Chapter 114

The last rays of the sunset fell upon the ruins of the hive city.

Because the heretical cult had inexplicably withdrawn, surrendering the occupied Mid-Hive region, the defense forces quickly took over the front line and began setting up new defenses once more at the entrance to the Lower Hive.

Those civilians who had survived the brutal street battles of the day, having been forged by war, had lost some of their youthful naivety and confusion, replaced instead by a quiet resolve.

In comparison to before, the defense forces and the Fawu Force had grown considerably more lenient toward these people, ordering them to retreat for temporary rest and supplying them with a portion of military rations.

Staring at the ration in his hand, Alvin found it nearly impossible to swallow—this stuff… if he hadn’t been mistaken, it was corpse starch!

This was the official Planetary Defense Force!

If the defense forces were eating corpse starch cans, what the hell were the other conscripted civilians eating?

“You… eat this?”

His eye twitched as he looked at the soldier beside him.

“Hey… at least we get something to eat, Sergeant,” said the young kid beside him, clearly not yet of age, grinning as he rubbed his buzzcut. “When Governor Hadley was alive, our rations certainly weren’t corpse starch—but who’s to blame now that Hadley’s dead? Our rations dropped several tiers, and now we’re lucky to even get this.”

Damn noble scum—how dare they cut even this?

Alvin could hardly imagine the hive nobles could be this stupid—this was the defense force’s rations!

Did those damned vermin really want the heretics to break through the hive gates and cut off their heads, piling them all together?

“Sergeant, aren’t you eating?”

The young soldier swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Alvin’s corpse starch can—his meaning was obvious.

“You eat it.” Alvin tossed the can to the boy and stood up, heading toward the camp.

“Sergeant, where are you going?”

The boy clutched the can, beaming, asking the new sergeant.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Alvin’s mood was heavy as he walked straight to the center of the camp, pulled back the tent flap, and saw Gray staring at a map, brow furrowed, deep in tactical thought.

Seeing someone enter, Gray frowned slightly, about to rebuke—then recognized him and swallowed the words, returning his gaze to the map. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you can’t stomach corpse starch and came looking for a private meal?”

“Report, Commissar Gray—no, sir.”

Alvin knew Gray was the old-school type; failing to report would earn him a kick.

“Enough. No need for formal titles when we’re off duty.”

Gray glanced at him, sneering. “Your posture right now—if you were in Cadia, I’d have kicked you already. But fine. Spit it out. What do you want?”

Another one from Cadia?!

Alvin was startled—he’d assumed Commissar Gray recognized the “demon” merely from having some experience. Now it was clear he was far more than that.

This man had likely seen more demons, Chaos Champions, and Chosen of Chaos in Cadia than Loser had ever met in his life.

“I want to ask… why are our rations corpse starch?” Alvin’s voice was filled with anger.

This stuff was only eaten by scavengers in the Lower Hive who couldn’t find any trash—anyone with a choice would rather starve than touch it.

“At least we get something to eat…”

To Alvin’s surprise, Gray remained calm, speaking softly: “Our mission is to hold Mid-Hive at all costs. As for the rest… hmm. Better not know too much.”

“You want us to die holding it—what about them?!”

Alvin was truly furious.

This wasn’t just incompetence—it was outright treating Mid-Hive, the Planetary Defense Force, the Fawu Force, the Riot Suppression Units—all of them—as disposable pawns!

Alvin could easily imagine how those Upper Hive noble wastes were thinking.

If the defense force holds back the heretics, perfect. If not, the Upper Hive’s defenses will buy time until the Imperium sends reinforcements. Worst case? A few nobles can still escape Loser on a ship.

In short—no loss.

No wonder the Imperium has been in decline for ten thousand years. How could humanity ever reclaim its glory, how could it purge the heretics, if it was ruled by vermin like these?

Alvin wanted nothing more than to let the heretics storm in and cut every noble’s head off—but reason told him dying alongside vermin was meaningless.

“Isn’t there… anyone who opposes this?”

Alvin pressed, unwilling to give up: “What about Hadley’s family? Didn’t they speak out?”

“Hahahaha… Hadley? They’re all dead.”

