First Followers

"Pant... pant... Run! Don't stop! Once we shake off this monster, we'll be safe!"

A tall man clutched a bulky firearm, firing continuously behind him as he ran. A stream of bullets hammered the deformed monster pursuing them.

There were twelve people fleeing desperately alongside the man. Three more carried guns and kept firing backward with him. The bullets struck the monster, kicking up tiny sprays of blood, but ordinary ammunition was far too weak to stop it.

Instead, the constant attacks only enraged the monster further. It charged madly after the fleeing crowd. Yet the fact that these people had survived its pursuit showed that every one of them possessed fairly decent survival skills.

Whenever they were about to be hit, they nimbly evaded each of the monster's attacks—diving forward, rolling in place, using every obstacle around them for cover. Every escape was perilously close; a single mistake would cost them their lives.

The monster was enormous, nearly three meters tall. Its body was covered in thick brown carapace, and its skull resembled that of a canine, with prominent cheekbones and not a single hair.

Its arms were abnormally thick and ended in sharp claws. It could run with terrifying speed, but its huge frame made it less agile when changing direction than the humans fleeing for their lives.

Moreover, the monster's claws were incomparably sharp, glimmering with a faint blue light. Even sturdy walls would be left with several deep gouges if struck by those claws.

A second-generation Genestealer, a creature standing on the boundary between humanity and the Tyranids—neither human nor monster. It was stronger than ordinary humans, especially its claws, which came with a disintegration field. They could easily tear apart even the Ceramite armor of Space Marines, though its overall combat strength was inferior to a Space Marine's.

The Genestealer was furious. Its prey was surprisingly good at running, wasting far too much of its time. Once it returned to the brood, even if the Patriarch and the Magus did not blame it, how could it still have the face to bear heavy responsibilities and continue protecting the brood's growth?

Bang!

A thunderous gunshot brought the Genestealer's thoughts to an abrupt end. It lowered its head in disbelief and stared at the gaping hole in its chest. It could not believe that such a powerful weapon existed in the Underhive of a mere hive city—one capable of effortlessly piercing its hardened carapace.

The humans who had been fleeing in all directions were startled by the massive gunshot. They instinctively slowed and looked back, only to see the monster chasing them sway once before collapsing to the ground, never to move again.

The survivors cautiously scanned their surroundings, afraid that whoever had killed the monster might give them a shot as well.

A giant nearly four meters tall stepped out from a corner, clad in golden armor and carrying an enormous firearm in his arms.

"You're safe now."

Art Student looked at the wary survivors and spoke calmly.

Seeing that the giant who had emerged could communicate normally, the fortunate survivors gathered together and fell to their knees.

"Thank you very much for saving us, my lord."

The survivors remained kneeling on the ground, repeatedly thanking Art Student.

"I merely happened to come across you being chased by xenos and lent you a hand. If you want to thank someone, thank your own luck."

Art Student answered evenly.

"Thanks be to the God-Emperor for His protection!"

After hearing Art Student's answer, the crowd began praising the God-Emperor's blessing.

Art Student did not stop them from praising the God-Emperor. He merely watched indifferently before turning to leave.

The people who had been kneeling and praising the God-Emperor watched Art Student prepare to depart. They wanted to say something, but did not know how to put it into words.

"My lord... are you an angel of the Emperor?"

A little girl about 1.4 meters tall gathered her courage and asked timidly.

Art Student stopped and turned to look at the little girl, whose speech sounded distinctly mechanical. Her lower jaw was a crude metal prosthetic, as though she wore a breathing mask.

Even her voice was mechanical, utterly devoid of emotion.

Art Student could tell that the girl was not emotionless. It was only because she had a mechanical jaw installed—perhaps even mechanical vocal cords—that her voice sounded like a flat speech synthesizer.

"I am not an angel of the Emperor. I am merely a rebel against the Imperium."

Art Student looked directly at the little girl and spoke gently.

Upon hearing Art Student's words, the people who had just been desperately praising the God-Emperor stopped at once. Their expressions relaxed, as though those praises had never come from their mouths.

This was perfectly normal. During the ten years since he had transmigrated into the world of Warhammer, Art Student had seen this kind of thing many times.

Many Underhive dwellers did not truly believe in the Emperor. Nor would the Emperor bless lowborn wretches like them. In the eyes of the nobility and the upper ranks of the Imperium, Underhive dwellers were nothing but trash. They could not even pay the most basic eleven taxes, which meant they were not citizens of the Imperium. There was no obligation to protect them; they were left to fend for themselves.

"What? Aren't you believers in the God-Emperor? Shouldn't you show some reaction when facing a heretic like me?"

Art Student looked at the kneeling people, now visibly relaxed, and spoke teasingly.

"My lord, you jest. What right do lowborn wretches like us have to believe in the God-Emperor? We cannot even pay the Imperium's taxes, so we are not citizens of the Imperium. My lord, may lowborn wretches like us follow you?"

The burly man who had been firing to protect the survivors knelt with his head lowered and cautiously asked Art Student.

"You wish to follow me? People will die. Can you truly make that decision? The road of opposing the Imperium is unimaginably difficult."

Art Student looked at the kneeling crowd and spoke gently.

"My lord, we are not afraid of death. We have had enough of this life where we do not know whether we will survive tomorrow. Every day, we go hungry. We have no food or water. Even filthy sewage is not something we can drink often.

Because we are weak, people hunt us down, forcing us to hide everywhere. And you are so powerful, my lord. Even the Emperor's angels might not be your match. Being allowed to follow at your side is already proof of your mercy and compassion toward us."

The burly man spoke while kneeling. The others also knelt, their expressions numb and helpless. Years of struggling to survive had stripped them of all ambitions. They no longer knew what they lived for; they only knew that they had survived another day.

Moreover, the burly man had recognized Art Student's equipment. Those were precious items that even many high-ranking members of the Imperium could not afford: Adamantium Power Armor and a Power Sword.