Chapter 36: The Truth Is Crueler Than Lies

Three days!

Three whole days!

Alvin had no idea how he even survived!

Seventy-two hours, four thousand three hundred twenty minutes, two hundred fifty-nine thousand two hundred seconds—he barely made it through by counting every single one.

Tucker’s training was utterly insane, giving him not a single moment to rest.

In the morning: stealth, camouflage, and suppressing one’s own scent; in the afternoon: close-quarters combat, hand-to-hand fighting, endurance training, and escape techniques.

If not for the astonishing boost in physical strength and recovery speed after injecting Compound Five, Alvin would have been broken long ago under Tucker’s brutal regimen!

Finally, after Alvin painfully endured three days, Tucker gave him a look of utter disdain.

“Good job, congratulations, kid,” he flicked ash and sneered, “You’re now about as capable as a six-year-old from Catachan.”

Alvin didn’t care about this assessment—in fact, he was secretly pleased.

Being compared to a six-year-old from Catachan was already a high compliment; after all, on Catachan, if a six-year-old couldn’t kill a cultist by bashing them with a loaf of dry bread, they wouldn’t live to see adulthood—so wasn’t this praise truly significant?

“Mr. Tucker, thank you very much for these three days of training.”

Alvin knew Tucker had no obligation to train him; he did it not solely because of Aruman.

Therefore, no matter what, these three days were a debt of gratitude Alvin would never forget.

“Don’t thank me. Just make sure you come back alive.”

Tucker slumped on the sofa, lighting a cheap cigarette: “What I’ve taught you should be enough. Too bad time was short—you’ve got real talent. Give me six more months, and I’d guarantee to turn you into a proper Catachan jungle warrior!”

Honestly, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of anticipation… Alvin imagined himself as a Catachan jungle warrior.

When the time came, using his psychic powers as a last-resort trump card would surely catch everyone off guard!

But dreams were dreams—he was a realist. Alvin sighed bitterly, shook his head, and reluctantly handed back the Catachan combat knife he’d carried for three days: “Mr. Tucker, here’s your knife.”

Every Catachan warrior prized their combat knife above all else—and across the entire Imperium, Catachan combat knives were considered among the finest of the fine.

Many commissars, Astra Militarum officers, and nobles considered owning a Catachan combat knife a mark of honor.

But Tucker merely glanced at the knife Alvin offered, made no move to take it, and remained seated: “Keep it for now. Return it to me when you come back.”

Alvin hesitated for several seconds, then solemnly sheathed the knife and said earnestly: “Thank you, Mr. Tucker. I will never forget this debt.”

“Get out. Come find me in a month.”

Tucker still wore his usual look of disdain, waving him off irritably.

Alvin said nothing more, gathered his gear, and retraced his steps back the way he came.

After leaving the sewers, Alvin didn’t rush to cross over—he still had one thing to do.

The three days of Catachan training had profoundly benefited Alvin; his camouflage skills had improved dramatically, allowing him to slip past the Hammer Gang’s checkpoints effortlessly and return to the South Sector.

Over the past couple of weeks, the South Sector had undergone a dramatic transformation.

First, the Bone Gang, which had previously ruled the South Sector, had been completely wiped out and absorbed by the Hammer Gang; street scavengers had dwindled, replaced by gang members.

These gang members all wore Hammer insignias and, far from acting like the usual bullies or thugs, were actively maintaining order.

This was unbelievable—gangsters had turned into social workers!

Watching this “prosperous” scene, Alvin lowered his gaze, his heart filled with indescribable complexity.

Because he knew very well… the Hammer Gang wasn’t doing this out of conscience.

They were recruiting more people, waiting for the right moment to flood into the Middle and Upper Hives, spreading Chaos throughout the entire hive city!

Alvin understood perfectly—but he was powerless to stop it.

Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly spotted a familiar figure enthusiastically handing out energy bars to scavengers at the Hammer Gang’s daily food distribution stall.

