"The last batch! Hurry!"
Zeke practically dragged the final worker by his collar, tossing him into the pipe entrance.
It was a boy who looked no older than fifteen or sixteen, so skinny he was just skin and bones. His face was covered in tears and grime, and his pants were soaked through.
He was still crying and screaming as he was thrown inside, but his voice was quickly swallowed by the darkness deep within the pipe.
Zeke stood up straight, panting heavily.
He glanced at the timer: fourteen minutes had passed since the Aru forces began their assault.
Number of workers evacuated: 3,687.
As for the rest...
He looked toward the other areas of the factory zone.
The workers there—without player organization and without escape routes—were currently running around in the artillery fire like headless flies.
Some tried to climb the perimeter walls and were gunned down directly by Aru infantry, mistaken for rebels.
Some hid in building ruins, only to be buried alive by collapsing structures.
Some knelt on the ground to pray, only to be torn to shreds by stray bullets or daemons.
Then there were the remaining overseers and guards. Roughly four to five hundred of them were currently gathered in the ruins of the central control room, mounting a final resistance.
But they wouldn't last long.
Rebels, Khorne, Tzeentch, the Aru forces... in this massive chaotic melee, small fry like them could be casually crushed by any faction at any moment.
"Zeke! Everyone is in!"
[Soul of Cadia] ran over. His face was covered in black soot, and he had a gash on his shoulder deep enough to show bone, but he seemed completely oblivious to it.
"What do we do now? Fall back?"
Zeke didn't answer immediately. He looked into the distance.
The advance of the Aru forces had visibly slowed. The tanks and infantry were contracting their defensive lines, as if preparing for something.
On the Tzeentchian daemon side, the Herald of Tzeentch was locked in a psychic duel with the Psyker Detachment. Blue force fields and purple psychic threads intertwined in the air, erupting with blinding arcs of lightning.
The Khornate frontline had completely devolved into a meat grinder. The Bloodletter was riddled with bolter shells but was still slaughtering madly. The corpses of Berzerkers and Aru infantry were piled up like mountains.
The rebels were still firing, but their ammunition was clearly running low, and several gun emplacements had already fallen silent.
"Something's not right..."
Zeke frowned. Suddenly, his gaze landed on a specific position behind the Aru forces.
There, under the cover of the five Hellhound flame tanks, several bizarrely shaped vehicles with extremely long gun barrels were slowly deploying.
The barrels on those vehicles weren't direct-fire tank cannons, but high-angle indirect-fire artillery.
The chassis was larger than a Leman Russ, the armor thicker, and the barrel caliber looked to be at least 150mm.
Most importantly, the emblem painted on their hulls wasn't the Aru Group's genetic helix. It was a much more unsettling symbol:
A skull framed by a cog wheel, with psychic flames burning in its eye sockets.
"Are those..." Zeke's pupils suddenly contracted.
"Heavy Self-Propelled Artillery," [Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus]'s voice sounded in the channel, carrying a trace of solemnity.
"Standard heavy support units of the Imperial Guard. Equipped with 150mm howitzers, maximum range of 30 kilometers. Outfitted with high-explosive, incendiary, cluster, and various other munitions."
"Typically used for sieges or... area annihilation."
He paused, then added:
"Judging by the livery, these should be assets of the Order of the Omnissian Mind. The Aru Group must have borrowed them from the Mechanicus."
"What are they trying to do?" [Soul of Cadia] asked.
[Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus] was silent for two seconds before giving an answer that chilled all the players to the bone:
"Flatten the entire industrial zone."
The channel went quiet for a second.
Then, it exploded.
"Heavy artillery?! Aren't those things supposed to be on the front lines bombing fortresses?!"
"The Aru Group even has these?!"
"Five... a volley from five heavy self-propelled artillery guns... This industrial zone is going to be plowed three feet deep..."
"Wait! Do we still have time to run?!"
Zeke took a deep breath.
He looked behind him at the pipe. Over three thousand workers were currently crawling arduously inside. It would take them at least another twenty minutes for everyone to pass through and reach the abandoned quarry two kilometers away.
There wasn't enough time.
But suddenly, he smiled.
He smiled very casually, even a bit... relieved.
"Brothers," he said in the regional channel, his voice calm.
"Our mission is complete."
"Those we could save, we saved."
"Those we couldn't..."
He paused. "That's not our fault. It's the fault of this dog-shit universe."
He looked at the players:
"Now, I announce: Phase One of the Evacuation Plan is complete."
"Phase Two: Begin."
He raised his laspistol and pointed at the equipment inside the industrial zone:
"See those?"
"That half-collapsed refinery furnace is at least 20,000 coins."
"That pile of raw materials, 15,000."
"And the East Sector warehouse—Cadia just said there are rare metals in there."
"Those transport vehicles on the west side that can still move, 8,000 a pop."
He grinned.
"The Aru Group is going to flatten this place."
"So, before we get flattened!" He drew out his words: "We loot every single box we can!"
"Respawning only costs 5 coins! If we loot one big item, it pays for dozens of deaths!"
