Standard Terra Calendar 976.M30. The fifteenth day since the Kent Hive Judgment Assembly.
6:30 AM.
At the entrance of the former Scorpion Gang hideout in Underhive Sector F-8, a brand-new alloy plaque now hung:
[Kent Hive Underhive Seventh Enforcer Station]
Beneath the plaque, a line of small text was engraved in Low Gothic:
Labor creates peace, order guards dignity. Supervised by the Crimson Dawn Governor's Office.
Four Youth League members in gray uniforms stood on guard duty at the entrance. Their average age was no more than twenty-five, but their eyes held a firmness rarely seen among underhive residents. The holsters of their standard-issue laspistols were unsnapped, their hands resting constantly three centimeters from the grips. This was the "quick-response posture" personally taught to them by Tax Bro.
"Morning, Jack!" one of the youths on duty called out to an old miner walking past.
Jack paused. He had worked in this sector for twenty-seven years. Ever since then, he had watched the Scorpion Gang extort protection fees, kidnap young girls, and toss disobedient workers into the slag heaps with broken legs.
And now, those scumbags had either been executed by firing squad in the plaza or were rotting away in some deep mine shaft down in the underhive.
"M-Morning," Jack nodded, a bit stiffly. He subconsciously patted the newly issued work badge tucked inside his jacket.
It listed his new job: Seventh Mining Sector Safety Supervisor. Monthly base salary: 12,000 Aurelian Coins. Three meals a day provided. One day off per week.
"Heading to work?" the youth asked with a smile. "The Seventh Mining Sector elevator was just overhauled yesterday; it's running a lot smoother now."
"Y-Yes, yes," Jack hurried his steps. Only after putting some distance between them did he dare to glance back.
The alloy plaque at the Enforcer Station entrance gleamed coldly under the dim underhive lighting.
He suddenly recalled the words spoken fifteen days ago by the Governor in the dark red ceremonial uniform, standing on the judgment platform announcing the new policies:
From today onward, every level, every sector of Kent Hive will have forces dedicated to guarding order. These forces belong to no family, no merchant guild, no gang. They belong solely to all the laboring Imperial citizens on this land.
At the time, Jack thought it was just empty talk.
Now...
He patted his work badge again, then patted the "Basic Literacy Manual" he had just received from the community service center—free of charge, and it even came with a complimentary pencil.
"Maybe..." Jack muttered softly to himself, his steps toward the elevator becoming a little lighter.
At the same time, the Middle Hive Sector B Administrative Center.
This six-story building was originally the Middle Hive office of the Hysman Merchant Guild. The decor was luxurious, the marble floors polished to a mirror shine, but only upper hive nobles and guild executives had the right to enter.
Now, a new plaque hung over the main entrance:
[Kent Hive Middle Hive Second Administrative Sector Civic Affairs Hall]
The hall was bustling with noise and activity. All twenty service windows were open, with long queues in front of each one. Youth League members in gray uniforms sat behind the windows, patiently handling a variety of matters:
"You wish to apply to open a small food processing factory? Here is the application form. You need to fill in the estimated number of employees, product categories, and hygiene standards..."
"Child school registration? Please present your identification and proof of residence. We will arrange placement at the nearest public school..."
"Filing a claim for work-related injury compensation? Please describe how the accident occurred. We have a medical evaluation team that will verify it..."
A rest area was set up in the corner of the hall, providing free purified water. Although it was only basic filtration, to the residents of the middle hive, it was already a luxury.
An old worker in his fifties, sporting a scar across his face, sat on a bench in the rest area. He cupped a glass of water in his hands, his gaze somewhat distant.
Three months ago, he lost an arm in a mine collapse. The overseer from Adela's era simply tossed him two hundred Aurelian Coins and told him to take it or leave it. Yesterday, community workers proactively visited his home and brought him to a newly established public hospital to be fitted with a basic prosthetic limb. Although it was a crude mechanical arm, it could at least grip things.
Today, he came here to apply for a workplace injury pension.
The young woman behind the window finished reviewing his documents, looked up, and smiled. "Mr. Barnes, according to the Kent Hive Worker Rights Protection Regulations, your situation meets the criteria for a Class 3 workplace injury. The total pension amount is 100,000 Aurelian Coins, to be disbursed over thirty-six months. You will also receive an additional monthly stipend of 300 coins for prosthetic maintenance. Furthermore, if you are willing, you can enroll in the prosthetic operation training course starting next month. Upon graduation, you will be given priority placement for a mining safety supervisor position."
The old worker opened his mouth, but his throat felt as if something was blocking it.
This was the first time in his life someone had respectfully called him "Mister." The first time someone had told him he had rights.
"Th-Thank you." He stood up, bowed deeply, and wiped the corner of his eye with his mechanical arm as he turned to leave.
