46: Old soldiers never die, they just eat aliens alive in the sewers.

[Hive City archimedes - Deep Underhive - Sector D-9]

This was the drainage outlet of the Hive City.

For tens of thousands of years, toxic wastewater from the upper levels, industrial slag, and countless forgotten corpses had all converged here through an intricate system of pipes.

The air was thick with the stench of methane and fermenting carrion; the darkness was so dense it felt as if it could drip like water, and every breath felt like swallowing death.

"Zzz... Zzz..."

C-19's tactical visor switched to multi-spectral thermal imaging mode in the darkness.

His vision instantly turned into a cold blue-gray.

The surrounding temperature was extremely low, with only a few scattered red dots representing Mutant Rats scurrying between the gaps in the pipes; occasionally, the sound of dripping water could be heard from afar—the echo of toxic condensation hitting metal plates.

"Maintain silence."

C-19 whispered over the comms channel.

The ten Astartes behind him gave no response, only silently adjusting the fire selectors on their Bolters, locking the firing mode to "burst."

They were like a pack of black sharks cruising in the deep sea, gliding noiselessly over the oil-slicked ground, their Ceramite boots making not a single sound in the sludge.

The mission was simple: identify the "high-energy biological signature" rapidly approaching the geothermal core.

But the traces at the scene caused even C-19's calm second heart to skip a beat.

The ground was covered in corpses.

They weren't human.

They were some kind of... never-before-seen Xenos.

C-19 crouched down, dipping a finger into the purple blood on the ground.

It was a hideous monster with four arms and a sickly purple exoskeleton.

Their skulls had been violently crushed, their sharp sickle-like claws snapped off, and their chests bore massive, penetrating lacerations with jagged edges, as if torn open by some blunt instrument or sheer brute force.

Scan results: Unknown Xenos organism.

Biological characteristics: Chitinous shell / Four-armed structure / Acidic blood.

Cause of death analysis: Blunt force trauma / Chainsword laceration / Hand-to-hand dismemberment.

"No bullet holes," one Astartes reported over the channel, his voice tinged with gravity.

"Sir, a melee battle took place here. And it was a one-sided slaughter."

C-19 looked at the corpses.

The carapaces of these monsters were extremely hard; even a standard bolt shell might not necessarily penetrate in one hit.

But the killer clearly possessed brute strength far exceeding these monsters, along with an almost frenzied savagery.

"Continue advancing." C-19 stood up, gripping his Bolter tightly. "The target is just ahead."

The deeper they went, the more corpses there were.

There were those of the four-armed monsters, as well as Underhive Mutants.

They looked like they had been swept down like wheat by some immense force, piled together to form a road paved with flesh and blood.

Deep gouges were left on the walls—not from claws, but from the Ceramite pauldrons of power armor scraping off layers of concrete and rebar during high-speed impacts.

Finally, after passing through a narrow sewage pipe, a faint, flickering yellow firelight appeared ahead.

It was a derelict pump room hall.

In the center of the hall burned a bonfire made of mutant bones and oil-soaked industrial waste.

A massive figure sat by the fire, his back to them.

The power armor on his body was completely unrecognizable.

Most of what used to be gray Ceramite armor plates had fallen off, revealing the tangled cables and charred servo-muscles beneath.

The missing parts had been crudely patched with pieces of scrap metal scavenged from who-knows-where, or even monster carapaces, forcibly secured with thick rivets.

His helmet was gone.

That massive bald head was covered in shocking scars and tumors—mutant growths brought on by genetic collapse, making him look more like a monster than a human.

Crack.

He was holding a severed arm from one of those four-armed monsters; with a tooth-grinding sound of bone snapping, he bit through the hard exoskeleton, tore off a piece of purple raw meat, and chewed loudly.

"Target confirmed." For the first time, a tremor appeared in C-19's voice.

"Identification code: D-01... former Captain of the First Company of Thunder Warriors."

The eating giant paused. He did not turn around.

But he set down his "food" and slowly reached for a Chainsword beside him—one that was chipped down to half its teeth and had even lost its engine casing.

