A violent jolt from the outside world shook through Gavo's mindscape.
The rough swaying, like riding on the back of a tractor, instantly cleared away Gavo's hangover.
And then she realized she was currently being carried forward by an iron hand.
She looked around blankly and discovered that she was moving through a deep, narrow, foul-smelling tunnel alongside the fully armed Weepers.
"You're awake, brat. Then get down already."
Noticing her little head turning all over the place, the owner of the iron hand mercilessly tossed her onto the tunnel floor, which was soaked in foul water and rotten mud.
Splutch.
Caught off guard, Gavo's sense of balance had not yet recovered due to the alcohol, and she crashed face-first into the filth.
"Hahahaha!"
Seeing Gavo covered in disgusting sludge, the other Weepers, who had originally been tense, immediately burst into laughter.
The culprit behind all of this, Griffin, also showed his signature cruel smile and mockingly said,
"Little one, stay farther away from us when it's time to eat later, alright?"
Suppressing her nausea, Gavo slowly stood up and reached out to wipe the unnameable filth smeared across her gas mask's lenses, leaving behind only brownish-yellow stains.
She looked at the grinning Griffin, resisted the urge to punch him, and pointed ahead.
"Where is this? What are we doing?"
Griffin let the smile fade and answered with some seriousness,
"This is the sewage purification sector of the eastern district. Right above us is the clean water reservoir that supplies those upper-hive lords."
"We're not here to fight wild dogs today. We're here to wipe out a pretty large group of Croc-Men."
Croc-Men were a kind of mutant abhuman, originating from human genetic modification during the Warhammer 20,000 era.
Back then, humanity had literally loved carving all kinds of nonsense into DNA.
Then, under the influence of Warp storms during the Age of Strife that followed, that nonsense mutated, and mutants were born as a result.
No matter the era, these mutants were always discriminated against and hunted to extinction, and they were also extremely hostile toward normal humans.
But why were the Weepers the ones clearing them out?
Seeming to notice Gavo's confusion, Griffin kept his gun trained ahead and began explaining one of the Tearblood Gang's old traditions.
As one of the oldest gangs on this planet, the Tearblood Gang had once produced an angel, which gave them a highly special status.
Not only were upper-hive enforcers willing to look the other way when they possessed lethal weapons, they could also trade with certain white-glove intermediaries for valuable supplies.
The PDF medical cases Medic had used on Gavo and her adoptive father had come from one of those exchanges.
And in return, the Tearblood Gang regularly cleared out dangerous mutants from the underhive, while also taking the initiative to destroy gangs and cults that did not worship the Emperor.
Gavo's eyes immediately lit up.
So the Tearblood Gang had once produced a badass who actually joined the Space Marines.
Then did they know anything about the Chapter selection process, the Ascension Ritual?
Thinking of that, she curiously asked Griffin,
"Then do you know what the Ascension Ritual is actually like?"
Griffin gave her the kind of look one reserved for idiots and said irritably,
"That angel's ascension happened at least several hundred years ago. How the hell would I know?"
But after thinking about it, he changed his tone.
"Though I do know one bit of hearsay. The process of the Ascension Ritual is different every time."
Gavo's mouth twitched.
That really was the sort of answer that changed nothing after hearing it.
Suddenly, Griffin's ears twitched.
One moment he had still been joking around with Gavo. The next, he became serious and feverishly focused.
"Sharkteeth, take three men and lock down the rear. Medic, take five and crouch up front on overwatch. Everyone else, stay with me and fire straight ahead!"
The Weepers immediately moved with practiced coordination, and in an instant, dense streams of ammunition erupted from their barrels.
Amid the roars of the underhive scum and the deafening thunder of gunfire, bullets wreathed in rage traced burning paths through the air and tore the monsters polluting humanity's purity into scattered chunks.
As the guns roared, waves of inhuman screams rose and fell from deeper within the tunnel.
Under the illumination of tracer fire, Gavo barely managed to make out the appearance of the creatures.
Gray skin covered in thick layers of horny scales, rows of revolting sharp teeth, and cloudy double eyelids...
They resembled humans, yet were warped by horrifying deformities, and merely looking at them created a dual sense of revulsion, both physical and psychological, in any normal person.
[Admit it. You cannot tolerate the existence of abhumans. Achievement completed: Uncanny Valley.]
[Talent acquired: Abhuman Slayer. Your attacks against abhumans gain bonus effectiveness, and abhumans feel less favor toward you.]
As the system prompt appeared, Griffin and the others began reloading, and the violent wall of gunfire abruptly ceased.
At that very moment, countless shrill screeches came from the darkness ahead. In the dim light, Gavo saw dense ranks of half-man, half-crocodile figures appearing in the tunnel in front.
From the dense splashing of feet through filthy water, it was easy to tell that the Croc-Men were extremely numerous.
But at the exact moment this fierce charge began, Medic and the others who had already crouched in ambush ahead of Griffin took over from the reloading Weepers, and the dense fire net immediately reappeared.
This round of shooting was even more effective, because the relatively low-intelligence Croc-Men had launched a hurried charge, and that stupid decision had exposed them right inside the deadliest range of the guns.
Meanwhile, Gavo moved agilely between the Weepers, helping them reload drum magazines and passing along simple orders.
The seriousness on Griffin's face gradually faded, replaced by a terrifying grin.
In his view, the outcome of this purge had already been decided.
Under one-sided slaughter, the surviving disgusting monsters would leave behind most of their kin's corpses and retreat once again into corners too difficult to thoroughly search, quietly waiting for the next periodic cleansing.
But ancient Terra had a famous saying.
When everything goes too smoothly, then if nothing unexpected happens, something unexpected is about to happen.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, and a bullet grazed past Gavo's forehead as she ran, striking Sharkteeth, who had been guarding the rear, in the shoulder.
Holding a full drum magazine in her hands, Gavo turned in shock toward the front of the tunnel.
Under the light of tracer rounds, a large number of misshapen figures carrying firearms appeared behind the charging Croc-Men who were using their own bodies as shields.
Abhumans carrying weapons was normal in the underhives of other hive worlds.
But on a recruiting world, especially in the eastern district of this underhive under Tearblood Gang control, it was practically unbelievable.
These abhumans had always lived hidden away in the darkest corners of the underhive. There was no way they could have manufactured weapons on their own.
Which meant there was only one possibility...
(End of Chapter)
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