Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

But whose strength was left to borrow? That pack of daemons?

They wouldn't mind doing it, but daemons were, more often than not, not exactly the sort you could hold a conversation with.

"Maybe our only option is to contact the Raid Commander. I hear he's already revising his own plans," Malik said.

"His revising his plans has nothing to do with us needing to sow chaos. Contacting him directly would be admitting our failure!" The pride of a Caliban Knight would not let Efron approve of such a course. "You'd just give up like that?"

Malik merely gave an indifferent shrug. "Whatever. It's not like I've ever won much anyway."

Efron's wide eyes glared into Malik's narrow ones, and once again they felt the ideological rift between their differing Legions.

But at that very moment, some faint static caught by their helmets drew their attention.

The sound was like a whisper, and also like the hiss of wind slipping through a narrow crack. They looked up sharply, and Malik slipped into the shadows first. A moment later, he returned with an unpleasant piece of news.

"A Tzeentch apostle is closing in on us with a band of Horrors."

"How did they find us?"

"No idea, but there's no way they'll catch us."

The two of them intended to evacuate the safe house at once. But a voice that suddenly appeared inside their heads brought them to a halt.

"Cease your actions," Koda said. He was the sorcerer who had only recently joined the warband. "This is an opportunity for contact."

"Cooperate with a Tzeentch daemon?" Malik retorted sarcastically. "Koda, if you want to play lapdog to that blue bird-headed thing, just go back yourself. Don't make us your sacrifice!"

"This is the Raid Commander's order."

Hearing Koda's words, the two of them stopped moving in unison.

They pretended not to notice the Tzeentch daemon approaching, then, after formal contact was made, they displayed such overwhelming might that they hacked several Horrors to death within the span of a few seconds.

The Tzeentch apostle recoiled again and again in fright. Weaving defensive spells even as he did so, he loudly stressed, "Don't fight, my lords, don't fight! I've come to negotiate terms!"

Efron's blade stopped at the apostle's throat. "Terms? From the likes of you?"

The Tzeentch apostle stammered, too afraid to speak. He merely cast a projection magic, allowing the steward to meet with them in person.

Ayash appeared courteous and refined. "Honoured lords of the Astartes, sending them to make contact is part of my sincerity."

"I know you. You're the planetary governor's steward. But these daemons..." Malik put on the air of someone who had only just realized something. "I'd say leaving each other in peace is already the most sincere way for us to get along."

"Leaving each other in peace can never achieve a mutual victory. Your performance has already shown me the room for such a win. I only wonder—for what reason have you lords come to this planet?"

Efron and Malik exchanged a glance. Malik took a step forward, deliberately displaying the human skin worn upon his body, a chilling smile spreading across his pale face. "For a hunt, of course."

Disgust flashed across the steward's face, but he concealed it well. "And how did the hunt turn out for you, my lord?"

"Very poorly. First there were a batch of opponents dull as stones, then daemons came and muddled up my hunting ground. I've already been planning to leave this planet. There's no point in staying here any longer."

"My deepest apologies for failing to satisfy your refined tastes. But I believe this is the very basis of our cooperation."

Ayash clapped his hands, and within the psychic realm he conjured a projection of Lin.

"I wonder how much you two lords know of this one? He is a Mechanicum sage who arrived alongside the Imperial Fists, and he is the key to this whole upheaval."

Malik remained noncommittal. "And?"

"I want him dead."

Ayash's tone turned grim. "He ruined the ritual we were offering to the Lord of Change. I must make them pay the price for it. My lords, if you can assist my plan, I will prepare a suitable reward for you upon your departure."

"We could simply leave as well. You don't imagine you could stop us from seizing a ship to escape on, do you?"

"Believe me, that would be nothing compared to what I can offer."

"I'm not the sort who's so easily persuaded..."

Ayash said nothing. He merely projected an image of a Cobra-class destroyer moored in the harbor.

This small destroyer, one and a half kilometers long, was the most widely used vessel in the Imperium below the Lunar-class cruisers—though not just anyone could get their hands on one.

The expression on Malik's face instantly turned eager. "I've always been the type to go through hell for a friend."

"It's moored right there in the spaceport. Believe me, so long as you cooperate with me, nothing will stop you from leaving with that destroyer."

Trading a destroyer for the intervention of two Astartes—anyone would call that generous.

Malik and Efron reached an agreement with Ayash as a matter of course. Even after Ayash departed, they could scarcely believe the matter had gone so smoothly.

"We were going to intervene anyway, and now we get to scoop up a destroyer on the side?" Efron found it a little hard to believe.

"Perhaps he never intended for me to actually walk away with the destroyer. But it doesn't matter—at least there are no longer any obstacles to our next move."

