Day 292, Year 986, 41st Millennium (5 days after the previous episode)
Upper Hive
A refugee camp near the Church of Saint Lucia
When he woke up, Eric was sleeping in his room, hugging a pillow he'd bought. Five days earlier, he'd barely survived, but Chaplain Samael had taken him to a church for two full days and nights of prayer and forced the Imperial Creed on him. Eric honestly admitted that he couldn't understand the High Gothic language, and he didn't really understand or accept the Imperial Creed. He pretended to worship the Emperor of Mankind like everyone else here, because otherwise he'd be beaten or even become food for the handsome vampire Caesar. However, he survived, completely drowsy from listening to Samael's prayers for two days and two nights.
But that meant Eric didn't worship the Emperor of Mankind as a god. He was like a heretic in their eyes, only he hadn't been caught yet.
Of course, if he were caught, he'd be shot for heresy, or maybe even worse.
As much as he hated to admit it, the Space Marines he didn't like, like Caesar and Samael, were handsome. However, he wasn't fazed by it. He seemed more afraid, because some days he'd seen Caesar and Samael drinking something that definitely wasn't wine. And they'd both had their upper front teeth growing out, just like vampires.
And once, Caesar's words had scared Eric and made him shudder.
He had even managed to escape a Space Marine with a hood and a winged sword symbol, even though he felt like he was being watched constantly at times. And he was incredibly quiet, and he was afraid he'd capture him for questioning.
It might have been nerve-wracking and scary, but the situation was much better now. The battlefield was a bit more intense, but his life was starting to improve. And luckily, Raul's check was able to be exchanged, earning him a substantial sum. And just imagine, he could now buy whatever he wanted, even if it was expensive. For example, the meat of a reptile called grox, which he considered to be similar to beef, was quite similar to beef.
However, he still had to be careful with his money. Right now, there was a mix of good and bad. The good news was that he had a decent amount of money. The bad news was that it was all gone. He was now unemployed, seemingly unemployed, even though he traded labor for food, because he was a woman and looked so skinny. Even though he was fed every day, it felt strangely uncomfortable to just sit there and eat.
Even when he approached the clerk to apply for the job he was best at—the typical corporate jobs like planning, management, and project management—there seemed to be no jobs that required those qualifications, except for a few that he might have gotten if not for his inability to read or write Low Gothic.
In Eric's mind, the language of low gothic was something completely unfamiliar to him. It was like a mashup of several languages, some newly created, some so specialized that he couldn't learn them in a short period of time.
Eric got up before he could even begin dressing. He combed his messy white hair a bit before pulling it back into a ponytail. He then slipped on his pants and long shirt, then slipped on his boots. That was it.
Eric climbed down the stairs and got out of bed before he could open the door and walk down the hallway to the courtyard, hoping he could help. Being in the camp without doing anything felt uncomfortable, like he was just living there.
But today, things seemed a little different.
The courtyard of the refugee camp, usually filled with the shouts of commands from supervisors and laborers unloading crates and other goods, and the faint quarrels, was now so quiet that the heavy thud of military boots could be heard. The air was suffocating, and the smell of wet metal wafted in from the battle lines below.
As he pondered what to do, Vann, in his PDF uniform, approached with a bottle of drink containing a golden-yellow liquid. Eric could immediately guess what it was. It must be some kind of alcoholic beverage he didn't recognize. But he wondered, "Can Vann drink something like that on the job?" Eric's gaze met Vann's, his blue eyes meeting Vann's yellow ones.
"Looks stressed, would you like a sip?" Vann said in a relaxed tone before handing him the drink. Eric looked at Vann's bottle with hesitation. Eric desperately wanted the alcoholic beverage because, he admits, he liked it anyway. However, he hadn't had one since coming here. He thought it was quite expensive, and the cheap ones looked like a mix of industrial chemicals. He was afraid it might contain some kind of drug, but he tried to shake off his overly suspicious thoughts before turning back to Vann.
"Thank you," Eric said softly before taking the bottle from Vann's hand. He stared at it for a few seconds before opening it and taking a small sniff. It was a drink with a rather aromatic aroma of grain and other things, probably something like wine mixed with beer and other things he didn't recognize. Eric lifted the bottle and took a few sips. He found the taste incredibly good. He hadn't felt this good in a long time. The sweet, smooth, and perfectly balanced flavor was perfect, and his throat felt a little warmer. He didn't realize he was smiling, and to everyone else, it was a very cute smile.
