I'm Four Years Old This Year, and Already a Veteran with One Year of Experience

The piercing alarms across Pedetia had finally fallen silent.

The Cultists entrenched in the ruins of the hive city receded once more from the Astra Militarum's main positions like a retreating tide, leaving behind wreckage and twisted corpses. The humans of the Underhive had once again won themselves a brief respite, but no one knew when the next wave would come—or how overwhelming it would be.

During this brief lull, a small band of Cultists seemed unwilling to remain idle and launched a probing attack against the newly captured Chemical Refinery. However, what they faced was a group of Death Seekers who had long since made death a part of everyday life.

It could barely even be called a battle.

Although even seasoned first-beta Players had fought, at most, only three proper campaigns, the lessons brought by countless deaths had clearly taught them how to fight through barrages of gunfire. Perhaps they still could not compare to the battle-hardened Astra Militarum veterans whose wills were forged of steel, but they were at least far stronger than the Pedetia Planetary Defense Force, whose morale was fragile and whose troops were always looking for a chance to run.

Besides, reality was cruel. On Pedetia now, truly veteran Astra Militarum soldiers were few enough to count on one hand.

Not long after the battle ended, Commissar Walter personally led a team to the Chemical Refinery. By then, the Players had already voluntarily lined up in the open space within the facility, awaiting orders.

Commissar Walter's gaze swept over the soldiers, whose faces were filled with confidence and even a hint of ease. They looked as though they had just completed an effortless hunt, without a trace of the exhaustion or fear that came after a bloody battle. He took a deep breath, suddenly straightened his chest, and shouted with all his strength:

"Salute the heroes!"

At once, he and the solemn Astra Militarum soldiers behind him, all covered in smoke and dust, gave the Players a standard Imperial Eagle Salute.

Before the Players could react, Walter had already finished his salute and resumed his stern expression. He said crisply, "Dismissed."

He waved a hand, directing the Astra Militarum under his command to bring a group of civilian workers inside and formally take over operations at the Chemical Refinery.

Having received their orders, the Players naturally broke formation without a care in the world. This time, however, they did not split into groups of two or three. Most of them happily gathered together instead.

It turned out that the Player who had drawn the rulebook had really started a DND group in a corner of the facility. He had even successfully found more than a dozen participants, drawing nearly every idle Player over to watch.

The reason it was "nearly" everyone was that there were always a few unlucky bastards who drew sentry duty after the battle.

Ruan Wenbo did not go over to watch the excitement. Instead, he walked up to Commissar Walter. Walter did not say much, merely pointing at the workers who had just been brought in. "I still need your soldiers to help these workers familiarize themselves with the place."

Ruan Wenbo nodded. "It's part of our duty to begin with. You needn't worry, Commissar."

However, Walter's words caused Ruan Wenbo to turn his attention toward the workers. One look, and even he was startled. Among these so-called "workers," there were almost no young or middle-aged men.

"Why are they all women and children?"

Commissar Walter answered in an offhand tone, "The able-bodied are needed for defense-line construction."

Ruan Wenbo naturally understood the implication—every man capable of holding a gun was being dragged off to fill the front lines. His heart sank. "Have things... really reached this point?"

Walter merely let out a deep sigh. He said nothing more, but that heavy sigh explained everything. Ruan Wenbo felt the weight in his own heart as well. He did not speak again, only called over several Players and had them lead the way.

The three Players who had drawn the unlucky assignment were leading a group of female workers and a little boy who was clearly still a child toward Area C-1. This was where high explosives were produced.

One of the Players grumbled, "Fuck, why did we draw this job? What rotten luck."

"Quit whining. Hurry up and finish so we can get back to the campaign," another urged.

"Ugh, I have no idea why that Ziyu guy is chickening out. He's already got Sipa at the table—just go up there and use Supreme Holy Slash! What's with all the dithering?" His mind had clearly already flown back to the DND table.

Upon arriving at Area C-1, the Players casually pointed out the various sections to the female workers and briefly explained what they needed to watch out for.

"See that? This place was hit by a Lasgun. That machine might be unstable already, so inspect it before dismantling it."

"There could be heretics hiding in the corners. Stay alert while you work. If anything seems off, shout for help and report it immediately!"

The female workers nodded timidly, their faces full of fear and obedience. They hurriedly promised that they would absolutely follow the sirs' instructions. The Players did not care much about their reactions, simply treating them as low-intelligence NPCs with simple AI logic that the developers had not put much thought into.

One of the three Players, whose ID was JK, did notice the child who stood out among the female workers. He walked over, and the women immediately parted to make way, as though they feared getting too close. JK crouched before the boy with a teasing smile. "Yo, whose kid is this? The production area is dangerous. Why'd you bring a child here?"

To his surprise, the child was not frightened at all. Instead, he puffed out his thin chest and answered loudly, "Sir, I'm not a child. I'm a Pipe Unclogger!"

The smile vanished from JK's face at once. The other two Players, who had still been discussing the campaign, turned to look as well.

"...What did you say? Say that again."

Thinking this Astra Militarum officer was worried that he could not handle the work, the child hurriedly patted his chest and assured him, "Don't worry, Sir! I'm only four years old, but I already have one year of work experience. I'm a veteran!"

After saying that, the child seemed a little embarrassed. He scratched the back of his messy head and added, "I used to have two three-year-old apprentices, but they accidentally fell to their deaths before."

"...Fuck."

The hot-tempered guy who had been swearing about his bad luck earlier now growled with a hundred times more fury, "What the fuck is this supposed to be?! Where are your parents?!"

Startled by his sudden outburst, the child trembled and mumbled, "I... I don't know."

"Enough." JK stood up, stopping the Player who wanted to say more. "Don't scare him."

He turned to the new workers, who had all fallen silent in terror, and said coldly, "Anyway, that's about it. This place is yours from now on."

With that, he turned and left without looking back, and the other two followed him. Behind them came the hurried sounds of the female workers bowing and thanking them.

The moment they stepped out of Area C-1, that Player could no longer hold himself back. He punched the wall beside him and cursed, "This is fucking insane! Who the fuck is supposed to be the villain here?!"

"You can't expect the people living under an Imperium ruled by a feudal nobility, where church and state are one, transportation is inconvenient, information is cut off, technology is hoarded, and endless war never ends, to enjoy particularly comfortable lives," the third Player sighed.

"Even so, this is going too far!" the Player said, still furious.

JK cut off their conversation. "We can't change any of this right now. Winning the war is the only thing we can do."

He paused and looked toward the direction from which faint cheers could be heard in the distance.

"Now hurry up and see how that campaign's going."