrow, three-tiered metal bed, his hands clasped in his chest. While comfortable, the outfit was a bit too revealing for someone as shy as him. He sighed heavily, for the tenth time that day, before propping his left elbow on his knee and resting his chin on his arm.
"Damn it… Why does it have to be like this…" Eric muttered. The images in his mind were of the gazes of the people in the shelter. Soldiers, survivors, and even some clerks staring at him intently. Not the wary gaze of Vann, but the kind of gaze... that kind of gaze.
The gaze he least wanted to see.
"Should I keep wearing my gas mask?" he muttered softly, covering his face with his hands.
He wasn't unaware that he looked good.
After just washing his hair, his skin was clean and clear, his white hair smooth and reflective, his eyes blue and striking from every angle.
But when someone looked at him like that…
His back tingled, his heart pounding, not from embarrassment
but from fear.
"Ouch... I shouldn't have left the bathroom with my hair that fragrant. Is it my fault?" he murmured sarcastically to himself.
He shifted, trying to sit more comfortably, but the bed had never heard the word "comfortable" in his life. His head lightly hit the wall. He clutched his head and sighed again.
Just...just because it's like this doesn't mean I'm okay with being stared at..." he muttered again, his voice softer, laced with worry that no one saw him. He wanted to go back to wearing that gas mask. It hid everything so well, hid his identity, his expression, his fear, the beauty he never wanted.
"Ha...if anyone found out I used to be a man, the whole church would laugh. Or they'd call me crazy and get me arrested for being a heretic." He chuckled darkly, but the laughter quickly stopped. He hugged himself loosely, his gaze vacantly staring at the metal ceiling.
"...when will this all end?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure, like he had done in the Lower Hive, dodging crazies in the dark, fighting something inhuman. He survived then, so he should survive too. But maybe this makes sense, because this is just a temporary refugee camp, or maybe permanently. He'll find a new room once the war is over.
Anyway, if anyone dares to cross the line, there's still his left hand that's a good shooter," Eric smiled faintly, a warm, yet fierce smile he rarely sees on him. He then slumped onto the metal bed, the thin blanket covering his chest. The silence was unsettling, but tolerable. Eric had only one thought: maybe he wouldn't have to face that kind of gaze again tomorrow... at least.
But before he could close his eyes, the door opened and a man walked in and lay down on the bed. He tried to ignore it until...
Snoring... snoring... snoring came from the bed below.
Ah~... ah~ mmm~ and a moan of passion came from the wall next to him.
"Shit!" Eric muttered under his breath, covering his ears and trying to force himself back to sleep.
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Day 172, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Hive Karthion
Hive Spire
Secret Command Room of the Ruler and the Inquisition
The low hum of the power generators in the walls mixed with the flickering of data on the holographic panels floating in mid-air. The blue light illuminated Inquisitor Korvin Hale's face, making it appear even colder and ruthless.
Korvin leaned against the holographic table displaying the battle plan in three dimensions. He scrolled through the reports floor by floor with his fingertips—his expression steady, but his eyes were sharp, as if weighing the fate of the entire Hive.
First Report: Sector D-17. The PDF forces were being forced back. The enemy numbers had increased disproportionately. The attacks were significantly more aggressive and heavy. And if that were the case, it wouldn't be good. Korvin frowned slightly.
"Chaos... but with a movement structure that wasn't ordinary Chaos."
He changed the report.
Second Report: Sector E-14. The red lines on the map were slowly expanding around the church used as a refugee center like a closed cage. Small red circles—representing the mutant infected—increased in number.
"I think I overestimated their abilities..." His voice was soft, but heavy, like it was hitting the floor.
"Inquisitor... Is the situation worse than we estimated?" A senior PDF officer stood guard, his face worried. He asked cautiously.
Korvin didn't look back.