"Do you like it?" Vann asked in a relaxed tone. Eric flinched and immediately stopped enjoying the taste. Why had he been interrupted? But when he looked at Vann, Eric knew he had to return the entire bottle soon.
"Yes, it tastes great. Thank you." Eric thanked sincerely, handing Vann the bottle back. Vann took it before picking it up and sipping it again, emptying it right before Eric's eyes. He felt a little regretful, wanting more.
"It's okay... It's quite cheap... Just need to find a store. My arm's not hurting anymore," Vann slowly lowered the empty bottle before looking at Eric's right arm.
"Yes," Eric replied, his voice rising slightly. Vann nodded slowly before looking left and right and asking,
"You should apply to be a PDF... I saw you fighting, you must be quite skilled at shooting..." Vann invited with a friendly tone. Eric was immediately taken aback, and he tried not to meet Vann's eyes. After all, he just wanted to live a normal life and didn't want to resort to violence.
"No... I don't want to apply for a PDF like you right now... I'm capable... but unfortunately, I can't find any other work," Eric replied. Frankly, he really couldn't find a job, for a reason that might sound ridiculous to some.
"555 Wait?... You want to find another job now? What can someone like you from the lower hive do? Besides working in a factory or as a mercenary... But I don't mind. Talented people can be found everywhere, but they're hard to find in that class." Vann spoke loudly with a chuckle, a hint of ridicule and contempt in his tone. Eric really didn't understand why people from the upper classes always looked down on people from the lower hive, but after thinking about it, he could understand it.
"Don't laugh like that!... I'm quite skilled in mathematics and organization... I just can't write or read Low Gothic!" Eric raised his voice, embarrassed by being laughed at like that. But Vann paused for a moment before laughing even harder.
"555+ Did I hear that right? "You can't write or read Low Gothic," Alf said, his voice laced with surprise and disbelief.
"You heard me right!" Eric replied, feeling his frustration growing.
"Okay, okay. I'll try to find you some reading books to help you improve your language skills. I understand that down there it's barbaric and people don't have much time to study," Vann said with an irritated grin. Eric was so embarrassed he didn't know where to put his face.
"Stop!" Eric shouted louder, his fists clenched. But his current physical condition didn't make him look intimidating at all, but rather cute.
"No~," Vann said with a sly smile. The two began to argue, and Vann tested Eric's abilities by giving him paperwork. It was a job Eric thought would be similar to any other military officer's...it would be easy if he couldn't read. Vann then took Eric to a more suitable job.
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Eight hours later
A crackling, distorted voice from the speakers rang out.
"Those who are physically fit... prepared and experienced in combat and weaponry... gather in the central courtyard immediately."
Eric stood frozen in a corner of the camp. He was just standing there chewing on some corp starch, his heart pounding with frustration and fear. Why should we go with him? He knew immediately that the central government, or whatever, was definitely in need of more manpower right now... He'd only ever used a gun to survive. No... he grumbled to himself, unconsciously clenching the hem of his long-sleeved shirt.
Eric knew he was now physically back to normal. He had a certain level of endurance, and being in the lower hive meant he was also skilled at using guns. He was especially proficient with pistols, though they weren't particularly large. However, if he lied and added that he couldn't fight, it wouldn't make sense, as he was from the lower hive, and those from there struggled and had some skill. He already had data in the system. If he ran away or refused to recruit, he might be punished by Arbites. Besides, Vann and Sister Celianne had already seen him in combat. Even with his right arm broken, he was still capable of fighting fairly well.
"Shit… Why did it have to be like this…" Eric cursed under his breath. He adjusted his shirt, his shame only sharpening as he encountered the crowd of people, some of whom were still looking at him with the same disgusting gaze. He walked towards the assembly area, hesitating with every step, but he still walked, because walking would be worse.
In the area, people were lined up. A PDF soldier with a clipboard walked through the information one by one. Those who had handled guns before were separated from each other. The atmosphere was filled with tense, quiet despair.
"Number 47… Erika de la Cruz?" A soldier called his name. Eric jumped, his heart pounding so hard his chest hurt a little. He raised his hand awkwardly.
"Y-Yes! Stay here…" Eric replied flustered.
The soldier looked him up and down, unsure of the pale girl, looking like a young lady. He didn't dare meet her gaze. Could this person really fight?
