Harvest

Though the sight before them was brutal, at least the souls of these miners tortured to death would not be sacrificed to the demons of the Warp. In this universe, that already counted as a blessing amid misfortune.

Yes, the galaxy was just that twisted. Sometimes death was not a release, but the beginning of all suffering.

Even the Emperor's Angels, who had fought for the Imperium for centuries, could be chosen after death to become members of the Cursed Legion, their entire bodies burning with flames as they carried out the Emperor's orders in an increasingly chaotic galaxy, trying to save this pitiful race.

"Bleurgh!!!"

Sandman, pale as death, braced himself against the wall and vomited violently. It felt as if he had thrown up everything in his stomach. Even though he had prepared himself beforehand and kept psyching himself up, after forcing himself to lead Korax through the place, he still could not stop himself from vomiting like mad.

"Fuck your mother, this damned world! Bleurgh!!!"

By the end, Sandman had collapsed to his knees. A "guh—guh—" sucking sound came from his throat, as though invisible hands were wringing his stomach tight.

In the end, only bile came out, splattering onto the ground like a bowl of thick paint and sending a pungent, sour stench straight into Sandman's nose and mouth!

Korax, standing beside him, was in much better shape.

Other than the primarch's already snow-white skin turning even paler, there was not much difference. He kept patting Sandman's back with his palm, helping him steady his breathing.

At that moment, Korax finally felt that he and the camp's leader were two fellow sufferers.

"Nekser, clean this up. Burn this place. We're leaving." Having finally caught his breath, Sandman wiped the sour-smelling gastric fluid from his mouth and nose, then grabbed a handful of crushed ore dust to scrub his hands clean.

"Korax, help me out..." After vomiting, Sandman truly did not have a shred of strength left...

Yellow Skin, you damned bastard. One day, I'll tie you up in the Warp and let S.K.T watch while N fucks you!!!! Sandman viciously cursed that damned Yellow Skin in his heart, but that was all he could do—complain silently.

By now, he had figured it out.

His transmigration definitely had not been an accident. It had to be the work of that guy with the hardest mouth in the universe.

He suspected that the skeleton sitting on the Golden Throne ten thousand years later had gone insane and was now conscripting soldiers everywhere and tossing them around at random, only to throw him onto Lycaeus.

The Emperor of 30k might have been powerful, but he was powerful in the Material Universe. He was not so absurdly powerful that he could recruit soldiers like this.

Even so, he only dared mutter these complaints in his heart. He did not dare openly call out the names of so many "great" beings from the High Heavens, much less say something this explosive.

Otherwise, his end would surely be unimaginably miserable. This was a universe where thoughts and words held power. Other than those three watching for entertainment, the Emperor and the Benevolent Father would definitely give him a thorough lesson in what it meant to be worse than death.

In the future, he would still have to shamelessly suck up to the Emperor and ask him to take good care of a fellow countryman...

As for why he did not establish himself as king, punch the Emperor, and kick the four Chaos Gods?

Come on, wake up. Try putting an ordinary person in a ring with a world boxing champion...

For now, he just needed to raise Korax properly. Even if Korax did not inherit this vast Imperium someday, he would at least become a warlord ruling one side...

And if people thought he had no backbone? That transmigrators ought to be all arrogant chosen heroes, conquering the world with their own script, and that doing this brought shame upon transmigrators?

People had to be realistic. It was like wanting to become president—could you at least get into the civil service first?

Take on work according to your abilities. That was the hard-earned conclusion Sandman had reached after spending so long as a wage slave in his previous life.

When powerful people above him charged into battle, all he needed to do was wave the flag from the side and pick up whatever scraps he could from behind.

For a few thousand a month, why risk his life...

He had been nothing more than an insignificant commoner living in a peaceful world. Changing worlds would not suddenly make him turn over a new leaf.

That was the true journey of a small fry...

"Huff, huff, huff... We're finally out!" Sandman greedily gulped down the fresh air outside, like a fish about to die of thirst, spreading his mouth and nostrils wide and breathing with all his strength.

As blazing flames continuously poured out from the mine tunnel entrance, the group silently began their return to camp beneath the light of dawn.

What might originally have been several days of fierce fighting had now ended completely after just one night of rapid travel and less than an hour of battle.

This left the members of Shadow Kill in a dazed state. There was no other reason—it had ended too quickly. With Sandman and Korax working together, the rest of them had seemingly become dispensable.

Even Nekser began wondering whether he had been too useless...

The group traveled in silence. Aside from the occasional sounds of firearms and weapons clashing, their numbers steadily dwindled.

After every stretch of travel, several people would leave the group to continue carrying out their original missions.

Though they had made the trip for nothing, at least there had been no casualties. As long as they were alive, there was limitless hope.

Ever since Sandman became the camp's leader, life had become increasingly hopeful. They had already managed to stop working in the mines, something many camps on Lycaeus would not even dare dream of.

"Boss, the spoils have been counted. This time, we seized twenty short-barreled Laser Guns, fifteen Stun Guns, a batch of Corpse Starch enough to feed five hundred people for a week, along with a batch of medicine and several melee weapons..." After returning to camp, Nekser reported the gains to Sandman.

"They had some nerve. These people must have raided at least two groups of armed overseers," Sandman said.

Setting everything else aside, Stun Guns were absolutely contraband for miners. If they were discovered, the entire camp would be wiped out, let alone if they had Laser Guns.

Fortunately, all of it belonged to them now.

Sandman was not stupid enough to keep this contraband inside the camp. That would be no different from carrying a lantern into a latrine—looking for shit.

All of The Saviors' contraband was stored separately in another abandoned mine tunnel. People guarded it daily, so there was no need to worry about someone wandering in and discovering their secret.

"More importantly, those maggots actually had a stockpile of medicine. That truly is something remarkable," Nekser agreed.

On Lycaeus, the scarcity of medicine went without saying. Medicine was even more important than food.

The overseers on Lycaeus also maintained extremely strict control over it.