Navigator System

[Navigator: Alvin]

[Race: Human]

[Faction: Imperium of Man]

[Class: Scavenger]

[Anchor World: None]

[Remaining Energy: 0.1 units]

Alvin was pondering the voice in his mind when his attention was drawn to the panel before him.

He tried waving his hand, but it passed straight through. That "panel" seemed to exist only in his eyes.

"Thank the Emperor Lord for his blessing!"

Listening to the voice in his mind, Alvin's eyes filled with tears. He was so moved that he nearly cried himself unconscious.

This had to be the standard feature of a transmigrator—the "Golden Finger" that belonged to him!

"The Emperor Lord has manifested himself!"

Alvin gripped the dial tightly and, with an unpracticed motion, performed an Eagle Salute.

Whether it was useful or not, sincerity brought miracles. Besides, what if the Emperor Lord really could see him?

After his joy subsided, Alvin discovered that his energy seemed insufficient, and the "dial" dimmed again.

"Does 'travel to a new world' mean going to another world?" Alvin stared at the "dial" in his hand, recalling the voice that had appeared in his mind when he activated it: "One hundred units of energy... But I don't even know how to calculate one unit of energy right now."

Fine, he had his Golden Finger. Now the problem was how to obtain ten units of energy.

"A scavenger shouldn't have absolutely nothing saved up, right?"

Clinging to his last shred of hope, Alvin searched through his predecessor's memories, only to be bitterly disappointed.

Forget looting corpses—there wasn't even a strand of hair left. No wonder he was always starving for three days out of every nine!

Besides, the Blood Axe Gang was no bunch of pushovers!

What was more, this was the Warhammer Universe. Although Nest Cities had laws, they applied only to the Mid-hive and the top hive.

As for the scum of the Underhive, whether they lived or died was completely outside the considerations of the Planetary Governor and the Noble Lords.

Hive Worlds were one of the Warhammer Universe's uniquely beautiful sights.

Their structures resembled towering skyscrapers and were divided into three regions: the top hive, the Mid-hive, and the Underhive. Some Hive Worlds had settlements outside the city, but this planet's climate was extremely harsh, so it clearly had none.

The top hive was where the nobles, Imperial administrators, Ecclesiarchy Priests, and others lived.

The Mid-hive generally housed civilians with legitimate jobs, the families of the Planetary Defense Force, retired Astra Militarum members, and the like.

As for the Underhive, that was where things got interesting. It was like a gigantic recycling center.

Whether wastewater, household refuse, industrial waste, or even criminals, everything was exiled here. It was truly a gathering place for all sorts of people.

The Underhive never saw sunlight. Only smog that blotted out the sky and pungent industrial exhaust filled the air, while radiation permeated everything.

Such an awful living environment naturally bred gangs, and the Blood Axe Gang was one of them.

He looked at the pipes arranged like a spiderweb and the alleys piled high with garbage. In his mind, the Scarred Man from the Blood Axe Gang appeared, grinning viciously as he stomped on him, looking down at him as though he were an animal.

A flame gradually ignited in Alvin's heart.

Why should he be the one trampled beneath someone's feet?!

They were all human beings, so why was he treated like an animal and trampled at will? Was it simply because the other man held a knife?

If so, then why couldn't the person holding the knife be him?

Alvin's state of mind quietly underwent a subtle change. This was the cruelty of the Warhammer Universe.

His goal was simple: to survive.

In this cruel Warhammer Universe, he would become the one holding the knife, rather than an animal waiting to be slaughtered!

He tightened his grip on the "dial" and turned his gaze aside, toward a Gas Mask lying in the wastewater. An idea suddenly sprang into his mind: This thing should be worth quite a bit.

A Gas Mask was essential equipment for Underhive scavengers.

Without one, the harsh environments in many parts of the Underhive, along with the acidic and radioactive air, would burn through a human's lungs. They would be unable to move for long before dropping dead.

Although the Gas Mask on his face looked no different from a piece of junk, almost at the point of being scrapped,

even so, it remained a hot commodity in the Underhive's Black Market, where demand far exceeded supply.

