Grey's augmented, expressionless gaze locked onto the captured officer. His cybernetic optics processed the man's biometric readings—blood pressure, heart rate, pupil dilation—calculating probabilities, filtering truth from deception with ruthless efficiency.
A status prompt blinked across his vision:
[Processing required conditions…]
He had questions. The officer had answers.
"I ask. You answer."
The prisoner swallowed hard, fear seeping into his expression.
"Who is in command of your forces? Your Marshal?"
"Y-yes! His name is Venomfang. He's a psyker!" The officer responded hastily.
Grey's enhanced vision adjusted. The processing prompt changed:
[Truth.]
His cybernetic optics now functioned as an integrated lie detector.
If this man had a neural link, Grey could have ripped the data directly from his mind, tearing information from him like pages from a book.
"Where is Venomfang?" Grey pressed
A decapitation strike could cripple the enemy war effort.
The officer hesitated. "Sometimes I see him in the command camp… sometimes on the battlefield… but I never know his exact location."
[Truth.]
Grey exhaled, unimpressed.
Without a word, his cybernetic arm tightened into a fist. The officer's skull collapsed inward, crushed by an invisible telekinetic force.
The last enemy in the first floor was dead.
Grey scanned the room.
A holographic prompt appeared in his vision:
[Unprocessed scene detected. Risk of discovery: HIGH.]
[Suggested Cleanup Methods: Dispose of bodies in side chambers. Remove fingerprints and biological residue.]
Visual overlays marked corridors for dumping bodies and highlighted blood-spatter hotspots. Grey ignored them.
The other Thunderborns were already operational in the Upper Hive.
Once the first military facility was destroyed, the enemy would be thrown into chaos, making cleanups pointless.
"Has anyone noticed?" Anruida's voice echoed in Grey's mind. "There are no civilians in the Upper Hive."
Grey narrowed his eyes.
"Same here," Grey replied as he turned toward the second floor.
His thermal imaging mode activated, marking every enemy position.
Their movements, breathing patterns, heartbeats, all were visible through the walls.
Grey raised his hand, manipulating the blades of the fallen.
The melee weapons lifted from corpse-littered floors, floating silently into the air.
Then—
They hovered with perfect precision beneath the ceiling, directly aligned under the marked targets.
"I found a notice," another voice chimed. "It says the 'rebels' are massacring the Lower Hive. All Upper Hive citizens have been evacuated to the Spire for transport off-world."
Grey's eyes narrowed.
"Rebels? Those bastards." His voice was cold. "The Lower Hive is fine. The real traitors are up here."
As Grey listened, he ascended the staircase, his steps utterly silent.
The enemy officers on the second floor spotted him instantly.
Too late.
The weapons from below pierced through the floor, launching upward like executioner's blades.
Throats slashed. Chests pierced. Spines severed.
Not a scream escaped.
Grey barely suppressed a grin.
His new cybernetic arm was far superior to the original.
He recalled a conversation with Qin Mo—
Why did his augment grant him telekinetic abilities? What was the science behind it?
Qin Mo had explained. "Your arm generates a localized magnetic field, allowing you to manipulate objects within its range."
Grey clenched his fist.
....
The chapel had no third floor.
At the far end of the second level, a narrow stairway led to the bell tower.
Grey climbed swiftly.
"Hold up, guys, found the enemy's armory!" a jubilant voice burst through his mind.
Then—
"BOOM∼!"
As Grey reached the top of the bell tower, a beam of light lanced upward one kilometer ahead.
A massive explosion followed.
The shockwave shattered every stained-glass window in the chapel.
"Stay mission-focused," Grey reminded. "War isn't won just by killing the enemy."
"Relax, Brother. I know the objective. I just fired one shot from a distance," Vendis replied calmly.
Grey didn't respond, he returned to his task, scanning from the bell tower.
The entire district unfolded before his enhanced vision.
Every patrol route—mapped.
Every armored vehicle—identified.
Every artillery position—noted.
Every resting soldier inside buildings—marked.
Data streamed into the mission log—auto-tagged, archived, and synchronized with the rest of the Thunderborns.
Though enemy deployments would shift, this intelligence was invaluable.
The all-out assault on the Upper Hive was coming. The Tactical data from now would remain mostly valid.
Once one district was fully mapped, Grey immediately moved to the next.
....
Elsewhere
Anruida, newly assigned to secure teleportation sites, arrived at a sprawling plaza nestled between glittering towers and armored spires in the heart of the Upper Hive's immaculate urban sprawl.
He had already marked four locations as suitable for mass teleportation, and the pristine Upper Hive environment made this job far easier.
There was just one problem.
Every park and plaza had been converted into enemy garrisons.
Anruida didn't hesitate.
He had to clear them out first.
Despite being a Thunderborn, he had never considered himself a warrior.
He assumed the only reason he had been chosen was because he was a survivor of the 44th Regiment or perhaps Qin Mo needed a combat administrator.
Among the Thunderborns, he handled records, mission logs, and classified information.
But here he stood, in the open, surrounded by enemy soldiers.
Las-shrapnels flared.
Shoulder-mounted cannons roared.
He didn't move, ignoring the incoming gunfire and artillery.
He didn't need to.
He stood still, firing methodically, a living turret of precision firepower.
He simply raised his arm, and shrapnel-laser bursts vaporized an entire enemy squad.
Each shoulder cannon strike unleashed explosive plasma that liquefied ferrocrete and flesh alike, erasing dozens with every blast.
He systematically turned and annihilated every hostile unit in sight.
Within three minutes, the plaza was clear.
Without hesitation, he fired his shoulder cannon downward, blasting deep, smoldering holes in the ground.
He placed a teleport beacon inside one of them, and sealed it shut, melting the surrounding metal plating.
Ensuring future patrols wouldn't find it.
As he worked, a thought crept into his mind—
"Why don't we just kill every enemy in the Upper Hive?"
Then, he dismissed the idea.
The Upper Hive was massive, nearly the size of the Lower Hive, spanning tens of thousands of blocks. Killing every enemy was fantasy.
That's when he realized:
The Thunderborn power armor was never meant to be a superweapon for mass extermination.
Qin Mo designed it for something greater.
Not to replace an army, but to break the enemy's back, with elite soldiers.
To shatter command structures.
To cripple defenses.
To pave the way for the soldiers.
The standard infantry would then sweep through the remains.
Anruida activated his thrusters, rising above the city.
"Let's pick up the pace, brothers," he called out through the neural link as he launched toward the next sector.
"If we keep this pace, we'll be ready for the full-scale assault by tomorrow."
The war for the Upper Hive was about to begin.