Three figures clad in specialized carapace armor stepped onto the Upper Hive’s surface with a soft ding from the elevator. Their armor was matte grey, with smoother contours than standard issue, and the servo joints were nearly silent—designed specifically for stealth and reconnaissance.
“AlphaBravo calling Bobby,” the lead player whispered through his integrated communicator. “My unit has arrived in the Upper Hive. This place…”
He paused.
A faint look of disbelief crossed his face.
True sunlight filtered down from above, muted into a hazy grey by thick industrial clouds. Yet even this diluted radiance—light born from a star rather than artificial lamps—felt strangely invigorating to those who had spent their lives in the Middle and Lower Hives.
The streets were wide and clean, paved with white synthetic stone. Not a single piece of trash or stain broke the surface. Neatly trimmed green belts lined both sides of the road, and the air lacked the familiar stench of oil, rust, and decay. It was almost… fresh.
But AlphaBravo did not relax. His grip on his weapon remained tight.
“It’s too quiet,” he said softly.
“Quiet enough to be unsettling,” Name replied immediately, scanning the empty streets.
“Yeah,” Garry added. “There’s no sound at all. It’s creepy.”
“Bobby received,” Robert’s steady voice came through the comms. “Continue the search. Stay safe. Over and out.”
After the transmission ended, Garry glanced around. “So what now? Split up?”
“What are you thinking?” Name said, pointing toward a distant towering spire. “Of course we stick together. The Upper Hive is too large for three people to cover alone—it would take a lifetime. We focus on reaching the safest route toward the Governor’s Mansion.”
“Oh,” Garry replied, only half convinced.
The three began their reconnaissance.
At first, they remained highly alert—weapon muzzles snapping toward every corner, every shadow. Any stray sound made them freeze instantly, scanning for threats before cautiously moving on again.
After thirty minutes of tense progression, their vigilance began to ease. An hour later, they were walking openly down the wide Upper Hive streets, almost like civilians on a leisurely stroll.
“I haven’t even seen a cockroach,” Garry muttered, partly as justification for their relaxed posture.
“True,” Name frowned. “That’s what’s strange. Even in a dead city, there should be insects.”
“I’ve got two theories,” AlphaBravo said, licking his dry lips. “First: the environment has become so hostile that even insects can’t survive.”
“But we’re fine,” Garry replied, tapping a neatly shaped ornamental tree. “And the armor hasn’t flagged any toxicity. There’s even vegetation here.”
“So that theory’s unlikely,” Name concluded. “Go on.”
“The second possibility,” AlphaBravo lowered his voice, eyes sharpening, “is that something here is actively occupying this territory. A predator so dominant that nothing else dares to exist within its range.”
He hesitated, then added, almost half-jokingly, “After all, this is Warhammer. In stories, it’s not unusual for something to exude an invisible aura that clears entire regions. Honestly, it’s probably common.”
Name considered this. “If that’s true… we might be walking into a trap.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Garry shrugged. “We can respawn anyway.”
“Fair point,” Name chuckled. “Still, let’s spread out a bit. Keep visual contact. No need to get wiped without even knowing what killed us.”
They continued toward the most prominent structure in the distance. It was unmistakably the administrative core of the hive—the path leading toward the Top Hive and, ultimately, the Planetary Governor’s residence.
After a while, Garry’s voice suddenly came through the comms, tinged with excitement.
“Hey—come here. I found something.”
AlphaBravo and Name moved cautiously toward his coordinates. Rounding the corner, they froze—then simultaneously laughed in disbelief.
Garry was sitting at the bar of a lavishly decorated pub, casually pouring amber liquid from a crystal bottle into a spotless goblet.
If any hive noble had seen this, they would have wept blood over the waste and violated etiquette. But here, none of that mattered.
“What are you doing?” AlphaBravo asked, exasperated.
“Taking a break,” Garry grinned, raising his glass. “We’ve been walking for hours. And aren’t you curious what Warhammer wine tastes like?”
“…Now that you say it,” Name admitted, the gamer instinct kicking in, “I am curious.”
He climbed onto a stool and sat down. “Pour me one.”
“Sigh… you two,” AlphaBravo muttered, shaking his head—but eventually sat down as well. “Fine. Pour me one too.”
Garry laughed and filled three glasses.
“Honestly,” he said after downing his drink, leaning back with satisfaction, “I feel like playing a song.”
“Go ahead,” Name replied, sipping. “At this point, anything that attracts attention won’t matter. If something’s coming, it’s already coming.”
Garry smiled.
He reached to his waist and opened a retro cassette player. The tape inside began to spin.
Then music poured out—ethereal, grand, and strangely chaotic. Beautiful, melancholic, and frenzied all at once. It felt utterly wrong in the dead silence of the Upper Hive.
Name: Bohemian RhapsodyType: ToolQuality: Fine
Effect: Causes battles within its range to manifest in exaggerated, stylized, almost comic-like phenomena—violent winds, dramatic energy surges, amplified emotions, and theatrical damage.
Condition: None
Note: Once, its owner could manifest entire works of fantasy into reality, or allow living beings to enter fictional worlds. Its influence once extended across an entire planet.
But in a battle against a powerful enemy, its owner was defeated. His spiritual power shattered, and fragments of it fused into this cassette player—endlessly replaying echoes of past glory.