It was no exaggeration to say that, judging by its condition, this Gas Mask could at most be described as "slightly worn"!

Alvin quickly settled on a plan. He picked up the Gas Mask from the wastewater, then carefully tucked the "dial" inside his clothes.

"First things first: get one hundred units of energy!"

He vigorously rubbed his somewhat stiff face, took a deep breath of dust-filled air, and, enduring the intense pain in his abdomen, slowly made his way out of the alley with one hand against the wall.

Most of the people in the Black Market were scavengers, and nearly everything there had been salvaged from garbage dumps.

Of course, some good things from the top hive were mixed in as well, but the odds of finding them were about the same as winning the lottery.

Alvin wrapped himself in his robe and pulled up his hood, completely concealing his features to avoid attracting attention.

Then he found a stall and asked in a lowered voice, "Do you want a Gas Mask?"

The stall owner was a burly man with a face full of stubble. He wore a crude cloak, and his exposed left arm had been replaced by a metal Prosthetic limb.

"Let me see the condition."

The stall owner raised his head and looked him up and down.

Alvin took out the Gas Mask and handed it over.

"The condition's terrible. It's almost completely ruined." The stall owner glanced at it and shook his head. "For a Gas Mask of this quality, I can give you ten crowns."

"Too low."

Seeing that the other man was deliberately forcing the price down, Alvin snatched the Gas Mask back. "You should know that the most important part of a Gas Mask isn't the mask itself, but its filter element. My filter element is still quite new. It's worth at least a hundred crowns."

The common currency of the Imperium of Man was the Eagle Coin, but that kind of high-level currency was generally used only by nobles, merchants, or advanced civilized worlds.

Many remote planets with harsh environments used locally issued currencies, and the types varied.

Crowns were the common currency of this Hive World, and their value was roughly equivalent to copper coins. Ten crowns could buy a serving of Nutrient Paste.

Though his thoughts had been seen through, the stall owner wasn't embarrassed. Haggling was normal in the Underhive; if someone lacked the judgment to avoid it, they deserved their bad luck.

But since he had been exposed, he simply couldn't be bothered to waste time. He said directly, "Replacing the mask housing will cost at least ten crowns. Seventy crowns—that's my final offer."

Alvin thought for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Deal."

Although it was thirty crowns lower than expected, the Gas Mask was severely worn. He was already very satisfied that he could sell it for this price.

The stall owner pulled eight plastic banknotes from inside his clothes. Each was worth ten crowns, and he handed them over.

"Wait. Let me take a look at what you're selling."

Alvin did not take the money. Instead, he crouched down and looked over the stall.

"Go ahead. Everything's here. If the amount isn't enough, I can make up the difference with Nutrient Paste," the stall owner said slowly.

One serving of Nutrient Paste could last seven days if eaten sparingly. It was a fairly well-accepted universal trade good among scavengers.

Alvin looked down at the stall. What he lacked most right now was something that could provide "energy."

He picked up a battered compressed battery. The dial's mechanical, rigid voice immediately rang out in his mind.

[Item detected: Fuel Cell (Inferior)]

[Rough workmanship. An inferior low-grade battery—in other words, genuine garbage.]

[Energy provided: 3 units]

This was an unexpected stroke of luck!

The "dial" had far more functions than it seemed!

Without changing expression, Alvin set down the old battery and picked up the gun beside it, its barrel sawn off.

[Item detected: Logging gun (Inferior—Damaged)]

[The barrel has been completely worn smooth, and the firing pin has failed. It would still be a good tool for suicide.]

[Energy provided: 5 units]

[Item detected: Old Laser Gun (Damaged)]

[It has almost no sights and would be quite suitable as a fire poker.]

[Energy provided: 3 units]

Alvin swept his gaze around. He could barely find anything of value. Just as he was about to give up, a copper piece he casually scooped up changed his mind.

[Item detected: Deflection Field Generator (Worn)]

[Nearly damaged. It can generate a layer of Deflection Field near the user, barely escaping the category of garbage.]

[Energy provided: 150 units]