King Mrozek stepped down from the luxurious royal train, clad in immaculate, opulent power armor and wearing a breathing mask to shield himself from the filthy air. He impatiently questioned the captain of his guard.
"Where are those scum? Let's finish this quickly. I don't want to stay in this dirty underhive any longer."
Were it not for the fact that the last five appointed security captains had all been killed by these scum, he would never have deigned to come to such a wretched place.
"My king, my men have located their lair."
As he spoke, the captain operated his datapad and showed it to Mrozek.
"Their nest is in a dome called the Sludge Pits."
"Trash will always live in trash. Just hearing 'Sludge Pits' makes my skin crawl."
The guard captain flattered, "Your majesty is indeed wise, exactly right."
"The Sludge Pits used to be a large water reservoir maintained by the Aqua Guild. Later abandoned, it became contested by over a hundred underhive gangs, leading to brutal conflict."
"In the end, the area turned to ruin. The water pipes all burst, and it became a mire resembling pits, thus the name."
Mrozek frowned, his tone dripping with disdain.
"Brainless wretches, don't even understand that endless fighting leads to nothing."
"And the garrison force? Utterly useless. They've taken sums from us for years, and they can't even deal with a bunch of underhive rats."
"Lead the way. Let's end this now!"
He barked the order impatiently.
An hour later, the king followed the captain into a tunnel, his boots sinking into the frozen sludge of Naryanmar's bitter weather.
At first, it didn't feel sticky. But once he noticed his boots getting heavier, he looked down.
Through his night-vision optics, Mrozek saw rotting trash, rusted metal shards, and unidentifiable organic matter clinging to his boots. His stomach turned, and goosebumps crawled across his skin.
After hesitating for several seconds, he continued forward—but ordered twenty-five guards, divided into five teams, to clear the ground of debris.
Lacking proper cleaning equipment, the guards were forced to hunch over and push the sludge with their bulletproof shields. In minutes, their backs ached, and they rotated for rest.
Mrozek still felt irritated. The pipes and ventilation systems blew wind into the tunnel, kicking up filth that pelted his gleaming armor.
After two more standard hours of walking, the tunnel widened where several passages converged.
"Not bad here. Rest for ten minutes."
"Armor servitors, clean my suit."
The guard captain opened his mouth to object. The area was complex and unsafe to rest in, and the king had previously insisted on speed. But the servitors were already at work, brushes and polish in hand. He could only fall silent.
Clutching his las pistol, the guard captain swept his eyes warily around them. When his gaze passed over an abandoned maintenance platform and scaffolding, he caught a glimpse of something—maybe not human, more like some underhive creature.
He was about to send someone to check when a beam of light shot out from the ruins above, hitting him cleanly between the eyes, right through his filter mask.
Bukayo, seeing the guard captain fall to his single shot, knew the tide of battle had turned.
According to Intel, the flashy false king was no competent commander.
His shot was the signal for the Third Regiment to attack.
Just as the phrase "ambush!" caught in the dying guard captain's throat, and as the exhausted guards struggled to react, dozens of energy beams lit up from the scaffoldings and abandoned structures.
Caught off guard, more than twenty guards fell in the first wave of fire.
Panicked, the rest began to fire back.
But the fighters of the Third regiment, still not fully grown, now had the advantage.
They were smaller, able to hide behind low cover. Their slim bodies made for small targets.
In the shootout, the guards found it hard to land shots, while the agile youths, perched high and armed with fine weapons, picked them off with deadly precision.
Bukayo's handpicked children were trained for these complex environments. The royal guard, stepping into the underhive for the first time, had no commander and scattered like rats.
As shots rang out, Mrozek flinched and ducked behind his servant.
But his ornate power armor and thick furs made him a glaring target. Soon, a whole squad focused fire on him.
With a series of thuds, Mrozek watched in horror as his attendants collapsed.
Laser beams whistled through the air, slamming into his armor in blinding flashes of white light.
"I'm going to die," he thought in panic, closing his eyes. Even with them shut, he could still see the flickering lights.
Seconds passed. He realized he was still alive.
It hit him; he was wearing a masterwork power suit passed down for generations.
Grinning madly, Mrozek raised his massive lumberjack rifle and fired upward.
Bukayo saw several warriors from the fourth company fall. Unwilling to waste more lives, he ordered a retreat.
The enemy had entered the underhive, his hunting ground. He had time to play with this false king.
"You useless cowards, follow me!" Mrozek barked.
After 'repelling' the ambush, Mrozek's confidence soared. He led his guards forward aggressively.
For the next hour, he scored victory after victory, his confidence swelling.
"Hah! No one can resist the brilliant and mighty King Mrozek!"
The "Sleepless" watched as the number of guards around the prey dwindled. Under his orders, repeated focused fire had weakened the king's power armor legs, and cracks began to show.
He raised his laser rifle. The dim surroundings didn't hinder his aim. He fired straight at the vulnerable gap in Mrozek's right lower leg.
Boom.
Mrozek collapsed.
Screaming in agony, he clutched his shattered leg.
After losing 104 warriors, Bukayo recruited new fighters from the underhive and launched an attack on the upper hive. His goal: to offer all of Naryanmar Hive to Nareth.
Nareth, who had led the First Regiment and conquered two hives, was surprised when he received Bukayo's vox transmission, announcing that his regiment had taken over the northernmost area of Naryanmar Hive.
Leaving the First Regiment to regroup, Nareth brought Marlena and others to inspect Naryanmar.
He was shocked to find the Third Regiment made up entirely of youths, and that Bukayo had led them to victory.
After Bukayo's briefing, Nareth understood: the youths had relied on harassment, ambushes, and guerrilla tactics to win. He couldn't help but praise the approach.
"Excellent tactical application," the Primarch commented. "Your selection method should be replicated."
"Those underhive gang members unwilling to work can participate in trials. Selection should be based on each regiment's needs."
"Your wisdom is unpararled, my lord," Bukayo replied, then continued.
"My lord, I have one more gift for you!"