Theft Operation

"Now, prepare to get back to work."

The brief rest period ended.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, and the overseers brandished their electric whips, driving the workers back to their stations.

The players exchanged glances, initiating Operation Mine Rat.

Their movements while sorting ore appeared clumsy as before, but now carried a subtle, calculated intent.

[Area Channel]

[Loyal to the Emperor Forever]: "Three o'clock, the one-eyed overseer has turned around. The pile of ore behind him has good purity. Who is closest?"

[Soul of Cadia]: "I'm on it! Watch my Cadian stealth!"

[Soul of Cadia] gave a clumsy stagger, pretending to trip over the ore, and lunged onto the pile. As he scrambled to get back up, three palm-sized chunks of Promethium Waste Ore had already vanished into his hands.

[Did White Scars speed today]: "Impressive! Though that stealth technique... the ancestors of the White Scars would shake their heads."

[Soul of Cadia]: "You do it then! These work uniforms are as baggy as sacks; it's a miracle we can steal anything at all!"

[Tau-kun, you are right, but Bolter is righter]: "There's a gap under the conveyor belt on the west side. A lot of fragments fell in there; the overseer can't see it."

"I'll pretend to tie my shoelaces..."

He crouched down and fiddled for half a minute; when he stood up, his storage grid held five small ore fragments.

[Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford]: "Shoelaces? Do these crappy boots of ours even have laces?"

[Tau-kun, you are right, but Bolter is righter]: "...I think they do, so they do."

"Don't worry about the details."

The players gradually found their rhythm.

The moment the overseer turned away, while bending down to tie non-existent shoelaces, or pretending to fumble a load and falling over... heavy, sharp-edged pieces of waste ore were silently stuffed into their five limited storage slots.

Although they could only steal a few pieces at a time, and the increased weight after stacking caused their stamina to drain faster.

Yet, the thrill of stealing right under the enemy's nose, combined with the occasional <strong>[Obtained: Promethium Waste Ore x1]</strong> prompt popping up in the corner of their vision, added a strange sense of fun to the dull, agonizing labor.

Of course, there were plenty of moments where things went wrong.

[Area Channel]

[Don't ask, I think it will work]: "Damn it! The overseer suddenly turned back! I didn't have time to put the ore away!"

Thinking quickly, he shoved a piece of ore into his mouth, puffed out his cheeks, and pretended to work diligently.

[Schrodinger's Loyalist]: "...Brother, can you even chew that?"

[Don't ask, I think it will work]: "Can't chew it... but I think as long as I don't spit it out, he won't notice."

Two minutes later, he was whipped by the overseer for his strange expression, the ore fell out of his mouth, and he received a kick for good measure.

[Nurgle Loving Father Loves All]: "Accepting punishment is also a part of growth."

Between stealing ore, some players began attempting to strike up conversations with the real NPC workers.

Most of these native workers had numb eyes and were taciturn; they were long since accustomed to the players giggling at thin air or making strange faces, simply regarding them as another batch of poor wretches driven mad by a cruel life.

[Area Channel]

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run]: "Attempting to communicate with the worker labeled G-77 on the left, asking about his years of service."

Worker G-77: Slowly turned his head, looked at him with cloudy eyes, then turned back. "...Ten years."

"Or twenty."

"I don't remember."

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run]: "Asking for his opinion on the Alru Group."

Worker G-77: Silent for a long time. "...They provide food."

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run]: "Asking if he has heard of the Emperor, Terra, or Space Marines."

Worker G-77: His body trembled slightly; he lowered his head and hammered the ore harder, offering no further response.

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run]: "Preliminary assessment: This individual has a vague awareness of high-level concepts but fears discussing them in depth."

[Slaanesh Chosen Reserve]: "I asked the lady next to me if there were any... um, entertainment activities here? Or places that make people happy?"

Female Worker: Glanced at him with a look of disgust and moved two steps away.

[Slaanesh Chosen Reserve]: "She has no appreciation for culture!"

[Soul of Cadia]: "Brother, looking for Slaanesh entertainment in the Warhammer world... you'd have to go to Commorragh or some upper-hive world corrupted by Chaos."

"Here? You'd be better off asking where to find nutrient paste that isn't moldy."

[Loyal to the Emperor Forever]: "I had some success on my end."

"An old worker who was moving ore with me secretly told me not to ask too many questions and just work hard so I can live a few days longer."

"I pressed him on whether something had happened here, and he vaguely muttered that after District 7 fell, many things changed, then refused to say anything more."

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run]: "District 7? Log that term."

"Suspected key local historical event or location."

Time slipped away amidst surreptitious exchanges, the sting of whips, and monotonous labor.

The artificial light sources in the Refinery dome gradually dimmed, simulating the cycle of day and night.

Finally, the whistle for the end of the shift sounded once more.

The players dragged their exhausted bodies into line, and under the watchful eyes of the overseers, collected their daily wages: a gray, dusty tube of nutrient paste and a small pouch of murky recycled water, rich in various essential minerals.

The taste of the nutrient paste remained as moving as ever, while the recycled water carried the distinct tang of rust and chlorine.

Yet, after eating and drinking, the [Mild Hunger] and [Mild Thirst] status effects were finally lifted, and their stamina began to recover at a sluggish pace.

Returning to the crowded communal sleeping quarters, which reeked of sweat and mold, the players followed their plan and selected the first two volunteers for guard duty: [Did White Scars speed today] and [Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford].

"You two log off first, go eat and use the latrine, get some rest."

"Log back in an hour to swap with us."

Wang Zhong instructed, "Remember, stay sharp. If anything happens, log off immediately and call for backup."

"Leave it to me, Brother Loyal!"