The young woman watched his retreating figure, then looked down and checked off a box on the registration form before tapping her data-slate to pull up the next applicant's file.
Her name was Leah. She had graduated from the Administrative Academy five months ago. Because she refused to pay the "employment fee" to the Hysman Merchant Guild, she could only work as a bookkeeper in a middle hive textile factory for a monthly salary of eight hundred coins.
A week ago, the Crimson Dawn publicly recruited administrative personnel, and she applied with the mindset of just giving it a try. The day before yesterday, she received her acceptance notice. Before starting the job, she underwent a two-day crash course. Her instructor was a member of the Crimson Dawn named Blood Angels' Second Emperor.
He was incredibly handsome, and his speeches were highly infectious, saying things like, "We are making history." At the time, Leah thought he was exaggerating, assuming they were just motivational words. But now, watching the old worker leave, she suddenly began to understand what "making history" meant.
–
Upper Hive, Governor's Office, 9:00 AM.
Inside the top-floor conference room of the former Adela Governor's Office—now renamed the Crimson Dawn Governor's Office—the atmosphere was completely different from half a month ago.
Back then, the room had been packed with players sporting bitter expressions, mountains of documents piled in front of everyone. The air had been thick with the despair of 'I'd rather go back to the real world and be a corporate slave than deal with this bullshit.'
And now.
"Tax Bro, stop grabbing! That chocolate cookie is mine!"
"Bullshit! It doesn't have your name written on it!"
"Holy crap, Schrödinger Bro, when did you sneakily upgrade your neural reflexes? That hand speed just now..."
"Cog Bro, don't just stand there watching, judge this fairly!"
Around the long conference table, over a hundred and twenty core Crimson Dawn players sat. On the table sat a "Warhammer Universe Limited Edition Snack Pack" redeemed from the System store, costing a whopping five hundred Imperial Coins.
Tax Bro and [Did White Scars Speed Today?] were currently engaged in a friendly negotiation over the last chocolate cookie. Schrödinger Bro was slowly sipping black tea.
Blood Angels' Second Emperor was writing something down in his notebook, while the blue light of Cogboy's mechanical prosthetic eye flickered, as if he was processing something.
Paul sat at the head of the table. Watching this scene, a smile curled the corners of his mouth.
Half a month.
Counting from the day of the Execution, a full fifteen standard days.
The colossal machine that was Kent Hive, which had been stalled for twenty-five years, was finally beginning to turn its gears once more under the almost maddening push of the players.
"Alright, everyone settle down." Paul tapped on the table. The sound wasn't loud, but the conference room fell silent instantly.
Everyone looked toward him.
"The meeting officially begins." Paul brought up a holographic projection displaying a three-dimensional model of Kent Hive. Every level and sector was highlighted in different colors, with data streams scrolling down the side.
"First item on the agenda: a summary of the progress over these past fifteen days." He paused and began reading the data. "Administrative system reconstruction completion rate: 87 percent. Across all levels and sectors, we have established a total of 1,327 Enforcer Stations and 121 Enforcer Bureaus, all staffed by Aurelian Youth League members. So far, we have processed over 14,000 criminal cases and over 52,000 administrative violations. We executed 31,433 underhive gang core members and die-hards by firing squad, and arrested over 53,000 individuals, of which 21,900 were sent to the mining sectors for penal labor after their trials. The civic affairs centers in every administrative district are fully operational, staffed by a total of 83,000 Youth League members and academy graduates, processing an average of over 150,000 civic applications daily. We have built 147 public schools and enrolled over 190,000 school-age children. The curriculum utilizes standard Imperial basic primers supplemented with materials compiled by the Crimson Dawn. The first phase of the medical system's construction is complete, with 38 public hospitals and 1,120 community health clinics established, cumulatively treating over 2.3 million patients."
With every statistic read, the players' expressions grew a degree prouder.
Behind these numbers were the results of their sleepless, relentless efforts over the past half-month. Even though the majority of the concrete work was carried out by the Youth League and native officials, the direction was set by them, the framework was built by them, and whenever they encountered tough obstacles, it was they who took the lead to crush them.
"Of course, there are also quite a few problems," Paul continued, changing the subject. "The four major factions have secretly cut off all supply lines to Kent Hive. Food, medicine, industrial consumables, even water purification units—they're withholding shipments across the board. They want to use a resource blockade to force our submission."
Tax Bro sneered. "Force our submission, my ass! We have potatoes! With the System store around, we can exchange for anything."
"Correct," Paul nodded. "The potato planting area at the Crimson Dawn base has already expanded to 8,800 square kilometers. We expect another harvest in half a month, which will resolve thirty-five percent of the hive's food shortage. Furthermore, Kent Hive itself has massive promethium mines. Through Captain Karon's connections, we've traded ore with other hives for basic supplies. Even though the prices were suppressed by thirty percent, it's at least enough to keep us afloat."
