Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 133 The Foundation in the Ashes (Part 2)

The moment news of Grom's death exploded in the warp, the orc fleet above Invernus began to retreat. But the far-reaching effects manifested at the war zone level: after the beast's roar vanished from the psionic network, communications between Imperial forces began to clear.

The encrypted communication panel flickered. Marcus's voice came through the channel, filled with barely suppressed relief: "Captain. Hera just intercepted the war zone reports from Haldis, Archeron, and Tempestora. The quality of the interstellar signals from all directions is improving. The Orcs' WAAAGH! force field is weakening, and the interference intensity has decreased by at least 30%. The warp background noise is still there, but it's cleaner than before."

He paused for a moment, as if confirming something.

"Not only that. Hera said she started receiving fragmented signals from the outside world—not complete communications, but intermittent pulses. There were dispatch orders from the Imperial Navy, confirmations of reinforcements from the Astragalus Army, and battle reports from the Terra Highlord Council."

The decoding rate is less than 40%, but at least the source can be identified. The storm is still raging, but the cracks are widening.

Cohen's fingers paused on the edge of the sand table. Grom's death not only weakened the orcs above Invernus, but also tore a hole in the psionic network throughout the war zone.

"Commander von Hoffmann's flagship sent a laser communication," Marcus continued, "transmitting a naval report intercepted from a gap in the storm—at least dozens of Astronautical Legions have completed loading, totaling millions of troops, and this is only the first batch. More troops are assembling, waiting for a window of opportunity when the storm subsides to break in in waves."

Cohen was silent for a moment. "Continue listening. Report any signal that breaks through the storm immediately."

"Yes, Captain." Marcus cut off the communication.

The message from the bottom nest arrived the day after the coalition forces were assembled.

Sister Valeria's twelve-member combat squad of nuns is already in Invernus, tasked with hunting down the traitorous governor and investigating heretical activities. Having completed their mission at the governor's residence, they began infiltrating and reconnaissance of the Deep Nest. But the Deep Nest is too large, too deep, and too dark; twelve people are far from sufficient.

On that very day, reinforcements from the Silver Robe Order arrived during a gap in the tracks.

Prior to this, the high-level announcement on the war zone channel had already spread throughout all Imperial forces on Invernus. Taking advantage of the gap in the orbital defenses created by the Orcish fleet's mobilization, the three Silver Robe Order guard ships infiltrated Invernus's near-Earth orbit from the outer reaches of the system.

Deploying down was a reinforcement squad of nuns and a group of psionic reconnaissance personnel. Simultaneously, the war zone channel relayed a higher-level message: the Inquisition had previously secretly deployed long-term undercover agents in Amegiddon to monitor Xenomorph infiltration activities. After the outbreak of war, these agents were forced to activate and operate openly. At this moment, they were responding to the war zone's report, joining forces with the Silver Robe Reinforcements to participate in the cleanup of the Deep Nest.

These tribunal agents are equipped with portable gene scanners, primarily for routine Xenomorph contamination screening. While their accuracy in detecting gene thieves is still imperfect, they can perform close-range tissue sample analysis on suspected infected individuals, providing a preliminary assessment within minutes. The team leader is an intern interrogator who has participated in Xenomorph eradication operations across multiple worlds and possesses a systematic knowledge of the biological characteristics and behavioral patterns of Tyranid creatures.

Valeria didn't come to the command post herself; she was still directing the operation from the bottom nest. A young battle nun arrived, the insignia of the Silver Shroud Order reflecting a dim light on her breastplate. She stood before Cohen, right fist to her chest, gave a brief bow, and then handed him a data panel.

"Sage, the elder sister has instructed me to personally deliver this intelligence to you. We have detected anomalies at the connection point between the ventilation ducts of the middle and lower hives. Reinforcements have arrived, including combat sister squads, psionic scouts, and Inquisition agents stationed in Amegiddon. You should have already received the report on the war zone channel. The elder sister is deploying manpower to carry out the cleanup."

Cohen took the data panel. On the screen was an encrypted reconnaissance report, coldly formatted and precisely worded.

The Silver Robe Order's intelligence focused on unusual biological traces: multiple nesting sites were discovered in an abandoned residential area in the middle layer of the base nest, with biomass residue, molted shells, and typical Tyrannosaurus organic matter spreading, indicating at least one small pureblood nest that had completed several generations. If left unchecked, it could exceed the threshold and cause widespread pollution within a few years.

Cohen placed the data panel on the table and looked up at Cole.

"What about the other aspects of the bottom nest?"

Cole flipped open another data panel.

"Multiple intelligence reports corroborate each other. The Silver Shroud's reconnaissance team, the Garros Legion's scouts, the survivors who escaped from the bottom nest, and the Iron Legion's local veterans—the information matches up."

"Before the war, a large number of people fled to the bottom nest. This included nobles and their private armies from the upper nest, wealthy merchants from the middle nest, technocrats, and civilians who had sensed the deteriorating situation in advance. The exact number cannot be accurately counted, but it is estimated to be over one billion. The population of the bottom nest before the war has never been fully registered."

