Incorporating the Gangs

A moment later, Nimrod found an abandoned sewage pipe on the outskirts of Tezwork, hidden within a mountain of refuse.

Hive cities develop from the bottom up; when humanity first sets foot on a planet to develop it, they establish settlements on the surface, which then expand upward over the course of long ages.

Due to factors like population migration, most of the facilities in the Underhive have been abandoned as a result.

He crawled into the pipe, treading forward through the sludge formed by industrial wastewater.

Nimrod moved through the pipe, which was five people wide. After walking for a kilometer, his ears twitched, the sound waves he captured sketching a scene of a brawl involving hundreds of people in his mind.

He continued forward for several hundred meters, his hearing outlining a scene of a chase, one party pursuing the other.

A scream rang out abruptly; the person fleeing ahead collapsed to the ground, followed by another scream as the pursuer also fell.

Nimrod tilted his head to listen. Aside from those two, he heard no other biological sounds. Why had both of them fallen?

A moment later, he arrived at the scene to find both individuals already dead in the sewage.

Even in the dim environment, he could clearly see their abnormalities: their shoes were shredded, and the soles of their feet were a bloody mess, caused by hundreds upon hundreds of crisscrossing lacerations.

Nimrod scanned his surroundings, his keen eyes spotting a cluster of crystals in a corner of the murky wastewater.

Not biological. Spine Crystals.

Nimrod knew that Spine Crystals appeared in hive city sewage pools, drainage pipes, and other places where pollutants had accumulated for generations. Rather than plants, they were more like mineral growths; they resembled coral, composed of dense, fragile, and razor-sharp crystal clusters.

Fools who fell into Spine Crystals would quickly discover their horror, as the sharp crystals would inflict thousands of tiny but excruciatingly painful wounds.

The greatest danger came from the toxins and chemical corrosives on the crystals, which would turn the smallest abrasion into severe suppuration and ulceration upon entering the wound, leading to death if left untreated.

Sadly, most of the populace in the lower and underhives lacked medical supplies; stepping on them meant a swift end to a miserable life.

To encounter a secondary material so quickly.

Nimrod bent down to search the sewage and soon found two intact crystal clusters.

He took his spare clothes from his backpack, wrapped each Spine Crystal in a shirt and a pair of trousers respectively, and placed them inside the pack.

Nimrod was in high spirits as he continued forward. Several tunnels converged, and he spotted a platform.

On the platform, two gangs were attacking each other around a forge, trading fire with laser pistols fashioned from scrap.

On the left side of the platform, the leader of a group wearing red headbands raised his hand to gun down an enemy with a scrap-laser pistol, then rolled to dodge an attack, when suddenly his eyes lit up.

He saw a boy who did not belong in the Underhive; his tattered clothing could not hide his handsome features. He was worth more than this entire forge.

He immediately charged toward Nimrod, reaching out to grab him.

"Kid, get over here."

Nimrod shifted his body to the side, and the gang leader grabbed at empty air. The moment the man lost his balance, the boy seized his wrist, pulled him forward, and then drove a silver-gray shard into his abdomen.

He found five power cells on the corpse and stuffed them into his pockets.

To store the "treasures" they scavenged, the mutants wore clothes with over a dozen pockets sewn on with scraps of different colored cloth.

The Primarch picked up the laser pistol, which had been cobbled together from various parts. Once the weapon was in his hand, he expertly checked the power cell.

The gangs of Vostonia have better craftsmanship than those on other planets. This scrap-laser pistol is above average; it has a total capacity of 23 shots, and currently, it can fire 17 more.

Nimrod shouted, "Stop!"

Although he was still a boy, his voice lacked any trace of childishness.

The two clashing groups heard only a stern reprimand, like the cold, sharp rebuke of an Arbites occasionally visiting the Underhive. Their bodies shuddered, and they turned their heads in unison.

When they saw Nimrod, their eyes all lit up.

On the right side of the platform, a gang leader who had poked his head out spat on the ground.

"Since when is it your turn, kid..."

Before he could finish his sentence, a bright beam pierced the vital point between his eyes, and his corpse slumped to the ground.

Both groups were shocked. The distance between the boy and the leader was over thirty meters, far exceeding the maximum effective range of a scrap-laser pistol. That he could kill the leader with such precision was simply inconceivable.

On the left side of the platform, several sharp-eyed individuals noticed that the boy was using their boss's gun, and the boss's corpse lay right at the tunnel entrance.

"The boss is dead!"

The shout awakened the two gangs. Suddenly, several people's eyes gleamed; they were all gang lieutenants, and now that the boss was dead, their chance to rise had come.

They immediately turned their muzzles and launched an attack on their competitors.

As for the boy, no matter how skilled he was, he was only a child. As long as they became the boss, a coordinated assault would surely capture him.

Nimrod had prepared to roll and dodge, but he unexpectedly found them even more foolish than he had imagined.

He moved immediately. Since these people had crossed his path, they would be the foundation for his conquest of Vostonia; now was the time to establish his authority.

"I said... stop..."

As Nimrod spoke, he raised his hand and fired three consecutive shots, killing three men from the gang on the left, while two others were killed by sneak attacks from their rivals.

He then finished off the victor of the other gang and looked at the crowd.

"From now on, I am your boss. Whoever doesn't listen will end up just like them."

The gang members were terrified into stupidity, not daring to move a muscle. They had never seen such god-like marksmanship; rapid-fire, one shot per kill—they had never even heard of such a thing.

Thus, on his first day in Vostonia, Nimrod established his own gang, with three hundred and ten subordinates under his command.

When Nimrod poured all the fungi from his backpack into the large vat, the eyes of every gang member glowed with a green light. Had they not feared his unerring marksmanship, they would have pounced like starving wolves.

Nimrod stood on the platform, looking down at the crowd below. Knowing that the people of the Underhive lacked education, he spoke in the simplest, most plain language possible.

"I won't treat those who follow me poorly, but I don't keep dead weight either."

"How much you get depends on your own ability."

"Whether you drink the soup or eat the scraps depends on yourselves."

He scanned the crowd, seeing most of them craning their necks and staring wide-eyed at his feet, while only a small number were still scratching their heads.

"Now, I have questions to ask. Whoever can answer them gets to drink the soup."

"First question: where are there giant rats nearby, over a meter in length?"

The better the quality of the potion ingredients, the better the effects after consumption.

Nimrod was not afraid of them knowing the potion recipe; he only needed to ask about two types.

"Me," the quickest to react was a skinny, bald man. "Boss, giant rats are everywhere nearby, and there are plenty over a meter long. I can't give you a number, but there are many in every tunnel and pipe."

Nimrod looked down at the crowd; no one refuted him, and they all wore expressions of regret and frustration.

"Very well, you may come up and take a ladle first."

The bald man immediately sprinted, stumbling and nearly falling as he climbed onto the platform.

He braced himself with his left hand and stood up instantly, as if afraid the boss would change his mind, and used the ladle to scoop up a full portion.

Smelling the aroma, he couldn't wait to squat down to the side and lick up the broth.

The others watched the quick-witted bald man with envy, stretching their ears, waiting for the boss to ask his next question.

"Second question: who knows where to find electric grass?"