He brought up another set of data. "Most importantly, after improving the labor conditions, the ore output hasn't dropped; it has actually increased. The output for the first fifteen days of this month grew by sixty-two percent compared to the same period during Adela's era, and refinement purity increased by seventeen percent. Captain Karon passed along a message yesterday, saying Primarch Ferrus Manus is satisfied with our management efficiency."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the conference room.
The Primarch's attitude was the key. As long as the Iron Hands Legion didn't intervene, no matter how much the four major factions jumped around, they couldn't turn the sky upside down.
"Second item," Paul said, turning off the holographic projection and looking at the crowd. "Rewards for players who performed exceptionally over these fifteen days." He smiled. "Those five hundred million Aquila Coins—with the assistance of the Iron Hands Legion, they've basically all been converted into hard currency like ore and rare metals, which we then exchanged through the System store. Total exchanged amount: 213,000,000 Imperial Coins."
As his words fell, sounds of sharp inhales echoed throughout the conference room. Even though they were mentally prepared, this number still far exceeded everyone's expectations.
"According to the previously decided distribution plan: one-third will be invested in the hive's reconstruction, one-third goes to the Chapter's funds, and one-third will be distributed among all the players," Paul continued. "The hive reconstruction funds will primarily be used for infrastructure, medical care, education, food procurement, and rebuilding the PDF defense forces. The Chapter's current fund balance: 87,000,000 Imperial Coins."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across every single face. "I propose we take out sixty million to strengthen our armed forces. Of that, forty-two million will be used to sponsor seven players to undergo the complete Astartes augmentation surgery. Note that this is a sponsorship, not a free handout. The players who accept this sponsorship will need to pay it back in installments from their future mission earnings after becoming Astartes—interest-free, of course. The remaining eighteen million will be used to purchase heavy equipment."
A sharp glint flashed in Paul's eyes.
"It's about time our Crimson Dawn got its own heavy firepower. Thunderhawk gunships, Land Raiders, even Imperial Knights... the store has them all. They're just expensive. But the cost isn't the issue; the issue is whether it's worth it." He looked at the crowd. "What are your thoughts?"
After a brief silence, the crowd spoke up.
"I agree!" Tax Bro was the first to raise his hand, grinning widely. "We should've done this ages ago! I've been going crazy wanting to pilot a mech! Don't forget, we were all tricked into coming here by the mech gimmick in the first place. I want to pilot a Titan!"
White Scars rolled his eyes. "The cheapest Titan in the store costs an eight-figure sum of Imperial Coins. You can't even afford a Dreadnought, and those cost nearly twenty million."
"What about you, Cog Bro?" Paul looked at Cogboy.
Cogboy's prosthetic eye flickered with blue light. "From a technical standpoint, we need heavy vehicles to maintain our deterrence over the hive, especially since the four major factions might bite back in desperation. From an economic standpoint, eighteen million is enough to purchase six Land Raiders or six Thunderhawk gunships. They're standard stock from the store, so their performance isn't as outstanding as the Mechanicus-modified versions, but they win in cost-effectiveness." He pulled up a list. "I recommend buying three Land Raiders and two Thunderhawk gunships first to form our initial armored detachment, leaving three million to purchase the corresponding ammunition and maintenance equipment."
Schrödinger Bro nodded. "I second that. The significance of heavy equipment isn't just firepower, but psychological deterrence. When the four major factions know we have tanks patrolling near the hive, their intimidation tactics will be dialed back significantly."
Blood Angels' Second Emperor put down his pen. "I have no objections. But the selection of the seven players receiving the sponsorship must be strictly fair and transparent. We can't let a rift form within the Chapter over this."
The player managing logistics, [The Most Incorruptible Logistics King of the Imperium], spoke up. "Our personnel in the logistics department might need to apply for a portion of the funds to purchase various machines for repairing the hive's infrastructure. This includes defensive turrets, basic concrete road construction, bridges, mechanical maintenance, and so on."
Paul nodded. "That will be allocated from the hive reconstruction funds. You guys just focus on development without worrying about the budget."
[The Most Incorruptible Logistics King of the Imperium] nodded in acknowledgment.
Female player representatives like [Studying Med is Worse Than Falling to Chaos] and [Teaching Nurgle How to Read in the Warp] chimed in one after another to offer their own opinions. They weren't particularly enthusiastic about combat, so they didn't care much about the seven Astartes quotas. However, they were exceptionally adamant about certain other aspects. They didn't have any selfish motives; it was primarily for the sake of the Crimson Dawn's public image and grooming standards.
Paul listened to everyone's statements, nodding frequently. This was exactly what he wanted to see: debates with a unified goal, individuality that still submitted to the bigger picture.
