Lycaeus did not lack manpower; millions of slaves were their soldiers; these trampled souls had long since cast aside any fear of death.
Erin said quietly, "What we lack are weapons. We're unarmed. We can't even piece together a single decent gun."
Lycaeus was not a habitable world. Endless mines and refineries stretched across its barren landscape, while the rumbling industrial production lines lay far away on Kiavahr. All Lycaius had were bottomless mining pits and refining plants that ceaselessly consumed ore.
The ore pried from the planet's depths by the slaves was smelted and refined in the furnaces, turned into crystals that glittered with metallic sheen, and then sent, along the gravity well that spanned between Lycaeus and Kiavahr, endlessly, to that greedy planet.
That invisible conveyor woven by gravity was Lycaeus's only lifeline, and the chain Kiavahr clamped around its throat.
Every gram of refined ore's transportation route was naked exploitation of Lycaeus; every siphoning of the gravity well was the merciless sucking of a colonial system.
To move that system by force was a fool's dream. The overseers monopolized the instruments of violence; their arsenals were full of live-fire handguns, shotguns, and las rifles, while the slaves had nothing, not even the chance to touch a weapon.
Shalokin said, "Even without guns, explosives can still kill. It's not like we have any other choice."
Corax looked at Shalokin with a complex expression. These children were all brought by Caelan; Caelan had taught them carefully, and they had not disappointed his expectations.
Corax said, "Though explosives can't match the overseers' standard rifles, they can at least somewhat narrow the tech gap between us and the overseers."
Erin frowned. "But we don't have much. Even though we've managed to save some explosives, it's not enough."
Explosives were used to open mines; no matter how strict the overseers' control, they had to distribute some to the slaves. If the ore quota wasn't met, both slaves and overseers faced harsh punishment.
But the overseers' supervision was tight: every use of explosives had to be logged in detail, and quantities were calculated precisely by the Thinker system, down to fractions. The slaves could only occasionally stash small amounts of explosives by faking collapses or hoarding minerals, but the supply was limited and insufficient for anything large-scale.
Corax shook his head slightly. "I don't intend a widespread battle, nor do I need uprisings in every district. If the insurgents in just one district can take the Black Tower, victory is ours."
Explosives were a double-edged sword.
A las rifle might burn a hole in a wall; explosives could tear down an entire corridor and bury rooms along with it. Lycaeus had no atmosphere; destroying a district's sealed structures would be suicide.
Every detonation had to be calculated precisely. One wrong move could kill their own.
Beltan shouted, "Then what are we waiting for? Let's act now!"
Erin, quick on his feet, yanked the hotheaded Beltan back. He couldn't understand why the Tenth District would send him to such an important meeting.
Was it just because he once asked Beltan to deliver a message for them?
Well, that was only because there was literally no one else available!
Corax slowly raised his eyes; his voice was like edged ice. "Start an uprising now? Then tell me, what's the next step of your plan?"
Beltan suddenly stopped speaking; his lips moved a few times and then stiffly shut.
"Revolution is not an arena for reckless bravado. What we need is combat with the precision of clockwork gears, not the hot blood of a rabble."
"Other districts don't need to attack the Black Tower directly, but they must control the overseers within their districts. That requires each district to build a tightly organized army."
"Even if we capture the Black Tower and liberate Lycaeus, the supplies that keep millions of Lykaeans alive all depend on Kiavahr. If Kiavahr's supply is interrupted, millions will fall into famine in an instant."
"Every 365 standard days, Kiavahr sends supplies to Lycaeus through the gravity well, tons of water tanks and sealed food pods that can meet Lycaeus's needs for an entire year."
"The best window for an uprising is within 48 hours after the supplies are unloaded; at that time, overseers will send many hands to inventory the goods, and their vigilance will be lower."
"Did your plan take these critical factors into account?"
Beltan's throat seemed choked; he opened his mouth but could not make a sound, his face flushing red. He simply had no plan.
Erin timely changed the subject to bail him out. "The next resupply is roughly 87 standard days away; until then, we continue the strikes as usual?"
Corax nodded, "Yes, but the strike frequency must be strictly controlled to avoid escalating tensions and to prevent overseers from using brutal suppression. After this collective strike, each district must present a submissive posture to avoid bloodshed and to lower the overseers' vigilance."
"Every stage of the uprising needs meticulous preparation; the tighter the timeline, the more precise the operational plans must be. This concerns the fate of millions; every decision directly affects countless lives; there is no room for recklessness!"
