Day 36, Year 988, 41st Millennium
The first sensation that hit Eric as he regained consciousness was a crushing dizziness. It felt as though he had downed five bottles of liquor at a party, collapsed right there, and woken up with the mother of all hangovers. His nose caught the faint scent of dust, mixed with the acrid tang of chemicals and the musty smell of decay that permeated the room.
Eric struggled to pry his heavy eyelids open. The image before him spun for a moment before slowly coming into focus... He wasn't at his apartment door anymore. Instead, he was sprawled on an old mattress in a cramped, dilapidated square room. The concrete walls were marred by cracks and weeping water stains. Its condition was even more wretched than his very first apartment in the Lower Hive.
"Where is this..." his voice rasped.
Suddenly, the memories of what happened just before he blacked out came rushing back. He had been unlocking his door when a mysterious hand locked around his throat. A cloth soaked in anesthetic—or some kind of drug—was pressed against his mouth and nose. He had struggled with all his might to break free, but it was useless. Then, darkness.
Those memories jolted him fully awake. Confusion transformed into sheer terror in the blink of an eye.
I've been kidnapped... The horrifying realization surfaced.
Eric scrambled into a sitting position, his head still spinning. He began to inspect his body in a panic, hands trembling as he patted down his clothes and skin—not just out of paranoia, but sheer fear. His body was currently female—a woman with a rather beautiful face and a well-proportioned figure. Eric was terrified that he might have been violated or molested while he was unconscious.
His heart raced, and his breath hitched in his throat. He checked frantically until he was certain that every piece of clothing was still in place. No buttons were undone, there were no signs of injury, and no unusual pain anywhere other than his throbbing headache.
" Sigh..." Eric let out a long breath, his tense shoulders dropping in relief. At least the worst nightmare he could imagine hadn't happened. He wouldn't have been able to handle it if something terrible had happened to him in this physical state.
But the relief was short-lived. As his eyes focused better, he scanned the rat-hole of a room with disgust and anxiety, before his gaze landed on something on a nearby table.
On an old, rickety metal desk, a white envelope sat alone amidst the emptiness of the narrow room.
Eric stared at it for a moment. He reasoned that being kidnapped and dumped in an unknown location meant something specific was happening, and the presence of the letter confirmed it. Drawing on his experience from playing countless games and watching horror movies, he decided to open the letter immediately.
With trembling hands, Eric picked it up and carefully tore open the white envelope. It looked simple, but the paper felt surprisingly thick and expensive. He pulled out the single sheet inside and swept his eyes over the message, written in rather elegant handwriting.
...From General Vann (Commander of the entire Planetary Defense Force stationed in Hive Kathion)...
Eric stopped breathing for a moment. Anxiety began to mount. He hadn't thought Vann held such a massive and influential position. At first, he assumed Vann might be a gang leader, an influential mafia boss, or at most, a corrupt noble—not a General.
A General? Commanding the entire force?
The realization hit him like a truck. Vann wasn't bluffing. He had far more influence than Eric had estimated. That explained why Vann said he was the one who authorized Eric's discharge from the PDF. The situation was getting worse; Eric was now a pawn on the chessboard of one of the most powerful figures in the Hive City. The threat didn't seem like an exaggeration anymore. With that rank, Vann was the one who could grant him a new life, and he was the one who could snatch it back at any moment.
Eric forced a swallow down his dry throat and read on.
...It is a pity I do not have time to train you myself, Erica. You must return to the Hive City. Otherwise, you die out there. The climate and environment on Opell III are not very friendly to humans. You should wear the gas mask at all times; it is in the box in the corner. You must travel 30 kilometers to reach the Hive City. Also, beware of the mutants and wandering beasts outside...
P.S. You should find a weapon to keep on hand—naturally, find it yourself. And you should ration the liquid food and water I prepared, as it is only enough to keep you alive (it certainly won't make you full).
"That bastard!..." Eric cursed aloud.
His slender, beautiful eyebrows twitched rapidly with rage and frustration until he felt like exploding. He inadvertently crushed the letter in his hand until the paper was crumpled.
He wanted to tear this damn letter to shreds and throw it in that General's face. Where was the "live a normal life"? Where was the "wait for the mission"? This wasn't the spy mission involving disguises and infiltration he had imagined. This was kidnapping him and dumping him to die in the middle of nowhere!