"If the normal human defenses collapse... the Hive will collapse, and a key strategic point is a church near the second front line." He spoke simply. He brought up the 3D map again. The red area flickered faster and faster, like a demon's heart beating, causing the Hive walls to tremble. He stood silent for a moment, as if weighing an order that would change the fate of the entire city.
Finally, he spoke the words that instantly froze the atmosphere in the room.
"I will send a Deathwatch Kill Team to the church, but we must wait and see."
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Day 279, Year 986, Millennium 41, approximately
1 week later
Eric sat in a corner, somewhat quieter than the others. He ate a gray corpse starch bar emotionlessly. After his fourth bite, he sighed softly, like someone trying to come to terms with something he shouldn't have, but had to because there was no other choice. This place was very strict, with a curfew and other things, and the food was no different, even with a strange taste. He thought staying in his room would be much more comfortable, but he had to endure it because at least there was free food, medical care, and security. But for now, at least he had solved the snoring problem (by kicking the man out of the room).
"At least this place... is better than downstairs. Better in some ways," he muttered to himself sarcastically. Footsteps approached and stopped beside him. Vann slumped down on the crate beside him, uncovering his own corpse starch packet and staring blankly at the side, the kind of person who doesn't know how to relax even while resting.
"This area is still open, huh?" Vann asked Eric. Eric was a little curious. Vann was a PDF, but why wasn't he fighting or fighting anyone else and just hanging around in a refugee camp? He didn't ask.
"Um... have a seat," Eric replied, swallowing the last bite reluctantly. Vann chewed his food for a moment before asking in a calm voice, more like a routine conversation than genuine interest.
"How's life here...?" Vann asked calmly.
Eric caught Vann's eye for a moment. When he'd first met Vann about a week ago, he'd thought the man looked incredibly intimidating, but he was actually friendlier than he'd thought. He looked back down at the food stick in his hand and sighed, "Okay, if you want to know, go ahead and listen."
"Good...pretty good," he replied slowly, his tone calm, but reluctantly. He felt worse than in the Lower Hive, just in a different way. While it was safe, there was very little privacy and strict rules.
"Much safer than downstairs...but also very strict. Full of rules...and my room." "It's so cramped... Actually, the room I have in the lower hive is bigger than this," Eric said with a slight frown, remembering his own rather spacious room, which was quite spacious compared to this one.
"Your room in the lower hive... is bigger than the one in the refugee camp? You must have a lot of money," Vann raised her eyebrows slightly, as if in disbelief.
"No... I don't have that much money. It's just that there's no rent. I just pay for water and electricity. It's not luxurious, but it's still 'mine'. This place feels a bit too much like a military camp... but that's okay. At least it's safe," Eric replied in a softer voice, as if afraid. Arbites heard and shrugged slightly. He put down the corpse-starch. Vann nodded in understanding, and the two continued to chat.
"So you didn't go out fighting?" Eric asked. Vann paused for a moment before answering.
"The Inquisitor took over the negative forces. He told them to conserve manpower, and I'm lucky I didn't have to go out fighting," Vann replied. Eric looked at him curiously. Things were getting weirder now. What was the role or position of Inquisitor? And it sounded a lot like a witch hunter.
"What's an Inquisitor? Don't be mad. I've been living in the Lower Hive all my life and I don't know much about it," Eric asked curiously. Vann swallowed before explaining to himself.
"Oh... Inquisitors are the Empire's secret police. They have such power that they can command anyone from a common farmer to a planetary governor... or maybe it depends on the position. Their job is to destroy any threat they perceive as a threat to the Empire. That's all I know," Vann explained. Eric carefully considered the information. If someone with that level of authority really did hold a lot of power, he hoped he wouldn't make any stupid decisions.
"And lately... I've been hearing the cannon fire from the front lines being unusually loud," Eric said, uneasy. He was actually very afraid of the enemy's invasion. He'd only encountered minor skirmishes so far, but if they encountered this much, he wouldn't survive.
"I've heard that the mutant attacks are unusually strong lately, but... well... they're holding back now," Alf said with a renewed sense of relief, despite a hint of concern.
