The system notification finally arrived.
[Initial crisis resolved! Bound target "Unnamed" current status: Severely injured (abnormal crystallized wound deteriorating), hungry, weak connection to the primary network. Affection: -55 (hatred). Please establish effective communication as soon as possible~]
Communication? How? Win her over with love?
Countless galgame scenarios flashed through Lynn's mind.
But not one applied to the Tyranid warrior before him, who wanted to tear him into genetic fragments.
Just as the bone blade was about to swing down.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the distance.
Not the light skittering of mutants, but the steady rhythm of metal boot soles striking the ground.
There was barking, too-the synthesized electronic barking of a mechanical hound, shrill and threatening.
And human shouts:
"Movement over here! Could be mutants! Stay alert!"
An Adeptus Arbites patrol.
The Tyranid warrior froze.
Her compound eyes flickered rapidly, seemingly receiving and analyzing information.
The Adeptus Arbites meant armed humans, possible heavy weapons, and a greater risk of exposure.
She was severely injured, hungry, and suffering an unstable connection. Fighting a group of armed humans was far from a wise choice.
She gave Lynn a long "look," her gaze too complicated to decipher.
Killing intent, confusion, resentment, and something like humiliation at having been forcibly bound?
Then she turned, pushed off on all four legs, and became a dark purple shadow, vanishing into the darkness deep in the pipes at astonishing speed.
Before she disappeared, Lynn seemed to hear an extremely faint hiss filled with resentment, like a sigh, or a curse.
The footsteps drew closer.
Lynn collapsed onto the ground, his back against the iron door, gasping for breath.
As the adrenaline faded, every muscle in his body trembled.
The mutant blood on his face had begun to stink, mingling with the sewer's stench and nearly making him vomit.
But he had survived.
The shoddy system interface unfolded in his vision again.
Its pink-and-purple color scheme and flashing heart effects remained, but its contents reassured him a little:
[Inventory]: Ten empty slots. [Status]: Displayed two portraits. On the left was his own, HP 78/100 (minor injuries, exhausted, mentally drained). On the right was the silhouette of a hideous Tyranid warrior, labeled "Unnamed." HP 32/100 (severely injured, hungry, in pain, unstable connection). [Dialogue]: Grayed out, locked. [Quest]: A flashing [First Contact (0/1)]. [Special animation]: This button was a gray heart, with small text beside it reading, "Insufficient affection. Unable to play."
Lynn stared at the words "Special animation" for two seconds, then couldn't help cursing under his breath:
"This isn't actually the kind of thing I'm thinking of, is it? Who
could bring themselves to do that with a Tyranid warrior?! System, you fucking..."
"You in there! Hands up! Come out slowly!" An Arbites officer's shout interrupted his thoughts.
Lynn struggled to his feet and stuck his dagger into a mutant's skull.
He raised both hands and walked out of the dead end.
Three Adeptus Arbites officers in black armor and fully enclosed helmets aimed shotguns at him.
A mechanical hound crouched beside them, its red optical lenses scanning his entire body.
"Identification," the lead officer said coldly.
"Lynn Corvana, District Seven tax inspector." Lynn tried to keep his voice steady.
"I was attacked by mutants."
The officer looked at the mutant remains on the ground, then at the blood on Lynn's face and his torn uniform.
His expression was unreadable beneath his helmet, but his tone softened slightly. "You killed these?"
"Only by the God-Emperor's grace," Lynn said vaguely. He couldn't mention the Tyranid warrior.
The officer crouched to inspect the remains.
"Genestealer hybrids. Third or fourth generation. A tax inspector like you took down two?"
"I've had basic self-defense training, and there seemed to be some kind of conflict between them."
Lynn hastily spun a lie.
"They were fighting each other almost the entire time. I finished off the badly wounded one at the end."
The Arbites officer glanced at the dagger in the mutant's skull. The explanation was just barely plausible.
The Arbites officer stood. "This area hasn't been safe lately. Don't go out alone at night. Do you need an escort home?"
"No, thank you. My apartment's nearby," Lynn said quickly.
He certainly didn't want the Adeptus Arbites knowing where he lived. Who knew whether they might discover something unusual?
The officer nodded, indicating that he could leave.
The mechanical hound barked at him twice more before its handler led it away.
Dragging his exhausted body along, Lynn retrieved his pistol and dagger.
He followed his memories back to his apartment.
Along the way, he kept thinking back over everything that had just happened.
Transmigration, Tyranid infiltration, system activation, being bound to a Tyranid warrior...
Any one of those was enough to cause a mental breakdown.
Yet strangely, after returning to that filthy, cramped room and locking the door.
Lynn sat on the hard plank bed, looking at the flickering system interface before him, and actually began to calm down.
His Warhammer fan soul was burning.
"A Tyranid warrior, affection at -55. I need to grind affection to unlock dialogue and that damned 'special animation.'"
He muttered under his breath, his lips twisting into a smile somewhere between breakdown and excitement.
"This plot is so fucking twisted, but..."
He opened the [Status] page and carefully examined his bound target's information.
Beneath the Tyranid warrior's portrait was a note in small print:
"An unknown crystallized wound has caused abnormalities in this unit's genetic sequence. Hive Mind synchronization has dropped to 14.7%. Shows an initial tendency toward independent action."
A synchronization rate of only 14.7% meant she had almost broken free of the Hive Mind's control and become an "individual."
That meant he had an opening!
This was almost the best news he had received since arriving in this Warhammer World.
And that crystallized wound needed treatment.
If he could help treat her wound, would her affection rise?
If her affection rose, could he get her to stop trying to kill him?
Or even her strength, to survive in this hellish Hive City?
The system quest [First Contact] flashed.
The reward was unlocking [Dialogue]. Without dialogue, nothing else was on the table.
But how could he communicate? She hated him to the bone and wanted to tear him apart on sight.
Did he need a "gift"? Tyranids needed biomass.
But where could he get biomass? Kill people? He couldn't stomach it morally, and the risk was too high.
Maybe there was something else?
Lynn recalled that in the games from his previous life, Tyranids devoured all organic matter, and could even convert and use some inorganic substances.
The lower levels of the Hive City had vast quantities of industrial waste, mutated creatures, and fungi. Perhaps he could try those.
He opened the [Inventory] interface. All ten slots were empty.
The system description said the inventory could hold real-world items, but its capacity was limited, and it couldn't store living things.
"I'll pack the essentials first."
Lynn began sorting through the items in his room.
A Laspistol, one and a half power packs remaining, a dagger, a few tubes of nutrient paste, a small pouch of credits, and a spare worker's uniform.
He put them into the inventory one by one, filling five slots.
Five empty slots remained. He needed to save some for "gifts."
He looked at the perpetual gloom beyond the vent, then at the hideous Tyranid warrior portrait on the system interface.
"Rena," Lynn suddenly said. "I'll call you 'Rena.'
It's just a codename. Better than 'Unnamed.'"
The portrait showed no reaction. Her affection remained at -55.
Lynn lay back on the bed and stared at the low ceiling.
Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, but his mind was unusually active.
"Tomorrow, I'll show my face at the tax office first, then go get 'gifts.'
I need to find her. The system should be able to point the way. Then I'll try communicating."
"What the fuck have I bound myself to?"
He closed his eyes, the system interface still faintly visible in the darkness.
The [Special animation] button glowed an suggestive pink in the corner.
Before sleep overtook him, his final thought was:
Once her affection's high enough, I'll see just what kind of 'animation' this damned system can play.