“Hahaha! Even three against one isn’t enough!”
After effortlessly defeating three opponents, Name spun in place and laughed wildly. The combat stimulants rasped through his throat, turning his voice hoarse with manic exhilaration. He spread his arms toward the surrounding players and roared:
“Again! I want to fight ten!”
But the instant the words left his mouth, a sickly sweetness flooded his throat.
A spray of hot blood burst from beneath the anti-gas mask, splattering across the lenses in crimson streaks. Thick droplets trickled down the mask’s surface, and the crowd fell silent.
Name’s heart skipped.
Something was wrong.
He immediately opened his system panel. The moment he saw the numbers, his scalp tingled.
Some attributes had skyrocketed beyond reason:
Muscle Strength — 35.6 / 10.6(Liberator +20.4)(Physical Enhancer +5.2)(Holy Sedative +3.4)(Adrenaline +6.0)
But others had collapsed to catastrophic levels:
Liver Function — 1.2 / 10.1(Ice Point Element -3.2)(Sentinel -2.0)(Physical Enhancer -1.7)(Liberator -1.9)(Adrenaline -1.3)
Kidney Function — 1.7 / 9.5(Ice Point Element -2.8)(Sentinel -1.8)(Physical Enhancer -1.5)(Liberator -1.7)
And that wasn’t the worst of it.
His status bar was overflowing with warnings:
Severe Chest Hemorrhage (Suppressed)Bone Fractures (Suppressed)Heart Rupture (Suppressed)Multiple Organ Failure (Suppressed)
Cold dread crawled up his spine.
Any one of those conditions should have killed him already.
The only thing keeping him alive was the word Suppressed.
And judging from the flickering countdown beside the debuffs… that suppression only had seconds left.
“This can’t be happening!”
Name staggered backward, staring at the panel with bloodshot eyes.
“They told me the drugs would keep me alive for at least twenty-four hours—”
Crunch.
The sound cut him off.
His armored body folded unnaturally at the waist, like rotten wood snapping under pressure. Then he collapsed onto the floor with a heavy metallic thud.
Motionless.
Silent.
For several seconds, nobody reacted.
Some players even assumed it was part of a joke or performance.
Only when the floating system ID above his head vanished did the crowd finally realize:
Name was dead.
Actually dead.
And he had died so suddenly that he hadn’t even managed to scream.
“Holy hell… he really dropped dead.”
“Bro went out instantly.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Excuse me, move aside.”
Archer pushed through the crowd and crouched beside the corpse. He removed the anti-gas mask and examined Name’s face carefully.
“Hm. Looks like the neutralizing agent destabilized the mixture again…” he muttered.
Then, as casually as if he were moving scrap metal, Archer hoisted the body onto his shoulder.
“Tell Name to send me his account details later. I’ll compensate him for the experimental data and the replacement body.”
The players’ eyes immediately lit up.
Real money.
“Sir! Do you still need test subjects?”
“I’m healthy! Pick me!”
“My stats are insane—I’m definitely high-quality material!”
Archer waved dismissively.
“I’ll notify you when needed.”
With that, he carried the corpse away, clearly intending to dissect the exact cause of death.
Not far away, Reddito and Robert watched the entire scene unfold.
Reddito’s mechanized voice echoed softly.
“Even by Krieg standards, your disregard for human life exceeds my comprehension.”
Robert answered casually:
“This world is terrible enough that dying early might actually be mercy. If we’re fortunate, perhaps we’ll even return to the Emperor’s side beneath the Golden Throne.”
Streams of data flickered across Reddito’s optical lens.
“So that is your understanding of life and death…” he said slowly. “Interesting.”
Though he clearly did not fully understand, he chose not to pursue the topic further.
Instead, he changed the subject.
“Have you devised a method to eliminate the high-ranking Genestealers?”
“I’ve spent the last few days studying the Trinity Foundry Workshop,” Robert replied. “You can manufacture Grav-chutes and Valkyries, correct?”
“The production difficulty is manageable,” Reddito answered. “Operating them effectively is another matter entirely. Can your soldiers adapt?”
“They’ll learn.”
Robert’s tone was calm, but absolute certainty lay beneath it.
“They have to.”
Reddito paused briefly.
“I believe I understand your plan. While I have no authority over your soldiers’ lives, I do reserve the right to object to unnecessary damage to valuable equipment during training.”
“What do you want?” Robert asked directly.
“All damaged Grav-chutes and Valkyries that mysteriously appear from nowhere—send them to me for repairs.”
Reddito tilted his head slightly.
“A mutually beneficial arrangement.”
At the upper levels of the Mid-Hive, violent winds screamed between steel towers.
Far below stretched the endless hive city: a suffocating maze of iron, smoke, and concrete.
More than a dozen players stood at the platform’s edge, each equipped with a Grav-chute freshly produced by the Trinity Foundry Workshop.
Robert stood before them, coat snapping violently in the wind.
“Under normal Astra Militarum procedure, airborne troops undergo extensive preparation—classroom instruction, ground drills, low-altitude exercises, and only then live deployment.”
He paused.
“But Perditia doesn’t have that kind of time.”
The players stared back at him, eyes glittering with excitement instead of fear.
“So today,” Robert continued, “you will put on your Grav-chutes… and jump.”
The crowd erupted instantly.
“Feet first into hell!”
“For Super Earth!”
“This is the way!”
Robert nodded in satisfaction before glancing toward Archer.
“The rest is yours, Magos Archer.”
Archer sighed dramatically.
“I can barely be called a Magos anymore, Captain Robert. At this point I’m just an overworked apprentice.”
Despite the complaint, he stepped forward honestly enough and picked up a Grav-chute model.
He quickly began explaining the device’s structure, stabilization systems, and emergency activation procedures.
Robert watched silently.
At first, he had assumed the lull in combat over the past few days would cause players to log off out of boredom.
Instead, most players merely disappeared briefly before returning almost immediately.
Thinking about it, the reason was obvious.
This game operated at triple thought-acceleration.
Time spent here effectively translated into three times the lifespan in reality.
One day in-game equaled only a fraction of a day outside. Combined with the enhanced physical capabilities of Astra Militarum bodies, the attraction was overwhelming.
People could become stronger here.
Live longer here.
Matter here.
Robert looked once more at the players eagerly listening to Archer’s instructions.
Then a thought crossed his mind.
For first-time Grav-chute users…
Most of them were probably about to experience the phrase “feet first into hell” quite literally.