Chapter 5: Counting the stains on the ceiling, it will be over soon. Author: xinclaer U

Time rewinds a few hours.

Aaaaaah—!

Shrieks echoed through the tunnels.

Several blood-soaked miners fled.

They looked wretched, screaming for help as they ran.

The rearmost miner swept a lascutter into the dark.

But an agile creature exploited the gap.

Scythe-like claws easily rent his flesh, tearing him in half.

Screee—!

Chitin shell drenched in blood, the creature revealed itself under swaying miner-lamps.

A hormagaunt—Tyranid basic combat unit, mainstay of assault ops.

Behind it, ripper swarms gnawed corpses.

They dismantled and devoured, licking even the blood clean.

Above Mining Station 21, a Tyranid bio-ship cast heavy shadow.

Its abdominal siphon tube linked to the station’s main facilities.

Warp shadow cloaked the area, blocking all psychic comms.

Radio was long gone—blown to bits with the command tower by spore mines.

Sated rippers crawled back up the siphon to the hive ship.

They dove unhesitatingly into digestion pools, breaking down—including themselves—into bio-mass for the ship.

But in the bio-ship’s virtual command pod, Chen Xing hugged her knees, floating in void, gripped by nameless dread.

She… was eating people.

The drool-worthy bio-mass was human!

The station held tens of thousands.

Plus stockpiled metals and non-metals—enough to double her hull.

Yet Chen Xing’s stomach churned.

She wanted to vomit the bloody mass.

But Tyranid devouring instinct had no concept of regurgitation.

Even Nurgle’s super-viruses were gourmet.

Tyranids truly ate anything.

[Host, hang in there—it’ll end soon.]

“Wah wah wah… I’d rather birth octuplets for an overbearing CEO right now.”

[Host, this system appreciates your resolve, but world-swap is impossible now. Adapt to your role faster.]

“But I’m eating people… urk.”

[Host, hold on—count ceiling stains. It’ll be over soon.]

Chen Xing lifted her head from behind her knees, staring at the distant star.

This gas giant lay far from its sun.

Fierce sunlight now faint and weak.

Station buildings cast long shadows on the gray moon.

Slaughter raged deep within.

Huff…

Deep “breath.”

Chen Xing opened the list.

With system help, all abilities digitized into the control panel before her.

Her hatchery produced a new bug batch.

Frontline feedback demanded stronger units.

But her level was low.

She held full gene templates yet couldn’t produce—like a tech tree.

Tech tier insufficient.

“Treat this as a game… yeah, I’m playing Dawn of War.”

Self-abandon calmed her.

She reached out tiny hands to the panel.

This time: genestealers.

Infiltration units that could breach miner lines.

Rending claws pierced even Terminator armor—miner cutters were nothing.

[One Pregnancy Eight Treasures, shorten gestation!]

System timely buffed.

Genestealer horde hatched instantly.

These restless traitors milled in the hatchery instead of fighting.

Chen Xing psionically suppressed them.

They became obedient puppets.

As genestealers infiltrated en masse, welded doors and blocked passages no longer halted Tyranid advance.

Frontline command net formed with warrior-synapses.

Chen Xing seized victory bit by bit.

Hours later, all miners slaughtered.

Rippers cleaned the field.

Remaining Tyranid forces returned to the now-several-times-larger hive ship.

Wounded or excess units tossed into digestion pools, reduced to bio-mass.

Surplus stored in hibernation sacs.

Even the siphon tube wasn’t spared—retracted section by section into digestion pools.

This massacre yielded massive bio-mass.

Hull length successfully reached 1.1 kilometers!

Awed by Tyranid bio-ship growth, Chen Xing noted one thing.

Devouring sapient beings boosted her far more than cold bio-mass.

Months gorging nest wreckage grew her to 300+ meters.

Today’s battle ballooned her past a kilometer.

Clear difference.

Hm?

Suddenly, distant worker bees sent alerts.

These critters now 20 meters, hauling heavier loads.

To prevent ambush, Chen Xing deployed them as sentries before operations.

Plasma engine glow appeared in the void.

A retired Imperial Navy destroyer approached.

Chen Xing narrowed her eyes.

She wanted to devour the warship.

But needed prep time.

She swung stern psionic tendrils, propelling her hull to the moon’s far side.

Psionic anti-gravity countered the moon’s weak pull.

She could hover motionless without falling.

Two hours later, the Cobra-class destroyer halted above the station.

“Director, we’ve arrived.”

Stormhawk Captain Bruce saluted Eric.

He wore Imperial Navy uniform, but “retired” 30 years ago.

Not honorably—desertion nearly earned a commissar’s bolt.

Parlan influence saved him.

Via holy PY transaction, the family gained Bruce and his destroyer.

“Good,” Eric nodded. “Send men down. I want to know what happened.”

“At once,” Bruce turned, hands clasped behind. “Order marines into the station.”

A dozen landing pods ejected from tubes.

They descended rapidly across the facility.

Navy troopers in sealed combat suits entered.

Unlike carapace-armored Astra Militarum, naval kit was vacuum-rated.

About 1,000 troopers deployed methodically.

All seemed smooth.

But gazing at the obliterated comms tower, Eric’s dread grew.

“Director, no worry,” Bruce said calmly. “I wager Eldar corsairs hit the station. They raid and vanish—gone for ages.”

His confidence worried Eric more.

“Not Eldar, not Dark Eldar… but…”

Boom—!

Void shields flared.

Massive impact floored everyone standing.

Explosion flash filtered by bridge viewports still blinded many.

Eric rose first, peering through ornate Gothic windows toward the attacker.

Pupils contracted.

A white bio-ship charged them.

Twin bio-plasma cannons at the prow primed to fire.