[Schrödinger's Loyalist] added his own thoughts, trying to tap two stones together to judge their texture. "This production efficiency... it would make a Tech-Priest fall silent and an Imperial bureaucrat weep."
"Just be glad," Zeke sighed, beginning to bend over and work. "At least for now, we aren't being dragged off for vivisection or injected with Papa Nurgle's thick soup. And besides..."
He lowered his voice, speaking in the channel only his squad could hear. "This place is much more lax than that heavily guarded underground containment center. Look at the distribution of the overseers, and the raw material feed pipes over there..."
A faint glint flashed in the eyes of [Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus]. "Agreed. This is a labor-intensive site; personnel movement is complex, and surveillance blind spots are inevitable. Preliminary observations show that near the exhaust vent in the northeast corner, the overseer patrol interval is approximately fifteen minutes. The third conveyor belt above seems to lead to the refinery core; the security level there might be different."
"Stay low for now, figure out the patterns, and see if we can steal something to save up some cash," Zeke set the tone. "Don't forget, we can resurrect if we die, but it costs money and we have to endure the pain. Until we find a steady... well, until we find a way to log out or get our hands on weapons, don't make any reckless moves."
–
The monotonous, exhausting, and pain-filled labor began.
Sorting ore with bare hands was no easy task. Sharp stone shards quickly tore through the players' coarse jumpsuit gloves and skin, and the heavy ore drained their stamina. The overseers' whips cracked in the air from time to time, occasionally actually landing on some slow-moving unlucky soul, triggering genuine screams of agony.
In the regional channel, the complaining and gallows humor never stopped.
"Holy shit, why is this rock so heavy! I feel like I'm playing Imperial Miner Simulator 2025 (Warhammer Hell Edition)!"
"I just took a lash. My HP didn't drop much, but the 'Intense Pain' status lasted for ten minutes! Trash dev! Would it kill you to lower the pain feedback?!"
"Do you guys think we count as 'loyal cogs' in the machine of the Imperium now? Or are we the replaceable kind?"
"Cogs? In your dreams! At most, you're the rusty washer sitting underneath the cog!"
"I miss the days of mining in the pits... at least back then we were free and had a chance to kill mobs for gold coins..."
"Have you guys noticed the way the native workers nearby are looking at us? It's a bit weird."
"Like they're looking at... dead people? Or lunatics?"
"Well, duh. We're working while frantically complaining and swearing in the regional channel with all sorts of colorful expressions on our faces. In their eyes, aren't we just a bunch of psychos smirking, cursing, and rolling our eyes at thin air?"
"Got it. In the Warhammer world, mental stability is the real rare quality."
–
The high-intensity labor and the realistic sensation of pain made the temptation to log out incredibly strong. However, the System issued a cold notification: [Current Status: Forced Labor Penalty. Logout function restricted.]
[Please attempt a safe logout at the designated rest area during the overseer shift change (approx. 23:00-23:15 standard time).]
[Warning: Leaving a vessel unattended in the work zone or failing to log back in on time carries a high probability of the vessel being designated as 'scrapped.' There is a 99.99% chance it will be recycled into Nutrient Paste.]
"We even have to clock out just to log out!" [Did the White Scars Speed Today?] wailed. "This is darker than companies in the real world!"
"At least a real company won't physically destroy you just because you went home, turn you into Nutrient Paste, and feed you to the other office workers."
Zeke didn't participate much in the banter. He silently threw the sorted, qualified ore into the metal basket beside him, sweat soaking through his clothes. He observed the overseers, the transport routes, and every detail of this massive industrial purgatory.
In the corner of his vision, the [Psychic Aptitude: Unactivated] tag hung quietly.
Unactivated... he murmured in his heart. In this world, psychic power is a curse, but it is also power. If... if that possibility really exists...
He shook his head, dispersing that overly dangerous thought. For now, the most important thing was to stay alive, see if he could steal some ore to accumulate Imperial Coins, and then wait for an opportunity. Wait for an opportunity, or create one…
–
The players were herded into a so-called rest area filled with foul odors and only a few long benches. Most of the native workers were silently curled up in corners, seizing the time to recover their stamina. The players gathered together, whispering about what they had observed.
