There was a mistake. Chapter 23 has changed.
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Several months had passed for Gerhard in his instant dungeon, which meant that it was time to have a gander at the real world. He needed a break. A desperate break. Not because he was physically exhausted or bored, but because he was on a supply run.
He moved through the doom and gloom of the Underhive, his boots making little sound on the rusted floorboards. The air here smelled as disgusting as ever, and overall, nothing had really changed. "Supply run", in the Underhive, meant looking for anything the Genestealers hadn't eaten or the Orks hadn't taken for scrap... not that they had been here yet.
Suddenly, something pulsed at the edge of his consciousness, alerting him to something.
[Detect Presence]
His minimap showed nearly two dozen red dots, swarming toward a smaller cluster of five. The dots were all moving erratically and rather quickly. Most likely in panic.
"Always something," Gerhard muttered, checking the load on his autogun.
He took his time, being extra careful, since his main defensive skill wasn't yet usable as his Mana shield had been. He could use it, but not 24/7; he had to be smart about it. That was fine; he wasn't planning on storming into the front lines as he had previously.
He broke into a low, almost predatory crouch. His [Stealth] skill cloaked his silhouette, and after that, he was off. This area was his, and here he ruled like the Lion King, so these... whoever they were, better pay passing fees.
He rounded a corner into a wide transit tunnel and saw them.
It was a pathetic sight, even by Hive standards. A woman in tattered work leathers led the way, gripping a rusted laspistol. Behind her, a younger couple, a father shielding a mother who clutched a bundle of rags to her chest. The racketty wail from the rags confirmed it was a baby. Bringing up the rear was a man in a burnt, high-collared uniform of the Hive's Civil Administration, his hands fumbling with a bolt pistol that had clearly jammed. His expression looked hard and stern, like what you would expect from a man in his position.
Closing in from the back were the Hybrids. Neophytes, Acolytes and Metamorphs. Their pale skin shone faintly in the very few flickering lumens.
"Please!" the mother shrieked as a Metamorph leapt onto a suspended crate above them, its three arms tensed to spring.
The Administrator roared a curse as he slammed the heel of his hand against the casing of his jammed bolt pistol, pulling the mother away.
"Form up! Backs to the bulkhead!"
The woman in leather didn't need to be told. She came to a halt, bracing her rusted laspistol against a piece of fallen debris.
pew-
A thin red beam lanced out, catching a rushing Neophyte in the shoulder. The hybrid spun and snarled but kept rushing forward.
"Keep them back!" the father screamed.
He didn't have a gun, so he swung a heavy piece of industrial rebar with the impressive strength of a man protecting his blood. He smashed it into the face of an Acolyte who tried to lunge for the mother.
The mother huddled low, her body a shield for the wailing bundle in her arms. She wasn't crying; impressively, she was humming what could only be described as a terrified lullaby, her eyes closed. Her actions proved her deep love for her offspring.
It wasn't going to matter, though.
"Run! Take the child and get out of here!" the Administrator shouted.
"No! We stay together!"
"He's right," the woman shouted. "A new life is more important than us."
A Metamorph scrambled up the rusted wall of the tunnel. It stood on a suspended cargo crate directly above the family, its three clawed arms clicking in anticipation as it threw itself towards them.
Below, the woman's laspistol gave a pathetic whine. The power pack was spent. She pulled the trigger again and again, but only a dull, depressing "click" answered. At the same moment, the Administrator finally cleared his jam, but as he levelled the bolt pistol, a Neophyte's autogun burst caught him in the thigh.
"AAARRHHH!!" he screamed in pain.
He went down in agony, the heavy weapon clattering out of his reach.
"Please!" the mother shrieked, looking up just as the Metamorph was biting into the thick piece of metal that separated it from the father.
More hybrids arrived and launched towards the family. It was a mess of whitish flesh and sharp claws, descending as the guillotine had during the French Revolution.
Gerhard didn't wait for the prayer to finish. He was no longer particularly religious, but he was very good at killing these things.
BRRT—BRRT—BRRT!
Several Metamorph heads vanished in a spray of toxic blood before they could realise they had died. Gerhard didn't step out of the shadows, keeping his stealth active and using it to his advantage. His autogun's nuzzle released a thin line of smoke, as if it were expressing its glee at the job at hand.
"Fucking mongrels!" Gerhard scoffed in typical Gilgamesh fashion.
The group hit the deck. Gerhard dropped the stealth and activated [Psionic Mana Shield] as he waded into the swarm. A Neophyte lunged at him with a combat blade. Gerhard parried with a swing of the power sword, the disruption field shearing through the xenos weapon and the arm holding it in one fluid motion. He spun, his autogun around slowly, firing lead into the chest of several more Hybrids trying to flank him from the ventilation ducts.
[Acolyte Hybrid defeated]
[+60,000 EXP]
[Neophyte Hybrid defeated]
[+25,000 EXP]
[Hybrid Metamorph defeated]
[+60,000 EXP]
Within sixty seconds, the tunnel was silent, save for the wet thud of twitching limbs hitting the floor. Gerhard stood amidst the carnage, the blue glow of his sword reflecting in the wide, terrified eyes of the survivors. He deactivated his [Psionic Mana Shield], allowing his Mana to regenerate.
He aimed his weapon at the group and picked up the bolter pistol lying on the ground. That was probably 90% why he intervened in the first place. Keeping the group in front of him, he went around and placed all the Genestealer Cultists into his inventory, ignoring their wide eyes.