Thirty kilometers... on foot? Amidst mutants? And barely enough food to survive? Eric complained internally.
He looked at the corner of the room again. This time, he saw an old metal box. Beside it sat a pathetic amount of water bottles and liquid food pouches. He felt a wave of discouragement as he assessed his reality. He was just an accountant (or trying to be), a normal person who loved comfort and hated violence. Now, he had to survive in unknown territory to get back to the Hive City.
He wanted to cry, to scream, or just curl up and refuse to move. But he knew that was suicide. Judging by the situation, if he stayed here, Vann certainly wouldn't send anyone to help, and he would die pitifully of starvation.
Eric took a deep breath. Though he was still shaking with anger, his survival instinct kicked in. He frowned deeply, staring at the metal box in the corner as if he wanted to murder it, before forcing himself to stand up on trembling legs.
He inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. Even though he cursed Vann a hundred times in his mind, he knew there was no time to complain. If he wanted to survive to eat cake or see his friends again, he had to drag himself out of this hell and head back to Hive Kathion.
He began to search the narrow room thoroughly. Inside the metal box, he found the gas mask. Eric picked it up to examine it. The two large, round glass lenses reflecting the dim light reminded him of World War I masks he had seen in history books and movies back when he was a man in the old world. It looked bulky, but it had necessary functions, like a port for inserting a tube to drink water and consume liquid food.
Next, he found a backpack in decent condition. Eric carefully packed the liquid food pouches and water bottles, organizing the space inside as efficiently as possible. Finally, he discovered the only thing in the room that could loosely be called a weapon.
It was a simple kitchen knife.
Eric picked it up with a slightly shaking hand. He looked at the stainless steel blade, which wasn't particularly sharp, with growing anxiety.
Do I really have to fight mutants with this?
He felt a chill of fear envisioning himself having to stab someone—or something—to survive. He didn't know if he could actually kill anything with this knife, but it was better than his bare hands. He decided to tuck it into his belt where it was easiest to reach.
He turned to check his attire. Although he usually dressed modestly to a fault, in this situation, he was glad he was wearing his work clothes. A long gray trench coat over several layers of clothing, thick slacks, and black combat boots that didn't match the "beautiful female accountant" look at all. But they would make surviving this easier.
Eric strapped the gas mask onto his face, checking every strap to ensure the outside air wouldn't leak in. The sound of his breathing echoed inside the mask—Fwoo... Fwoo... He shouldered the backpack, adjusting the straps to fit his slender shoulders.
He stood staring at the dilapidated door one last time. Though he was still afraid of what he might face outside, he chose to move forward.
The moment Eric pushed the heavy door open, the first thing that hit him was the howling wind, blasting coarse sand against his body. He hurriedly raised a hand to shield his mask. The view before him was a desolate yellow-orange hell. The ground was cracked and dry as far as the eye could see, littered with debris and dust that the wind whipped up into swirling eddies.
The sky over Opell III was choked with a thick atmosphere of dust and pollution, blocking the sunlight until only a dim gloom remained. Visibility was reduced to less than 50 meters. He was surrounded by a yellow fog of dust that churned constantly. And the most surprising thing was the temperature.
Although the ground looked as dry as a desert, the air touching his exposed skin—like his ears, parts of his neck, and hands—was cold. It wasn't a refreshing cool, but a biting chill that numbed his fingertips. Even without snow, he estimated the temperature to be around 9 or 10 degrees Celsius, a cold he wasn't accustomed to.
Eric pulled his gray coat tighter, muttering in his mind about the absurdity of the planet's weather. But then, his eyes stopped on something towering on the horizon.
Hive Kathion.
Even though it was 30 kilometers away and obscured by a curtain of dust, its colossal silhouette was still awe-inspiring enough to make Eric hold his breath. It wasn't just a city; it was a gigantic mega-slum and a structure that pierced the sky, looking like a mountain built by human hands. The complex structure of towers and the dim lights flickering in the distance reminded him that it was the only safe place right now. And it was so far away.
"That's it, huh... The Hive City I live in... It's just a gargantuan slum," Eric said, his voice muffled through the gas mask. He felt a sense of dark humor about it. He knew he lived in a Hive City and often wondered how big it was, but now that he knew, he wished he didn't.
