After completing his Sanctum upgrades—offering two bottles of Sanctified spirits and a vial of oil to the glowing golden icon of the Emperor—Kian Voss geared up. He hopped into his newly acquired Survey Crawler and roared back toward the Sub-Sump Waste-Treatnt Plant.
A few security protocols and one "Grox-at bribe" later, Kian was back in the iron-clad office of Enginseer Anthony.
"I have successfully audited a chemical manufactorum," Kian stated, leaning against a copper conduit. "I possess the industrial capacity you required. What is the next phase of our protocol?"
Anthony's red optic whirred, scanning Kian's new Grade-4 armor.
"Operational speed: Optimized. Efficiency: High. Such rapid asset-acquisition is statistically rare for an unaugnted biological unit.
"Since your capacity is proven, we shall initiate the Deep-Grid Cooperation Protocol."
Kian crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "I ca to you because I needed power for my brewery. You told to raid a gang. Now that I've taken the Fertilizer warren, I can just tap into their existing grid. Why do I still need you, Holy Man?"
Anthony's tal fingers tapped a rapid, rhythmic binary code against his desk. Click-click-tap.
"You possess the physical wires, but you do not possess the Flow Control. Energy is the leash the Spire uses to control the Sump. If the Spire-Lords wish to crush an uncooperative gang, they simply cycle the breakers. Within one moon-cycle, the 'rats' die of thirst and rot.
"Furthermore, the Administratum tracks industrial output through energy consumption. If you use one unit of power, they expect 0.7 units of Tithe-product. Any deviation triggers an automated audit. Your expansion would be visible to the Spire-sensors within hours."
The Tech-Priest leaned forward, his glowing red lens reflecting in Kian's visor.
"I manage the regional sub-stations. I can perform a 'Logic-Ghost' bypass. Your factory's official consumption will remain at baseline levels, but I will double your actual current. You will have a hundred percent surplus of energy that exists outside the Imperial ledgers.
"What you produce with that 'Ghost-Power' is your own. No Tithe. No taxes. No Spire-Audit."
Kian licked his lips. This was the "Dark-Web" of the 41st Millennium. Infinite, untraceable power ant infinite, untraceable production.
"That," Kian smirked, "is a contract. What's the maintenance fee?"
"To maintain the 'Ghost-Current,' you shall provide forty liters of Substance 101: Fuel Grade and forty liters of Substance 101: Lubricant Grade per cycle. Deliveries must be consistent."
"Understood," Kian said. "The Voss Syndicate always pays its bills."
[DING! REPUTATION RANK UP: ENGINSEER ANTHONY (CHANCUS) RANK 0
→\\to→ RANK 1]
[UNLOCKED REWARDS — FORGE REQUISITION]
High-Precision Industrial Lathe: (Quest Unlock).
Optical Calibration Suite: (Quest Unlock).
Cogitator Engine (Biological): (Quest Unlock).
Logic-Boards: 2,000 Scrips.
Fiber-Optic Bundles: 500 Scrips.
High-Capacitance Converters: 500 Scrips.
Custom Combat Augtics: 200k – 1M Scrips.
Kian scanned the list. The Lathe and the Optical Suite were the final keys to his Machinist Station Level 4. With those, he could manufacture his own weapon attachnts—extended barrels, custom optics, and suppressors.
The Cogitator Engine was the holy grail—the core of the Intelligence Center.
However, the "Quest Unlock" tag was a headache. The Tech-Priest was shrewd; he wasn't going to sell the high-end stuff for re credits. Kian needed to perform more "Machine Miracles" for him.
But for now, Kian had a more pressing matter. He needed a Spire-connection.
Kian returned to the Safe Zone and entered Reno's office at the Water Guild.
"I'm ready," Kian said, dropping a massive, bulging rucksack onto the floor with a heavy thud. "Take to the brewery."
Reno looked up from his slates, his eyes wide. "You're serious? You have the capital? Voss, we're talking about 1.8 Million Scrips here!"
Kian unzipped the bag. Inside were mountains of high-denomination Agri-Scrips—the liquid legacy of Boss Iron-Eye.
"One million for the facility. Five hundred thousand for the bribes and the 'Lex Arcanum' permits. Three hundred thousand for your 'consulting' fee. It's all there."
Reno let out a low whistle, running a hand through a stack of scrip. "Throne's rcy... where does a scavenger get this kind of wealth?"
Kian gave a cold, thin-lipped smile. "My neighbor moved out. He left a very generous tip. Are we doing business, or should I go talk to the Alchem-Hounds?"
Reno stood up, suddenly very professional. "No need for threats, my friend. If you have the credits, the Water Guild provides the keys. Follow . We're going to the Mid-Hive."
Hours later, after several high-security elevator transits and biotric scans, Kian and Reno arrived in a sprawling industrial sector of the Mid-Hive.
This was the "Blue-Collar Tier." It lacked the luxury of the Spire but possessed a sterile, functional order. However, the current economic rot was visible here too.
Kian saw row after row of silent factories. Their massive iron doors were sealed with heavy chains and marked with the crimson wax of the Administratum Foreclosure Office. The famine had choked the life out of the smaller businesses.
Reno stopped before a gargantuan iron gate in Sector H-9. He pulled a massive ring of keys from his belt and slotted one into the master lock.
"Welco to your new kingdom, Voss," Reno said, the gate groaning open to reveal a massive, cavernous space.
Inside, rows of ancient, brass-bound distillation towers rose like tallic cathedrals. They were covered in a thick layer of grey dust, but their Machine Spirits were still intact.
Reno stepped onto the kill-floor, his voice echoing in the silence.
"Behold: The Albos Arbor Regional Distillery. Your glory starts here."
☆☆☆
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