Gray laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You know about Governor Galken’s assassination, right?”

Alvin nodded. “I know it happened—but not the details.”

“Details? You don’t expect me to tell you the truth, do you?” Gray lit a cigarette. “I know no more than you. The Planetary Governor was killed. We were recalled from the field. Our final order: hold the hive city until the last drop of blood is spilled for the Emperor.”

“Damn vermin! Worthless!”

Alvin slammed his fist on the table, eyes blazing: “Those cowardly wastes—they’re still thinking only of saving themselves? Do they think they’ll survive if we lose?!”

He raged at the nobles’ cowardice.

They enjoyed the Imperium’s privileges, yet now they cowered like turtles.

Damn them! Kill them!

Watching Alvin’s fury, Gray’s gaze held something deeper. “You’re clever, boy—but do you really want to know why?”

His look gave Alvin a chilling premonition.

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Yes.”

Commissar Gray said nothing. He pulled a metal box from his inner coat pocket, tossed Alvin a cigarette without asking, then took one himself, sniffed it deeply, placed it between his lips, and glanced at him with the cigarette butt clenched.

Alvin understood. He lit it for him.

Alvin understood implicitly and lit it for him willingly.

The tobacco sparked, glowing as Gray drew in a long, deep breath.

The tobacco ember glowed as he drew in a deep breath.

Only then did Gray seem to briefly shed his burden, his expression softening as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke: “That day was the Emperor’s Ascension Day. The Planetary Governor was on parade… and…”

He paused, eyes lowering. “No one noticed a heretical psyker had slipped into the crowd. While everyone was distracted… he killed the Governor.”

“You know what happened next. When we were urgently recalled from the field, we learned the Hadley family… all dead. Their heads severed and arranged into a blasphemous eight-pointed Chaos star.”

“Wait—you’re saying the Hadley family was assassinated in their Upper Hive home, their heads cut off?”

A horrifying thought struck Alvin: “Did a heretic infiltrate the Upper Hive nobility and orchestrate this assassination?”

“Precisely. The remaining noble houses, thinking as you did, immediately sealed the Upper Hive gates.”

Gray rubbed his temples, sighing. “And for the past fifteen days… not a single message has come from the Upper Hive. Only that final order: defend the hive city until the last drop of blood is spilled—for the Empire, for the God-Emperor, for humanity!”

Political Commissar Gray rubbed his temples and sighed: “And to this day… fifteen full days have passed, and the Upper Nest has sent no word at all—except… that final order: defend the Nest until the last drop of blood is spilled, for the Empire, for the Divine Emperor, for humanity!”

Alvin’s pupils shrank, his skin crawling.

“Boy… your experience is still too limited.”

Gray clapped his shoulder, his voice heavy with sorrow. “In your mind, nobles are cowards—that’s why they sealed the Upper Hive, hiding inside while we fight outside, correct?”

Gray clapped his shoulder, his tone unexpectedly heavy, and whispered: “In your mind, nobles are surely cowards who shut the Upper Nest and hide inside while we fight and die out here, isn’t that right?”

“No one… is unworthy of the Emperor.”

Gray’s eyes flickered with sorrow as he whispered: “Even the nobles—of other hive cities, I don’t know. But here, they have not dishonored their imperial titles. Sacrifice is the foundation of the Empire. Life is the Emperor’s currency. Use it well. Do not dishonor yourself. Do not dishonor the Empire. Do not… dishonor the Emperor!”

Gray’s eyes flickered with sorrow as he whispered: “Even nobles—I don’t know what happened in other Nests… but they were worthy of the Empire’s title. Sacrifice… is the foundation of the Empire. Life… is the currency of the Divine Emperor. Use it well—do not shame yourself, do not shame the Empire, do not… shame the Emperor!”

Gray’s voice was grave as he stared at Alvin’s stunned face. “This must never be spoken to anyone. Corpse starch… is because the Upper Hive nobles are incompetent and cowardly. Understand?”

Gray spoke with solemn gravity, gazing at the bewildered Alvin: “This matter must never be told to anyone—the corpse starch… is due to the incompetence and cowardice of the Upper Nest nobility, do you understand?”