Eric felt a bit discouraged looking at the Hive City and comparing it to the distance he had to walk. In normal weather, 30 kilometers would be tiring but manageable. But in this freezing cold, with limited supplies, yellow dust obscuring his vision, and a gas mask restricting his view even further, the difficulty skyrocketed. Not to mention the mutants and beasts out here. Eric wasn't sure if he would survive.
However, he had made his choice. He wouldn't retreat into that room. The outcome was binary: survive or die. He began to step onto the rough, sandy ground, his black boots crunching against the earth.
He checked the kitchen knife at his waist one more time, scanning his surroundings with caution and paranoia. Amidst the pale yellow dust fog, anything could be hiding—hungry mutants, or something even more dangerous.
Eric walked forward into the howling wind rattling against his mask. But after walking for about five minutes, a realization struck him.
Dammit... this sucks. What am I going to do about this?
He frowned behind the round glass lenses, his eyes filled with worry. He realized how much time he had lost. He was kidnapped yesterday evening, and the dim light filtering through the dust now indicated it was the daytime of a new day. Which meant... Today was payday! And more importantly, he had a date with Lira at the pastry shop in the evening.
"My second paycheck... the fluffy cake I've been waiting all month for..." Eric grumbled in a muffled voice, utterly bummed out.
"Lira must be waiting at the shop... She probably won't think I stood her up, right? I hope she understands that something shitty happened to me."
Eric spoke to himself softly, trying to stay optimistic. He knew how rude it was to break an appointment, but he hoped she would understand. That was the best-case scenario.
But then, panic set in. He realized he hadn't written a leave of absence letter! In a world with such strict discipline, missing work without notice could mean a salary cut, severe punishment, getting fired, or worse.
"Resignation letter! I haven't even written a leave slip! If I go back and get fired, what will I do?! I have almost no savings!" He exclaimed, forgetting himself. The crisis of job security and lack of emergency funds made him want to tear his hair out.
Eric took a deep breath and tried to push the anxiety away. He consoled himself that if General Vann had sky-high authority, the guy should be smart enough to handle the paperwork so his 'pawn' wouldn't have a bad record. Or at the very least, if he survived this 30-kilometer trek, he would be tough enough to find a new job easily.
Screw it for now, Eric... The only goal is to survive and walk to the Hive City... But the problem is, where exactly do I walk to?
He knew he had to go to the Hive, but the letter was vague on coordinates. Eric sighed before looking at Hive Kathion towering in the distance.
Don't waste time thinking about this, Eric, he told himself as he tightened his backpack straps, trying to maintain a pace that wouldn't exhaust him too quickly. Amidst visibility of only 50 meters, Eric walked straight toward Hive Kathion, trudging through the dry, toxin-filled earth.
. . .
Five Hours Later
Five hours had passed with continuous walking. The terrain was no longer just dry soil; it was now littered with gravel and piles of garbage.
Eric estimated he had covered about 10 kilometers. His legs were screaming with fatigue, but the environment was far more concerning. Although the Hive City looked slightly larger in his vision, the atmosphere had become visibly murkier and more toxic. The yellow dust was thicker, and the wind was stronger.
His pale skin—the few parts exposed like his hands, neck, and ears—began to turn red, stinging from the cold and the irritation of chemical particles in the air. The thickening dust reduced his visibility to a claustrophobic yellow curtain. He could barely see clearly beyond 20 meters.
"...I'm not even halfway there," Eric muttered hoarsely under his mask. He was exhausted, starving, and incredibly thirsty.
He decided to collapse behind a large rock that offered some shelter from the cold wind and swirling dust. He checked his mask before pulling a pouch of liquid food from his backpack. He stared at the plastic sachet with weary eyes. At first, he thought it was the brand he usually ate, but no—it was a different brand, though there was likely no difference in quality.
He had no issue eating it; he had been surviving on liquid food for a month now. Eric opened the small port on the mask designed for this purpose and skillfully inserted the straw. He slowly sucked the flavorless sludge down his throat.
Even changing brands, it still has the texture of warm glue... He complained internally, closing his eyes to block out the sensation.
Despite his boredom and lack of appetite, he knew the high-energy sludge would keep him alive. While resting and conserving energy, his ears strained to listen to the wind with paranoia. In such poor visibility, anything could happen.
