At the temporary camp within the ruins of the Lower Hive— Roya stood beside a newly excavated underground shaft.
The experience bar at the bottom of his vision had just surpassed Level 60.
The battles fought by Phoros, Titus, and the others had provided him with an enormous amount of experience.
Without wasting a second, Roya looked toward the line of newly ascended Space Marines waiting quietly nearby.
“Twelve of you.
Step forward.” Twelve towering figures clad in newly issued Mk VII Aquila Power Armor immediately stepped out of formation.
Brilliant golden light burst from Roya’s body, instantly enveloping all twelve.
His Level 60 experience reserve vanished in an instant.
The light slowly faded.
Above each recruit’s helmet, a slowly rotating Grass Block icon appeared.
Their eyes became even more fanatical.
Even more utterly loyal.
“Take your pickaxes.” Roya pointed toward the deep shaft before him.
“Dig straight down.” “I need an underground chamber deep enough to farm a species of green slime.” “The construction materials are stored in the supply crates.” “When you’re finished, reinforce the tunnel with stone.” The twelve Space Marines responded without hesitation.
They carefully removed their valuable power armor, picked up iron pickaxes, and immediately transformed into tireless miners, disappearing into the depths below.
Those who had not been chosen couldn’t hide the brief disappointment in their eyes.
But it lasted only a moment.
They quickly straightened their posture.
If they performed well enough…
Lord Roya would surely choose them next time.
Middle Hive Thirty-First Avenue Transit Plaza Mountains of Ork corpses littered the battlefield.
Dark green blood flowed through the drainage channels like rivers.
The Count remained seated atop a battered ammunition crate, silently watching the towering Astartes advance through the ruined streets.
There was no relief on his face.
Only deeper despair.
“My lord!” An officer of the Astra Militarum rushed over excitedly.
“The defensive line is secure!” “The Orks are retreating!” The Count ignored him.
He slowly wiped the blood from the hilt of his power sword with his filthy sleeve.
His voice trembled.
“Four hundred Space Marines…” “Four hundred…” “Do you understand what that means?” The officer hesitated.
“It means the Emperor has blessed us?” “No!” The Count suddenly leapt to his feet.
His furious roar echoed across the battlefield.
“It means Hive Hephaestus is already beyond saving!” “The Imperium deployed nearly half a Chapter to this world!” “That means something far worse than the Orks is hiding here!” The officer’s smile disappeared instantly.
A chill ran down his spine.
The Count kicked an ammunition crate aside.
“What are you waiting for?” “Gather everyone who can still fight!” “Repair the defenses!” “Drag the Chimeras back into position and seal every breach!” At the front— Titus paid no attention to the panic behind him.
His bolter remained warm from continuous firing.
Behind his helmet lenses, his gaze rested upon the colossal transport elevator leading toward the Upper Hive.
“Advance at full speed.” Four hundred Space Marines immediately formed a wedge-shaped assault formation.
There was no need for cover.
No need for complex battlefield maneuvers.
Every Ork stronghold they encountered simply disappeared beneath overwhelming bolter fire.
The warriors who had once fought defensive battles were now conducting an unstoppable armored offensive.
Along both sides of the transit tunnels, countless civilians hid among the shadows, staring in terrified awe at the advancing giants.
Titus issued another order.
“Fifty brothers remain behind.” “Escort the civilians to Thirty-First Avenue Plaza.” “The rest…” “Continue advancing.” “We take the Upper Hive.” Less than half a day later— The final fortified Ork stronghold exploded beneath an overwhelming barrage of bolter shells.
Titus stepped forward.
With a single punch, his armored fist smashed through the massive blast door connecting the Middle Hive to the Upper Hive.
Sunlight streamed through magnificent stained-glass domes overhead.
The Upper Hive’s streets were broad and immaculate.
Statues.
Cathedrals.
Luxurious estates.
Yet the city was eerily silent.
No defenders remained.
Only scattered groups of confused Orks wandered through the abandoned streets.
Titus entered a noble estate.
The gates stood open.
Jewels…
Expensive clothing…
Precious ornaments…
Everything had been abandoned in haste.
A newly ascended Space Marine hurried over.
“Commander.” “Reconnaissance complete.” “The private spaceport is empty.” “Every shuttle has departed.” “The defensive batteries have been deliberately shut down.” “No organized resistance remains.” Titus’ expression turned ice cold.
“They fled.” The nobles had abandoned the hive.
When the Orks first invaded, the ruling class—those who controlled nearly all of Hephaestus’ wealth—had escaped aboard their private voidcraft.
To preserve power for themselves…
They had even shut down the lower hive’s defense systems.
“Cowards.” Titus spoke only a single word.
Kahn clenched his chainsword tightly.
“Those parasites deserve execution.” Meanwhile— Deep within the Lower Hive— Roya stopped mining as a report arrived over the vox.
The battle beneath the hive had reached a stalemate.
“Nurgle’s Plague Zombies?” He brushed the dust from his hands before turning around.
Three hundred newly ascended Space Marines stood waiting behind him.
Only hours earlier, they had still been ordinary humans, surviving the brutal transformation process inside the mud chambers while subsisting entirely on bread.
Now— Every one of them wore pristine Mk VII Aquila Power Armor.
Every bolter was fully loaded.
Though they lacked decades of battlefield experience…
The gene-seed of the Adeptus Astartes flowed through their veins.
More importantly— Every one of them possessed absolute loyalty to Roya.
“Take your weapons.” “You are with me.” Roya drew an iron sword from his inventory before striding toward the passage leading into the Underhive.
Three hundred newly created Space Marines marched behind him like beasts finally released from their cages.
Underhive Sewage Processing District This place no longer resembled a hive city.
Massive sections of the metal flooring had completely corroded away.
Pools of yellow-green sludge bubbled endlessly below.
The air reeked of decay.
Swarms of bloated flies buzzed continuously through the toxic atmosphere.
Chapter Master Phoros swung his power sword.
A bloated Plague Zombie lunging toward him split cleanly in half.
Boom!
Its swollen abdomen burst apart.
Corrosive pus splashed across a veteran Lamenter’s ceramite shoulder guard.
Smoke immediately hissed from the armor.
“Fall back!” “Maintain distance!” “Use flamers!” Phoros roared.
Beyond the narrow passage stretched an endless sea of plague-ridden corpses.
Thousands upon thousands of shambling dead advanced relentlessly.
They ignored pain.
They ignored explosive wounds.
Unless their bodies were completely destroyed—or burned to ashes—they simply continued walking.
There were too many.
The Lamenters’ assault had been completely stalled inside the narrow fan-shaped corridors.
Heavy armored footsteps suddenly echoed from behind.
Phoros turned.
Roya approached calmly, iron sword resting in his hand.
Behind him marched three hundred unfamiliar Space Marines.
“My lord!” Phoros’ face changed instantly.
He hurried over in alarm.
“Why have you brought the recruits?” “This is the Underhive!” “Nurgle’s corruption has completely consumed this place!” “They were still ordinary humans barely an hour ago!” “Their minds haven’t been hardened through decades of war!” “If they face the corruption of Chaos directly…” “They’ll fall!” Nearby, Sister Ilya swept cleansing flames across another wave of plague zombies with her holy flamer.
She turned immediately, her expression equally alarmed.
“My lord!” “This is far too dangerous!” “Against Nurgle’s corruption, newly ascended Astartes are almost certain to become infected.” “If they fall…” “They’ll only strengthen the enemy.”