You can't hide

Many warriors dragged their mutilated bodies toward Evan. Those who had completely lost the ability to move became stationary observation posts, remaining where they were to watch for the enemy doubling back.

The former dueling ground had become a pool of molten iron. The enemy's skull and Power Sword lay beside it; everything else had become iron vapor drifting through the air in the ion round's explosion.

Beyond several walls smashed full of holes, the Crimson Tide's Chapter Master lay on the ground. The breastplate of his Terminator armour was gone, and his chest was charred black.

Unlike bombs that shattered armour through violent explosions, Ion Pistol rounds worked like melta weapons, converting intense electrical energy into heat to melt the enemy.

Even from two and a half body lengths away, the scorching ion wind had burned Evan black.

The sort you could eat after sprinkling on some seasoned salt.

Between his two hearts, the Belisarian Furnace unique to Primaris Space Marines rapidly activated. This organ had only one purpose: to help Astartes rapidly regenerate flesh and bone after suffering severe injuries. Of course, each use required an extremely long recovery period afterward.

The fierce battle had left the surrounding structures on the verge of collapse. The warriors arriving afterward hurried to carry their Chapter Master and any useful objects from the battlefield outside.

Civilians kept poking their heads out to see what had happened, but far more hid in their homes, silently reciting prayers.

The battle had caused enormous damage. Buildings throughout the surrounding area were burning or collapsing, and the specialist firefighting units were only allowed in to extinguish the fires after the Astartes squad had left.

The squad supported one another as they returned to the Upper Hive. Of their nineteen members, eight had died and six had suffered severe injuries involving lost limbs.

Including Evan, fifteen casualties were an unacceptable loss for the Crimson Tide Chapter.

There was no need to extract their gene-seed, because the recruits' seeds had not yet matured.

Eight enemies had also died. On a statistics panel, that might look like an excellent result, but remember: an attack by just six enemies had caused fourteen casualties.

Everyone was dejected after the battle. Against veterans who had fought for ten thousand years, even outnumbering them had still come at a terrible price.

Another squad led by William handled the aftermath at the battlefield, moving as unobtrusively as possible to avoid causing panic among the Upper Hive's population.

Evan was quickly bandaged and treated, then changed into an ordinary set of Mark X Power Armour. Terminator armour was not some cheap commodity that let him wear one suit and carry a spare, especially not Evan's extra-large model.

The Chief Apothecary and the Techmarine were directing the Battle Barges Light of Dawn and Righteous Vigil to hurry over.

Evan could already picture the fury on those two faces.

One round of "recruit training" had reduced forty-eight recruits to forty, with six more losing limbs. If this training continued, Evan would no longer be the Crimson Tide's Chapter Master, but the Chapter Master of the disabled.

But the situation on Scaria was not something they could simply ignore. The terror of the Night Lords lay in the fact that even a lone survivor could easily assassinate enemy officials, spreading panic and provoking popular uprisings.

No one knew how many Night Lords remained here. Three had definitely escaped the previous night.

When Governor Otist learned that Evan had been wounded, he nearly fainted aboard the space station. My great Chapter Master, you mustn't fall! You're my only hope! For a time, the governor could neither eat nor sleep, pacing anxiously all over the station.

Evan held a video conference with Governor Otist and requested temporary command of the military.

Yes, yes, yes, anything you want! Just don't let anything happen to you. Please, please take care of yourself!

Every military unit spread out like a cast net. To do what? Find the Night Lords' landing craft.

Don't try claiming someone had sacrificed people to bring them through a warp rift. The very existence of worshippers who believed in the Night Lords was already absurd, and summoning so many Night Lords would have required at least tens of millions of sacrificial deaths.

Both this star system and its planets were stable environments. Even something as powerful as a warship could only emerge at the Mandeville Point.

Even with the warp weakened to this extent, appearing directly on a planet would require several greater daemons working together to open a rift, or even a dark god's personal blessing.

The Night Lords must have landed here in a craft. Finding it would let them roughly determine the enemy's numbers!

Search, and search hard. Don't overlook a single inch of land. Send specialist divers into the lakes to look for entrances on the lake beds, and scan the deserts with Auspexes inch by inch.

Would any of this actually work?

Of course they couldn't really find it that way. But if you were a Night Lord, would you let mortals approach the place where you had hidden your belongings?

When a search unit failed to return, the area it had been assigned would become the focus of their search.

It was cruel, but effective.

Coordinating so many military units was a troublesome task, but with several Astartes assisting, it became very "simple."

Within a few days, the Battle Barges arrived as well. The Imperialis Militia also descended to help with the search.