"So, according to your information, you're from the Lower Hive, right?" the officer asked. Eric wanted to evasively say that he was from there, but he wasn't good at fighting. It didn't feel like a smooth move, and it seemed like a complete lie. Plus, the officer already had information on him.
"...Yes, but I... I don't want to fight. I just—" he replied in as soft a voice as he could. He tried to explain that even though he had fought before, it was all in self-defense. It seemed like there were too many people plotting against him, so he was defending himself every day.
"No one wants to fight, but we need someone who survived this war and can still fight. Whether they're from the Lower Hive, join the training group tomorrow, or wherever. Go join the group on the right," the officer interrupted, pointing at the group of tough guys who looked like thugs and gangsters.
Eric was stunned by what he saw. He couldn't move for a moment. His only thought was:
He has to join these guys?
Eric sighed heavily and walked towards the group. He was quite worried about what they might do to him. It looked like the car of a gangster and a thug, and the order...some of them looked at him with longing. Eric walked along with them hesitantly, hoping nothing bad would happen. With a gun in his hand, he didn't have to be so afraid. If anyone started it, he would have an excuse to use violence immediately.
Even though he was uneasy, at least no one was doing anything right now. Soon, a line formed to get his uniform. Eric slowly walked down the long line, ignoring the stares of some men. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, get his uniform, and go back to his room.
These men seemed to be the thugs and gangsters on this floor, and most of them spoke in a rude and impolite manner, just like he was accustomed to, exactly like the lower floors.
Honestly, Eric didn't like this atmosphere at all. It felt unsafe, like he was constantly being watched. It felt like someone could do something to him at any moment. Right now, he was in the body of a beautiful woman. Although not particularly thin, compared to the men in the line, who were mostly 176 centimeters tall and over 180 centimeters tall, he was still quite intimidating.
But when he saw the man staring at him from head to toe as if he wanted to devour him, he tried to look away and not look, even tugging at the hem of his shirt. Everything was becoming suspicious and tense.
"Hurry up, you scum!" The soldier guarding the line rang out. Eric and the others flinched at the soldier's command before hurriedly walking. He felt extremely resentful of being lumped together as scum. When he reached his desk, the officer in charge asked him calmly.
"Erica de la Cruz, is she?" the officer asked in a cold, emotionless tone. Eric nodded slightly, unsure, but he tried to appear confident.
"Yes," Eric replied softly. The officer then turned to write down something on an ancient-looking piece of paper with a quill pen before handing him a pair of neatly folded pants and shirt, along with boots, a helmet, and a vest. Eric took them, though he almost dropped them.
He was now a conscript, after all, and there was no way he could change anything. Even if he had deserted, it would certainly be bad. It was bad for his future, but being in the same unit as these thugs would be even worse. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't.
The only thing that made him feel more at ease was that he had a job now... Yay! Eric sarcastically chided himself a little. Even though he was a conscript, he still had a gun. The goat gun made him safer.
But in another way, he thought, this was an opportunity for him to advance. If his call survived long enough, he'd rise through the ranks and rise in rank, perhaps gaining some level of power and a better standard of living. But considering his current situation, he wasn't sure he'd survive long enough. With that thought in mind, Eric sighed slightly, perhaps even moderately.
Eric walked out of the uniform line, trying to hold everything close to his chest to prevent it from falling out. He still felt uncomfortable from the stares and jeers of the thugs in line. But when he turned the corner and saw a familiar group, Eric felt a slight relief.
Rosa, Levia, and Maria were standing in the corner talking. Upon seeing Eric, the three of them stopped and turned around immediately.
"It seems you were unlucky to be drafted," Maria said, her voice amused but still a little sympathetic.
"Erica! Did you get your uniform?" Rosa grinned widely. The sparkling eyes warmed Eric's heart every time he saw them. Eric blushed slightly, but he answered softly and politely.
"Um... yes, I got my uniform." His tone tried to be even, but it didn't hide his embarrassment.
"Good. Well then... good luck to you," Maria laughed softly. Livia gave him a gentle look, as if evaluating her new friend like an older sister. But Eric felt a little uneasy when Maria said good luck.
_It was a bit ominous._
"Good luck with what?" Eric tried to ask, squinting suspiciously. He feared that this kind of military life would be really awful.
"Don't mind Maria... You'll get used to it in a while," Livia tried to reassure Eric, but hearing that made him even more worried, but he didn't show it.
