Taking advantage of the Orks' preoccupation with slaughtering other workers, Oak quietly moved toward the back door.
'These Underhive gangs are absolutely insane,' Oak cursed in his heart. 'It's like starting a disaster that destroys an entire city just to grab a patch of dirt.'
The logic of these gangs was incomprehensible. It was the equivalent of Chen Haonan summoning Gul'dan from World of Warcraft just to take over Causeway Bay!
Oak finally reached the back door. He took one last look at the slaughterhouse scene inside the factory, then turned and bolted toward home.
The streets were a scene of utter chaos.
Everywhere were crowds running for their lives and Orks in hot pursuit. Buildings were engulfed in roaring flames, and thick smoke blotted out the already dim sky. Oak moved forward while hugging the walls, avoiding the main streets. He knew every alley and shortcut in the Underhive—experience gained from surviving for years in this hellish environment.
In the distance, a tall tower collapsed with a thunderous crash, sending up dust like a curtain at the end of the world.
"Damn those gangs!" Oak gritted his teeth.
A blood-soaked man staggered out from a corner and collapsed in front of Oak. Half of the man's face was gone, yet he was still moaning in agony. Oak recognized him; he was a small-time leader from the Blood Bone Gang.
"What have you done?" Oak crouched down and demanded.
"We didn't know it would be like this..." the leader said intermittently. "The boss said we only needed a few to scare off the rivals..."
"Where did you get the Orks?"
"Given by a lord from the Upper Hive..." The leader coughed up a mouthful of blood. "He said they could be controlled, but..."
Before he could finish, the leader's eyes closed forever.
Oak stood up and continued racing toward home, fear and anger intertwined in his heart. The Underhive gangs, for their own selfish interests, had brought about a catastrophe that was destroying the entire Lower Hive. Meanwhile, someone from the Upper Hive had been fanning the flames from the shadows, perhaps just for the sake of an experiment.
Oak finally saw his "home"—that crude pipe dwelling. He quickened his pace, with only one thought in his mind: take his child and run.
He hoped there was still time.
Oak found his son, and fortunately, the Orks hadn't reached this area yet; the boy was unharmed. Oak grabbed his son's hand. As the howling of the Orks drew closer, they had only one path of escape.
"Papa, I'm scared," the boy whimpered, his frail body trembling.
"Don't be afraid, we'll be fine," Oak comforted him, feigning a composure he knew was merely a pre-death consolation.
Just as they rushed out of their home, several Orks blocked their path. They were massive, with bulging muscles and hideous tusks protruding from the corners of their mouths. Holding bizarre weapons, their eyes flashed with bloodthirsty intent. Oak instinctively shielded his son behind him, looking around desperately for a way out.
"Papa..." the son's voice was full of terror.
"Close your eyes, son." Oak's voice was hoarse. He would never be able to fulfill his promise of a better life for his child now.
At the very moment the Orks raised their weapons to strike the father and son, an unusual sound of rushing air came from the sky. The sound grew louder and louder, like rolling thunder. The Orks stopped their movements and looked up at the sky.
"I fink dem's shootin' stars!"
Another Ork squinted at the sky. "Lotsa stars! I fink I gotta make a wish!"
"I wish for endless war and zoggin' strong enemies!" the third Ork howled with excitement.
Oak also looked up and saw countless points of light diving down at an incredible speed. The "shooting stars" drew closer, growing larger in size.
Boom!
One "shooting star" slammed accurately into two Orks, instantly crushing them into meat paste. The violent impact kicked up a cloud of dust. Oak instinctively hugged his son tight, shielding him with his body. When the dust cleared, Oak's eyes widened.
A massive warrior clad in golden-yellow armor stood before them. Sacred runes were etched into the armor, glowing with a golden light, and a lion was carved into the breastplate—majestic and holy. He was tall and as imposing as a lion himself, wielding a massive heavy sword that was still dripping with green Ork blood.
The Orks' wish had come come true; they had met a powerful opponent. The Primarch of the First Legion from another world, the Might of Demacia, Garen.