The head of District Seventeen spoke cautiously: "May we make a request?"
Corax nodded for him to continue.
"We… we hope your father could also teach our children."
The request hung heavy in the air.
The District Seventeen leader was anxious; he knew his request was abrupt. Everyone understood the importance of education, but on Lycaeus, what could be taught to children was mostly explosives ratios, mine layouts, close-quarters combat, and the smallest amount of politics and philosophy. True knowledge, the light of civilization, was a luxury.
Caelan was Lycaeus's only proper teacher; pleading quietly was the only thing the leader could do for his district's children.
Corax was silent as stone, his face unreadable. Although he was pleased that the leader called Caelan his father, the request was a tall order.
"Father, what do you think?" Corax's voice softened a little.
Caelan smiled, "I have no objection. Teaching has always been my vocation."
Although Caelan came for the Primarch, teaching one person or teaching a group was the same to him; he had always done it. Besides, being a teacher was addictive, especially when Caelan watched his students grow skilled and liberate the world; the sense of achievement was unmatched.
Corax asked, "How do we get to other districts?"
Erin answered, "District management on Lycaeus is very lax. To save time, overseers never screen people returning from underground thoroughly; they do only rough headcounts. Even if a stranger slips into a district, they won't notice."
Corax raised his eyes slightly; of course, he knew this administrative loophole; he and Caelan had used it to slip into District Eight. But who reminded you of that?
…....
"An extra 10% explosive allocation? What do you intend to do?" The overseer stared at Erin with bloodshot eyes like two knives, trying to bore into him with that gaze.
Erin remained calm. "The supervisor requires us to deliver 10% more ore per shift. Without explosives, how can we mine?"
The overseer did not see Erin's true intention, but his eyes already brimmed with malice. If Erin hadn't struck for no reason, why would the supervisor have given him a whipping? The wound still oozed; every rub of cloth wrenched, tearing pain.
"I'll apply to the supervisor. Get out." The overseer felt conflicted about making things hard for Erin, but when it came to mining, he dared not be lax. Even the supervisor bowed to the ore quotas; if he tried any tricks, next time he'd be shot rather than whipped. If the quota wasn't met, none of them would escape death. The slaves had thus gripped their masters by the throat, yet they had no real remedy.
"Wait!" The overseer suddenly barked at Erin, a vicious glint in his eye. "Don't think I don't know what you're plotting. You'd better behave from now on. Try any tricks again and you'll pay."
Erin turned and walked back before the overseer, meeting that ferocious stare without yielding an inch. "Why should we strike?"
"Because we have nowhere to go. Our strike is to fight for the most basic right to survive. You needn't see me as your enemy; I never intended to be. If we each perform our duties, there'd be no conflict."
The overseer's gaze was still fierce, but his aggressive momentum waned. Erin was right.
Although the tech guild exploited Lycaeans, it did not stingily ration food, not out of mercy, but because of surplus value and production efficiency. Yet Lycaeus's people were still mired in hunger because overseers interfered.
They didn't care for those meager corpse-starch sticks; they indulged in the pleasure of exercising power. Though Lykaeans were at the bottom of the pyramid, the overseers themselves were trampled by supervisors and the tech guild; they could only lick their bloodied dignity by tormenting those weaker than them.
Erin returned to the cell, voice uncertain. "Will they believe us?"
Corax replied, "They don't need to believe; they need an attitude."
No matter how righteous Erin sounded, if he softened, the overseers would lower their estimate of him, and their vigilance would drop accordingly.
…....
"Today I'll teach you the Lucifer Effect." In District Nine's prison, Caelan faced the children in the cells.
"In certain situations, human character, thinking, and behavior can show astonishing, even abnormal aspects, especially the evil side of human nature."
"In ancient Terra, a psychologist conducted a controversial human experiment: the Stanford prison experiment."
"In that study, he recruited mentally and physically healthy, law-abiding college students; you can think of them as innocent kids like you. He randomly divided them into two groups: prisoners and guards, with some students as reserves."
"On the first day, everyone behaved. Guards even voluntarily shared their lunches with the worse-off prisoners. By the second day, they were already assuming their roles: guards realized their privileges and began to torment and humiliate prisoners who challenged their authority, becoming brutal and callous; the prisoners shifted from resistance to submission, fear, and mental breakdown."
Beltan asked, "Why? Was the guards' kindness fake?"
Caelan shook his head. "No. Their kindness was real, as was their cruelty."
"Why did they become like that?"
