Prisoner 444

Hive World Terra Prime.

At the lowest level of the largest and oldest Hive City complex on the entire hive world—the Underhive—a war was underway.

Before the only passage leading from the Underhive to the lower hives, the Planetary Defense Force had established a position. Soldiers of the 44th Infantry Regiment and their Regimental Commander, Burl, were stationed there.

"Scum! The troops ahead of us are fighting the Cult of Evolution, while you lot are slacking off!"

"Get those supply points and fortifications built, or I'll let you taste the whip!"

"Move, move, move! We don't have much time to waste!"

Amid Regimental Commander Burl's furious roars, the regiment's soldiers sat in trenches carved from the metal floor, eating or lying down to rest.

No soldier would disobey an officer's orders, but the people Burl was berating were not soldiers.

The ones laboring around the position were not combat engineers, but prisoners.

These prisoners were ragged and utterly exhausted, working numbly beneath the shouting as they poured fortifications or hauled crates.

Qin Mo was one of those prisoners.

His shirt had been worn down into strips of cloth by the labor, exposing the black patterns across his upper body.

The black patterns looked strange. Though they resembled tattoos on flesh, they seemed metallic.

A collar was fastened around Qin Mo's neck, bearing a tag that read "Prisoner 444."

Unlike the other prisoners, the collar around Qin Mo's neck was a Psychic Suppressor Collar, marking him as an untrained Psyker.

"We..."

"Master."

As Burl continued roaring, an old man holding a scepter approached him and respectfully performed an Aquila salute.

"Kalon." Burl lifted his chin and looked down on his Psionic Servant. "You old bastard always like interrupting me. This time, you'd better have a good reason."

At that moment, Qin Mo raised his head and looked toward Burl and Kalon.

A Psyker servant was a rare sight.

The connection between the two was clearly deep. Kalon had interrupted Burl countless times at this position alone, and though Burl was displeased every time, he had never punished Kalon.

"They are exhausted." Kalon's sunken eyes, whose pupils could not be seen, turned toward the prisoners. "We still need them as cannon fodder, so I suggest letting them rest for a while."

Burl raised a brow and stared at Kalon for several seconds before turning to look in Qin Mo's direction.

No one could lie before Kalon. If he said these prisoners were exhausted, then he must have sensed it with his Psychic Power.

After a brief consideration, Burl slowly nodded in agreement.

Only then were the prisoners allowed to rest for a while.

Soon, a squad of logistics soldiers walked over and reluctantly distributed food and water.

"444, your food."

Qin Mo received his ration and lowered his head for a look. He found that it was the ration unique to Hive Terra, superior to starch.

There was no difference in meals. Prisoners ate and drank the same things as soldiers, but this was not because Burl treated prisoners equally. It was simply because there was no way to arrange separate provisions.

When Qin Mo opened the ration box, he saw a square white "candle" inside.

It looked like a candle.

But when Qin Mo scooped out a spoonful of the "candle" and put it in his mouth, he found that its texture and taste were worse than an actual candle's.

The candle-like solid food tasted of rotten protein the moment it entered his mouth. Once it met saliva, it rapidly turned to powder and clogged his throat.

At that point, he had to suppress the urge to cough, because taking too sharp a breath before coughing would suck the powder into his windpipe.

After forcing himself to finish the food despite the discomfort, Qin Mo casually tossed the meal box aside. He took a battered notebook from his pocket and carefully leafed through it.

It recorded everything that had happened since he had transmigrated into the Warhammer Universe.

It also recorded the joy and sorrow he had experienced in his original world before entering the Warhammer Universe... Qin Mo was terrified of forgetting those memories, because they offered him a sliver of comfort in his lightless life and kept him from breaking down.

The contents of the notebook were mundane, merely a running account.

The general format was: what Qin Mo had done before, who his family and friends were, what had happened during his childhood, what games he liked, what music he listened to.

These were the lives of every ordinary person in the Terra 3K Era.

These plain, ordinary records let Qin Mo reveal a genuine smile even as he sat in a filthy, stinking trench.

Qin Mo was so absorbed that he did not notice Burl and Kalon approaching him.

"..." After stopping before Qin Mo, Burl glanced sideways at his Psionic Servant.

Kalon silently looked back at Burl.

The two shared an exceptional understanding. A single glance was enough for them to grasp each other's thoughts.

Burl put his hands behind his back and lowered his head toward his waist.

A Chainsword hung there.

Burl swayed from side to side, making the Chainsword swing with him until it knocked against Qin Mo's head.

"Ha ha ha ha." Burl laughed. He enjoyed startling people like that. When Qin Mo raised his head to look at him, Burl saw hatred and fury in those deep black eyes.

For an instant as their gazes met, Burl even had a hallucination. He felt that what he saw was not a prisoner, but some ancient, horrifying entity among the stars.

"Psykers are all like this. Ha ha..." Burl forced a smile, then looked at Kalon.

Kalon raised a hand, and the notebook in Qin Mo's hands floated before him for him to examine.

"What does it say? Some kind of hallucination unique to you Psykers?" Burl asked.

"..." Kalon fell silent at first, then shook his head. "I can't read it."

The writing Kalon saw in the notebook was not Gothic, but another language. Its structure was strange enough that it would have been a miracle if he could read it.

But this writing did not seem... insane.

It was unlike the bizarre, twisted words that those newly awakened Psykers, corrupted by their power, carved everywhere.

At the very least, it could be preliminarily determined that although Qin Mo was an untrained Psyker, he remained sane.

"Prisoner 444." Kalon returned the notebook to Qin Mo. "Why were you arrested?"

"Because a nobleman who went hunting in the Underhive mistook me for prey, and I turned him into charcoal." Qin Mo answered.

Kalon fell silent. His hollow eyes stared at Qin Mo as he used his Psychic Power to probe the Psyker's thoughts.

After waiting for a while, Burl impatiently asked, "Is he telling the truth?"

"I don't know." Kalon shook his head. "I can't get into his mind."

"Who cares? We need manpower right now." Burl said eagerly.

As the two had inexplicably come over and questioned him for no apparent reason, Qin Mo had no idea what they wanted.

Kalon then gave him the answer. "We need your combat ability. I have the key to the Psychic Suppressor Collar around your neck. When necessary, I will unlock it."