As a true research nerd, Hogg could proudly say that no matter what kind of black technology you had, as long as it didn't involve psychic powers, one sweep of his 24K titanium-alloy dog eyes was all it took for him to whip up a knockoff with roughly the same performance.
The Sea of Souls had surged, and only today did he truly know himself. Known as the knockoff Omnissiah and a C'tan in miniature, Hogg had lived for over ten thousand years and could even make counterfeit Necron Technology. But there was one thing he couldn't understand.
That was the anesthetic, the most technologically advanced product on Nu Star.
Every batch of the stuff was made using a prototype machine similar to an STC. Since psychic powers were involved, Hogg couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Even if he could replicate a new Anesthetic Manufacturing Machine, Hogg still couldn't figure out the precise synthesis process for the anesthetic.
In short, the value of Nuceria's anesthetic just kept rising.
When he woke up, Hogg's head was spinning. It took him a while to regain consciousness, and the moment he was fully alert, he immediately felt his own backside.
"Phew! Thank goodness."
"No, I'm not fine!"
A voice rang out. Hogg turned to look, and saw his good brother Magnus sitting at the dining table, surrounded by plate after plate of green leaves.
Taking in their surroundings, Hogg realized they were locked in a huge room—or, more accurately, had been settled into a cabin. No one would give prisoners a luxurious private suite.
"Damn it, I knew that fizzy drink tasted familiar. Turns out they saw through our disguise ages ago. Old Mal, where's that Goda kid?"
The red-skinned Ogryn called Old Mal speared a piece of fodder. Green juice