"A Greenskin unit entered the bottom nest through the collapsed tunnel and has not returned. It is speculated that they have established a base on the bottom level."

"The original gang forces in the bottom nest have never been eliminated. At least three large gangs are still active, controlling water and food reserves, and have clashed with the private armies of the nobles who fled there and the remnants of the Greenskins on several occasions."

Cohen remained silent for a moment.

"Tell the High Priestess that I have received the intelligence. The problem with the Underhive must be resolved before the Greenskins besiege it. Silver Shroud and Inquisition agents are responsible for cleaning up the source of infection—the Inquisition will identify it, and the High Priestess will execute it. The Inquisition has been infiltrating Amegiddon for so long; they should know more about the local Xenomorph activity than we do. Let them play their part. As for the other forces—the noble private armies, the gangs, and the remnants of the Greenskins—hand them over to the Gallos Legion and the Allied Forces."

The young nun placed her right fist against her chest, bowed, and turned to leave the command post.

After the nun left, Cole said to Cohen, "Governor, the passage to the bottom nest is currently only wide enough for light infantry to pass through."

"The elevators," Cohen said. "The main elevators from the middle nest to the bottom nest were destroyed before the war. But only the elevator platforms and cables were destroyed; the main structure of the elevator shafts remained. Three days. The first elevator started operating three days later."

Cole looked into Cohen's eyes—eyes that held no hesitation, no "possibility," only an undeniable certainty that had dragged the entire city back from the ruins.

Cole nodded.

Cohen continued, "There are six main elevators between the Middle Nest and the Lower Nest. Two of them are structurally intact and not difficult to repair. We'll bring over the technical priest team that Lucis previously provided, along with engineering servitude, to repair these two simultaneously. They'll be ready for use in three days."

Before the war, many farsighted nobles, commoners, and merchants foresaw the danger and chose to endure the peril in the lower hive rather than remain on the surface, much less escape the overwhelming greenskins swarming outside the hive capital. Their first act upon entering was to destroy the elevators.

Cole quickly jotted down notes on the data panel. "Once the elevators are repaired, the people in the bottom hive can evacuate directly to the middle hive via the elevator shafts. One elevator can transport thousands of people at a time."

"It's not a simple evacuation," Cohen said. "We need to organize identification at the evacuation point. The Inquisition's genetic scanners can quickly screen, further confirming suspected infected individuals, and executing those confirmed on the spot. Also, send down several elite infantry regiments for further cleanup. The focus is on cleaning up and burning the greenskins, otherwise, they'll overrun the area if left unchecked. Bring up those willing to leave the bottom hive; don't force those who don't want to leave—we don't have time to manage them too much. The Silver Cloak Order and Inquisition agents are responsible for cleaning up the Xenomorph infection sources; support them if necessary while they're down there."

Cole nodded and turned to make the arrangements.

first day.

Cohen stood at the top of the elevator shaft. Engineering crews had already set up temporary lighting on the shaft walls; beams of searchlight crisscrossed in the darkness, illuminating the shaft as if it were daytime. Technical priests crouched before the control cabinet at the shaft's entrance, stripping away the wrecked cables and testing the remaining circuitry. Sparks from welding torches flickered in the dim light, and the sounds of metal being stripped, cut, and reconnected echoed from the depths of the shaft.

Cohen stood on a surviving section of the elevator platform, instructing the engineering mechanic to lower it to a position where he could reach the well wall. A field unfolded, a spherical perception with a twenty-five-meter radius extending outwards from him, covering the cross-section of the well wall. Cracks were clearly visible in his perception, extending from the surface deep into the alloy skeleton. With his consciousness reaching them, a quiet reshaping at the atomic level began. The cracks were filled, and a dense metallic structure regrown from the atomic level. The deformed guide rail base was corrected, and the rusted bolts were peeled off and recast.

His consciousness simultaneously extended five kilometers away—a shallow perception that allowed him to "see" the structural condition deep within the well, the extent of the cracks, and which areas needed priority treatment. This information unfolded in his consciousness like a precise map, guiding his field to accurately position itself at every key node.

He would go there each day for a few hours, then return to the wellhead. The technical priests seemed oblivious to anything unusual—

They only saw the data on the detector slowly improving. The leading technical priest placed his palms on the temperature measurement panel of the server rack and softly chanted a three-second binary hymn. The sequence was stable, and the machine spirit offered no resistance. He wrote in his log: "The god of all machines is watching, and the machine spirit is full of power."

Hours later, the lead technical priest glanced at the data panel, hesitated for a moment, and added another line to the log: "Calibration complete, no spare parts consumed. Minor anomalies, but no major issues. Praise be to Ohm Messiah."

On the third day, Cohen stood at the wellhead, watching the indicator lights on the last control cabinet change from red to green. Of the six elevator shafts, two had been completely repaired, with the cable, drive wheel, control system, and safety devices all in place. The shaft structures of the other four had been reinforced, awaiting only the arrival of spare parts before repairs could continue, without requiring his intervention.

