In the underground testing grounds of the Vault, thirty sturdy men stood in a perfectly straight line.
They were equipped with a brand-new set of individual gear. This time, there was no trace of the "Under-hive Wasteland" aesthetic—no rusted pipes or messy wires wrapped around their limbs. Since he now had access to top-tier materials provided by the Black Box, Andy naturally refused to manufacture industrial junk. Now that he was "rich," it was time to craft the real good stuff.
Case in point: the T-450 Light Auxiliary Exoskeleton.
The suit possessed a cold, matte silver-gray finish. The main frame was constructed from high-strength hollow Chrome-Molybdenum steel tubes, formed into a single piece through a precision CNC bending process that perfectly contoured to human ergonomic curves. All hydraulic lines and servo-motor wiring were ingeniously tucked into grooves within the frame, covered by smooth, impact-resistant composite plates. With no redundant rivets or exposed wires, the suit looked sleek, fluid, and filled with a minimalist, futuristic industrial beauty.
Some might wonder why Andy didn't just build full-enclosed Power Armor since he had the Black Box. The core technology of Power Armor didn't lie in the outer metal plates, but in the neural interfaces and fusion backpacks within. To build those, Andy would first need to manufacture miniature fusion reactors, then neural-link induction fibers, and solve the complex issues of heat dissipation and life-support systems. This required not only massive amounts of rare resources but also extreme processing precision and a long calibration period.
Andy's current goal was clear: to get out. His primary mission was to build a ship and "run" from this system, not to stay here and contend with the Four-Armed Emperor or Abaddon for galactic dominance. Spending three to five years equipping every soldier with Power Armor was a pure waste of resources.
The T-450 exoskeleton standing before him was the king of cost-effectiveness. Its technical requirements were low; the materials were all made via the Reconstructor, and the control chips were, at best, at the level of a simple microcontroller. But it was incredibly effective.
"Output test," Andy commanded.
The guard at the front of the line took a deep breath, leaned down, and grabbed a large iron crate on the ground. The crate was filled with waste lead plates and weighed two hundred kilograms. An ordinary human couldn't even budge it.
As the hydraulic pumps at the guard's waist and legs emitted a low hum, he grunted: "Lift!"
He hoisted the two-hundred-kilogram crate over his head with ease. The movement was fluid, without a hint of lag. He even began performing squats with the weight. It was more than enough; it perfectly achieved the effect Andy desired. While this exoskeleton offered no bulletproof protection, it directly granted an ordinary human three to four times their natural strength.
With this strength, they could wield the heavy weapons Andy had specifically designed for killing. For example, the large black crossbows currently hanging at their waists.
CBS-12 "Silent Arrow" High-Explosive Crossbow.
It possessed a draw weight of 200 pounds! Without the exoskeleton's assistance, an ordinary human's arm would dislocate after a single draw. But now, they only needed to hook the string onto the exoskeleton's power winch, and the hydraulic rod would retract.
Click.
Spanning complete—easy and effortless. Andy looked at this revamped squad of heavy infantry with great satisfaction. With this equipment, how could he fail to defend his "farming" empire?
Just then, Gamma-9 ran in hurriedly, his single eye filled with terror. "Sage! Something's happened!"
"The living quarters... someone has gone mad over in the living quarters!"
Andy's electronic eyes flickered. "What's the situation?"
"A dozen people suddenly grew green pustules all over their bodies. But they aren't screaming in pain; instead... they're laughing!" Gamma-9's voice was trembling. "They say they feel wonderful, ecstatic, and they want to share this 'blessing' with others!"
"Tsk!" A wave of disgust washed over Andy.
It hadn't even been two weeks; how had the Warp-worshippers crawled back already? It seemed that while Andy had abducted Sisyphron from the Plague Doctor's gang at the acid marsh, the remaining cultists hadn't stayed quiet. In their base, which had likely turned into a Garden of Nurgle, they were brewing viral green soups and distributing them throughout the Under-hive.
Even with Andy's presence in the Vault and the distribution of clean food and water, there were always those who were greedy for a bargain or already sick who secretly sought out these so-called "miracle cures." These fools had no idea what they were swallowing.
A plague of Nurgle wasn't a normal disease; it was a blend of psychic energy and virus. It would strip away your pain, granting you a hallucination of bliss amidst your rot.
For Andy, this wasn't just a matter of disgust. The five hundred people in the Vault were the labor force he had worked hard to nurture—the foundation of his ship-building plan. Now Nurgle wanted to turn them into rotten meat? Not a chance.
"Are those dozen people under control?" Andy asked.
"Controlled... but the guards are afraid to get close for fear of infection."
"Drive them out," Andy's voice was as cold as a void. "Drive them outside and find a pit. The Storm Troopers will stay here to guard the home; all guards, assemble with me."