"Alright," he finalized the decision. "The selection of those seven players will use a combination of base contribution rankings and a public vote in the regional channel. The contribution data will be tallied by designated personnel and will be publicly searchable. The voting will take place in the regional channel, with one vote per player, lasting for twenty-four hours. This will ensure it remains open, fair, and just." He looked over at Schrödinger Bro. "Schrödinger Bro, you're in charge of drafting the specific scoring criteria. Post it on the channel before tonight."
"Understood."
"Cog Bro, you're responsible for purchasing the heavy equipment and setting up the subsequent maintenance team."
"Copy that."
"Tax Bro, White Scars, you two continue to handle the hive's security purge, especially those gang remnants hiding deep in the underhive. I don't want to hear any news of a gang resurgence next month."
"Don't worry, Paul! Consider it done!"
The meeting continued for another hour, discussing specific matters like ore trade details, food stockpile plans, and the expansion plan for the Youth League.
Finally, Paul stood up. "Brothers, we spent fifteen days forcing this hive city to begin its transformation. But this is only the beginning." He looked out the window. Under the dome's filtration layer, the upper hive sky presented an almost surreal azure blue. "The four major factions won't just let this go, the Imperial bureaucratic system won't remain silent forever, and even on the Legion's side... there might be unexpected variables. But no matter what, we've taken the first step. The road ahead, we walk together."
All the players stood up, their gazes unwavering.
At the same time, in low orbit, on the bridge of the Fist of Iron.
Ferrus Manus stood before the holographic star map, the starlight reflecting in his silver-gray pupils.
The bridge doors slid open, and First Captain Gabriel Santar strode in, his power armor thudding heavily against the metal deck.
"Father." He stopped five meters behind the Primarch and bowed. "Urgent orders from the Departmento Munitorum."
Ferrus didn't turn around. "Read it."
Gabriel pulled up a data-slate. "Ordering the Tenth Legion, the Iron Hands, to proceed to the Cruz Blind Zone in the Segmentum Obscurus within thirty days, Standard Terra Calendar 976.M30, to execute an expeditionary exploration and conquest mission. Target system: Provisional designations Sector K-77 through K-83. Estimated to contain three to five uncontacted human civilization worlds and multiple colonizable planets. Mission priority: Alpha-level."
Ferrus's brow furrowed slightly. The Cruz Blind Zone was located on the edge of the Segmentum Obscurus, over a hundred and fifty light-years from the Aurelian System, infamous for exceptionally frequent Warp storms and unknown threats. Why would the bureaucrats sitting in their offices on Terra suddenly dump this kind of high-risk mission on the Tenth Legion, who had just completed a suppression campaign against Warp heretics?
"The reasoning," the Primarch's voice was icy.
"The order's addendum explains: the Warp storms in that region have recently weakened abnormally, creating a window of opportunity lasting approximately three years. It is a precious chance for the Imperium's expansion. And the only Legion currently idle and in pristine condition is the Tenth." Gabriel paused before continuing. "Furthermore, the Departmento Munitorum has specified that the garrison duties for Aurelian IV will be taken over by the Ninth Legion, who have completed their previous phase of crusading and are currently en route to refit and resupply."
Ferrus slowly turned around. "The Ninth Legion... The Blood Angels."
Gabriel nodded. "Yes, Father. Primarch Sanguinius and his Legion are expected to arrive in the Aurelian System within ten standard days."
The bridge fell into a brief silence. Ferrus walked over to the command throne, his fingers lightly tapping on the armrest, the metal-on-metal impact producing a rhythmic clinking sound.
A coincidence? Or...
He recalled the look in the eyes of that hive governor named Cage Lawrence sixteen days ago, as he stood before him and calmly uttered the words 'Phosphex Cannon Penalty.' He recalled the data reports from the past half-month, showing that Kent Hive's ore output hadn't decreased, but actually increased. He recalled Karon's private report stating that although those Crimson Dawn people acted radically, their efficiency was undeniably high.
The Ninth Legion, the Blood Angels. A Legion renowned for valuing honor and humanitarianism. If they saw the reforms currently taking place in Kent Hive, how would they react?
"Father?" Gabriel asked tentatively.
Ferrus raised his head, an imperceptible flash of complexity glinting deep within his silver-gray pupils.
"Reply to the Departmento Munitorum." His voice returned to its usual icy composure. "The Tenth Legion accepts the directive. Once the Ninth Legion's relief forces arrive to take over the garrison, we will immediately depart for the Cruz Blind Zone."
"Yes, my lord." Gabriel bowed, turning and leaving the bridge.
Ferrus looked back at the holographic star map, his gaze landing on the location of the Aurelian System.
"Sanguinius..."
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Another Big one - 3556 Words.