Unexpectedly, the Techmarine and Chief Apothecary hurried up to Evan, stood before him, and said nothing. They simply stared at him until his skin crawled.

"Um, you two..."

Staaare...

"I guarantee this will never happen again. I swear-four times over-to the Emperor. If I break my word, may psychic lightning strike my head and the Emperor unleash his wrath."

Staaare...

"Uh, everyone is deeply saddened by the loss of so many warriors, but we should look ahead and find a way to eliminate the enemies currently hiding in the shadows..."

Staaare...

"I accept full responsibility for the mistakes in this operation. I'll write a self-criticism and an after-action report, then send them to the entire Chapter..."

Staaare...

"You two aren't planning to chase me around with a scalpel and screwdriver today, are you?"

Good. He hasn't been corrupted, and his brain hasn't been damaged.

The two technical specialists breathed a sigh of relief. What was the most unacceptable thing about the entire battle? Their Chapter Master being severely wounded, you idiot.

The two ignored Evan, who stood behind them looking utterly bewildered. They still had plenty to do. The wounded warriors needed mechanical arms fitted, and with the Chief Apothecary helping, it would hurt much less.

The Night Lords never showed themselves, and the mortal troops never stopped searching. Over three full years of searches, they uncovered plenty of gangsters' and corrupt officials' treasure caches and hidden weapons stores. They even found the concealed arsenal of some unfortunate fool preparing a coup.

Bandits and wanted criminals hiding in the mountains had terrible luck. I was hiding perfectly well out here! Isn't combing through the mountains a bit much? If I'd known, I'd have hidden in the Underhive.

At last, they discovered something unusual in a cave in a mountain range.

The mountains here towered high, their cliffs sheer and precipitous. It was an extremely dangerous place. Naturally formed chasms and caves riddled the cliffs, and large birds occasionally nested among the white rocks. Even experienced explorers would not venture here lightly.

The dangerous terrain could not halt the military's search, especially when the loyal Imperialis Militia were responsible for this area. With aerial units assisting, soldiers continually landed on otherwise inaccessible mountains. Powerful mechanical anchoring locks ensured they would not fall, while Auspexes swept back and forth across the terrain.

After search teams kept dying in one particular area, the entire force brought every flashlight they owned-in both senses of the word-and every searchlight, keeping the whole area continuously illuminated. You could kick over a lamp every few steps.

The Astartes regrouped-or pretended to-and surrounded the mountain.

Since the enemy might attack while the main force was away, the Techmarine took a squad to lie in ambush in the Hive City.

Evan led two squads of recruits to encircle and eliminate the enemy. This time, one was William's squad, while the other squad leader was Lakshen. If Kazhaniv hadn't always managed to bring back some military achievements, Evan would genuinely have wanted to lock him in solitary confinement.

They slowly approached the cave, continually throwing bright light sources inside.

Finally, the two Night Lords hiding deep within the cave ran out of options and prepared to fight to the death.

For unknown reasons, they had not chosen to fly away in their craft. Perhaps they understood that doing so would mean abandoning all their comrades. They tried to defeat the enemies surrounding them.

This time, Evan gave them no chance. Everyone had Bolters and Ion Pistols aimed inside. One volley nearly collapsed the cave and obliterated the enemy without leaving so much as ash.

Evan entered, disarmed three booby traps, and finally reached the place where the craft was stored.

However dark it had been before, light sources of every color now illuminated it.

The craft had sleek lines, its black exterior devoid of decoration. It was a standard dual-purpose spacecraft for atmospheric and space flight. He had never seen this model before. Either the Dark Mechanicum had produced it, or the Night Lords had built it from a newly discovered STC Template fragment.

The corrupted Machine Spirit tried to prevent Evan from entering, but he brutally kicked the hatch open.

The vessel was a small infiltration transport. Its spacious cargo hold could probably carry fifteen at full capacity. Judging by the large pilot's and copilot's stations, it could carry no more than seventeen Night Lords.

A Terminator was bigger, so count him as taking up two spaces.

That meant there could be at most six ordinary Night Lords remaining, or four plus one Terminator.

This would not be easy work. Without Evan present, none of their squads could take down those six alone.

The black Power Sword used by the enemy Terminator hung high in the center of the Upper Hive's most open plaza. Warriors constantly patrolled around it, hoping to lure out those bats hiding in the darkness, but no one took the bait despite the long wait.

In that case, they could only pay a "family visit."

Xiao Lan's old home was in the Underhive. Evan planned to take twenty Astartes there for a look.

No noble would want to set foot in such a filthy place, and it had been left largely to its own devices for years. Large numbers of laborers still lived in its upper reaches, while the lower levels and the special section known as the bottom hive were a paradise for all kinds of unrest.