Just as he was sucking down the last mouthful, a metallic sound clinked softly from the other side of the rock... That definitely wasn't the wind.
Eric stowed the remaining food pouch in his bag, shouldered it, and moved with extreme caution, trying to make as little noise as possible. He slowly peeked his head out from behind the rock. The wind and dust battered his gas mask, but he saw something.
About 20 meters away, amidst a pile of scrap metal and plastic, Eric saw a figure moving.
It was a hunched form, muscular and hulking. Its skin was a deep, rough green. It wore armor made of rusted metal plates haphazardly tied together. In its thick, clumsy hand, it held a giant knife that looked more like a sharpened slab of iron. It walked with a lumbering gait, scanning the area as if looking for something to destroy or collect.
You have to be kidding me... Is that... an Orc? Really?
Eric thought, trying to compose himself. He wasn't sure if he was hallucinating from some chemical in the air.
It seemed that in this future world, Orcs actually existed. He had only idly thought they might be real, but he didn't expect to actually see one. What was next? Elves? Dwarves? Hobbits? Beastmen?
He didn't know if these Orcs were dangerous. But he wasn't stupid enough to test if they were friendly.
Judging by its appearance, it looked incredibly savage. Observing closely, its body was covered in scars, proving it had survived countless battles. When it turned, he saw a mouth full of massive tusks—physiologically, this thing was definitely not a herbivore. And looking at those muscles... even without armor, if a fight broke out, Eric wasn't sure he could kill it. His kitchen knife might not even penetrate that muscle.
Eric slowly pulled back to hide behind the rock, formulating a survival plan. The best course of action was simply to walk around it without being detected.
Having made his decision, Eric began to move, intending to circle around silently.
He walked slowly and carefully, crouching low. He hoped the dust and smoke would help camouflage him. If he was spotted, he had a backup plan: run as fast as he could.
Cold sweat began to trickle down his back as he moved, despite the freezing air outside.
It seemed everything was going well. The Orc—or whatever it was—hadn't noticed him or heard him. He was about to clear the area without a fight.
But it seemed Eric made one fatal misstep.
CRUNCH!
A loud noise echoed as Eric stepped squarely on a Corpse-Starch can lying on the ground.
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Hive Kathion Upper Hive
Vann sipped the expensive tea in his hand as he sat at his desk in the headquarters of the Hive Kathion PDF. A smile played across his face; it seemed the agreement he had made with the Magos Juris and the other Tech-Priests had finally come to fruition. It was a deal to purchase weapons at a lower cost in exchange for a pact of mutual assistance should either side require aid or make a request.
With this, the PDF forces under his command would possess standard-issue weaponry comparable to the Imperial Guard.
Every trooper would receive standard flak armor and a lasgun. Although these items were more expensive than the usual mismatched autoguns and scrap-plate armor, they would significantly alleviate logistical burdens in the long run.
Now, when reviewing reports and documents, he could cut out entire sections of logistical headaches. Once his PDF fully transitioned to lasgun systems, it would eliminate the need to source bullets of various calibers, reduce the consumption of physical magazines, and lighten the transport load. They would only need to manage the procurement of charge packs and charging stations for the lasguns.
Although his actions caused considerable anxiety among many nobles and influencers—particularly those within the territory of House Thalric—there was no resistance from the domain of House Korvax. This was because the nobles under House Korvax were now nobles in name only. His brother had seized absolute power from them so thoroughly that those lords now appeared to be merely wealthy civilians with money but no influence.
He had to prepare for the coming battle. It might not be today, but it would come eventually.
His reason for doing all this was wretched.
"Permission to enter, sir." A familiar voice rang out.
Vann slowly placed his teacup down before granting permission. "Enter."
The door opened, and Colonel Draco walked into the room.
"Thank you, sir," Draco said, saluting with the sign of the Aquila.
Vann frowned slightly. He had told his subordinate to improve his manners, and while Draco's etiquette had indeed improved, it felt odd—or perhaps Draco was just being sarcastic.
"Is the task I assigned you complete?" Vann asked casually.
He still held onto the habit of asking for results immediately after assigning a mission, a remnant of his days as a gang leader in the Lower Hive. Back then, he often used Draco for jobs he didn't want to do himself, such as ambushing rivals or handling other dirty work. He chose Draco because he knew him well; his subordinate would never deviate from orders. Even though Draco had complained and tried to argue against this latest mission, he had done it anyway.