The technical priests squatted in front of the control cabinet, conducting final tests. The drive wheels turned, the cables moved up and down in the shaft, and the platform moved smoothly in the elevator shaft. All the parameters on the data panel were within the green zone, exceeding the pre-war factory standards.

The leading priest stood up and wrote the last line on the data panel: "Elevators No. 1 and No. 2 are operating normally. Load test passed. Safety devices are functioning normally. Ready for operation."

Cohen pressed the communication button: "Cole. The elevator is ready. We can begin the evacuation and clearing of the hive."

Cole's voice came through the channel, steady and powerful: "Understood, I'll make the arrangements immediately."

Hours later, the first elevator began transporting the 72nd Elite Infantry Regiment of the Garros Legion to the lair. Power armor clad their bodies, explosive rifles gripped their hands. The Silver Shroud Sisters' reinforcement squad and the Inquisition's agent team stood silently in the middle of the line. The rose emblems on the nuns' breastplates reflected a dim light in the gloom, while the Inquisition agents held portable genetic scanners, their green standby indicator lights flickering faintly in the darkness. The intern interrogator stood at the very front of the line, his grey robes billowing in the circulating air, his gaze passing over the edge of the elevator, settling into the darkness deep within the lair.

The elevator descended into the darkness. The light overhead grew farther and farther away, while the darkness beneath our feet deepened.

As Cohen stepped out of the elevator hub, sunlight streamed down from the cracks in the dome, illuminating the blue-white aura of the Void Shield. Long shadows were cast across the ruins of the Upper Nest in the light, and the distant gunfire of the mopping-up operation had thinned considerably.

Ulf stood at the entrance to the elevator plaza. He wore CMC-100 power armor, the gray-white terracotta breastplate etched with a gear and skull insignia. A bolt-action pistol hung at his waist, magazine pouches tucked behind his back, safety off. He was now the deputy commander of the 158th Regiment of the Invernus Allied Forces, no longer a militia company commander. At this moment, his troops were deploying around the plaza—not to maintain order, but to suppress it. No one knew what was mixed in with the things rising from the bottom.

The courtroom's identification station was located on the side of the square, with three folding tables lined up in a row. Portable genetic scanners were already set up, their green standby indicator lights flashing faintly in the sunlight. Three courtroom agents stood behind the tables, their grey robes clinging to their bodies in the wind. The interrogator trainee stood personally beside the first table, his fingers resting on the scanner's sampling port, his grey eyes fixed on the direction of the elevator exit.

The six nuns of the combat nun squad spread out on either side of the identification station, their explosive gun muzzles pointed at the ground, fingers resting on the outside of the trigger guards. The rose emblem on their breastplates gleamed a dull silver in the sunlight.

A Garros sergeant strode past Ulf, his right fist to his chest: "Sir, the Inquisition's identification station is in place. The nuns are in position. The first evacuation is about to begin."

Ulf nodded: "Proceed according to plan. Pass through the scanner first, then through the gun barrel. If anything unusual happens, shoot immediately."

"Yes, sir." The sergeant turned and ran back to the position.

Ulf turned his head and glanced in the direction of the intern interrogator. The man was also looking over and nodded slightly. Ulf didn't respond and looked away.

The intern interrogator looked away and said something to the agent beside him, his voice so low it was swallowed by the wind.

Ulf looked up, gazing towards the elevator hub. Sunlight streamed through the cracks, falling on his face. The old burn scars on his forehead gleamed white in the light. He stood there, motionless.

Behind them, the bells tolled. Three slow chimes, two fast chimes, then three slow chimes again. It was the Invernus State Church's signal for "Safety, come out." The chimes pierced through the ruins, through the blue-white aura of the Void Shield, and reached the ventilation ducts of the hive, reaching the ears of those waiting in the darkness.

Someone opened their eyes in the darkness.

Someone stood up.

People began moving toward the elevator shaft.

Deep within the elevator shaft, the first elevator platform was rising. The cable wound slowly around the drive wheel, and the platform carried the faces of the first group of thousands of people being evacuated. After being in darkness for so long, they finally saw the light above them.

Ulf turned and walked towards his command post. He swiped his right hand across the data panel, confirming the initial evacuation route. His left hand rested on the grip of the bomb rifle, thumb on the safety.

Cohen stood at the entrance of the command post, gazing towards the distant elevator hub. Sunlight refracted through the halo of the Void Shield, casting blue-white patches that fell upon his epaulets. His gaze passed over the soldiers gathering, the still-smoking ruins, and settled on the city shrouded in the Void Shield, slowly returning to order.

Everything is progressing according to plan. No, even faster than planned.

He withdrew his gaze and landed on the two dark red arrows of orc reinforcements on the outer edge of the sand table. The greenskins from the Fire Wasteland and the Equatorial Jungle were still on their way, but they had lost Grom's WAAAGH! buff; their will to charge and their coordination would be diminished. The pressure on the Empire's defensive lines would lessen, but not disappear.