No one was so bored that they would count the Underhive's population. Auditors would rather die than go down there. What would the figures be for? Paying more of the Imperium's imperial tithe? They couldn't collect taxes from these people anyway. Wouldn't that just be a losing proposition?

Twenty-one angels of the Emperor strode into the place without hesitation. Even the most delirious passersby hurried out of their way.

The passages here were narrow and low. In many places, they had to turn sideways or crouch to get through.

There were hardly any decent dwellings. A piece of cloth so rotten no one wanted it, hung over rusted metal poles, counted as a home. Occasionally, they saw somewhere passable, with plenty of vicious-looking people prowling around it.

Of course, even they had to squeeze out a "ferocious" smile for the Astartes.

Xiao Lan had no memories from before the trials, but Evan had read his basic records and followed the "map" toward the Steam Bar.

In the dim bar, several unfortunate souls who had drunk themselves into oblivion had already been stripped of every valuable they carried. Only a few old regulars remained, talking loudly, but the owner soon ordered them out.

Hartmann, the Steam Bar's owner, known as "Dad," leisurely polished a metal drinking cup. There were no fragile, expensive things like glass here. The sturdier, the better.

The bar's most valuable possession might have been the clock secured to the wall with several iron nails, its ticking telling these poor souls who never saw daylight what time it was.

Bottles from all sorts of sources stood on the cabinet behind him. Some held genuinely good smuggled liquor; some were concocted from alcohol stolen from who knew which factory. Others were "special blends" brewed by the owner himself. Perhaps only the little brats who scavenged for him every day knew what went into those.

No one knew which bottles were good and which were bad, but if you accidentally broke one, it would definitely be the finest and most expensive.

The bar was about to close, and most customers had already left. Several boys hurried over to "tip off" the owner that a large group of Astartes was coming.

The boys clamored that Xiao Lan had come back to repay his kindness. Hartmann answered them with mocking disbelief. How could that be possible? Once an Astartes underwent transformation, he became an angel of the Emperor, beneath one and above all others. Why would he come back here? Hartmann had served in the Astra Militarum. These little brats couldn't fool him.

The noisy children shoved one another as they left to find the little girl who had once been close to Xiao Lan.

While he was still cursing, a giant in red armour bent down and entered the bar.

"Owner, still open?"

Hartmann was terrified. They really came for me? No way. Have my memories gone haywire?

Several Astartes filed inside. All twenty warriors could not enter, or there would be no room to stand. The warriors outside efficiently deployed into observation and counterfire positions.

None of them removed their helmets. Air full of industrial metal fumes and the stink of urine and feces was hardly pleasant. Hartmann could not see their expressions, and immediately came out from behind the counter and knelt.

In an instant, Hartmann lucidly reviewed everything of value about himself, but could not think of anything that would warrant Astartes coming to find him. Surely it couldn't really be Xiao Lan.

"Honored Astartes lords, I was just preparing to close. Please tell me whatever you need, and I'll do everything I can."

"Don't worry. It's something you can manage." Evan paused, then changed his tone.

"I hear you're quite familiar with the gangs around here."

"My lord, you must be joking. I'm a law-abiding citizen. How would I dare have dealings with them?"

"Stop pretending. Do you think our intelligence network does nothing for its keep?" In a certain sense, it did. "I need you to do something for me."

Cold sweat streamed down Hartmann. I said the wrong thing before an angel of the Emperor! It's over. How could I be so stupid? Why else would these lords come here, if not for the gangs? To have a drink?

He wanted nothing more than to slap himself across the mouth twice.

"My lord, please believe me. Just say the word. Even if you ask me to kick an Ork's backside, I'll get it done."

That was no empty boast. This Astra Militarum veteran really had kicked an Ork's backside.

"Basically every area here is controlled by a gang, correct? I want you to contact the surrounding gangs and ask whether any area's gang has suddenly vanished or done anything extremely unusual."

"My lord, by extremely unusual, you mean..."

"For example, buying large quantities of fresh flesh and blood, or capturing slaves. Clearing everyone out around their central territory, or refusing to let anyone in, and so forth. Tell the gang bosses I have a hundred places available in the Mid Hive, complete with clean identities and legitimate jobs."

Even Hartmann could not help clicking his tongue. That was the lifelong dream of many gang bosses. At their level, getting into the Mid Hive was not difficult. Getting a clean identity and a legitimate job was.

"Please rest assured, great angel of the Emperor. I'll see that everything is done perfectly."

"Also, I want a map of the Underhive. Gather what you can and make it as complete as possible. Once it's ready, go to the A8-10 junction and have someone bring it to me. Don't wait until my next visit to give it to me."