"Because power corrupts," Caelan said. "Environment shapes behavior. Even good people, placed in cruel systems, can become monsters."
"Those students were kind because they lived in a kind world. But the prison was different, a miniature society ruled by fear and dominance. The guards treated others as they themselves had been taught to treat the weak. The system rewired their humanity."
"But that's fake, they were students, weren't they?"
"The overseer and you are both humans, but when they swing the whip, will they hesitate because your blood is the same as theirs?"
Beltan lowered his gaze; silence pressed on his chest like a stone. He asked miserably, "Will we become like them?"
Caelan smiled softly, "If you keep your heart, you won't."
Beltan clenched his fist, eyes flashing with determination. "We will not betray our ideals!"
Caelan shook his head gently. "I believe you are good kids, but individual strength is limited. Solving oppression isn't just about hearts, it's about changing the environment."
"If human civilization is a prison, very few can keep their hearts; oppression then becomes inevitable."
"If civilization is a school, even with scheming and strife, it can still nurture innocence and goodness."
"I expect more from you all: keep your heart, and use your strength to reshape the order of the world and forge a bright future!"
The Warhammer universe was steeped in darkness because the Warp itself was a cesspit.
The Warp was beyond salvation. But the material universe… perhaps still could be saved.
The Great Crusade was humanity's grand campaign to reclaim glory; what Caelan did was to refine that glory, to fan the flames brighter. Even in this cesspit, Caelan hadn't forgotten his original intent; he believed if everyone contributed a bit of light, the world could still be a better tommorow.
If the material realm could move toward light and harmony, maybe one day it could even heal the Warp, turning the four Chaos Gods into four Gods of Order.
Of course, Caelan knew the hope was slim, but if he didn't try, how could he accept defeat?
Corax's eyes shone with resolve as he replied gravely: "There will be such a day. I promise you." He made that vow both for a dream and for his father.
….....
"Unfair! District Eight are traitors! We want 20 hours of rest too! We want corpse starch!" In District Nine, someone first shouted the slogan, and a massive strike swept across Lycaeus.
History repeated itself in District Nine. Workers silently gathered in halls, building a dam of flesh and blood shoulder to shoulder, the same silence, the same resolution.
The overseers' whips cracked in the air; workers were flayed, but no one stepped into the elevators.
Elena, who had suspected further strikes since District Eight's strike, squinted. This one came later than she expected, several weeks later.
Although the development was somewhat abnormal, before absolute power, any anomaly was a mere ripple.
"Second squad, proceed immediately to District Nine to suppress the riot, permit firing without warning. My quota is nine hundred bodies!" Elena's face twisted into a cruel sneer; she did not believe these slaves were indifferent to death unless the death toll was large enough.
The command echoed in the control room, then the communicator crackled: "Supervisor! Bad news! District Twelve is striking!"
"District Ten is striking!"
"District Seventeen is striking too!"
Elena sprang up; her chair crashed behind her.
The entire monitoring wall was swallowed by scarlet warning lights; two-thirds of the districts had struck at the same time!
Her pupils contracted; the word 'conspiracy' detonated in her mind. 'Such a large-scale strike could not be a coincidence; someone must be orchestrating it from the shadows!'
'Who started it?'
Her deputy lowered his voice. "Supervisor, the second squad is in position and heading to District Nine. Should we recall the order?"
Elena's fingers dug into her palm until blood seeped from the gaps. 'These lowly ants dared to gamble with their lives to blackmail the rulers, were they betting I'd be too cowardly to kill?'
"Second squad, reduce the quota, twenty bodies."
The order squeezed out of her teeth; the red glow from the monitors painted her face an iron blue. The slaves had called her bluff; her soft spot had been seized.
If anything went wrong with the mines and the ore supply faltered, her political enemies would surely exploit it. She wanted to kill those rioters, but she could not hand her rivals a pretext.
The mineral veins on Kiavahr were almost exhausted; Lycaeus's ore supply alone sustained the world's industry. The Black Tower's supervisor post was a plum job with many eyes on it. If she lost that position, the tech guild would not spare her.
"Supervisor, they won't be reasonable. Should we escalate?"
The second squad's suppression had failed; twenty corpses had not cowed the workers. What good would a few more corpses do? Even if District Nine's strike was crushed, what about the other districts?
"They want fairness? Then give them fairness. Every district leaves behind twenty corpses; only then is it fair!" Elena's voice was a poisoned blade. "Investigate thoroughly. Dig to the roots and find the snake fanning the flames in the dark! This domain belongs to me, I am its master!"
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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