"Couldn't make it out clearly. It kept cutting in and out."
Soul of Cadia recalled, "It sounded like they were talking about timing, that they couldn't wait any longer and needed outside help... There was another thing, too. Those strange newcomers might be useful."
"Strange newcomers?"
Xue Brother pointed at himself. "You mean us?"
"Most likely."
Wang Zhong pondered. "Outside help... Do they mean us, this bunch of sudden arrivals whose identities are unknown?"
"They want to use us?" Tax Brother frowned.
"Or work with us."
Wang Zhong's gaze flickered. "Either way, they've noticed us, and they might have a plan."
He looked toward the warehouse. "This is an opportunity, but it could also be a trap. We need more information."
"What do we do?" Soul of Cadia asked.
"Wait."
Wang Zhong said, "Wait for them to approach us again."
"Until then, carry on as usual, but stay alert—especially around Ren."
The next two days passed without incident.
Ren didn't approach Wang Zhong again. If anything, he seemed to deliberately avoid areas crowded with players.
But the players could feel the atmosphere at the refinery changing in subtle ways.
The overseers seemed to be cracking their whips more often, and with more fury.
An NPC worker was injured while hauling a heavy load. They dragged him away, leaving a trail of blood, and he never came back.
Every now and then, entire batches of the nutrient paste handed out in the cafeteria were discolored and tasted even stranger than usual. Workers who ate it ended up vomiting and suffering from diarrhea.
Of course, the players had system status panels to warn them, and they secretly exchanged for small amounts of synthetic nutrient paste and purified water to supplement their rations, so they were relatively unaffected.
Fear and oppression spread among the real workers.
And the difference between them and these strange newcomers, who didn't seem so easy to break, appeared to have caught the attention of certain people.
On the ninth day, after work.
Wang Zhong was crouched in a corner, quietly calculating how much ore he'd stolen that day, when a shadow fell over him.
He looked up. It was Ren.
The young man glanced around, then quickly crouched down and spoke in a low voice:
"Bro, do you... want to get out of here?"
Wang Zhong's heart gave a violent thump, but his face betrayed nothing.
"Who doesn't? But how?"
"We can't get out on our own."
Ren stared into his eyes. "The overseers have guns, there are patrols outside, and the whole of Arlu City is watched by the Group."
"Then what's the point of telling us this?" Tax Brother muttered nearby, pretending to be impatient.
"But what if... something changed?"
Ren's eyes sharpened.
"Something changed?"
"Our chance is coming."
The young man spoke with a restrained excitement. "They have to pay their debts, too."
Alarm bells rang in Wang Zhong's mind.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said gravely.
Ren smiled. The smile was bitter, yet resolute. "That's all right."
"You just need to know that the Purge Day three days from now is when the refinery's security will be at its weakest."
"Purge Day?" Xue Brother asked.
"Once a month."
Ren spoke calmly, as if discussing something trivial. "They clear out the unfit consumables to make room for new ones."
"They used to draw lots. Later, they changed it to... getting rid of the injured, the sick, and anyone who wouldn't obey."
A chill ran through Wang Zhong.
This was everyday life for the lowest class in the Warhammer World.
Once a month, they cleared people out like trash, disposing of anyone who'd outlived their usefulness.
"Most of the overseers will go back to the city that day for the Group's quarterly accounting banquet. They'll leave only a few people on duty," Ren continued. "It's our only chance."
"Why tell us all this?" Wang Zhong asked.
"Because I can tell you're not like the others who've given up."
The young man stood. "There's still something in your eyes."
"Something like... the look of people who refuse to be treated as consumables."
He paused. "Three days from now, at midnight. If you want to change anything, meet me at the warehouse's back door."
"I'll be waiting."
With that, he disappeared into the dim shadows as quietly as he had arrived.
Wang Zhong immediately shared the information in the regional channel.
Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run quickly analyzed the situation. "Purge Day, weak security, and a resistance group planning to act."
"The logic checks out."
"No matter what they're plotting or what debts they want repaid, our strategy stays the same."
Loyal to the Emperor Forever: "Oil-Guy's right!"
"If Purge Day is an opportunity, then we lie low for the next few days and keep stealing ore. In the last three days, steal like your lives depend on it! Take as much as you can!"
"That night, we go meet them."
"The moment anything happens, we exchange for gear and start grabbing stuff!"
Soul of Cadia: "Got it! Brothers, remember your targets?"
"Northwest corner, the smelter—eighty thousand coins!"
"East side, conveyor control console—thirty thousand! And those transport trucks, each one's worth over ten thousand!"
Did White Scars speed today: "I've already figured out how to dismantle the smelter! I'll lead the charge when the time comes!"
Tau-kun, you are right, but Bolter is righter: "For Imperial Coins! For mechs! For... uh, for the Emperor?"
Nurgle Loving Father Loves All: "Accept the feast to come, whether it be flesh or metal."
The players turned in that day's haul, once again receiving an average of 8.9 Imperial Coins each, then happily logged off.
Night at the refinery remained dark and noisy, heavy with the stench of metal and sulfur.
But within those thousands of seemingly sleeping bodies, 4,961 souls in the real world were rubbing their hands together, eyes gleaming.
They discussed their operation, mapped out the factory, and calculated the value of each piece of equipment. Some had even started researching the weaknesses of various machines in Warhammer 40K and how to dismantle them.
Deep in the Warp.
Lu Sheng felt the especially surging emotional energy of the day. It was a mixture of tension, excitement, anticipation, glee, and the sense that something big was about to happen.
"Excellent. Just excellent..."
He happily stretched out his energy form.
"Purge Day? A resistance group? A robbery plan?"
"These players... They really haven't let me down."
"When the day comes, and the overseers and the resistance are locked in a fierce battle, when explosions and flames tear through the refinery's night sky..."
"When this bunch of Fourth Calamity players charge at those expensive machines, brandishing miner's picks, freshly exchanged laspistols, and cheap armor, howling 'For Imperial Coins!'..."
"That spectacle, those emotions..."
"It'll be quite the feast."
Lu Sheng was already looking forward to it.
He even considered adding a temporary effect to the system on Purge Day. Perhaps whenever the players successfully salvaged a large piece of equipment, a flashy caption would pop up: +10,000 Imperial Coins!
"Hmm, that could work."
"After all, employee morale needs a boost."
He gleefully started making plans.
As for what would happen to the refinery?
How much the Alru Group would lose?
Whether Ren and the others' resistance would succeed?
What did I care?
I was just a newborn Chaos God who'd been starving for ages and had only recently gotten a full meal.
If the players were happy, I'd have emotional energy to eat.
A win-win.
Lu Sheng hummed a cheerful little tune, its notes twisting and warping in the Warp.
It sounded a little like Nurgle's Hymn of Decay, a little like Slaanesh's Psychedelic Electro, with the rhythm of Khorne's war drums and Tzeentch's Whispers of Conspiracy mixed in.
"Praise pleasure."
"Praise the Fourth Calamity."
"Praise... the coming day of chaos and harvest."
Before you continue