Deep within the intricate subterranean web of the old industrial zone, a squad of Helldivers struggled forward along an abandoned drainage pipe. The pipe was originally narrow and decaying, but now, amidst the roar of a Termite Bore in their ranks, it was being rapidly widened and reinforced.
At the front of the borer, an alloy drill bit spun at high speed, gnawing through hard rock and soil with a piercing metallic screech. Debris and dust were efficiently ejected by a conveyor belt at the rear.
The Helldivers following closely behind practiced their craft skillfully, precisely installing prefabricated metal supports and high-strength concrete slabs to ensure the structural stability of the tunnel. The air was thick with the scent of earth mixed with metal.
As they worked, they chatted over the communication channel to alleviate the boredom and oppression of underground labor. Beams of light flickered in the darkness, illuminating the thick dust coating their bodies.
"Hey, tell me," one player said over the comms while operating a Heavy-Lift Sentinel to push a concrete slab into its slot. "If this so-called game is really the masterpiece of some god or advanced civilization, why did they choose to make it a 'come and go as you please' game instead of something like a 'God's Dimension'? Wouldn't that be easier to control?"
"Who knows?" another Helldiver replied, fixing a metal bracket with a laser welding torch, sparks flashing briefly in the dark. "Maybe that 'Great One' thinks it's better to have more people because it's livelier? After all, it boils down to personal preference—assuming that advanced civilization or individual actually exists."
If Terrabyte were to answer this question, he might suggest that if a tiny team of just a few people suddenly appeared, influenced key historical turning points, and then vanished without a trace, it would be the equivalent of shouting through a megaphone: "I AM A PROBLEM."
In contrast, players integrated into the system are less likely to attract the "Gods" attention. Although the Emperor eventually became aware of them, in a sense, it would have been impossible not to be discovered by the Emperor.
**(A/N:) If I, the Creator, were to answer, the truth is that back then, I didn't think about writing it in the direction of a "Main God Space." Besides, this is a Warhammer fanfic; the focus must be on Warhammer content. A "Main God Space" setup would have been too messy. Perhaps I'll consider that theme in the future, but that's a story for the next book at the earliest.**
Back to the matter at hand—
"Focus, everyone! This is a mission!" the Company Commander's voice rang out in the channel, cutting off their chatter. "Small talk is fine, but if any of you brats cause a delay because your negligence led to a bad support, wait for me to find you offline and make you run twenty kilometers with a full pack!"
Though his tone was harsh, it carried the unique humor of a veteran, causing the loose atmosphere to tighten instantly. The Helldivers wiped the smiles off their faces, their movements becoming more focused and efficient. The dull roar of the borer once again became the dominant melody of the tunnel.
One by one, the metal supports and concrete slabs were precisely fitted. The once-precarious old pipe structure gradually became solid and reliable.
The Helldivers coordinated with silent understanding. The mechanical arms of the Heavy-Lift Sentinels flexed to grab and place heavy materials, while the team members on the ground handled the final securing and welding. As efficiency improved, the mood lightened, and some even began humming low tunes over the comms.
However, this levity did not last long.
As the borer pushed deeper, the smell in the air began to turn pungent. It was no longer just earth and metal; it was laced with an indescribable chemical stench.
As their spotlights swept upward, they noticed that on the ceiling of the pipe—previously bone-dry—specks of liquid were now seeping through, gathering into small droplets and falling. This liquid was a bizarre, murky green, shimmering with an ominous luster.
"Commander, something's wrong up ahead," a team member warned.
"I see it," the Commander frowned. He stepped forward, using his light to carefully observe the dripping liquid.
Even though the composition was unknown, the unnatural color alone triggered an instinctive sense of dread.
At that moment, a bold Helldiver reached out his right index finger, attempting to touch a falling drop. The murky green liquid landed precisely on his fingertip. Almost instantly, a searing pain radiated from the spot, accompanied by a faint "sizzle."
He yanked his hand back. The index finger of his tactical glove was charred black, revealing the finger inside. A small section of the tip of that finger had completely vanished.
"Commander, this stuff is pretty potent," the Helldiver said, turning to his leader.
The Commander's brow furrowed. This level of corrosiveness was beyond imagination.
He signaled an agile team member: "Run fast. Get up through the side maintenance hatch and see what exactly is above us that's dripping this high-corrosive liquid. Then report the situation back to HQ."
"Understood!" the player took the order and sprinted toward the narrow side passage.
The Commander continued: "This stretch looks short, less than a hundred meters. It won't collapse if we don't reinforce it immediately. We're going to cross it directly. While we wait for HQ to send someone, we'll move ahead and reinforce the area beyond the leaks. Protect the machinery!"
The order was given, and the Helldivers sprang into action. Small equipment, like laser welders and portable sensors, were cradled carefully in their arms, shielded by their own bodies.
The massive Termite Bore and the Heavy-Lift Sentinels became the priority for protection. Over a dozen Helldivers pressed themselves tightly against the surfaces of the borer and the Sentinels, using their bodies to provide as much cover as possible, preventing the highly corrosive green liquid from damaging the expensive machinery.
Amidst the pungent stench and the "sizzling" sound of falling droplets, the team carefully traversed the "death passage." Despite their best efforts to shield themselves, by the time they reached the safe zone, everyone—including the Commander—had been corroded to some degree.
The Commander immediately asked urgently, "Is there any damage to the borer or the Sentinels?"
"None!" the player operating the borer replied loudly after an inspection. "Operation status is good. It doesn't look like they took any damage!"
The Commander had just breathed a sigh of relief when a player nearby spoke up: "Commander, I've taken some serious damage."
He pointed to his right foot. The foot that was once encased in a tactical boot was now gone, leaving only a charred ankle and broken bone exposed. "It was too dark just now, and I accidentally stepped into a puddle. In this state, I don't think I can keep up with the progress..."
Without a moment's hesitation, the Commander drew his auto-pistol from his waist and aimed it at the man's head.
BANG!
The gunshot echoed through the narrow pipe. The head exploded, and the headless corpse collapsed to the ground.
Only a few seconds later, a flash of white light occurred, and the player's figure solidified again in the same spot. He quickly leaned down, picked up the intact laser welder and tool kit from his own previous corpse.
"Any more problems?" The Commander glanced around. He waited a beat, and after confirming no one else had objections, he issued the order again: "Continue the damn mission!"
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What the f*ck is the author talking about?