Lynn was shoveling poop while also dodging Squig, who could charge at any moment, leaving her exhausted like a beast of burden.
The body was already stiff and uncoordinated, and the tension made it almost get bumped into by Squig several times.
Once, a big red creature suddenly charged at him, and he scrambled to avoid it, dropping his shovel in the process.
The Squig rushed past him and crashed into the fence with a loud bang.
If he had been a second slower, his account would have been deleted by now.
Toothy is quite skilled at it.
It grumbled and cursed as it shoveled, and occasionally it would take a moment to slap the disobedient Squig.
Those hot-tempered fellows actually became much more docile once they were in its hands.
"Don't just stand there!" Toothy shouted, slamming the shovel into the face of Squig, who was trying to charge at him.
"Hurry up! If we don't finish shoveling before dark, the boss will pick our teeth!"
The "boss" that Toothy mentioned is the gang leader who controls the Muscle Squig Park.
In addition to the Muscle Squig Park, it also owns a "Hot Squig " park.
In short, neither of them is a particularly good park.
Lynn gritted his teeth and continued shoveling.
They shoveled the manure, which was almost Toothy, into the cart, one shovelful at a time.
Sweat streamed down his forehead, dripping onto the excrement.
His arms were trembling and his back was aching, but he dared not stop.
After clearing the entire fence, Toothy took him to collect his reward.
The leader of this fence, a skinny Gretchin even smaller than Toothy, sat behind a table made of ammunition boxes.
It sat with its legs crossed, a cigarette dangling from its mouth, and an arrogant expression on its face.
Toothy emptied the feces from the cart into the designated pit, then led Lynn to the window.
"Today's wages."
That Gretchin glanced at them, took two things out of the drawer, and threw them on the windowsill.
Two teeth.
It's of average quality, smaller than the Toothy necklace, and has cracks on the surface, a yellowish color, and worn edges.
That's probably only enough to get two Squig pies and two mushroom beers.
Lynn held the two teeth and sighed.
This was the least amount of money he had ever earned in his life, and also the most hard-earned.
When he was a tax collector in Necromunda, at least he could sit in his office and drink tea, and occasionally make some extra money on the black market.
When Brevis was governor, he could mobilize the food supply for tens of millions of people with a single word, and a single raid on their homes could yield tens of thousands of tons of grain.
Now, after a long day of hard work shoveling manure, all he got in return were two broken teeth.
However, there are advantages as well. It has a greater degree of control over this body and is not as sluggish as it was at the beginning.
As darkness fell, the day's work finally came to an end.
Toothy took Lynn back to its "home".
A shack made of scrap metal and plastic sheeting, low, narrow, and drafty.
The sheet metal was covered in rust and holes, and the plastic sheeting rustled loudly in the wind.
A tattered cloth hung at the door as a curtain, and inside were several pieces of cardboard and a musty-smelling tattered blanket.
But Toothy was very satisfied.
"These are the teeth I saved up before they were replaced!" it said proudly, pointing to every corner of the shack.
"Great location, close to work, very convenient!"
"Look at these walls, how sturdy they are! Look at this roof, it doesn't leak! Look at this floor..."
It kicked the cardboard under its feet. "How soft!"
Lynn looked at the space, barely big enough for two people to lie down, and didn't know what to say.
This place is probably not even as good as the toilet in the rented room he lived in his previous life.
But Toothy's expression was serious; it genuinely thought this was a good place.
In its eyes, a good life means having shelter from the wind and rain, a stable job, and food to eat.
Lying on the hard ground, Lynn felt like his whole body was about to fall apart.
Controlling this body is much more tiring than controlling my own.
My muscles are sore, my joints are stiff, and my back feels like it's been hit with a stick.
The nervous system of that body wasn't its own, so it reported back a greater sense of fatigue.
It wasn't the kind of feeling of "I'm so tired and want to sleep," it was the kind of feeling of "I'm about to fall apart."
Toothy fell asleep quickly.
It snored and occasionally mumbled in its sleep, its voice groggy and indistinct.
"My teeth, they're all mine..."
"That Pike! One day he'll get you..."
Lynn listened to the rambling in his sleep and closed his eyes.
Consciousness began to rise.
It felt like surfacing from deep water, with everything around you receding into the distance.
The stench of Squig, and the snoring of Toothy.
On the bridge of the Pinnacle Black Obsidian.
His body was still sitting there, in the same position he had left in.
You can still vaguely see Brevis outside the window.
At this time, the expeditionary fleet had only just left Brevis.
Lynn opened her eyes.
Beside him, a mini Ripper was perched on his shoulder.
The little thing tilted its head, as if waiting for him to speak.
"How is it?" Rena's voice echoed in his mind, tinged with curiosity.
Lynn thought about it for a moment.
"I'm tired." He sighed, then laughed.
That smile carried a hint of weariness and helplessness.
He then stood up, and the feeling of lightness in his body made him realize that he was truly back.
He stretched and turned to look at the timer on the bridge.
Three standard hours and seven minutes have passed since its consciousness shifted.
Only three hours had passed.
But inside that Orks body, he felt as if at least twelve hours had passed.
From waking up, getting familiar with the surroundings, meeting that farting Gretchin named Pike, listening to Toothy talk about the ranch, to shoveling poop all day.
Every detail is vividly remembered, and every bit of fatigue felt is incredibly real.
Lynn leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
I started to review the difference in the perception of time in my mind.
The growth cycle and speed of the Orks are comparable only to those of the Tyranids in the Milky Way.
A Ork Boyz can grow from a spore to be ready to fight on the battlefield in just a few days, sometimes even less; it can grow out of the ground and start fighting immediately.
That difference in "perceived time" might be the reason why they were able to expand and evolve so rapidly.
In their perception, time is stretched out, so they grow faster and learn more quickly.
This gave Lynn a completely new understanding of the terror of the Orks.
It's not just about quantity and the power of " Waaagh!," but also about this growth rate ingrained in our genes.
They take one percent of the time it takes humans to grow into adults, and then one-thousandth the time it takes humans to learn how to make guns.
Then they surged up like a tidal wave, overwhelming you with sheer numbers.
He took a deep breath and brought his thoughts back.
Now is not the time to lament how terrible the Orks are.
He has more important things to think about.
If you make Seven-Smasha others to be a poop- Gretchin, they'll never get ahead, no matter how long they work.
He must find a way to complete the initial accumulation of capital as soon as possible and take control of the means of production.
However, navigating Orks society is much simpler than navigating a human society.
Their rules are more brutal, and their logic is more direct, unlike climbing up in the human world where one needs to consider external factors such as the Adeptus Arbites and the Inquisition.
But Lynn also knew that this body wasn't perfect enough to Seven-Smasha.
If you expose yourself to everyone too early, it will easily attract attention.
He needs someone to represent him publicly, an agent who won't arouse suspicion.
And Toothy would be a good fit.