Andy grabbed an oversized, custom high-explosive crossbow and slung it across his back. "Bring the new gear. We're going to do some spring cleaning."
On the edge of the acid marsh, amidst a deathly silence of grayish-yellow fog. In a freshly dug pit knelt the infected—over a dozen former workers of the Vault.
Their appearance could hardly be called "human" anymore. Their skin was covered in oozing ulcers, and some had bellies bloated like balloons with something squirming inside. Yet, their faces wore those eerie, idiotic smiles.
"Praise the Grandfather... it doesn't hurt anymore..." "Everyone, come drink the soup... it's the taste of life..."
At the edge of the pit, thirty guards in T-450 exoskeletons and gas masks stood in a line. Their CBS crossbows were spanned, sharp bolts pointed at the people in the pit. The tips were specialized, filled with the "Triple-Base" explosives Andy had just developed, with extremely sensitive impact fuses.
"Sage... do we really have to kill them?" Gamma-9 asked from the side. Although he feared these heretics, these were over a dozen lives—acquaintances he had worked with just yesterday.
"They are already dead," Andy stood at the front of the squad, his tone flat. "What occupies their bodies now is merely a projection of the Warp. If we don't clean this up, the entire Vault will become a cesspool of rotten meat. Fire."
Andy gave the command.
Thrum! Thrum! Thrum!
The dull twang of bowstrings vibrated in the air. The bolts drew black streaks through the fog.
Splat.
The bolts buried themselves accurately into the bodies of the infected. The high-strength carbon fiber shafts carried immense kinetic energy, pinning some directly into the mud. Before the infected could even react, the fuses activated.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Dense explosions erupted at the bottom of the pit. High-explosive tips designed for anti-materiel use were now detonating inside living bodies. Those physiques, granted superhuman regeneration by Nurgle's blessing, proved fragile against internal explosive shockwaves.
There was no suspense. When a biological structure is reduced to shreds and mist less than a millimeter in diameter, it ceases to exist. The pit instantly turned into a red mist. The dozen individuals were now a layer of organic fertilizer evenly coated across the walls of the pit.
"Done." Andy looked at the blood mist without a shred of emotion.
The most annoying part of Nurgle cultists was their resilience—ordinary bullets were like tickles to them, and they could grow back rotted flesh. But the CBS crossbow from the Golden Age was a specialized cure for such nonsense. Can't grow back if you're vaporized!
After cleaning house, Andy wasn't in a hurry to return. He turned his gaze toward the distant Plague Doctor base shrouded in green fog. The acid lake was the source. If he didn't fill in that cesspool, this would happen again.
"Everyone, listen up." Andy turned to face the squad that had just seen blood. "Since we're out, let's clear all the trash while we're at it. We advance on the acid marsh base. Aside from the buildings, blast everything that moves."
The squad began to advance. With the aid of their exoskeletons, the soldiers moved swiftly through the muddy marsh. They spread out, using the terrain for cover, silently approaching the horrific base filled with laughter.
At the main gate, dozens of fully mutated "Doctors" and refugees were dancing around large boiling cauldrons. They had no idea that death had arrived.
"Free fire!" Andy ordered over the comms.
Thrum—
Another volley. Dozens of blood flowers bloomed in the crowd. The dancing cultists didn't even know what happened before the person next to them turned into a burst of meat paste. An attack with no visible tracers and no sound of gunfire threw them into a state of extreme panic.
But panic was useless. Before they could react, the second and third volleys arrived. Every explosion claimed several lives. The Lead Surgeon who had once led Andy to the base had now become a massive ball of meat, trying to crawl back into the black tower.
Andy raised his oversized crossbow and aimed at the bloated back. "Safe travels."
He pulled the trigger. The thick bolt punched straight through the meatball.
BOOM—!!!
A violent explosion blew the meatball into a million flying pieces.
Ten minutes later. The entire base was silent. The ground was covered in a thick layer of red sludge. Andy led his men into the base. In a corner, he found several shivering refugees. Green spots had grown on them, and they knelt on the ground begging:
"Don't kill us... we just drank a little soup..." "We can still work..."
Andy stopped and looked at them. Scanning results showed their internal organs had already begun to fibrose. There was no saving them. In the Warhammer universe, any mercy toward Chaos corruption was cruelty toward oneself. Leaving them alive was leaving walking hazards.
Andy slowly stepped back. Seeing this, the soldiers behind him immediately raised their crossbows.
"Send them on their way."
Thrum.
After a few dull thuds, the world was completely silent. Andy stood amidst the gore, looking at the thoroughly purified base. While it looked disgusting now, it was undeniably a valuable location. A natural acid moat, existing chemical equipment, and a secret underwater tunnel to the Upper-hive.
Since the Plague Doctors were gone... wasn't this place worth developing?