On the broad avenue leading toward the Upper Hive, a storm of steel was advancing.
The Helldiver Regiment’s armored columns rumbled forward like prehistoric metal beasts, crushing across crystal pavement once reserved for noble hovercars.
Leman Russ tanks roared as their heavy treads carved deep scars into the road. Chimera armored carriers followed close behind, heavy bolters and stubbers gleaming beneath the hive lights. At the rear of the convoy, self-propelled artillery slowly adjusted their massive barrels toward the distant skyline.
The sharp clack of autocannon loading mechanisms mixed with the metallic chatter of soldiers checking weapons, forming a brutal symphony of war.
And all of it moved toward a single destination:
The Governor’s Mansion—the heart of power within the Upper Hive.
“What a magnificent sight.”
Mua’dib stood at the roadside, watching the endless procession of armored vehicles thunder past. Heat seemed to rise through his veins as excitement swelled inside him.
“Mm.”
Beside him, Robert—the supreme commander of the operation—answered with little enthusiasm.
“Battalion Commander, aren’t you excited?” Mua’dib asked, unable to contain himself. “This entire force is under your command!”
“At the moment,” Robert replied dryly, “I’m more concerned about whether we have enough troops to seal every entrance and exit of the Governor’s Mansion.”
He watched the convoy roll onward and sighed.
“I just hope the damned place has fewer entrances than I think it does.”
Robert did not even bother hoping the mansion itself might be smaller.
The odds of a Planetary Governor building a compact, tasteful residence were lower than a fully staffed Space Marine Chapter descending from orbit to save the day in a miraculous deus ex machina.
Statistically speaking, the Space Marines were probably more likely.
“So we’re really not doing it?” Mua’dib asked again, glancing meaningfully toward the artillery line.
Robert frowned slightly. “Doing what?”
“You know…” Mua’dib leaned closer, lowering his voice as though negotiating a black-market weapons deal. “The special shells.”
“Oh.”
Understanding dawned on Robert’s face.
“No.”
“Why not?!” Mua’dib cried, sounding personally betrayed. “Everything should be done for victory! We can’t reject a perfect tactical solution over something as vague as dignity or public image!”
“First,” Robert replied calmly, “your proposal was unanimously rejected by the Soldier Committee.”
This statement was technically nonsense. As Battalion Commander, Robert possessed absolute wartime command authority. If he issued an order during battle, everyone else could only argue about it afterward.
“Second,” Robert continued before Mua’dib could interrupt, “when enemies covered in shit start charging at our lines, I’m not confident our troops will stand their ground heroically instead of turning around and running for their lives.”
He gave Mua’dib a flat look.
“Dying gloriously is one thing. Getting shit smeared across your face before you die is another.”
Mua’dib opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Finally,” Robert said, narrowing his eyes, “I strongly suspect your proposal has less to do with victory and more to do with satisfying your own deeply questionable interests.”
Faced with such devastatingly accurate criticism, Mua’dib found himself completely defenseless.
“Haha… well, Battalion Commander, when you put it that way…” He coughed awkwardly. “I’ll go inspect the tank maintenance!”
Before Robert could reply, Mua’dib fled toward the armored convoy at a near jog.
Robert watched him disappear into the sea of steel and shook his head helplessly.
“That idiot…”
Inside the Governor’s Mansion, luxury and corruption intertwined like perfume over a corpse.
Thick crimson carpets swallowed every footstep, soft beneath the feet like layers of coagulated blood. The walls no longer displayed portraits of honored governors. In their place hung twisted tapestries depicting unspeakable rituals and distorted flesh.
The air carried a cloying mixture of incense and blood.
Every breath felt wrong.
Three figures moved silently through the vast structure like shadows.
Garry. Name. AlphaBravo.
Once again, they were conducting reconnaissance.
But this mission was far more dangerous than the last.
They needed to map the Governor’s Mansion, identify enemy troop positions, and gather intelligence for the coming assault. Unfortunately, the mansion itself was practically a city. Its interior was labyrinthine, and based on prior encounters, daemons or corrupted Space Marines were almost certainly lurking somewhere inside.
With only three people, completing such a mission should have been nearly impossible.
Ordinarily, one wrong turn would have gotten them all killed.
That was where AlphaBravo’s lottery reward came into play.
Byakugan
Type: OtherQuality: EpicAttribute: Yang
Effect — All-Seeing Eye:Grants 360-degree vision, allows sight through obstacles within one kilometer, analyzes musculature, meridians, and energy flow, and resists most visual illusions.
Requirement: Strict organ transplant surgery.
Note:A unique Kekkei Genkai of the Hyuga Clan. Normally requires bloodline inheritance and rigorous training to unlock its full potential.
Beneath AlphaBravo’s sealed helmet, his right eye had turned completely pale white. Veins bulged around the socket, giving him an almost feral appearance.
Through the Byakugan’s vision, the world became a monochrome ink painting.
Walls, floors, and ceilings faded into translucent outlines.
The entire structure of the Governor’s Mansion unfolded before him in three-dimensional clarity.
And the strongest entities within it shone like blazing stars.
“There,” AlphaBravo whispered quietly. “Avoid that corridor.”
“The all-seeing eye, huh…” Garry muttered behind him. “You really should’ve used this earlier. We wouldn’t have gotten ambushed last time.”
“You make it sound easy,” AlphaBravo replied.
His voice had grown noticeably strained.
“I don’t have chakra. Or psychic power. I’m forcing the Byakugan to function by burning through the eye itself.”
He paused briefly.
“At this rate, I’ve got maybe ten more minutes before the eye goes permanently blind.”
The atmosphere immediately grew heavier.
“If this game actually had a chakra cultivation system, things would be easier,” AlphaBravo continued bitterly. “Right now, there’s no reliable way to acquire skills or upgrade paths. After buying that power sword, I don’t even know what to spend merit points on anymore.”
“Tell me about it,” Garry muttered. “At this point, I’d settle for a permanent random draw system.”
The others silently agreed.