"You think this was part of the Raid Commander's plan too?"

"Perhaps. After all, he is an Alpha."

Even in such perilous conditions, the underhive dwellers still summoned tremendous courage to build a battle line in the lower hive.

Though daemons had already invaded the hive city, the main force here was not the daemons.

Tzeentch daemons were not inclined to simply plunge a hive city into ruin and the flames of war; they preferred to make pawns of the teeming multitudes. Under their manipulation, the mortals who submitted to the daemons—whether through daemonic seduction or coercion—were the greater threat.

The factory overseers who had once hoarded weapons to line their own pockets were slaughtered without mercy by the daemons. Cackling, they pushed those weapons into the hands of the common folk, sowing chaos and suspicion among the crowds, then let those civilians gun down their own kin in their panic with the very weapons they themselves had manufactured.

After Lin's army pushed into the lower hive, they manipulated these civilians into gathering together, and, possessing human bodies, used lies to lure them into banding up and launching an attack on Lin.

"You've already been exploited into destitution by those upper-tier nobles, and now you must also fend off the pillaging of underhive rabble? Take up arms! Only you yourselves can defend your own wealth—and perhaps, seizing this chance, you might even..."

With just a few words, they drew out the greed within human nature.

Those who had once been civilians took up the weapons provided by the Tzeentch daemons and hurled themselves arrogantly into the army of rebellion, letting the fires of chaos spread to every corner of the midhive and the lower hive.

They also tried to seduce the underhivers while these civilians warred against them, but the ever-victorious tactic of turning circumstance to advantage was firmly rejected by the underhivers.

"We have no need of false beauty!" They still remembered Lin's teachings. "Because we are on the road to making everything better!"

The corruption of Chaos seeped into every crevice, but this was, after all, a planet still in the real universe, not yet dragged into the Warp. So long as one's will remained firm, corruption would not take hold within a short span of time.

The daemons' skill at inciting hearts was indeed formidable, but the incited civilians, even with weapons in hand, were nothing more than armed mobs fighting each for themselves upon the overflowing darkness within human hearts. They could form no systematic resistance. The underhivers, though only beginning to take the rough shape of an army, held an overwhelming edge simply by understanding how to obey orders.

Though the scattered exchanges of fire had never once ceased, the tide could no longer be stopped.

The daemons had indeed reaped considerable spoils in this conflict, but their rate of harvesting souls only kept pace with the rate of the underhive army's advance. Within a few days, this underhive coalition had already pushed to the central band of the lower hive, bearing straight down upon the industrial hub between the midhive and the lower hive.

It was only here that Lin and his army met resistance worthy of the name.

Clad in a CMC powered suit, Neos led his company in an advance through the lower hive. He threaded through the ruins, his company close behind.

Though he was nominally the colonel of the underhive regiment, Neos was clearly more suited to leading from the front in person.

The CMC light powered suit production line Lin had brought was not high in output. Though he was never stingy about arming the forces under his command, the number of power armour was only enough to equip figures of commander rank; the remaining soldiers could only wear simple carapace armour and gas masks.

Even so, their level of equipment was superior to that of their opponents.

Unlike others who had been at a loss when first handling this high-tech gear, Neos used the equipment with practiced ease.

Listening to the gunfire echoing from the passage ahead, he activated the scanner in his helmet. The thermal scan gave him feedback first.

About two platoons' worth of opponents. Their formation was fairly orderly—clearly they had received a degree of military training. From their movements, they seemed to be pursuing someone.

Neos raised his gauntlet, signaling the unit to halt. He warned in a low voice, "Prepare for contact. Hold formation, mind your crossfire."

The opponents they anticipated soon appeared within their view.

"Is that the Planetary Defence Force?" Corporal Faraday, once a member of the Planetary Defence Force himself, let out a small cry of alarm. "Their condition looks all wrong..."

Those two platoons of enemies did indeed wear Planetary Defence Force uniforms, only the original olive green had been replaced by an eerie indigo blue. Such opponents left the soldiers a little bewildered, but fortunately Neos read the situation at a glance.

"They've already been corrupted by daemons. Open fire!"

The recoil of the Dakka Gun rattled its user's head a little dizzy, but its power matched its kick. Nearly an entire platoon of enemies was torn apart directly by the Dakka Gun's rounds.

The sudden assault did not throw the enemy into panic. Most of the survivors dropped to the ground on the spot and began to return fire, while some pushed forward logging guns fitted with ballistic plates to seize good firing positions.

Their movements were chillingly synchronized, like puppets manipulated by a single string.