After he was done, he approached them.
"Don't kill us," the husband stammered, holding up his hands and dropping the metal piece. "We aren't... we aren't turned. Look at our eyes, our hands!"
Gerhard stored the power sword, but kept the autogun primed on them.
[Observe]
"We're... thank you, truly for your help," the mother said.
"Identify yourselves," Gerhard demanded, his voice modulated by his new helmet into a cold, mechanical tone.
He was rather proud of this addition. He was researching ways to create Power Armour, like that worn by Space Marine or Custodes, and therefore wanted to learn how to cram a lot of technology into the helmet. It was a work in progress.
"I'm Elara," the lead woman said, her voice trembling from fear but steady. "I'm a worker from the manufactorum. This is Kael, his wife Mara, and their little one. And this..." she gestured to the bureaucrat, "is Magistrate Harlen. We're trying to reach the upper spires. They say there are still shuttle transports leaving for the orbital stations."
Gerhard looked at the woman like she was the dumbest piece of shit he had ever seen.
"Are you serious?"
"Y-yes? Why? Is it not true?" she asked.
"I-is there a way to get there? Or is it too dangerous?" Kael, the husband, asked.
"Except the Underhive, the entire Hive City belongs to the Orks now. The spires were a slaughterhouse weeks ago," Gerhard replied flatly. "The Orks killed all humans by now. You will find no shuttles there, only death."
The mother, Mara, let out a choked sob, hugging the baby tighter. Harlen, the Magistrate, stood up unsteadily.
"Then where? The Enforcers have started to abandon the last remaining stronghold. The Genestealers have pulled back a bit, but have returned with greater force and seem to be launching their final offensive. Everyone is dying. We fled there... I am not proud of it, but with the infant... we had to try it, even if we were called traitors and killed."
Gerhard looked at them. By all logical metrics, they were a liability, and what's worse, they were idiots. They were slow, noisy, and carried zero tactical value. But then his eyes drifted to the baby. If he left them here, they'd be targeted by the Xenos and eventually be recycled into bio-matter within the hour. If he wanted to do something, the time was now.
"You really want off-world?" Gerhard asked.
"More than life," Elara whispered. "For the future of our species."
Gerhard sighed, the sound echoing in his helmet.
"What a drag. Truly..."
He held his weapon a bit to the side and took out the power sword again, placing it on his hips. He took out four small discs, the size of his palm and threw them to Elara.
"Take these," he said.
She looked at him suspiciously.
"What are these?" she asked.
"Electrical discs. If you see a Genestealer, throw them at them. It will electrocute them and give you enough time to run away. It's only for absolute emergencies, understood? They're all I got."
"Understood."
She handed everyone one disc. They looked at each other, unsure what this meant or whether they could truly trust Gerhard. He couldn't fault them for that; if he hadn't used [Observe], he would act the same.
"The tunnels between here and the spire-gate are crawling with the Brood. My hideout is nearby. It's reinforced, not enough to withstand the entire remaining cult, but it is better than nothing. If you stay silent and do exactly as I say, you might live to see tomorrow."
The group traded glances of pure desperation. In the grim darkness of the Underhive, a man who could slaughter twenty Genestealers in a minute was the closest thing to a Saint they were going to find... or a monster.
"We'll follow," Elara said, swallowing what she wanted to say.
The walk back was a masterclass in uncertainty. Gerhard, who made sure to keep an eye on them at all times, led them through the "backdoor" routes he had mapped a while ago, sewage conduits and forgotten maintenance shafts that smelled of archaic oil. Every time a pipe hissed, Mara nearly jumped out of her skin. Gerhard used [Detect Presence] every ten seconds to ensure they weren't being tracked. His minimap showed that no one was nearby.
Finally, they reached an unremarkable, but reinforced bulkhead hidden behind a mountain of industrial slag. Gerhard placed his hand on the handle and used his strength to pull the heavy door open, which groaned.
As they stepped inside, the group froze.
The hideout was bathed in the glow of some of Gerhard's discarded plans, which he wanted to test out in the Underhive. There were hundreds of differnet pieces of scrap and constructs lying around.
"What is this place?" Harlen whispered, his eyes bulging at the implications of what he saw.
"It's a workshop," Gerhard said, sealing the bulkhead behind them with a heavy clank.
"Welcome to the only semi-safe spot in this hellhole. Sit down. Don't touch anything that blinks. If you break my stuff, I'll throw you back to your cousins."
"We won't! Please."
He walked over to the table and looked around it for something. For a moment, he had a small button in his hand and turned around, looking at the four people.
"Right," Gerhard said and pressed the button.
*ZZZZZZZZZZ*
The four discs that Gerhard had given them earlier suddenly bit into their bodies and then sent out streaks of electricity, which cut through the air and electrocuted the four grown-ups, causing them to scream in pain.
"AHHHHHHhhhh..."
All of them fell to the ground, twitching as the remnants of the discharge still affected their bodies.
"Mmmhh... w--why..."
"Pl--ease... ple---ase... do-don't... show us... m-mercy... please"
Gerhard looked at them with a hard expression.
"There is no mercy," he said and pressed the button again, sending another stream of electricity through their bodies.
*ZZZZZZZZZZ*
The discs fried and broke, stopping the electric discharges.
"Do not worry. I'm not going to kill you. I have... other uses for you."