"As you command, my lord."

"Good. I'll return in a month."

Hartmann knelt on the floor, his eyes fixed on the ground, not daring even to raise his head.

"Let's go, Xiao Lan." Evan called to him and was the first to leave the bar.

Xiao Lan? The owner abruptly looked up, only to see the retreating back of a tall warrior in red armour.

You've grown up, you little brat.

News of places in the Mid Hive with clean identities and legitimate jobs spread through the Underhive as though it had grown legs. Internal gang struggles grew even fiercer. For a time, many people joined gangs, while others worked hard to "rebel" and become gang bosses, all to win an admission ticket in this contest.

Informants and people disguised as workers, vagrants, drug dealers, and more roamed everywhere.

The Night Lords sensed something wrong. The surrounding humans had clearly entered an abnormally excited state. They could feel the blood flowing noticeably faster in the humans passing outside, as though they were doing something enormously exciting.

During the earlier planet-wide search, they had been forced to hide in the Underhive, hoping to disappear into the crowds. They had taken control of a gang boss and made him supply them. They had never expected things to turn out like this.

The gang boss was also wavering. Would he receive protection if he directly reported these Chaos scum? But he might be torn apart before then. Of course, he did not agonize over it for long. Once the Night Lords learned the truth, the first thing they did was take that boss and-let's censor the following scene; dear readers, imagine it yourselves.

Although the Night Lords had not lost nearly all their self-awareness like those Death Guard and the like, their desires had still grown immensely. They craved agonized screams more than ever, along with their prey's struggles and terror before death. To them, these were incomparably delightful drinks.

Weren't slaves and lowlifes everywhere in the Underhive? Who would care about them? They had never expected everyone in the Underhive to start caring.

They could only hide quietly among the roof beams to evade the countless investigators. But their earlier large-scale purchases of supplies could not be concealed, so they decided to strike first.

They could no longer stay in the Hive World. They needed somewhere else.

The planet's military had just searched the entire world. Surely they now believed the outside was "clean." The Night Lords decided to exploit that gap in their understanding and secretly slip outside to hide.

First, they would hunt a few desert hunters to satisfy their desires, which were close to running wild. Then, once these people failed to find them and gradually relaxed their guard, they would return to the Hive City and cause trouble.

Naturally, they could not leave through an official exit. Like Xiao Lan, they chose to leave through the pipes.

The night was quiet, the sky clear and glittering with stars. Everyone slept peacefully. Apart from a few Astra Militarum soldiers guarding checkpoints, everyone felt at ease. The Astartes were protecting them. Look, the enemy's weapon was already hanging in the plaza.

The wilderness outside the Hive City remained savage. Creatures were constantly torn apart and devoured; here, the strong preyed on the weak. The trilling "calls" of insects echoed across the wilds, occasionally interrupted by the roars and hisses of fierce nocturnal predators.

Beneath green treelike plants, among jumbled piles of rubble, and even under soil covered with lichenlike growths lurked the power to bring utter destruction.

Several pipes of different sizes stood beside a surging river.

Sewage pipes discharged the city's waste day and night. A foul stench mixed with a peculiar smell of corroded metal filled the pipes. Occasionally, severed limbs and corpses flowed out, only to be devoured by the fierce fish at the river's bottom.

The Night Lords quietly emerged from a pipe. These filth-covered Astartes were now utterly furious. They would avenge these humiliations piece by piece in the future, repaying them a hundredfold-no, ten thousandfold.

Boom, boom, boom! Thunderous reports came from every direction. A volley from the Emperor's Blade Tanks' main guns hurtled straight toward the pipe.

The six Night Lords hurriedly dodged. The pipe entrance collapsed with a crash, completely blocking their retreat.

Bombardment from all sorts of Bolters and Plasma Guns followed.

Flares shot into the sky as though they cost nothing, lighting the entire area as brightly as day.

Night Lords, did you think I wouldn't know you'd run? Evan felt rather pleased with himself. Although the Hive City was enormous and had many routes leading outside, restricting the search to pipes large enough for Astartes to pass through narrowed it considerably. Add the requirement that their entrances be in the Underhive and large enough, and only a few remained.

The Astra Militarum had blocked several and kept them under strict watch.

The Techmarine had taken men to ambush one, and Evan had taken men to ambush another. There, hadn't they caught them?

Huh? What if they didn't come out? Then we'd go in and clear it out bit by bit. The Underhive is huge and full of all kinds of messes, but time is what I have most of. I don't mind giving the entire Hive City a reddening along the way, little by little, in the name of "military control."

The little bats skulking in hiding have poked their heads out. Blast them!

The Forge World of Stolov will cover the bill. Blast away!