Neos stepped forth boldly. The C-14 Penetrator gauss rifle in his hands effortlessly punched through the ballistic plates, riddling the enemy's heavy weapons team into a sieve.

But a figure clad in finely crafted power armour lunged over, signaling for everyone to keep their heads down.

"Keep your distance." The one being hunted called out loudly. "There's a daemon behind them!"

As the warning came, the surrounding temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Snickering whispers began to echo in everyone's ears. The wounds of those obviously manipulated Planetary Defence Force soldiers stopped bleeding, instead oozing steaming blue grit.

"Did you think you could escape, dear Inquisitor? You are neither a Psychic nor willing to use daemon weapons. What price do you suppose you must pay to shake free of my pursuit?"

Vladilena did not answer. Ever since her whereabouts had been exposed, she had been hunted relentlessly by Ayash and the daemons. Though she had managed to destroy a few, the hive city, now a hotbed of Tzeentch, always let them stage a comeback.

She raised her bolt pistol and fired at the soldiers possessed by the daemon.

But even this consecrated firearm could no longer withstand the ceaseless waves of corruption. Its grip began to warp, nine bleeding eyes opening at the handle.

Lena had no choice but to discard her bolt pistol.

Seeing her sorry state, the daemon let out a smug peal of laughter.

"First your attendants, then these underhivers. For the sake of your life, just how many more people do you intend to sacrifice?"

The daemon cackled with a bizarre, grating laugh. "But I don't mind at all. Before I plunge you into utter despair, let me offer all of this to the Lord of Change!"

He spread open his palm, and formless psychic power coiled around the underhivers' weapons—clearly he meant to pull the same trick again.

Neos was utterly unafraid. He raised his gauss rifle to continue firing, but Vladilena at his side seized hold of him.

"Are you insane? What you need to do right now is find cover, then cover my retreat!"

"No. I will not keep fleeing."

The Inquisitor could not for the life of her understand what this man was saying. The Tzeentch daemon, meanwhile, savored the infighting between two mortals. Delighted, he leisurely unleashed his psychic power, intending to sweep up all these mortals in one net—but a surge of green psychic power backlashed against his confident move.

The Tzeentch daemon felt, in stunned horror, a wild psychic force recoil straight into his own mind. The intensity of this backlash was so severe that it even set him screaming.

His voice carried bewilderment and fury from the injury. "What is this thing?!"

Still somewhat dazed, he tried to strike back, but in the brief instant he was cut off, Neos had already shot through the heads of every corrupted one.

The stabbing pain of being forcibly severed made the daemon feel as though its very soul were being scorched. In agony, it retreated back into its own body, wanting to leave for the time being. But that searing sensation traced along the psychic network lines through which he controlled the soldiers, chasing all the way back to his true form.

"No, no!"

This uncanny method of deregistration across the network lines set the ignorant, low-ranking daemon screaming. He struggled desperately, but was swiftly burned into a heap of ash.

No one knew that this daemon, which had left for the moment, would never return again. Once the immediate crisis was resolved, the soldiers began to murmur among themselves.

"Doesn't seem all that impressive, does it?"

"Yeah, no idea how it just toppled over on its own. We hadn't even put any effort in."

"Then how did this guy in such gorgeous power armour get thrown around like that?"

Lena, too, had not expected that troublesome sorcerer to be beaten back so easily. She was a little bewildered, but had no time to dwell on it.

Facing the murmuring underhivers, she revealed her Inquisition insignia and sought out Neos, who had just given such a stunning performance.

"By your bearing you're a colonel? I am Inquisitor Vladilena."

She revealed her identity as was customary, only to find the other's face utterly expressionless. This made Vladilena begin to doubt whether he even knew what an Inquisitor was. "Do you know what an Inquisitor is?"

Even in the year 32K, with the Inquisition only just over a thousand years old, the fearsome name of an Inquisitor had already spread throughout the sea of stars. The upper and middle tiers of the hive city had, to varying degrees, heard the rumors and whispers about them that could hush a crying child.

But considering this was a man Lin had dragged up from the underhive, Lena thought it no wonder if he didn't know.

To her surprise, the other man actually nodded. "A flock of headless flies who think themselves clever—thrashing about for a thousand years and still haven't learned how to point their swords at the true enemy."

"...Mind your words, colonel. Our conduct is not for you to judge."

"This isn't judgment."

Though he was merely a colonel, that man spoke with a certain air of looking down from on high. Vladilena very much wanted to teach him an unforgettable lesson, but some corner of her heart kept reminding her that she must not.

...Perhaps because other matters were a bit more important.

She gave up pressing the issue with Neos. "I'll overlook your impertinence, colonel. But there is one thing you must tell me."

"Lin—where is he now?"

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