Watching my guardians spar is fascinating. They move with inhuman speed, their motions a blur of power and precision. Each punch lands with a meaty crack that echoes across the training grounds, a visceral reminder of just how strong they've become.
It doesn't help that many of them chose Gorilla Arms as their additional cyberware — and they're not shy about using them during training.
But my eyes are drawn to Rita. She's just as fast as the others, but her reflexes set her apart. The others struggle to land a hit as she dances around them effortlessly. I don't know if she can dodge bullets, but at this rate, only an Astartes swinging at full strength could hope to tag her.
Speaking of Astartes… I'm still thinking about what the system told me: A proper Astartes-grade implant system. That's what it said, and I can't stop wondering. I know how powerful the Space Marines are supposed to be — demigods of war — but I've never seen one in real life. Only in fictional books from back home and the wiki page.
Some sources claim they move as fast as a car, while others describe them as blurs, faster than the eye can track—two completely different scales of speed.
I shake my head and push the thought aside for now. I summon my system and see the lone Silver Ticket. I use the Silver Ticket and watch as the gacha spins.
The gacha wheel spins for several seconds before coming to a stop.
[Tinker – Vehicles (I)]
|Common Ability|
This Tinker specialization makes you supernaturally skilled at designing, modifying, and building vehicles. The machines you create are marvels of engineering, though they cannot surpass the technological level of modern Earth.
I blink — then grin. Perfect.
I slot the new ability in and pause. Why is this only a Common ability? These blueprints include full-scale tanks! And with my other Tinker abilities, I can upgrade them. Don't even get me started on the aircraft. I can make an Apache Attack Helicopter and even Fighter Jets.
They cannot be compared to the aircraft of this era, but they are powerful enough to boost our force by a few levels.
Sure, the base designs are limited to modern Earth standards, but there's nothing stopping me from refining and improving them. The other tinker powers already supply me with numerous ideas I can use.
With this, I won't need to scavenge vehicles anymore — I can just build them. We can mount heavy weapons scavenged from the local PDF armory. We already have three heavy stubbers ready for conversion.
The only problem? While the blueprints include the vehicle's weapon systems, they don't provide instructions for manufacturing the ammunition. That means we'll need to produce it ourselves — and right now, we can't.
Hell, we've been relying on the railguns mounted on our drones for most of our combat recently. I exploited a loophole in my Tinker abilities: I can create drone weapons and then modify them into handheld and mounted versions. They are inefficient, but they are good enough for now.
Inspired by Tau rail weaponry, they use magnetic accelerators to launch solid rounds at supersonic speeds. Most are rifles, but some are machine-gun variants for the gunner squads. They hit hard — but they're resource-hungry, each round requiring dense metal to achieve the desired impact.
Fortunately, some of my people know contacts in the Manufactorum who can produce ammunition. They can supply us with one type of bullet for the right price. Hannah and her team have already left to trade some of our water and rations on the black market to fund the purchase.
They took a Tauros vehicle and should return in about ten hours. That's how long it takes to cross the hive city. Hive City itself is a nightmare of scale — a megastructure large enough to swallow nations.
Tertium Hive alone houses around ninety billion people. For comparison, Earth's total population in my previous world was about eight billion. That means, this hive city alone has more than ten times the population of Earth. I've barely scratched the surface of this place — killed only a handful compared to the teeming masses within it.
I thought that having a population of 1600 humans was already massive, but I was wrong. We're running out of space — both underground and above. I already expanded the overground base, and now it is a considerable fortress in the middle of a desert.
However, I've decided to move the overground facilities farther away from Tertium.
The current base is just two kilometers from the city limits. I plan to relocate it seventy kilometers out, to a massive metal graveyard — the perfect site for scavenging and concealment. I've already deployed cleaning drones created by [Tinker – Ecology] to clear the waste and radiation there. They should finish within a month.
Once everything's ready, we'll move the entire operation through a new underground tunnel system.
That's why this new Vehicle specialization is vital. We'll need transport capable of hauling personnel and supplies across the planet. Aircraft are out of the question — Tertium's anti-air defenses are far too dense — but ground vehicles will do just fine.
My train of thought breaks as the sparring session ends. The guardians are drenched in sweat and covered in bruises, yet they smile all the same. I press the comm switch and say:
"Alright, everyone. Head to the medical ward — I'll take care of your injuries."
I stand and stretch. After healing them, I will start making more cars. I think a truck will do for now. We need those to carry all the metal from the abandoned recycling factory. There are still millions of tons of metal in there.
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| Hannah — Leader of the Supply Gathering Squad |
"Oi! Don't screw with me, you gutter-born slag! Everyone knows water's worth more these days — and you hand me this measly pile? You think I'm a fool or what?!"
I grab the trader by his filthy collar and jam my autopistol under his chin. My squad raises their autoguns and railguns before the other side can even twitch. The man's expression tightens — sweat beads on his brow — but he keeps his voice calm.
"A'ight, a'ight, no need for drama. I'll make it square — one-three-two-oh thrones a liter. Fair's fair."
