Purge Day, just before dawn.
The refinery air was thick with that ever-present smell of sulfur and metal.
Nearly five thousand players crowded into the dim corners of the communal sleeping area. The regional channel was eerily silent.
[Loyal to the Emperor Forever]: "Final check. Status of each squad."
[Soul of Cadia] (Squad One Leader): "Squad One, 1,863 people."
"Equipment list confirmed: one automatic rifle per person, four standard 7.62 magazines, one melee tool each (machete or steel pipe), and one set of improvised fiber armor (chest and shoulders) per person."
"An average of 7.2 Imperial Coins remaining per person."
"Two small recycling terminals in position. Over."
[Tau-kun, you are right, but Bolter is righter] (Squad Two Leader): "Squad Two, 1,522 people."
"Same equipment as above."
"Two recycling terminals."
"Over."
"Also: the guys' hands are all shaking. Not from fear— they're excited."
[Did White Scars speed today] (Squad Three Leader): "Squad Three, 1,129 people, online."
"Same equipment as above."
"Two recycling terminals."
"Over."
"Like the wind! Just waiting for the signal!"
[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run] (Squad Four Leader/Chief Technical Support): "Squad Four, 447 people, online."
"Equipment: standard issue as above, plus 50 metal cutters, 20 portable pulley hoists, and 15 demolition-charge kits."
"One recycling terminal."
"The data analysis, quick appraisal, and dismantling instruction teams are ready."
"Over."
Wang Zhong watched the reports scroll through the channel and took a deep breath.
He and the 45 people in his direct squad, led by Tax Brother and Xue Brother, were preparing to head to the meeting place Ren had agreed on.
The three of them had spared no expense on their gear.
The weapon Wang Zhong clutched was no longer some shoddy black-powder contraption.
It was a Lucius Pattern laspistol, its lines cold and angular, with a slot for an energy cell.
It cost 80 Imperial Coins in the shop. Its range was short, but at close quarters it could burn through light armor.
Two Frag Grenades (15 coins each) hung from his belt, and he wore a half-body metal plate insert (50 coins). It was heavy, but offered decent protection to vital areas.
Tax Brother had gone straight for a Stubber-converted automatic shotgun (65 coins).
His ammo belt was packed with red-cased slugs, making him look like a demolition crew all by himself.
Xue Brother had chosen precision: a Kant-pattern Long-barreled Lasgun with a simple optical sight (95 coins), plus a gleaming hunting knife (8 coins) on his back.
The others in their squad were also equipped with at least a kinetic automatic rifle and basic armor. Everyone had cut their Imperial Coin balance down to 10–20 resurrection coins.
"Brothers," Wang Zhong typed his final message into the regional channel, every word brimming with reckless excitement.
"Remember, we're not escaping. We're taking what's ours! Taking every damn thing!"
"The Alru Group has squeezed us for so long, whipped us, fed us pig slop, treated us like test subjects... Today, we're getting it all back, with interest!"
"If you see something valuable, don't hesitate. Have the system scan it to confirm its value. If you can carry it, take it. If you can't, recycle it on the spot with a terminal!"
"If it can't be recycled, destroy it where it stands. Don't leave a damn thing for those bastards!"
"One death costs five coins. A big machine costs tens of thousands!"
"Even the Emperor would praise us for being so thrifty!"
"For Imperial Coins!"
"For power armor!"
"For stripping this damn factory bare!"
The channel was instantly flooded with a frenzied chorus of "For Imperial Coins!"
There were no grand boasts or lofty ideals. Their most down-to-earth desires had fused into the purest battle spirit.
Wang Zhong closed the regional channel and nodded to the people beside him. "Brothers, stow your gear in your inventory first. Come on, let's go meet our allies."
Using pipes and shadows for cover, the group crept silently toward the abandoned warehouse in the northeast corner.
The warehouse was more dilapidated than they had imagined. Its rusty iron door stood ajar. There was no light inside, only a... clammy silence.
Wang Zhong signaled. The squad members spread out to keep watch, while he slipped through the door with Tax Brother, Xue Brother, and a few others.
Darkness.
Thick darkness, so deep they could barely see their hands in front of them.
The air held dust and rust, along with a faint... sweet, bloody smell?
"Ren?"
Wang Zhong lowered his voice.
"Over here."
A reply came from the dark. It was Ren's voice, but lower than usual, more... even.
A few dim, battery-powered lanterns flickered to life, barely illuminating a small area in the center of the warehouse.
Ren stood there, surrounded by thirty-some figures. They were refinery workers, men and women, young and old.
They stood in silence, their eyes glinting in the yellow lamplight with a strange light. It wasn't numbness or fear, but... some kind of focused fanaticism?
Wang Zhong's heart tightened.
Something about this atmosphere was wrong.
"You came."
Ren smiled, his expression so perfectly measured it seemed almost mechanical. "Good."
"Time is running out."
"What's the plan?" Wang Zhong asked directly, his gaze sweeping over the people behind Ren.
Their posture and their eyes carried a trained stiffness, nothing like ordinary laborers.
"It's simple."
Ren's voice echoed through the empty warehouse. "The riot will begin in two hours."
"Someone will attack from outside and draw the bulk of the fire."
"Once chaos breaks out, your job is to take out every overseer and guard you see."
"Use your own methods."
"As for the managers and technical chiefs in the factory... we'll deal with them."
"Once it's all done, you can leave."
"Go wherever you want."
Wang Zhong forced a grateful expression. "That's wonderful! Ren, brother, thank you so much!"
"We've waited so long for this day!"
Inside, though, he was ranting: Like hell I believe you! These guys look like they've been brainwashed by Tzeentch!
And that smell in this godforsaken place... why does it smell a little like something burned?
Out loud, he kept playing along. "Who are the brothers attacking us?"
"Is their force big enough to break through the factory's defenses?"
Ren's smile widened, the curve of his lips so precise it looked as if it had been measured with a ruler. "Knowledge... brings power, and it brings allies."
"You don't need to know too much. Just know that the time for change has come."
Knowledge brings power?
Why did that sound so familiar?
Alarm bells rang in Wang Zhong's mind.
"All right, we understand."
He asked no more. "We'll act in two hours."
"We'll head back and get ready."
"May Change guide you."
Ren gave a slight nod and spoke a cryptic phrase.
Wang Zhong hurried his people out of the warehouse. Only after they had gotten well away from that disturbing place did he growl into the channel:
"Everyone, listen up! There's definitely something wrong with Ren and his people!"
"Something's off about them. They're talking in riddles, and that line about May Change guide you... Damn it, could they be..."
[Schrodinger's Loyalist]: "Could they be Chaos Cultists?! Chaos Cultists in the newbie village? Did the devs really have to be this heartless?"
Before you continue