[Did White Scars speed today] gave a thumbs-up, though it looked somewhat comical in this environment.

The two walked to a relatively secluded corner, sat down with their backs against the wall, closed their eyes, and focused their minds.

[Confirm safe logout? Current status: Rest period, operable. Vessel will enter low-power maintenance mode. Please ensure concealment.]

[Confirm]

A faint white light flickered over the two and vanished. Their bodies remained slumped against the wall, but their eyes lost their luster, and their breathing became extremely shallow and slow, as if they had fallen into a deep sleep.

Wang Zhong, Tax Brother, Xue Brother, and the others remained online for the time being.

They gathered in the corner and opened the system shop interface.

Wang Zhong's balance: 32.8 coins; Tax Brother: 31.5 coins; Xue Brother: 30.1 coins.

"Pool it together, it's just enough."

Wang Zhong calculated, "Buy that Portable Recycling Terminal, and we'll have twenty-some coins left for emergencies."

[Confirm exchange: Portable Material Recycling Terminal (Basic) - 50 Imperial Coins]

[Exchange successful.]

An object the size of a palm, looking like a thick metal plate, appeared in Wang Zhong's hand. Its surface featured a few simple buttons and a tiny display screen.

[Item: Portable Material Recycling Terminal (Basic)]

[Function: Converts standard material resources into Imperial Coins. Exchange rate is 95% of standard submission points.]

[Usage Restrictions: Requires manual operation; processing capacity per batch is limited.]

[Note: Profiteers always take a cut, don't they?]

"Alright, next is saving up money."

Wang Zhong carefully hid the terminal inside the lining of his work uniform, "How much did everyone steal today? Report your numbers, we'll process it all at once and split the money based on contribution."

The players began to secretly pull stolen goods out from their storage slots.

One piece, two pieces, five pieces... Promethium Waste Ore of varying sizes and purities piled up in a small heap in the corner.

Wang Zhong activated the terminal and aimed it at the ore pile. An imperceptible scanning beam swept across it, and the terminal screen displayed: [Standard energy material detected... Estimated value: 73.7 Imperial Coins. Convert? (Processing fee 4.435 coins)]

"Convert."

The ore pile vanished instantly, as if decomposed and devoured by an invisible force.

Wang Zhong's account increased by 69.265 Imperial Coins.

"There were 113 people involved in stealing ore today. We'll distribute it based on the estimated value of the ore each person stole."

Wang Zhong performed rapid mental arithmetic in the channel, then used the system's trading function to transfer amounts ranging from a fraction of a coin to 0.612 Imperial Coins to the players who participated in the operation.

It wasn't much money, but it was the first profit gained through planning and collaboration, which held extraordinary significance.

"Alright, everyone get some rest."

The other players also logged off one after another, their bodies sprawling haphazardly across the sleeping area.

"Thanks for your hard work, brothers on guard duty."

Wang Zhong nodded at [Did White Scars speed today] and [Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford].

The two were already back online, vigilantly observing their surroundings.

Wang Zhong, Tax Brother, and Xue Brother also walked to the side and sat down back-to-back.

"Logging off?" Xue Brother asked.

"Wait a bit longer. Let the brothers log off first, then we'll go.

"You say..."

Tax Brother lowered his voice, "Does what we're doing count as organizing a labor union in the Warhammer world?"

"A union?"

Xue Brother chuckled, "We call this the Fourth Calamity Strategic Development Committee. Our primary goal is the redistribution of production materials—the ore. Our mid-term goal is the armed seizure of the production tools—the Refinery. Our long-term goal is to reach for the stars and pilot mechs."

"Brilliant."

Wang Zhong smiled, "Log off and get some rest."

"We'll continue being mine-rats tomorrow, and while we're at it... try to dig up more information on that Old District 8."

The three of them closed their eyes and selected logout.

In the massive underground space of the Refinery, thousands of players lay in various postures, fast asleep.

Only two figures on duty remained, their eyes wide open in the dim light, ears pricked up like vigilant marmots on watch.

In the distance, the roar of the furnaces never ceased, and molten metal flowed slowly through the trenches, reflecting the eternal, unchanging backdrop of this steel hell.

Meanwhile, on a higher level of Arlu City, inside the opulent office of the Alu Pharmaceutical Group headquarters.

The report regarding the thousands of unidentified individuals who had suddenly appeared in Workshop No. 7 and were subsequently suppressed had already been archived as processed and repurposed for resource recovery.

No one realized what kind of souls were hidden within those consumables they deemed of little value, fit only to be sent off as forced labor.

Nor did they realize what kind of calamity-level upheaval these souls would bring to this factory, this city, and this world.

In the shadows of the rest area, Did White Scars speed today stared at the Imperial Coin count on his crude UI panel, holding it up to the dim light.

"Almost there," he whispered to himself, his eyes gleaming, "Once I save up enough money to buy a gun, the first thing I'm doing is blowing that one-eyed foreman away..."

His whisper was drowned out by the eternal noise of the Refinery.

No one heard it.

Except for a certain newborn Chaos God, who perceived all of this through countless invisible threads in the void, delightedly absorbing the fresh emotional energy of anticipation, plotting, and petty excitement.

Deep within the Warp, Lu Sheng's energy form stretched out comfortably.

"Yes, just like that... more plotting, more anticipation..."

"The seeds of hatred have been sown; now, we just wait for them to sprout."

"When you lot finally start the riot... that emotional energy will surely be delicious, won't it?"

He seemed to already see the scene of a future day, where this Refinery was engulfed in flames and the players were charging about, brandishing crude weapons and shouting slogans that made no sense.

"Keep it up, my players."

"Even if you're only driving mining carts for now..."

"One day, you will pilot mechs."

"I promise."

"Probably."