Outside the main Hive City of Omiya.
Trenches stretched across the land, bristling with heavy weapon emplacements and swarming with soldiers moving back and forth.
Further back from the trenches were thousands of large-caliber artillery pieces.
At this moment, all these heavy weapons had their barrels raised high, aimed squarely at the Hive City that had once again hoisted the Imperial banner.
Several soldiers stood by the artillery, gnawing on compressed starch rations while casting curious glances at the Hive City. They wondered aloud how the city could have fallen so quickly when there wasn't a single Imperial Fleet in sight.
But as mere soldiers, they didn't even know the meaning of the Chaos eight-pointed star they wore on their helmets, let alone the details of the Hive City's fall.
Only at the very rear of the battle line, in the center of a camp, did a few officers still wearing Defense Force uniforms watch the distant Hive City with a hint of amusement.
"Do you think the Governor is dead by now?"
One officer spoke with an air of indifference, and the officers around him wore similarly unconcerned expressions. In fact, a faint glimmer of anticipation lurked in the depths of their eyes.
It wasn't that they wished to continue serving the Imperium loyally. Rather, if the Governor died, those of them who commanded troops could climb higher and seize more power.
While the other officers chatted easily amongst themselves, a Middle-aged Military Officer at the forefront stared at the Hive City, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
Seeing the Middle-aged Military Officer remain silent, the group behind him finally quieted down a little.
Following his gaze, they curiously examined the Hive City again, unsure what was amiss.
Aside from the change of flags, the entire Hive City was as bustling as ever.
The only noticeable difference was that, if you looked past the city, you could vaguely make out the crashed warship on the other side, surrounded by a dense network of construction sites.
Finally, after watching for a while, the Middle-aged Military Officer frowned and spoke:
"What are they doing?"
"Repairing the ship?"
With clear uncertainty, the Middle-aged Military Officer muttered the question to himself. The other officers behind him exchanged glances, confusion also appearing in their eyes.
After all, they were all natives of Omiya III and had lived their lives around starships. They might be illiterate, but they had a solid grasp of basic ship knowledge.
Because everyone knew one thing: a ship of that class could absolutely not lift off from a planetary surface against gravity!
No one knew how to answer. Only after watching a while longer did the Middle-aged Military Officer finally look away.
"Have our men prepare. We'll attack once it's confirmed the Governor is dead."
"As for that ship..."
"We don't need to waste our time on a bunch of fools."
Having said that, the Middle-aged Military Officer turned and left. The other officers hurriedly saluted, then cast mocking looks toward the Hive City operating at full capacity, echoing the word 'fools' in their minds.
While they paid no heed to the Hive City, Sith inside the city paid absolutely no attention to the mere few hundred thousand rebels outside either.
Right now, he was just inspecting the production lines, single-mindedly focused on finding a way to leave before the Tyranids or Orks arrived.
Inside the vast Hive City factory, the hiss of venting steam was everywhere. Deep in the poorly ventilated, confined spaces, Sith felt the oppressive humidity and heat just from walking through. He was sweating constantly, his clothes soaked and clinging to his skin.
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