The remaining Orks howled as they charged toward this warrior. The warrior did not retreat; instead, he let out a deafening roar: "Demacia!"
Oak and his son watched as Garen used his heavy sword in a peculiar fashion. His entire body spun like a high-speed top, the blade carving out lethal arcs. The sharp heavy sword easily sliced through the Orks' bodies, spraying green blood across the ground. Within seconds, all the Orks were cut to pieces.
More "shooting stars" fell from the sky, each one a warrior clad in black power armor. Their armor was decorated with mysterious runes, making them look awe-inspiring and fearsome. One of them walked up to Garen and removed his helmet, revealing an old but handsome face. He was incredibly steady, with eyes as calm as a deep pool yet full of piercing intensity. This was Lion El'Jonson, the Primarch of the Dark Angels.
Lion watched Garen's peculiar fighting style, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch slightly. This spinning strike was indeed effective, but in his view, it was somewhat lacking in dignity.
"The area is cleared, brother," Lion nodded to the warrior in blue armor.
Garen stopped spinning and gave Lion a military salute. "Glory to the God-Emperor!"
More Dark Angels descended from the sky, wielding various advanced weapons. Their movements were precise and efficient as they began systematically purging the remaining Orks in the block. Using purification weapons, every shot from the Dark Angels easily took an Ork's life, leaving behind a large number of mushrooms where they fell.
In less than half an hour, all the Orks in the entire area were annihilated.
Lion began issuing new orders. "Commence rescue operations. Check every building and find all survivors. Medical teams, prepare to treat the wounded and establish temporary shelters."
The Dark Angels immediately swung into action; they were not just warriors, but rescuers. The wounded were carefully carried out of the ruins, and survivors were pulled from their hiding places one by one.
Oak and his son were guided by a medic to a large, temporary medical center. This had originally been a massive factory, but in just a few short hours, the Dark Angels had transformed it into a fully equipped medical facility. Clean white tents were set up, and advanced medical equipment was neatly arranged. These devices appeared like miracles to the Underhive residents, who didn't even know the names or purposes of the instruments.
Oak and his son underwent a full physical examination. The medic used a peculiar scanner capable of completing a full human body check in seconds.
"No Chaos infection, no xeno parasites. Most are just suffering from severe malnutrition and excessive toxin levels," the medic reported to the captain.
The captain nodded and said in a deep voice, "Provide nutritional meals for all survivors based on the test results."
Oak and his son soon received a specially prepared nutritional meal. The meal box was properly sealed to ensure hygiene. When Oak opened the box, an aroma wafted toward him. Inside were neatly arranged pieces of grilled meat, colorful vegetables, and a soft piece of bread. They had never seen food so clean and fresh.
Even more surprising to them was the drinking water provided. The transparent bottle contained clear water without a single impurity. This was an unimaginable luxury in the Underhive.
Cries of amazement rose from the people around them; no one could believe this was real. Oak's hands trembled as he took the food, and he sat on a clean bench with his son to begin eating. They took a cautious bite and immediately began devouring it ravenously. The meat was tender and juicy, the vegetables crisp and delicious, and the bread soft and sweet.
"Papa, it's so good!" Oak's son's eyes lit up, and a smile appeared on his face.
Oak nodded, only to find that tears were flowing uncontrollably. It wasn't just because of how delicious the food was, but because at this moment, he finally saw hope.
The word "hope" was far too extravagant for the residents of the Underhive. But now, hope was as real as the box of food sitting right in front of him. Seeing his father cry, the son thought he was starving and quickly pushed the remaining meat from his bowl toward Oak.
"You eat, Papa. I'm full," he said, his voice full of care.
The captain stood not far away, silently observing the scene. His expression remained steady, but a hint of softness flashed in his eyes.
"This is the meaning of our fight," the captain said to his comrade nearby, his voice low and firm. "For the Emperor. For Humanity."
The Emperor's Angels would continue their mission, bringing light into the dark corners and hope to the desperate. This was their duty and their glory.
And for Oak and his son, today was the beginning of a new life.