"Isn't this way more fun than extraction shooters?!"
The players froze for a second.
Then, every single pair of eyes simultaneously lit up with the hungry glow of starving wolves.
"Holy shit! Zeke! You're a fucking genius!"
"Loot! Loot the boxes! I fucking love looting!"
"If I die, I'll just play the next round! But I MUST loot the box!"
The players, who just moments ago had been exhausted and battered, were instantly pumped full of adrenaline.
They quickly purchased portable recycling terminals and scattered. Like a plague of locusts sweeping through, they threw themselves at anything in the industrial zone that could still be recycled.
Refinery furnace wreckage? Dismantle!
Raw material piles? Haul!
Transport vehicles? If you can't drive it away, recycle it directly with the terminal!
They didn't even spare the gear on the dead Aru soldiers. Flak armor, lasguns, grenades, ammo...
"This corpse still has three magazines on it! Worth it!"
"The lascannon on this Sentinel is still functional! Hurry up and detach it!"
Chaotic, yet highly efficient.
The players fully demonstrated their nature as the Fourth Scourge. As long as it was worth money, they'd unscrew the very bolts off the walls.
Zeke stood where he was, watching the scene unfold, and shook his head with a smile.
He opened the regional channel and typed his final message:
[Eternally Loyal to the Emperor]: "Brothers, loot to your heart's content. Loot as much as you possibly can."
[Eternally Loyal to the Emperor]: "Don't be afraid to die, I'll see you at the respawn point."
[Eternally Loyal to the Emperor]: "Let's regroup in the group chat."
He closed the channel and looked up.
Outside the industrial zone, the four self-propelled artillery guns had already entered their firing positions.
The massive gun barrels began to adjust their angles, aiming at this chaotic battlefield.
Kaspar Aru's mechanical voice echoed through the loudspeakers for the final time:
"Purification Protocol: Initiated."
"May the Emperor have mercy on your souls."
"Because the Consortium will not."
The muzzles flashed with the light of annihilation.
–
Deep within the Warp.
Lucian's energy body stretched out delightfully, feeling the torrent of emotions surging from the real universe.
Of course, he was only absorbing what the players emitted. As for the much more violently surging emotions of the natives, that was food for those two.
He was currently still too weak and didn't dare snatch food from them!
"Not bad... not bad at all..."
Lucian absorbed the emotional energy contributed by the players, feeling himself grow a bit more robust.
Looking at the system interface and the energy profit brought in by the players' frantic recycling right before death, the corners of his mouth curled up.
"Four thousand eight hundred players, average recycling value per person is about... five hundred Imperial Coins?"
"Converted into System energy... tsk tsk, another massive payout."
He nodded in satisfaction.
"It looks like the time to open up more slots... isn't far off."
"But next time, I need to pick a safer login point... At least don't have them get captured and thrown into the mines right from the start."
"Hmm, let me think..."
Lucian began planning his next player deployment.
Meanwhile, in the real world, the group chat titled [Aru First-Gen Coworkers] was already exploding with messages.
"I'm back! Fuck! That last artillery shell hurt like a bitch! Even at 30% pain perception, I couldn't handle it!"
"I recycled a thousand coins! A thousand! Hahahaha! I made an absolute killing!"
"I only got eight hundred... but that's still enough to break even!"
"By the way, where is the next respawn point?!"
"Has anyone checked yet? Let us know!"
"Where's Zeke? Tax Bro? Schrödinger Bro? Are they not back yet?"
Zeke opened his eyes, returning to his familiar rented apartment.
He checked the time: 3:00 AM.
Seven or eight hours had passed in-game, but only two hours in reality.
He rubbed his face, opened the group chat, and watched the fiery discussion.
Then he typed:
[Eternally Loyal to the Emperor]: "Is everyone alright?"
"I'm back."
"Status report: Recycled 5,000 Imperial Coins. I was still tapping the terminal screen the second before I died."
"Worth it."
The group instantly flooded with "Badass", "All hail Zeke", and "When are we doing the next wave?"
Zeke smiled and typed:
[Eternally Loyal to the Emperor]: "Rest up first. Recharge your batteries. We've all exhausted ourselves mining these past few days. Let's regroup after we're fully rested. Also... anyone with free time, log in and check how many respawn points there are. Scout the terrain in advance! Brothers who scout the terrain can come to me to reimburse their resurrection fees. Double."
"Once we're rested, we regroup as quickly as possible. And then!"
He paused, then typed the final line:
"We use the Imperial Coins we earned to arm ourselves, and we bring a little bit of different change to this man-eating Warhammer universe."
Inside the group chat, cheers erupted once more.
Outside the window, the night sky of the real world remained tranquil.
It was as if that war-torn Warhammer universe, where human lives were as cheap as grass, was nothing more than an overly realistic dream.
But for Zeke and the other five thousand players who had stumbled into a historical conflict...
The game had only just gotten back on track. Everything was just beginning.
As for Aurelian IV, the battle in the Aru Industrial Zone had by no means reached its conclusion amidst the apocalyptic artillery fire.