"I have completed the mission you assigned, sir. Although, by my assessment, the target you had me kidnap and dump outside the Hive City is quite weak. She is cautious, yes, but physically frail," Draco sighed slightly before answering with a firm tone.
Vann nodded with a hint of satisfaction. "Excellent."
Just as Vann was about to dismiss him from the office, Draco asked a question that made Vann want to rub his temples. He didn't understand why his subordinate was so dense sometimes.
"Sir... I would like to ask you again. Are you sure it was a good idea to make her travel back to the Hive City on her own? That woman named Erica? I think you should have trained her in combat and basic survival first, rather than having me kidnap her and dump her 30 kilometers away from the Hive with only a few survival supplies. If she doesn't survive, you will be at a significant loss. I don't think one woman is worth that much money—or your eye. Even though she is quite beautiful, you could have hired a specialist or an assassin to do this kind of work from the start without wasting time on this."
Draco asked with the same mixture of curiosity and uncertainty he had shown before the mission began.
Vann felt a twinge of irritation at having to explain the same thing over and over. Sometimes, there was a fine line between stupidity and intelligence. He had never seen a subordinate question the same topic so frequently.
"How many times must I explain? That shy, innocent-looking young woman—who is admittedly easy to trick—is actually quite multi-talented. She may be poor at close-quarters combat, but she is an excellent marksman. Her skill with a lasgun is better than yours or mine. Furthermore, do you not understand psychology? She is the perfect profile for bait, a spy, or an assassin. Making her survive the return journey is merely a test to see if she possesses enough endurance, wit, or luck. If she dies, I simply find someone new to do the job. Do you understand now, Draco?"
Vann explained, his voice laced with frustration.
Although he said he would just find someone new if she died, he didn't actually want Erica to die. People like her were rare. She came from Lower Hive Zone Z, a lawless district plagued by gang warfare, rampant crime, drug problems, and Chaos cults. The fact that she had survived and made it to the Upper Hive while caring for a child proved that Erica possessed high survival instincts.
Moreover, during the war against the Genestealers in the Upper Hive, he had noticed abilities in her that others overlooked. Normal people only paid attention to her face and body, but he knew that her characteristics and skills were highly useful—both her temperament and her decision-making.
Getting back to the Hive City was just one test. There were many more she would have to face before she could truly start working.
Draco, listening to his boss explain—or rather, complain—stayed silent for a moment. But deep down, he had something he wanted to say to his commander. It didn't take him long to decide to speak up.
"Uh... Sir, I have something I wish to explain, and I ask that you listen," Draco said with a calm, confident voice.
Vann picked up another document to read before waving his hand to grant Draco permission to speak.
"What is it? Spit it out. Or do I have to explain myself for the tenth time?" Vann asked with a touch of sarcasm.
"...I just wanted to say that my rank in the PDF is Colonel now, sir. You use me as if I were still a thug and a gang member back in the Lower Hive," Draco said in a complaining tone.
"This time, you had me perform a kidnapping mission on a shy young woman without any regard for my rank. Although I wouldn't dare disobey your orders, I feel embarrassed doing things like this. I really think you should find someone else for these missions," Draco said, his voice losing its firmness and becoming casual, as if speaking to a friend.
"If my wife finds out I'm doing work like this, how am I supposed to live with myself?" Draco's voice shifted into genuine fear as he thought of his wife.
Vann frowned immediately. This giant of a man is bigger than me, yet he's afraid of his wife? Vann had met Draco's wife; she seemed friendly enough. He didn't see why he or Draco should be afraid of her.
As for finding someone else for this kind of work? Why would he? This subordinate was the most perfect person for the job. If he sent anyone else, he worried Erica might be molested or mistreated. Draco, who had a family and carried out missions without letting emotions get in the way, was the perfect candidate.
"Stop talking nonsense, Draco. You are still my subordinate. Even if your rank were higher, I would still make you work for me—unless you somehow rank higher than me... Now, get out of my office."
______________________________________________
Wright: Eric wasn't familiar with orks from Warhammer 40k, but he was somewhat familiar with orcs from the Warcraft game and other fantasy media. And because of their similar appearance, Eric referred to them as "orcs."