Time trickled by.
Over the next few months, the change in the Lower and Mid Hives of Palatos Hive became increasingly apparent.
With two successive waves of personnel—sixteen million and thirty-two million respectively—deployed as Auxilia, the Astral Claws’ grip on the Lower and Mid Hives tightened.
Provided with a sufficient supply of corpse starch, the crime rates across both levels began a steady decline.
This was especially true in the Lower Hive.
As numerous anti-human gangs were liquidated and their leaders executed, the remaining gang members were absorbed as peripheral personnel.
The mortality rate of the entire Lower Hive dropped by a whole order of magnitude.
Several major engineering projects also began to yield results.
Water purification cycles and air filtration systems in many sectors were completed and entered trial runs, stripping toxins and pollutants from the environment.
While the pollution remained severe, for the residents of these Lower Hive sectors, it was a luxury beyond their wildest dreams.
When they breathed, there was no burning sensation, no feeling of suffocation, no sense of drowning, and no dizziness or nausea.
There was only a slight, hacking cough!
When they drank, there was no burning from mouth to stomach, no knife-like abdominal cramps, and no full-body convulsions.
It was just a bit scratchy on the throat!
To the people of the Lower Hive, this was no different from a dream.
In fact, they couldn’t have even dreamt of such a thing, having never experienced it; it was simply beyond their imagination.
These actions caused the trust the Lower Hive residents held for the Astral Claws to skyrocket, a phenomenon that in turn accelerated the progress of various construction projects.
As manpower became more plentiful, more projects were launched: the construction of surveillance networks, debris clearance, and road maintenance, among others.
Aside from a few delicate tasks, most of these projects were simple manual labor—essentially just moving things from one place to another.
After all, without the support of civilian factories and with a largely illiterate population, attempting complex engineering would likely result in staggering casualties.
Even if people died, their enthusiasm wouldn’t wane, but Huron was no demon.
He wasn’t in such a rush that he couldn’t wait a year or two, so he naturally started them on simpler tasks to gain experience.
The current engineering workforce had expanded slightly, reaching a scale of six billion people.
It essentially covered every household in the Lower Hive, which was a primary reason for the sudden surge in stability.
With food to eat, work to do, and a gradually improving environment, they naturally settled down.
As the “premium stock” selected by ten thousand years of Imperial rule, most Hive dwellers belonged to the category of people who remained obedient as long as they were fed.
Those who dared to cause trouble—regardless of the reason—had largely been culled by ten millennia of purges.
As for the natural-born monsters who took pleasure in torturing and abusing others?
Huron wasn’t without teeth.
Several million Auxilia had been designated as armed police rather than administrators, tasked with maintaining order in the Lower Hive.
Supported by the Boarding Special Ops Divisions and Astartes Companies, anyone who dared to stir up trouble was sent straight to the Emperor!
Indeed, besides the regular infantry divisions, Huron had trained several special operations divisions, each ten thousand strong.
They alternated between exercises and combat missions against gangs and mutants to grind experience, striving to reach Level 3 training proficiency as quickly as possible.
Furthermore, after months of production, the military industries had turned out over a hundred sets of Cataphractii Terminator armor.
Factoring in the Chapter’s existing hoard, the veteran companies of the two Great Companies finally had enough suits for every man.
They were now “Terminator Companies” in every sense of the word.
Such equipment was normally never deployed lightly, given its extreme preciousness.
But Huron didn’t care.
With a wave of his hand, he ordered the veteran companies to conduct their daily patrols in Terminator armor to accelerate their mastery of the suits.
In any case, with one suit of Terminator armor rolling off the line every day, even if one were damaged in an accident, it could be replaced immediately.
This development made life miserable for the various monsters and deviants of the Lower Hive.
Being hunted by Space Marines had been bad enough, but now Terminators were appearing.
What had they done to deserve being ganged up on by so many Terminators?
Under the combined daily suppression of massive armed police forces, elite special ops divisions, Astartes Great Companies, and Terminator companies, the accidental death rate in the Lower Hive plummeted.
Several previously “red-zone” hazardous areas were brought under the Astral Claws’ control.
In the lounge of the Astral Claws’ Monastery, Huron watched the rising stability numbers on his system interface and couldn’t help but hum a little tune.
The buffs provided by a stability rating of over 50% were quite respectable: [Support: +5%] [Factory and Shipyard Output: +5%] [Construction Speed: Increased (via civilian labor bonus)] [Military Industrial Capacity: Increased] [Frigate Repair Time: -20 days]
More importantly, seeing high stability made him feel good.
“If stability was low before I came, and it’s still low after I arrived, wouldn’t I have come here for nothing?”
Having transmigrated into the cesspool that was Warhammer 40k—and into the body of Lufgt Huron, the Astartes destined to turn traitor—his mental stress had never been low.
Even with the system, he hadn’t been sure of its strength.
What if it was some useless “cat-style” system that only knew how to turn into a human and wait for a beating?
Then the two losers would have been stuck in prison together.
Fortunately, the system’s functions were powerful.
In less than a year, he had accomplished so much.
Huron popped a few grape-like alien fruits into his mouth, chewing as he admired the data on the system panel.
Over six hundred armed police divisions, six special ops divisions, two Astartes Great Companies, and a stockpile of over two hundred MK7 Power Armor suits and six Terminator suits.
“Today is a good day, a truly wonderful day…”
He had just hummed two lines of off-key lyrics when the lounge door was knocked.
Huron’s face immediately contorted into a mask of pain before settling back into an expressionless void.
“Come in.”
Odinsen pushed the door open, his expression somewhat strange.
“Chapter Master, the former Planetary Governor, Valen Watt, has invited you to a banquet.”
“?” Huron looked surprised.
“Inviting me now?
Did he say why?”
“He said he wishes to discuss how to handle those…
‘unrestful’ nobles.”
“Unrestful?
I’d say he’s the most unrestful noble of them all.”
Huron was speechless.
Valen, who spent every day colluding with other nobles in meetings, actually had the gall to call others unrestful.
It almost made him laugh, which explained Odinsen’s odd look.
“So, Chapter Master, are we attending this banquet?”
Huron pondered for a moment.
“Yes, why not?
I want to see what he’s up to.
But we need to prepare first.”
Huron took the invitation from Odinsen, checked the time, and then commanded, “Arrange for Corian and his First Company to accompany me.
Put all troops on high alert, ready for deployment at a moment’s notice.”
“Understood, Chapter Master.” Odinsen performed the Sign of the Aquila and left to make the arrangements.
Huron rubbed the intricate gold patterns on the invitation, curious as to what the man was planning.
“I hope he stays honest.”