"Hoo... hoo... hoo..."
Raynor only allowed himself to relax completely when Cassius's heavy footsteps had finally vanished into the depths of the warehouse. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Every lungful of air tasted of ozone and iron, and a burning pain radiated through his chest.
I'm alive. For now.
He knew this was merely a stay of execution—a death sentence commuted to a suspended one. The threat posed by Cassius and the Sons of Medusa had to be eliminated eventually. Currently, he was only surviving by using the System's absurdity to force an unstable "cooperative" reality.
He struggled to his feet, gripping the cold wall for support, and staggered toward the exit. When he pushed open the warehouse doors, the junior officers and clerks waiting outside stared at him in shock. They had assumed the lowly patrol inspector, summoned alone by the Sergeant, would never walk out of that room. Given the look of sheer disgust on the Sergeant's face as he departed, they could only wonder what horrors had transpired.
Raynor ignored their stares. He lowered his head, haphazardly wiping the blood from his chin with his sleeve, and left the stronghold. His silhouette appeared thin and fragile in the Hive's perpetual twilight, yet he exuded a strange, post-madness calm.
Upon returning to his safe house, Raynor immediately sent a message through the System to Sarah:
The crisis is temporarily averted. Focus on recuperating. I have reached an agreement with the Astartes to continue providing intelligence.
Sarah's reply was characteristically brief: [Received.]
In the days that followed, Raynor was re-embedded into the Sons of Medusa's war machine like a precision gear. He performed with more "efficiency" than ever before. Using Sarah's sensitivity to the local Tyranid network, he fed Cassius a steady stream of targets: hidden nodes, Genestealer Cult cells, and dormant spore chimneys.
Cassius's squad moved like a purifying flame, sweeping through the Hive. The roar of bolters and the hiss of melta-beams echoed through the sub-levels as they purged the xenos presence.
Cassius's attitude toward Raynor became a Gordian knot of complex emotions. He adhered to the "tactical agreement," no longer targeting Sarah directly, but in private, he refused to speak to Raynor. When their eyes did meet, Cassius's gaze was wary, scrutinizing, and tinged with a barely perceptible awkwardness. The memory of that night filled the Sergeant with a wave of inexplicable irritation.
Raynor felt it, too. As they executed missions with increasing frequency, the System's mechanics began to weigh on him. Favorability is a two-way street; the System was forcing a simulated "closeness" that made Raynor feel a strange, unwanted connection whenever he stared at Cassius's scarred, bald head.
Absolutely unacceptable! Raynor thought. To him, these transhuman "canned goods" were practically another species. He was a man of pure devotion—loyal only to Sarah! Therefore, Cassius could not be allowed to live indefinitely. Whenever Raynor saw that awkward look in the Sergeant's eyes, he knew Cassius was likely reaching the same conclusion.
They were truly a pair of star-crossed enemies.
To prevent this inappropriate emotional line from developing any further, Raynor stopped pretending. He needed to accelerate Sarah's growth. He no longer hid from the Sons of Medusa; instead, he used their overwhelming power to crush rival Tyranid swarms, effectively harvesting resources for Sarah's development.
Whenever the Astartes finished a purge, leaving behind mounds of xenos remains and biomass, Raynor would "coincidentally" lead his patrol team to secure the perimeter and handle the "cleanup." The Sons of Medusa had no objection; dealing with rotting biomass was a tedious, inefficient task better left to mortals.
They didn't realize that Raynor's "cleanup" was actually Sarah's buffet. He personally selected the most nutrient-dense "essence" from the battlefield for her recovery. While he led his men in "diligent" patrols of the perimeter, he was actually standing guard for Sarah's workers as they hauled away the spoils.
It was a high-stakes gamble, but the rewards were immense. Sarah's injuries healed at an astonishing rate, and her strength began to expand. On Raynor's interface, her favorability rating—which had been stagnant for so long—finally began to climb.
[Sarah's Favorability +0.1][Current Favorability: 30 (A potentially trustworthy (?) special symbiotic unit)]
The moment it crossed the 30-point threshold, a new notification flashed:
[Cumulative available skill points: 3]
Three points. They were hard-won; ever since the initial drop to zero, moving that number had been an agonizing crawl. Raynor looked at Sarah's fierce, predatory portrait on the interface and didn't hesitate.
Allocate all points to the "Personal Path"!
He didn't need swarm tactics or command buffs right now. He needed a "top-tier individual combatant"—someone who could stand their ground in a crisis. He needed an ace who could eventually threaten Cassius's team.
[Skill Points Invested: 3 → 'Personal' Skill Tree.][Core Skill Unlocked: Camouflage Armor.]
Deep within a hidden fault of the Hive, Sarah let out a low, joyful hiss. The dark purple chitin of her carapace began to ripple and shift. The color deepened, and the reflective properties of her shell began to adapt to the shadows.
[Camouflage Armor Effect: Adaptively evolves camouflage chitin to best suit environmental needs.]
[Current Enhancement Focus: "Concealment" targeting the Sons of Medusa.]