Chapter 173: The Sump-Crawl Meta
"Since there's a back-door, let's take the low road."
Kian Voss signaled Reno to lead the way. The squad bypassed the primary mass of the Pox-horde, slipping into a shadowed service alley. Reno located a reinforced circular hatch—a high-pressure maintenance access point. He keyed in a Guild override, and the heavy plasteel lid hissed open.
"Get in. This is the Logistics Vein. It's dry, it's pressurized, and the Machine Spirit is still loyal to the Guild."
The twenty-seven warriors and forty priests dropped into the conduit. It was wide enough for a Survey Crawler to pass through, but the air was stale and the silence was heavy. Handheld tactical lights flickered on, cutting through the absolute dark.
As they marched, Egghead shuffled closer to Kian, his voice a nervous whisper over the squad-vox. "Boss... entering a sealed Spire-monolith... are you sure about this? If we get cornered in there, there's no extracting. We're in a steel coffin."
Kian glanced at the Corporal. The man's confidence was wavering, and the rest of the PDF regulars looked just as shaky. Outside, the world was wide; you could always run. Inside a Hive-tower, the walls were the enemy.
Kian let out a dry, metallic chuckle. "What? Losing your nerve, Egghead?"
"It's just... we don't know what's in that spire, Boss. My gut is telling me we're walking into a woodchipper."
Kian leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial rasp. "Listen to me, you beauties. That 'old man' we're escorting? The one in the gold plate? He isn't just a priest. He's the High Bishop of Hive Tenebris."
Egghead's eyes nearly bulged through his visor. "The Bishop?! The one who used to sit on the High Governor's Council?!"
Kian patted the Corporal's shoulder. "Exactly. This isn't a suicide mission; it's a 'Sovereign Investment.' We're doing a favor for the man who technically owns the soul of this planet. You think Lady Nightingale's million scrips were big? If we pull this off, you won't just be rich—your grandchildren will be born with golden spoons in their mouths."
Egghead's expression shifted instantly. The fear was still there, but it was now buried under a thick layer of fanatical, Spire-born greed. He turned and began whispering the news to the other soldiers. Within minutes, the squad's posture straightened. Desperation was replaced by the cold, lethal resolve of men who had just seen a path to the Spire.
They navigated the maintenance labyrinth for an hour, climbing service ladders and bypassing heat-exchangers, until they reached a high-altitude ventilation grate.
BANG.
Reno kicked the grate open and peered into the room below. He scanned for heat signatures, then dropped through the hole.
"Clear! Disembark!"
One by one, the squad dropped into the Central Control Hub.
This was the brain of the Alpha Filtration Hub. Rows of brass-edged consoles and glowing green tactical displays filled the circular room. It was eerily quiet, the air scrubbers humming with a sterile, artificial wind.
But the room wasn't empty.
Kian and Reno walked over to a high-backed command throne near the primary display. Slumped over the console was a man in an ornate blue-and-gold uniform, a Master-crafted Las-pistol still clutched in his hand. The side of his head was a scorched ruin.
"Count Dinar," Reno whispered, his voice full of a strange, bitter pity. "The High Factorum of the Water Guild."
"Suicide?" Kian asked, checking the angle of the entry wound.
"Likely. He must have realized the Purgation of the Spire began in his own vats. He chose the Emperor's Mercy over an Inquisitorial trial."
Kian looked at Reno and nudged him with an elbow. "Well, the seat is empty now. Looks like the Water Guild has a vacancy for a 'High Factorum.' Isn't that right... Lord Reno?"
Reno offered a shark-like, opportunistic grin. "Indeed, Master Voss. A tragedy for the Hive, but a magnificent opening for a 'Prodigal Son.'
"Lord Reno..." Reno tasted the words. "I like the cadence of that."
"Lord Voss has a nice ring to it too," Kian smirked.
"Lord Reno!"
"Lord Voss!"
"Lord Re—"
"Warriors of the Throne!" the Canon-Preceptor barked, interrupting the two scavengers' mutual ego-stroking. "The mission is paramount! What is our next tactical movement?"
Reno coughed, snapping back to business. He stepped to the primary console. "Eminence, through this terminal, I can monitor the entire Spire. I can see the Pox-horde... and I can control the bulkheads."
Reno's fingers flew across the runic keys. On the massive wall-screens, red runes began to flicker.
"I've initiated a Full-Sector Lockdown. Every blast door in this tower is now sealed. The Poxwalkers are trapped in thousands of isolated chambers. They can't swarm us."
Kian studied the map. "So we've turned the tower into a Dungeon Crawler. We clear a path to the Great Well, room by room, corridor by corridor."
"Exactly," Reno nodded. "From here to the Filtration Core is a sequence of roughly fifty transit-halls. I can cycle the doors one at a time. We open a door, purge the room, seal the rear, and move to the next. No 'Zombie-Tide' to worry about."
It was a classic "Roguelike" meta. Kian felt his combat-rhythm intensifying.
Kian turned to the Canon-Preceptor. "Lord Canon, you stay here. Your Battle-Priests and Reno's enforcers will guard the Hub. I'm taking my Voss Guard and we're going to 'sanitize' the hallway. We'll clear the 'Trash-mobs' and signal when the Boss Room is prepped."
The Canon's brow furrowed. "Sergeant, we are not sheep to be herded! We carry the Light!"
Kian shook his head firmly. "Tactical division of labor, Eminence. Your job is to chant the litanies and hold the spiritual line. My job is to shoot things until they stop moving. If a Battle-Priest falls in a hallway skirmish, we lose a source of Sanctity. We need your 'Buffs' for the final ritual at the Well.
"Besides... someone needs to protect Sister Theresa."
The Canon looked at Theresa, who was clutching the golden shrine, then gave a reluctant nod. "Your logic is sound, even if your manners are... lacking. Go. We shall maintain the prayer-vigil from here."
Kian turned to his fifteen Lasgun-wielding regulars.
"Brothers! Listen up! We're doing this for the Emperor! We're doing this for the Hive! But mostly... we're doing this for Our Mother-Frighting Million-Scrip Bonus!"
The soldiers raised their rifles, their shouts muffled by their bird-masks but filled with a new, lethal hunger.
"FOR THE SPACE KING! FOR THE SYNDICATE!! FOR THE CREDITS!!!"
The Canon-Preceptor watched them charge the first blast door, wondering if he had recruited heroes or the most dangerous band of pirates in the Hive.
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