"I'm starting to worry a little... like this, we might lose and our defenses might be broken," Eric said with some unease. Prolonged destruction would devastate both sides' forces, unless they had good supplies, logistics, and support. But if they fought this fiercely and the enemy captured as much territory as they did, their logistics would be about even.
"Shh... Don't say anything ominous. Do you want to be burned so badly? It's a good thing those mother colors aren't here yet," Vann warned him, looking even more frightened. Eric nodded in agreement before picking up a bottle of water and taking a sip.
"Okay... Good luck then."
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Day 280, Year 986, 41st Millennium
The refugee camp area near the Church of St. Lucia
The next day
The area around the converted church was still filled with chatter and the suffocating atmosphere of a refugee camp. But this morning… it felt a little quieter. Eric now walked out of his room, looking haggard, like he'd just woken up, but dressed more neatly. He wore a plain black suit, well-fitting black trousers, and boots that were a bit too big, but still comfortable. His long, white hair was tied back loosely, like someone who didn't want to waste time. He secretly hoped that today he would get back the confiscated guns. Both the plasma rifle and the lassgun… at least they would make him feel safer and more powerful.
"Okay… get the guns… just walk… nothing—" Eric muttered to himself, his voice tired and slightly unsure, perhaps because of his fear of being stared at. Before he could finish, a shadow of someone politely blocked his way.
"Uh… excuse me!" The young man in uniform The PDF spoke with a trembling voice, as if he was trying to keep his nerves at bay.
Eric paused, his heart beating slightly, like someone who was instinctively paranoid. He turned to see a young man, around 18 or 19 years old, with a flushed face, as if he had just run in. Eric was suspicious and ready to fight inside, but on the surface, he tried to smile politely, but he was nervous.
"Yes... what's up?" Eric spoke in a soft tone, but it was clear he was also very cautious. The man almost flinched from the word "Yes." He seemed unfamiliar with beautiful women to begin with. His face flushed even more when he saw Eric.
"I... I... I... I... want to know your name!" the young man said with a trembling voice, as if he was losing control.
Eric blinked
once
twice.
Eric knew what this guy was trying to do. He felt this was a sensitive matter, and he had to decide whether to give his name or refuse. But the man seemed perfectly normal, so he decided to tell him, even though his reaction was a little amused. But he understood that kind of thing well, having been a man himself. The man stood there, nervously wringing his hands, swallowing, sweating, almost screaming, "Help! I like you!" He came out straight. Once he had made up his mind, Eric took a deep breath and replied with his standard Lower Hive smile.
"Erica... Erica de la Cruz," Eric replied in a soft, gentle tone, trying not to embarrass the man any further. That sentence made the man stiffen for a second, before his face flushed even brighter. He felt a slight twinge of affection.
"T-thank you! Thank you so much, Miss Erica!" the man said excitedly, almost high-pitched. When he finished, he hurried back to his group of PDF soldiers nearby. They turned to the man.
"Really!? You actually talked to her? And you even got her name!?" one of the man's friends asked in disbelief.
"Wow, you're so brave!" The other said with a laugh.
"Are you smiling?" another asked slyly.
"Holy shit, you're Erica de la Cruz? What a pretty name! It suits you!" Some of the friends gave him a thumbs-up.
One friend patted his head, another laughed loudly. Everyone smiled as if they'd just witnessed their friend conquer a secret mission. Eric stood there, stunned, blinking before he muttered, exasperated.
"... Damn it…" He brushed his long hair aside, sighed, and continued walking. Because he understood.
He had been a man before. He knew what it was like to stand there, plucking up the courage to ask a pretty woman's name. He knew what it felt like to be teased by his friends. He knew the joy of walking back to the group. It was a once-familiar feeling. Even though he was now in a body where he was "asked for her name," he wasn't fazed. He wasn't gay.