"There's a waste disposal tunnel to the east. The smell could choke a Nurgling, but it seems to lead directly to the lower sewage pool. No one's guarding it."
"The cooling pipe area to the west—the radiation signs are almost worn off, but the heat readings are still very high. Probably a dead end."
"The head overseer has an access key hanging from his waist. The style looks like a standard Trade Alliance low-level clearance card. If we could get that..."
"How? We don't even have a decent screwdriver! That crude pistol in the System store costs 20 coins! It's black powder! It's probably less reliable than my fist!"
Just as the players were whispering their plots, a piercing alarm suddenly shrieked through the work zone! It wasn't directed at them; it came from the higher-level refinery core, accompanied by the dull thud of an explosion and the ear-piercing screech of twisting metal.
"What's happening?" The overseers panicked, grabbing their weapons and looking toward the billowing smoke.
"It's the boiler section! Catalyst Reactor No. 7 has overloaded!"
"Damn it! It must be those corner-cutting pipes!"
"Hurry, put out the fire! Evacuate all non-essential personnel!"
Chaos erupted instantly. Some overseers rushed toward the site of the accident, while others tried to maintain order, but panic was already spreading among the native workers. Seizing the chance, Zeke shot a look at his squad members.
"Now's our chance!"
They blended into the messy crowd. Instead of rushing toward the accident or blindly following the mob, they moved according to their previously observed route toward that foul-smelling waste disposal tunnel.
Sure enough, the tunnel entrance was unguarded, marked only by a half-rotten sign that read: [DANGER! DO NOT ENTER!]
Inside, it was dark, damp, and filled with an indescribable smell of decay.
"This smell... even Papa Nurgle would have to hold his nose walking through here." [Schrödinger's Loyalist] gagged slightly.
"Stop complaining and get in!" Tax Bro shoved him.
The group quickly slipped into the darkness. The tunnel wound downward, the ground beneath their feet slick and slimy. After walking for a few minutes, a faint light and a larger space appeared ahead—a massive underground sewage pool where mountains of discarded mechanical parts and unrecognizable trash were piled high.
What made their hearts race even faster was that, in the shadows of the trash mountains, there seemed to be several sets of... armor? Along with some heavily rusted metal silhouettes that could vaguely be identified as weapons.
"Is that..." Zeke narrowed his eyes.
[Item Name: Damaged Riot Armor]
[Status: Severely rusted, power core failed, defense value extremely low.]
[Recyclable Value: Approx. 13 Imperial Coins]
[Note: Appears to belong to a certain Hive City enforcement squad that has long since been abolished.]
[Item Name: Broken Thermal Machete]
[Status: Energy circuit interrupted, can only be used as a metal club.]
[Recyclable Value: Approx. 10 Imperial Coins]
[Note: There are dried, suspiciously colored stains on the notches of the blade.]
Even though it was all junk, this was the first time they had come into contact with the wreckage of standardized gear since entering this world.
"We hit the jackpot..." Tax Bro's eyes shone.
"What jackpot? It's all trash." [Schrödinger's Loyalist] kicked the armor. "Selling it to the System will only get us a few coins."
"No," Zeke knelt down, carefully inspecting the break in the thermal machete. "The important thing is: why are these things here? Were they discarded, or... hidden?"
He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the man-made trash fortifications around the sewage pool. A theory formed in his mind: this might not just be a garbage dump. Could it be a weapon cache intentionally hidden by someone?
In the distance, the refinery's alarms gradually faded, but a new kind of chaos might have only just begun.
--
TL/Note:
Okay with this chapter, the promised mass release has officially ended.
Hope you are still hooked with the story.
But from now we will go with the usual of 2 chaps per day + Powerstone Bonus chapter.
Powerstone Goal = 100 Powerstones.
I am also currently stacking chapters of this book on my Patreon which has around 5 chapters ahead for now... but don't worry I will quickly translate around 20 chapters for you all :)
Here's my Patreon page, Patreon.com/AHumanMadeMOFO