Hive City Kuent, in an inconspicuous room at the top of the spire.
“What a cesspit of a world this is…”
Through his own line of sight, Heydrich could clearly see that his position was above the clouds.
And the gigantic planet beneath his feet was wrapped in an exhaust-laden atmosphere of some indescribable color.
The spire-top of the hive was full of birdsong and blossoms; here there was an independent ecosystem, along with an air-circulation and purification system.
In the mid-hive and the levels further below, even the air probably cost money—it was only because the people of Warhammer 40K were rather tough that they survived.
Swap them out for ordinary Earthlings, and the moment they arrived here their lives would likely begin counting down immediately.
One could even say that modern humans would be almost unable to breathe anywhere outside the upper-hive of a hive world—and that was precisely the most despair-inducing thing of all.
“My current identity is a squad leader in the sector governor’s family.
The power of the Path of Enigmata only lets me fabricate an identity of about this level.”
Taking a deep breath, Heydrich flipped his hand over, and more than a dozen special icons appeared in his palm.
But all of these icons were now utterly dim—only the one representing the Path of Enigmata was shining.
This was something his transmigration had brought along: the Path seed belonging to another worldview entirely.
It was just a pity that this world had no Paths at all, so every single step he took was widening this Path.
“It’s just a shame—the first Path seed I activated was Enigmata.
If only it had been Trailblaze.”
Staring expressionlessly at his Path seed, Heydrich withdrew it.
With the help of this Path, he had successfully fabricated the identity of a private soldier of a noble family.
Just like that, he had slipped unnoticed into the upper-hive—at least he didn’t have to head down to the under-hive and rut about with all those fine local lifeforms.
“No matter how you slice it, I’m a Pathstrider now.
Sure, I can’t compare to those Emanator-level beings.
I can’t even compare to the likes of Firefly and the Ten Stonehearts, who sit at almost the strongest tier just below the Emanators—but my combat power should be enough to match some Astartes.”
Flipping through the equipment in his hands, Heydrich kept thinking.
Beyond the special abilities the Path granted, a Pathstrider also possessed absurdly exaggerated base stats.
The strength of those stats could even directly shatter a planet—though, of course, he himself was still very far from that level.
But his situation wasn’t a big problem either.
As long as he kept walking along his Path, he would eventually reach a truly terrifying degree of power.
What’s more, for many top-tier Pathstriders, achieving immortality was no difficult feat.
“The finite cannot imagine the infinite; truth is in fact illusion.
And the most famous faction of the Path of Enigmata is the History Fictionologists.
Combined with the power of the Path of Enigmata, it means every identity in this world is something I assign myself.”
Thinking of this, Heydrich once again cast his gaze toward the polluted atmosphere outside the window.
The vertical structure of the hive city was itself a gigantic madhouse: the nobles of the spire-top trampled on the spines of the mid-hive workers, and the mid-hive workers in turn trampled on the heads of the under-hive refugees.
Under layer upon layer of exploitation, the under-hive had long since become a pot of boiling pus, where every manner of monster and demon could find its place—and sprout a few limbs that ought not to exist while it was at it.
Hive City Kuent had a population of nearly a hundred billion, with a vertical drop of over fifteen kilometers from spire-top to under-hive.
The less than one percent of the population in the spire-top occupied over ninety percent of the entire hive’s resource quotas, while the nearly fifty billion lowest laborers and refugees of the under-hive eked out a wretched existence like cockroaches amid the sunless steel ruins.
What made one’s scalp tingle even more was that this extreme, deformed structure had already been running on this planet for over four thousand years—and would continue to run, until the day the hive finally collapsed under its own internal pressure.
In a certain sense, the hive city itself was the most perfect breeding ground for the Chaos Gods.
Despair, hatred, madness, excessive desire—these negative emotions converged into a surging river that seeped down through the cracks of every level of the hive, finally settling and fermenting in that place in the under-hive deliberately forgotten by every member of the Legal Department.
To not produce a few cultists in a place like this—that would truly be like seeing a ghost.
Knock knock knock!!!
Just as Heydrich was lost in thought, a string of knocks sounded at the door.
This interrupted his train of thought, and after he opened the door, he saw a middle-aged man dressed in an expensive overcoat standing before him.
This was the steward of the local sector noble family.
He was also, under Heydrich’s current fabricated identity, his nominal superior.
“Mr.
Wells” (the name of Heydrich’s fabricated identity), “I have a task to assign to you.”
“As you command!!!”
Upon hearing this, Heydrich immediately replied.
Although he could discard this identity at any time, he was currently unfamiliar with the place and the people, and he didn’t have much in hand.
He was still trapped on this planet, so Heydrich chose to play this role well for now.
“Here are two pieces of intelligence; we need you to investigate them.”
As he spoke, the middle-aged man handed two envelopes to Heydrich, then turned and left without saying anything more.
Clearly he was very busy.
Although they were not high officials on this planet—merely members of a noble family faction—their everyday tasks were nonetheless extremely heavy.
The sector governor was like an octopus’s head, and they were the tentacle-tips extending out from those arms.
“Intelligence…”
Hearing this, Heydrich’s brow twitched, and then he slowly tore the envelopes open.
Inside were two pieces of content, neither long nor short, laid out before him.
The first: The upper-hive noble House Miltel has recently been frequently preparing banquets, and every six standard Terran days they hold a grand feast.
Investigate clearly what exactly they are doing.
The second: The under-hive’s Blood Glory Gang has recently been growing and expanding rapidly.
In the name of glory, they offer pure skulls to the Emperor.
By now they faintly show a trend toward growing strong and unifying the under-hive.
Assassinate their leader and find out what is going on.
“What in the world is this?
The upper-hive’s stirring up Slaanesh, the under-hive’s stirring up Khorne.
Shouldn’t there be a little bit of Tzeentch and Nurgle too?
Shouldn’t this stuff be reported straight to the Inquisition?
How did it end up in my hands?”
Looking helplessly at the messages in his hands, how could Heydrich not already know what was going on?
As for openly calling the dark gods by their more accurate names, that was no problem for him at all.
As a transmigrator, his soul was unlike that of the people of this world—it would not form any echo in the Warp.
As long as he didn’t end up like Magnus, making some deal with a dark god or sacrificing some part of his own body—and with the fabrication power of his Path of Enigmata as cover—the dark gods basically couldn’t lock onto him.
So Heydrich wasn’t particularly concerned about Warp corruption.
Of course, not concerned was one thing, but he still needed to be careful.
“Khorne and Slaanesh—those two are mortal enemies.
Let me think… Ah yes, it seems I have a rather good idea.”
Flipping through his own panel, Heydrich fell into thought, but very soon something seemed to light up above his head.
Because he had a rather good idea: weren’t Khorne and Slaanesh mortal enemies anyway?
Then all he had to do was add a bit of fuel to the fire.
Thinking of this, Heydrich took out his pen and paper, and then paragraph after paragraph of text began to appear on it.
The leader of the Blood Glory Gang is the posthumous son of the deceased elder brother of House Miltel’s patriarch.
Having lost in the struggle to seize the family’s headship, he was secretly arranged to the under-hive to await his chance for a comeback.
For the sake of revenge, he has sworn to castrate every male of House Miltel.
“A Khorne cultist castrating Slaanesh cultists—am I going a little too far here?
Forget it, no big deal.
As long as it can provoke a conflict, that’s enough.
As long as it forms a dynamic equilibrium, it’s just dog eating dog.”