Chapter 4: Occupying the Foundry
The gang members ready to answer looked blank, except for one man with grime-covered skin who raised his bionic hands high.
"Boss, I know! There's a foundry in the underhive, once managed personally by Tech-Priests who served Mars."
"The factory's outer perimeter has a deadly organic barbed wire. It's unbelievably tough, can't even be cut with a knife. Even if you throw a grenade next to it, it can regenerate after the explosion."
"The thorns it grows can pierce armor and cause wounds deep enough to see bone. It also secretes an acidic fluid that can corrode anyone trapped in it into a skeleton within minutes."
He nervously tightened his grip on the spoon and bowl. "Boss, that's all I know."
"Your information is very useful. You can have two scoops of soup. You can start serving yourself."
The grime-faced man, hearing Nimrod's words, quickly went to the large pot, scooped out two spoonfuls, and tightly held the yellow-green aluminum bowl. He was about to step aside to enjoy it when he heard his boss's voice again.
"You seem to know a lot about that factory. Can you provide me with more information about it?"
"Boss, my name is Rolfslev. I used to work in that weapons foundry, designated D-46, as a foreman in a furnace crew."
"Before the priests abandoned the factory and moved to the upper hive, life was tough, but we managed."
"Ever since 'Vulture' of the 'Carrion Gang' took control of the factory, he's been like his nickname, squeezing every last drop out of everyone..."
After questioning Rolfslev about the situation at D-46, Nimrod decided to seize the weapons foundry.
Underhive, Foundry D-46, brightly lit.
"Vulture" leaned back in his chair, watching the pleading foreman in front of him with a mocking gaze.
"'Vulture' sir, those are just children. If this continues, they'll die."
"I'm willing to work three extra hours every day. I'm much faster than them."
"Oh, really? Then you can work four extra hours every day," "Vulture" sneered. "As for them, they will continue working."
"Vulture" didn't notice a flash on one of the monitor screens behind him, a figure rushing forward at high speed.
A two-meter diameter rubber tire crashed into the barbed wire covered in countless sharp thorns.
Nimrod squeezed through the center of the hollowed-out rubber tire. At the same time, with a flick of his right hand, the silver-gray shard accurately sliced the center point between two thorns.
"Someone's there!"
Two "Carrion Gang" members armed with lasguns were patrolling nearby. Hearing the sound, they quickly ran over.
Nimrod sheathed the shard at his waist. His hands, covered in protective gloves, simultaneously gripped both ends of the wiregrass. The oozing acidic fluid immediately corroded a hole in the gloves.
The gene-sire instantly sensed the small hole in his palm. He slightly bent his hand, forming an angle so that the empty space in the middle of his grip was exactly where the hole was.
He swiftly charged forward and swung the wiregrass at the two approaching men.
The thorns accurately pierced the backs of the two men's hands as they raised their guns to fire. They let out a painful scream, and in an instant, the fluid corroded their hands, leaving only bone.
Nimrod picked up a dropped lasgun and retrieved twelve power packs from the two corpses.
He fired a shot into the air—a signal for his men—and then rushed towards the control room.
"Vulture" watched on the monitors as his useless subordinates were cut down by the boy.
"Waste! You are all waste!"
"Vulture" suddenly stood up, grabbed his chainsword, and amidst the roaring sound, the words "kill, kill, kill" echoed in his ears once more.
"Vulture" strode out of the control room, leaped off the railing, and swung down at the boy.
His pupils were blood-red. He felt as if he had returned to that day when he had killed the gang leader and seven guards, the same bloodlust rising in his eyes.
Afterward, he had found himself taller and stronger.
He didn't know what had happened; he only knew that killing made him stronger.
Just as Nimrod raised his hand to shoot down a gang member, he sensed an enemy rushing towards him from above.
While rolling backward, he pulled the trigger, hitting "Vulture" squarely in the chest.
A fist-sized hole was blasted through "Vulture's" chest, but he felt nothing. The voice in his mind drove him to continue charging forward.
Nimrod's expression remained calm as he rapidly pulled the trigger. "Vulture's" eyes, heart, hands, and ankles were almost completely pierced by the beams, blooming crimson flowers of blood.
"Vulture's" corpse slammed heavily onto the metal walkway, the vibrating chainsword stained red with blood.
Nimrod slung the lasgun across his back and picked up the chainsword. He sensed that this weapon was somehow different.
Rolfslev, who had been appointed as a leader, rushed into the foundry just in time to witness his boss fire several shots in a row, killing "Vulture." He was greatly shocked.
The "Carrion Gang" wasn't a big gang in the underhive, but "Vulture" was known for his brutality and ruthlessness. Yet, he hadn't even gotten close before being killed.
[The boss is so powerful at such a young age. He'll definitely be a big shot in the hive city in the future. Following him has a future!]
Thinking this, Rolfslev immediately shouted at his subordinates.
"What are you all standing around for? Do you still want to drink the dregs of the soup? Move! Control the workers, capture the 'Carrion Gang' prisoners. Kill anyone who dares to resist!"
Two hours later, Nimrod sat in the control room. The foundry had resumed operation. Besides the workers, he now had five hundred and thirteen subordinates.
Nimrod changed into a clean set of work clothes, with the lasgun and chainsword, both taller than himself, slung across his back.
The factory cook had prepared brick-hard unleavened bread and a thin borscht made with a few wilted vegetable leaves—the best food the foundry had to offer.
Nimrod ate ten slices of the hard bread without feeling any discomfort thanks to his superhuman physique. He then drank a large bowl of soup before finally feeling full.
He looked up at the door, then heard a knock.
"Come in."
"Boss, the foundry has returned to normal production."
Rolfslev pushed the door open and entered. He wore a worried expression, reporting the good news first.
"Boss, the Hantexi Dome, to which Foundry D-46 belongs, is under the jurisdiction of Arbitrator Dimitrov. He wants you to go see him."
Nimrod knew that the underhive was composed of domes, structures built by the initial settlers.
As the hive city developed, the domes were gradually abandoned.
In the eyes of the hive citizens, the residents of the underhive were not much higher than the giant rats and other vermin living there. They lived in clusters of buildings forming domes, in the hive-like underground cities formed by domes, tunnels, and ruins.
"Arbitrator?"
Nimrod thought of the "Arbitrator" of the adjacent pathway sequence 9 of the "Lawyer," but the Arbitrator of Voss-Toria obviously wouldn't have the same meaning.
After asking, Nimrod understood that the so-called Arbitrator was similar to the enforcers under the governors of various hive worlds in the future, supervising the domes.
The Arbitrator of the underhive usually independently governed the dome, adjudicating various matters within his jurisdiction.
Those who had fled the foundry had reported to Dimitrov about Nimrod defeating the "Carrion Gang" and seizing the factory.
"Boss, 'Vulture' has a terrible reputation. I think Dimitrov is probably curious about you, after all, you're too young."
"Hmm, judging by the Arbitrator's style, he will also give you a warning. I heard he really likes using his big dog to scare people."
"A chemical dog?"
Hearing this, Nimrod immediately became interested.
"Yes, boss. You know that vicious dog too?"
(End of this chapter)