…
The Pinnacle.
The Governor's Estate.
Anton strode through the underground corridors of the estate, faint shouts and thunderous gunfire echoing intermittently in his ears, the continuous roar of chainsaw guns never ceasing. All these sounds came from the audience hall, a clear sign of the fierce battle unfolding there.
"The Praetorians aren't easy to deal with," Anton muttered to himself. Yet he showed no panic, continuing his leisurely walk through the underground passage.
His attendant followed closely, observing the walls adorned with countless photographs—images of Anton's father with his mechanical hound and various wives of the hound.
It was evident that these women were wives of the hound because they all wore expressions of sorrow, their mouths altered into iron dog jaws and their hands replaced by iron dog claws.
This was the attendant's first time visiting this area with Anton, having only taken on the role half a year ago. Until now, he had only seen family portraits of the former governor, not pictures with the hound.
"Governor, why did your father… care so much for the mechanical hound?" the attendant couldn't help but ask.
Anton responded impassively, "About eighty years ago, our family ventured into the lower hive to hunt. My father brought his mechanical hound—a gift from a tech priest he was close to…"
The attendant nodded, understanding that for most hive nobles, hunting the living in the underhive was a common form of entertainment.
"We chased a family into a long-abandoned drainage tunnel filled with strange insect-like creatures and many bald men."
"The guards were killed, my mother was torn apart, and the hound was lost when one of the bald men nailed it to the wall with a pitchfork. In the end, only my father and I remained."
"When a creature opened its bloody maw to devour me, that injured hound charged in, protecting us and driving the monsters back."
"My father saw the hound as a blessing from the Omnissiah and the God-Emperor, especially given that it saved our lives. Thus, it became cherished by our whole family."
After hearing this, the attendant understood, thinking it no wonder the former governor was so fond of his mechanical hound. Even after it was slain by usurpers, he did not hesitate to sell off a district's population to fund the hound's restoration in Agripinaa.
"Governor…"
"Hmm?" Anton glanced at his attendant.
The attendant shuddered as he asked, "Why does the hound always have a new wife…"
"What do you think?" Anton retorted.
The attendant quickly closed his mouth, silently following Anton down the corridor.
For half an hour, they walked past picture after picture, each one showcasing the governor, the hound, and the hound's new wives, every half-meter down the corridor.
Eventually, they reached a large door.
Anton opened it with a drop of his blood, stepping inside.
The attendant scanned the dimly lit room and saw, seated on a throne of bones, a… creature.
It had limbs, grotesquely corpulent flesh, purple skin, and an enormous, bald head.
Anton bowed in respect.
The creature nodded in acknowledgment.
"After seeing the Praetorians closing in on us, I organized an attack on them," Anton reported deferentially.
"Imbecile," the creature's voice resounded directly within their minds, without opening its mouth. "You've blown our cover. If you hadn't acted, only you and your family would have perished, allowing others within the cult to lay low, awaiting the right moment… Now, you've sabotaged our grand design."
Anton frowned, displeased.
After all, he was still human, not one of these purple-skinned beings brimming with self-sacrificial zeal. Sacrificing his entire family for some so-called grand design was something he could not accept.
"What's the point of this?" the creature asked. "Do you believe you can stand against the Tyronians?"
"No, but at least we can resist," Anton retorted. "And what difference would it make if we hadn't acted? Would you survive the Tyronian onslaught and continue your grand design?"
The creature fell silent.
A minute later, it spat angrily, "Back in the underhive, it was I who spared you. Don't tell me you actually believe the hound could have saved you? Later, it was I who restored your family's governorship…"
"What are you trying to say?" Anton asked.
"What I mean is that, whatever happens now, we are bound together—tied as tightly as the segments of a hive!"
Anton nodded. "Yes, I understand that well."
"Enough," the creature commanded. "Now bring me food. I must gather my strength for the coming battle." It closed its eyes, ending the conversation.
Anton glanced at his attendant. "I've already brought you one."
…
Five minutes later.
A mountain of corpses rose within the vast audience hall.
Andred pulled the last enemy corpse from a wrecked tank, adding it to the heap, then set it ablaze.
After completing this grim task, Andred sat atop the burning pyre. His synthetic skin began to ignite, gradually exposing his metal skeleton, but he no longer cared. Most of his skin had been damaged in the previous battle.
The fight against the noble guards held no suspense; it was merely a relentless series of kills. Even as an official within the guards, he still possessed Praetorian combat capabilities.
"One… two…" Andred counted as he logged the family crests he had collected, recording them in his database, marking these traitorous families for cleansing.
Once all were noted, he tossed the badges into the flames and sent an urgent transmission to Qin Mo.
"Governor."
As Qin Mo's image appeared, Andred greeted him and detailed all that had transpired in the Northern Nest, finally proposing his plan. "I recommend purging the entire Northern Hive."
"I agree," Qin Mo replied, his gaze distant. "Yoan, the Space Marine, yourself, and Grey—you four should be sufficient to cleanse the hive pinnacle. Eliminate the traitorous families at the top, then direct the army to purge the lower hive and the depths."
"As you command," Andred saluted once more.
Qin Mo ended the transmission abruptly, clearly unconcerned by the emergence of gene-thieves within the Northern Star System.
The gene-thief presence in the Northern Hive was vast, far greater than Tyronia when it was still a hive… but these were different times.
**[Enemy forces detected.]**
A message appeared in Andred's vision.
In the map at the top right of his display, a dense swarm of red markers converged on the audience hall.
And soon, the first wave arrived—remnants of the noble guard and the tower's defense forces.
They surrounded the audience hall, establishing a barricade under the cover of armored units.
Andred sat atop the flaming mound of corpses, watching the spectacle with cold indifference.
Meanwhile, the battle in Lower District 100 had already concluded. Yoan and Chen Ye had teleported from the lower hive to join Andred.
As Praetorians, they shared information, so Yoan already knew the Lord of Tyronia's orders.
Grey, meanwhile, had sped through orbit on his Praetorian warship, entering Northern One's atmosphere to descend directly from orbit.
Those on the ground witnessed a fireball streak down from the sky, crashing into the audience hall.
In the smoldering ruins, a figure emerged—clad in Praetorian power armor, wielding half a chain sword.
The gene-thief officers present felt terror the instant they saw that half-broken chain sword. They could almost hear the anguished wails of their fallen kin trapped within the blade's teeth.
"Here's some bad news for you all," Grey's voice boomed, loud enough for everyone present to hear. "Ten minutes ago, I was teaching a young naval officer how to swim on Tyronia Three."
"And then, they called me here. So… thank you."
The only response to Grey was the barrage of lasers and solid rounds striking his gravitic shield.