Finally, he reached the refugee center's weapons storage area, a converted church confessional. It was now filled with crates of weapons, warning signs, and tense PDF workers.
The harsh white light made everything look as pale as a military hospital room. Eric stood in front of the counter, his still usable left hand unconsciously gripping the hem of his long black shirt tightly.
"Excuse me... I'm here to ask for... my weapon back. The lassgun..." Eric said in a soft, yet distinctly tense voice. He felt the officers around here were very strict, and he was afraid he'd said the wrong thing.
The stern-faced officer, seated behind a metal desk, eyed him from top to bottom, assessing him. Not in a perverted way, but in a way that made him feel like a document, not a person. He flipped through the dirty datasheets for a moment.
"The lassgun, registration number KX-44-98, the one confiscated from you when you arrived at the camp, civilian?" the officer replied in a calm, eerily emotionless voice.
Eric nodded, his hand gripping his shirt a little tighter with a slight tenseness.
"Yes... that's the gun," Eric replied. The officer frowned slightly, looking over the document again.
"Sorry, civilian. You can't own a weapon.
According to refugee camp rules, all civilians are prohibited from using any firearms, even for self-defense, unless under direct command of the PDF or Arbites," the officer replied in a firm, resolute tone. Eric felt a lump in his throat. He hadn't expected much, but the gun was his weapon of self-defense. It's part of his emotional security.
"But... I've been using it all my life in the Lower Hive," Eric explained quietly. He hoped the officer would give him his gun back. The original officer turned and looked at him directly, his gaze serious.
"And by the way, this gun is registered to a civilian." He paused for a split second before continuing, his tone both sincere and stern.
"It's not yours."
Eric blinked slightly, but it was all true. He had only an assault rifle at first; he'd just retrieved it from the body of a soldier. The PDF officer seemed to sense his disappointment and added another sentence.
"We're recording this for your safety and the safety of the others, civilians. We're not punishing you here... We're trying to control the situation," the officer explained calmly.
"Yes... I understand," Eric replied softly, his voice so calm it seemed to disappear halfway. He smiled faintly, the kind of smile someone could only manage, and bowed his head slightly politely before retreating from the counter as he walked back out. He let out a long sigh and reached out to touch his right arm. The strange relief in his hand made him feel uneasy. It was the same feeling as being in the lower hive and the lights went out, but when he walked outside he had to blink several times when he saw a tank or a carrier that looked like a black M113 moving down the road. That day there was a symbol of something with a skull in the middle and suddenly it dropped down. The people in the surrounding area looked on with excitement and some looked on with tension.
And when the rear doors and side doors opened, they revealed tall figures clad in black armor. Each of them stood about 2.3 meters tall. And on their right sides, they were silver with Roman letters or some other lettering. And on their left shoulders, they had a unique symbol. Some resembled bulls, some had shark symbols on their armor, some had wolves on their shoulders, and some had a blood droplet in the middle of a circular saw, and another had a bleeding heart amidst a checkerboard pattern. But above all, they all resembled the blue armored, mustachioed monsters he'd seen before. And remembering the memories of being groped by monsters similar to these, using their tentacles to molest him, he began to worry. Would they do something like that monster?
Oh no, he thought about it again. And the memories of that moment flooded his mind, making him sweat and tremble slightly, and he tried to look away. He remembered the intense fear he felt now, being strangled with one hand so he could lift him up, and the terrifying, terrifying words their mouths uttered. Words that made him feel like nothing more than an object or a toy... and that tentacle that had burrowed into his pants and almost invaded his personal space, if Castra hadn't rescued him in time...
Agh! No, no, Eric, you shouldn't be thinking about that embarrassing thing. Eric started to find his way out, then regained his composure and turned away, while many people in the area fell to their knees in surprise, including some officers who were talking to them. Maybe these black armored men weren't the same as the blue armored men with the skull and bat wings symbol. Maybe I'm just overthinking it. They might be good.
I hope they're good. Eric tried to think as positively as possible right now.
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