That was… Emerych?!

Though he’d only caught a fleeting glimpse, Alvin was certain—he hadn’t imagined it!

Emerych… had joined the Hammer Gang!

He’d come to the South Sector specifically to avoid the Tech-Priests and to find Emerych and his sister, to introduce them to Tucker and get them away from this cesspool.

But who could have imagined that in just ten days, Emerych had joined the Hammer Gang?

That was jumping straight into a fire pit!

Alvin didn’t consider himself a good person, but the tragic fate of these siblings had stirred a flicker of sympathy in him.

At least, within his power, he could help them.

The line of scavengers waiting for food stretched long; to avoid drawing attention, Alvin had to wait at the very end.

He waited two full hours before finally reaching the front.

Emerych handed him two energy bars with practiced ease, adding casually: “Join the Hammer Gang, and you can get a bowl of nutrient gruel every day!”

But as soon as he spoke, the boy heard a low voice whisper: “Emerych… do you remember me?”

The words froze Emerych in place. He looked up in disbelief, as if struck by lightning.

Seeing Alvin’s filthy, disheveled appearance—like a completely different person—he quickly recognized him, his eyes lighting up with surprise.

But he was cautious; he didn’t call out Alvin’s name immediately. Instead, he handed his duties to another member and signaled with his eyes for Alvin to follow.

The two went to the back of a bar. Once they confirmed no one was following, Emerych whispered excitedly: “It really is you, Mr. Alvin! I never thought I’d see you again!”

“I came here specifically to find you, Emerych.”

Alvin cut straight to the point: “I’ll give you a name and address. Take your sister, go to him, say I sent you—he’ll get you out of the Underhive.”

Overwhelmed by this sudden turn of events, Emerych stood speechless for a full half-minute before stammering: “Mr. Alvin, you…”

“Don’t ask questions. Go now. As quickly as possible.”

Alvin interrupted the boy, his voice tinged with unexpected sternness: “Emerych, the Hammer Gang is dangerous!”

Yet, despite Alvin’s warning, Emerych fell silent for a long time.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Alvin’s brow furrowed, his gaze growing cold.

“No, Mr. Alvin—I trust you would never harm us.”

Emerych lowered his head like a guilty child, lips clenched, voice firm: “But I can’t leave. Forgive me for disappointing you, Mr. Alvin.”

“Give me a reason.”

Alvin’s eyes were cold, staring at Emerych as if he were a stranger.

“Mr. Alvin, not long after you left, Buck was going to… sell my sister.” Emerych’s face twisted with anguish, fists clenched, trembling: “I couldn’t fight Buck—I had no chance. It was Mr. Korch of the Hammer Gang who saved us!”

“Mr. Korch treated us well. He let me join the Hammer Gang, gave me weapons, and helped me get revenge…”

“I… I can’t betray Mr. Korch…”

Emerych couldn’t meet Alvin’s eyes: “Besides, the Hammer Gang isn’t as terrible as you think. Mr. Korch says everyone gathers here just to survive. The Hammer Gang will make the Underhive better—so please forgive me, Mr. Alvin.”

Alvin stared at Emerych, sighed deeply, said nothing more, and turned away without another word.

He couldn’t change the boy’s thinking, nor could he reveal the truth: the gang Emerych believed was saving lives was, in fact, a cult devoted to Khorne!

This path was Emerych’s own choice—he’d already offered him a chance.

The truth is crueler than any lie.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Alvin!”

Behind him came Emerych’s voice, heavy with regret.

But Alvin didn’t turn back. His one act of kindness couldn’t alter the siblings’ fate.

Damn you, Tzeentch!

He vented silently in his mind.

Moments later, deep in an empty alley, Alvin looked down at the bracelet on his wrist: “Navigator System, initiate transit to the New World.”

A black hole swallowed him whole, vanishing without a trace.