The teleportation field shimmered with an eerie, electric hum, and in a flash of scorched ozone and blinding blue light, Grey emerged inside the fortress, stepping from the portal with practiced, silent precision.
Heavy Hammer was dead.
The slums of District One had been purged, scoured clean in flame and steel.
Two objectives. Two completed missions.
Yet, as Grey removed his helmet and settled across from Qin Mo, his jaw clenched, his storm-grey eyes clouded with unspoken weight, as though something unseen hung heavily over him like smoke before the storm.
Qin Mo barely glanced up from his work.
"If you've something to say, Grey, then say it."
Grey exhaled, hesitating, then turned to Yoan, who lounged in the corner, sharpening a combat blade whose edge glinted ominously.
"Uh… have you two eaten yet?"
Yoan gave him a flat, unblinking stare.
Qin Mo set his tools down with a soft clink of metal against metal.
"Grey," he said, voice steady, "we're not just superior and subordinate. We are brothers-in-arms. Speak your mind."
Grey exhaled again, this time slower, heavier.
"Did I just… kill Grot's brother?"
Qin Mo didn't answer immediately. He simply held Grey's gaze.
The silence dragged out, thick and cold, like rusted chains scraping over stone.
The realization settled in. Grey's stomach twisted, nausea spiking beneath his breastplate.
Heavy Hammer had been, to all appearances, just another deranged cult leader, a madman drenched in blood, shouting praise to a false god as he butchered innocents in the streets.
But now?
Now, he understood.
The man he had executed, no, crushed into a smear of bone, blood, and scrapmetal was none other than Grot's brother.
And to make matters worse, just before the killing blow… he'd mocked him.
"You're a disgrace to your brother."
Grey swallowed hard. At the time, it felt like the right thing to say.
"He was killing civilians in the slums… I… I didn't have a choice," he muttered, his voice low, unsteady. Guilt leaked through the cracks in his composure.
"But… Grot… I…"
The words felt empty. Like an excuse.
Qin Mo raised a hand, silencing him.
He understood Grey's internal conflict.
Grey wasn't questioning the action. He knew what he did had been necessary.
But he felt the weight of it.
The guilt wasn't for the kill. It was for what it meant to someone who still called him "brother."
And sooner or later, Grot would learn the truth.
"This stays between us," Qin Mo said, his voice a low, measured rumble. "Only we know what really happened."
He leaned forward.
His eyes locked onto Grey's.
"So. Here's what we'll do."
Grey and Yoan leaned in, taut and tense.
"We'll tell Grot that his brother did indeed die, but not by execution. Instead, he fell in battle against the gang lords of District One. A warrior's death. A hero's death. One that saved many lives."
Grey immediately nodded. This was exactly what he had wanted to ask, but hadn't known how. It felt right.
But Yoan frowned.
"Lying… isn't that wrong?"
Grey hesitated. "Deceiving him… feels dishonorable," he admitted.
Qin Mo's gaze hardened.
"Then give him the truth. Tell him his brother was corrupted. That he abandoned the Emperor and started worshiping something else. That he butchered innocents, not warriors, not enemies, but unarmed civilians. Tell him his brother was beyond saving."
The room fell silent. Neither Grey nor Yoan could answer.
Qin Mo sighed. "He wouldn't accept it. He'd demand answers. Why did his brother go mad? Why did he slaughter civilians? Why did he suddenly turn into a zealot for an unseen god?"
He leaned back slightly. "Can either of you give him an answer he'll believe? An answer he'll accept?"
Grey clenched his fists, knuckles whitening inside his gauntlets.
...
Yoan looked away, staring at the flickering holo-comm flickering on the wall.
They couldn't.
Yoan knew what Chaos was. He'd seen what it could do.
But Grot?
A man who thrived in battle, who relished the thrill of the fight…
What if he learned of Khorne?
Would he resist it?
Or would he embrace it?
"It's settled," Qin Mo said at last. "The lie is mercy."
And with that, the discussion ended.
Qin Mo turned to his next task, assembling a delicate gene-scanning device to pinpoint Grot's last surviving family member, his sister Maya.
Using DNA matching, drones would sweep the entire Lower Hive in concentric rings until they found her.
Only then could some piece of Grot's family be made whole again.
Grey and Yoan, however, remained seated.
Grey's fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the table, his mind racing.
Then, he spoke again. "We're going to war with the Hive, aren't we?"
Qin Mo looked up. Then, without hesitation, he answered, "Yes."
Everything pointed to it.
The assault on the Underhive had never been meant to succeed.
They had been sent to die.
And if even one Ecclesiarch was tainted, how deep did the corruption run?
The entire campaign had likely been orchestrated as part of a Chaos plot from the very beginning.
And now, with David's last moments recorded, they had proof.
Then, a notification blinked crimson inside Grey's helmet. Yoan had sent him a classified report. After decrypting it, the full assassination log appeared.
["Talon I is not yet ours. Choose your words carefully."]
The recording played over the vox, the guard captain's voice eerily calm.
Grey furrowed his brow.
For the first time, he saw the full scope of what Yoan had done.
And now, there was no doubt left.
This wasn't just a war with the Hive Lords.
It was a war with something far greater.
"I had Yoan eliminate David for one reason," Qin Mo said coldly. "He wasn't an Imperial loyalist. He was part of something else."
Grey didn't question it. He believed it instantly. "Then we're not just fighting the Hive. We're fighting David's faction. Their power base. Their system. Where's their stronghold?"
Qin Mo smirked. "There are three planets in the Talon system. If it's not Tyrone Hive on Talon I, it's one of the others. Maybe both."
Grey didn't look surprised. Just… thoughtful. Then, he grinned. "If a heretic fleet comes, you can invent something to take care of it, right?"
Qin Mo bumped Grey's armoured shoulder. "What do you think I am, a wishing machine?"
Grey laughed. "Then we'll just have to teleport onto their ships and fight to the death."
Qin Mo shook his head, amused. "No need to be dramatic. We're building a shipyard."
Grey blinked in confusion. "A shipyard?"
"In the Underhive," Qin Mo replied, calm as ever. "Once we secure orbital control, we'll teleport the structure into low orbit. Then we mass-produce warships."
Grey stared. "A shipyard that big… can it even be teleported?"
Qin Mo smirked. "You thought teleportation was just for infantry?"
Grey gave a low whistle. "Fair enough."
Grey finally relaxed.
Qin Mo leaned back in his chair. "We need to expand our forces. Deploy water purification systems across the Hive. Once that's done, begin recruitment. All new recruits will be sent to the Underhive for training. Any who display strange beliefs…"
He paused. "…will be screened thoroughly."
"What if we lose control of the water zones? What if the enemy takes them?" Grey asked, voice taut with genuine concern.
"Let them drink," Qin Mo said, eyes gleaming with ruthless calculation. "It won't help them break our gravity shields or destroy our tanks. Even now, with our current forces, we can conquer the Hive, even if they outnumber us ten to one."
Grey and Yoan exchanged glances. Then, as one, they saluted.
"Understood."
They turned to leave.
And with that, the war preparations began.