"Wanna shower together? We're free today. I'll help you wash your hair. Same as usual, if you don't refuse, Erica." Rosa tilted her head slightly and extended her hand, inviting him. Eric gulped. He wanted to shyly decline, but the truth was, he enjoyed it when they helped him wash his hair. It felt safer than showering alone in a strange place. And who wouldn't love showering with other women?
"Oh... sure," Eric replied awkwardly but sincerely.Maria smiled slightly, and the four of them continued chatting.
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The corridor behind the PDF unit's equipment warehouse was quieter than usual. The overhead light flickered rhythmically, as if someone had purposely set it off. Vann entered a hidden corner, out of sight, through faded steel panels and the faint smell of motor oil. The rustling swirled around the area.
As soon as he stepped out of sight, the "casual" demeanor of a kind and relaxed young man vanished completely.
His shoulders straightened, his gait calmer, more composed, and even more composed.
He recalled the image of the shy young woman holding the expensive bottle of liquor just now. Her expression, as she tried to argue with him so prettily, still lingered. She seemed too innocent to be a threat to anyone, but her abilities...interesting. According to his tests, she was quite skilled in handgun handling, fairly advanced in mathematics, and management. Unfortunately, she lacked any writing skills. With training, she could become his right-hand man, and even his weapon. A powerful weapon, capable of assassination and stealing enemy secrets.
He paused for a moment, staring at the distorted reflection of his reflection on the metal wall.
But she was still an "outsider"... pulling her in now would be too risky. Before he could think any further, heavy footsteps came from behind him.
"Lord Vann Korvax!"
The voice made his eyebrows twitch slightly.
Not because he was being called by his name, but because "no one in the camp or the lower-ranking officers should know his full name."
Vann turned around calmly, like someone who knew something was up.
A young soldier approached, his expression strained. He was wearing light armor like a field aide, but his demeanor was unusually stiff, as if he had memorized a line.
"I have something important to tell you—" the young soldier said urgently, his hand slowly lowering and reaching for the low-quality assault chain sword at his waist in a split second. The sound of an engine starting up was heard.
Vann didn't move until the other man lunged at him, revving up, aiming to cut him in half.
Aaaaahh!!!
The sound of a chain sword was followed by the sound of metal clashing. "Clang!" But there was no blood, no screaming, as he raised his cybernetic arm, covered in faux leather that looked like real leather, to defend.
CRACK!!!!!!
The sound of a small, ordinary metal blade scraping against his expensive adamantium prosthetic arm emitted sparks. The impact sent Vann reeling back slightly. The blade vibrated violently before being stopped by his single hand as Vann relented. His prosthetic hand crushed the assault chainsword, rendering it unusable. Vann stared at him with a cold gaze, as if he were a machine.
"You shouldn't even know my name," he said in a low, cold voice. The soldier gritted his teeth and tried to reach for the pistol at his waist, but Vann wouldn't let him.
BANG!!!!!
A loud crash erupted. Blood and entrails splattered onto his uniform. The soldier, with a large hole in his stomach, collapsed rapidly, blood sloshing everywhere. Vann stood there motionless, his bolt pistol still smoking from the muzzle.
He stared at the fallen body with sharp eyes, brushing the entrails off his uniform with his other hand. This wasn't anything new. Assassinations and slander contests, or whatever, were common in Hive Spire and the elite. Perhaps this guy was someone his rival had sent to do something to him.
He bent down to examine the body for a split second, without touching it, without opening his uniform, just looking at the small insignia on the corner of his armor.
And he immediately concluded: it was just an assassin his rival had sent... If it were just an assassination attempt, that would be great... But it wasn't... A normal assassin wouldn't have eyes like this. This was a Geenstealer.
How could it be? He said the security screening and procedures here were already strict. There was no way he could have gotten through. He must have been sneaking in.
He put his gun back in his holster, looked at his left prosthetic arm, the leather covering it now peeled off, revealing a piece of expensive adamantium metal. He turned back down the long, half-dark, half-lit corridor, and when he turned around the corner, he saw the body of a soldier who had just been killed.
This wasn't just an assassination attempt, it was a clear sign that the enemy had managed to sneak into the camp.
And he knew his name. This shows that there's a traitor among the elite, and someone has already become infected.
Thinking this through, Vann sighed slightly. Tomorrow, he had to take the elevator up to the Hive Spire and present this matter to the council. This would ensure everything was handled properly and that nothing went wrong.