"Yeah, that's more like it. But that was last year's cut, chum. Prices have gone sky-high since."
"Tch! Fine, fine! Fifteen-hundred a liter — that's top rate. You want more, go find yourself an uphive trader."
I think for a moment, then nod. I lower my pistol, motioning for my team to ease off — but they keep their weapons ready. You never drop your guard in the Underhive. Not here.
"Alright, done deal. I've got twenty-five liters — best quality you'll find down here. Pure water. None of that foul-tasting sludge the Rat King's gang peddles."
One of my men drags a barrel from the Tauros and pops it open. The trader takes a scoop, sniffs it, then tastes it. His eyes widen immediately.
"Oi, where the hell'd you get this kind of stuff? This is uphive-grade! You cutting deals with the Enforcers or something?!"
"That's for me to know, not you. Now, are we doing business or not? I want my money in hand before you see the rest."
"Tch! Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. Here — take the creds."
I count the payment: three large bars (30,000 thrones), seven medium (7,000), and five small (500). All in order.
"Looks clean," I say. "I'll need something to store the water — a barrel or two. But those are ours, so they'll cost you extra if you want them."
"Bah! Don't need your barrels, woman. Got my own right here. Pour it in."
My squad transfers the water while the traders watch. A few minutes later, we're gone, heading deeper into the hive. Eyes are always watching in this place, so we keep alert. Some traders send rats to follow and rob the suppliers later.
"Think they'll tail us, Rita?"
Simon — ex-PDF — asks. He is her squad's sharpshooter. He holds a modified autogun in his hand that can fire further.
"Maybe. That bastard's not the type to backstab — he'll swindle you, but he won't gut you. Still, keep watch. Rats never miss a chance when big money's involved."
He nods.
This is why I hate bringing people from the upper levels. Especially soldiers like him. Too stiff. Too obvious. Underhivers will target them because they know people like him are coming from the upper hive. But they're my squad, and I trust them when the situation gets too hot — just like I trust everyone in Sanctuary.
And they deserve that trust.
Sometimes I wonder how Sanctuary works so well, but after living there for weeks, I get it. It's because of Lord Kael. He asked us to be kind to each other — said the world was cruel enough already. Be kind, he said, like a family.
And it's working. No traps in our quarters. No poisoned meals. No paranoia. Just… trust. Trust and kindness with each other.
He's changed us.
Even in the Underhive, where families sell their own for a handful of thrones, where kindness is weakness — he's managed to make people care.
Lord Kael is something else. A kind soul in a world that has forgotten what kindness is. A light in endless darkness. He lifted us out of the filth and showed us something better.
He is our light — our bonfire — and we'll guard that flame with our lives. This world does not deserve him, but I know he will offer his hand to anyone in need, just like he offered his hand to us. Therefore, it is our responsibility to ensure that no harm comes to him.
"Oi, captain. We're here."
I snap out of my thoughts. A massive structure looms at the tunnel's end. I step off the Tauros and motion for the others to wait. The guards at the door glare but don't stop me.
Inside, the air reeks of chems and rot. Men and women dance in cages, their eyes vacant. I notice the scars on their necks — drug marks, restraint wounds. Sex slaves, chemically broken. Their teeth are gone, their tongues surgically altered for… performance. I look down and click my tongue at the number.
They're worth less than water here.
Welcome to the Pleasure House. On the surface, it's a brothel. However, those who know the code are aware that it's also a black market.
I walk to the reinforced counter and nod to the clerk behind the glass.
"I need a drink."
He smirks. "What'll it be? We've got a fair spread — pick your poison."
"Keep it simple. Golden Water. Touch of Black Sand. Drop of Red Oil."
He studies me, then nods. "Alright. Come on through."
He gestures me to go through a side door. The guards inside are tense, their eyes locked on me. I know one wrong move will get me riddled with bullets. They are holding an autogun and a lasgun in their hands, something that you rarely see outside the Guards or the Arbites.
Even with Lord Kael's blessing, I doubt I'd survive that amount of bullets.
We move deeper into the backrooms until we reach a figure in red robes — a man with a familiar skull and cog sigil on his robe. Judging by how much flesh he still has left, he is a Low-ranking cog boy. Even his eyes are still human.
So the rumors were true—cog-boys dealing under the table. Guess even priests of the Machine God need thrones to rise through the ranks.
"What do you want?" he asks, voice filtered through static.
"I require heavy stubber and autogun ammunition."
"How much?"
"Thirty thousand thrones' worth."
He nods once, signaling his men. They bring out twelve large crates — six of each ammo type. I inspect the rounds; everything appears to be in order.
"The payment, human."
"Right."
I hand him the thrones. He put the thrones away, then gestured for his men to release the goods. We use the back door, and I walk to the rest of my squad to bring the Tauros to the back. We load the goods and drive away.
The cog-boys are strange — but they keep their word, and I know they will keep secret regarding this trade. If the rest of the Cog Boys know about this transaction, that man will be turned into a servitor, a fate worse than death.
Now we just have to get this shipment home.
And that… will be the hard part. In the Underhive, carrying wealth is akin to painting a target on one's back after all.
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