"I don't know any D-01."

The voice was raspy and thick, as if squeezed out through a throat full of phlegm, carrying a non-human hiss.

He slowly turned around, his bloodshot eyes—almost entirely white—staring fixedly at C-19.

"I only know..."

"This is my hunting ground."

"Get out, tin can."

C-19 looked at this veteran who had once fought alongside him.

At this moment, D-01 was in a state of semi-madness.

The agonizing pain of genetic collapse and the toxins of the Underhive had eroded his mind, and even the Xenos flesh was altering his physiology.

He likely no longer recognized the black livery of the First Legion.

"Veteran." C-19 did not raise his gun; instead, he slowly raised his hand and performed an aquila salute.

"The Commander is looking for you."

Hearing the word "Commander," a trace of confusion flashed in D-01's clouded eyes.

He clutched his head in pain, a beast-like low growl escaping his throat.

"Commander... Emperor... promise..."

Just then.

Hiss—!!!

A sharp, piercing screech that felt like it could puncture eardrums suddenly erupted from the shadows around the hall.

Countless pairs of purple eyes lit up.

Vents, sewers, ceilings... dense swarms of four-armed monsters poured out like a tide.

They had been tracking D-01.

Or rather, they had been waiting for this opportunity to ambush.

Warning: Large-scale Xenos signal detected! Quantity: 50+ Threat Level: Extreme.

"Is this what you brought here?"

D-01 snapped his head up, the confusion in his eyes instantly replaced by a violent killing intent.

He didn't even spare C-19 a glance, directly revving the battered Chainsword.

Vroom—clack-clack—

The engine let out a screech as if it were about to fall apart, coughing out a cloud of black smoke.

"That's MY meat!!!"

D-01 roared, charging directly into the swarm of monsters like an out-of-control tank.

He had no tactics.

He didn't need tactics.

A monster leaped onto his back, trying to pierce his neck with its claws.

D-01 reached back and grabbed it, slamming it onto the ground like a tattered pillow before crushing its head with a stomp.

Another monster bit his arm; he laughed maniacally, using his other hand to tear the creature's jaws apart.

This was a pure, primal venting of violence.

He was burning the last of his life in exchange for every second of the thrill of slaughter.

Watching this, C-19 calmly issued an order:

"Cover the allied unit."

"He still has utility value."

Bang bang bang—

The roar of Bolters joined the battlefield.

Precise bursts of fire blew apart the monsters trying to ambush D-01 from the sides.

Ten minutes later.

The hall was carpeted with two layers of corpses.

Purple blood gathered into rivers, flowing into the sewers.

D-01 stood atop a mountain of corpses, his breathing sounding like a wheezing bellows.

He was covered in wounds, some deep enough to show bone, but he seemed to feel no pain.

He turned his head and looked at C-19.

This time, his gaze was a bit clearer.

"Your marksmanship... is better than before."

D-01 grinned, revealing a row of jagged, yellowed teeth.

"Tell the Commander... I'm not going back."

He pointed to his chest.

There was a patch of throbbing, black necrotic tissue—the final stage of genetic collapse.

"This body is rotten to the core. But here... I've found some new fun."

He kicked the Xenos corpse beneath his feet.

"These things... they taste alright. And there's no end to them."

"I'll stay here. I'll hold this gap."

"As long as I'm breathing, these vermin won't crawl up to disturb the Emperor's peace."

C-19 silence for a moment.

He understood that this was the destiny of a Thunder Warrior.

They weren't meant for the glitz and glamour of a parade stand; they belonged only to the darkest, bloodiest battlefields.

He stepped forward, took a supply pack from his belt—containing high-purity stimulants and the latest bolt shell grenades—and placed it at D-01's feet.

"If you change your mind," C-19 said.

"The gates of the Imperium will always be open to you."

D-01 didn't answer. He simply picked up the supply pack, turned his back, and waved a hand.

Then, dragging that Chainsword, he limped toward the deeper darkness of the Underhive.

There, even more prey was waiting for him...