Warhammer: I'm not your Dad! Chapter 30 30: The Glamour of Statistics

"Has he co?"

"Who?"

"You know who I an! That monster!"

In the darkness, two n whispered. Suddenly, one of them shouted, and the other quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Keep your voice down! Boss hates it when people scream, you'll get us all killed!"

"I'm more afraid of that monster than the boss! Haven't you heard? The Fernandi Gang is dead! They were just in the next district, the biggest gang in this whole layer, and yet… all of them slaughtered overnight! That monster butchered them all!"

"Calm down. Weren't there survivors?"

"How can I calm down? Those survivors were just kids! The monster said they still had a chance to atone. People like us, we're finished!"

The man's composure collapsed, fear crushing his reason. His companion tried to soothe him, but then from outside ca a terrified scream:

"Help! Open the door! Let in!"

The n ducked behind cover, trembling. "Oros… is the monster here?" one asked.

From beyond the door ca the cry: "It's the Midnight Phantoms! I need to report to the boss right away!"

The tension drained from the man's chest. Not the monster, thank the Throne. The Midnight Phantoms weren't so frightening.

He opened the door. But the mont he did, he realized his mistake.

Outside weren't just Oros, but three teenagers hidden in the shadows, all ard, forcing their way in while holding Oros at gunpoint.

Another sentry reached for the alarm. A las beam burned clean through his skull.

"Don't move, you know the rules," one of the teens barked, weapon trained steady.

The man dropped his gun and raised his hands without resistance. His throat bobbed nervously. "Will I live?"

"The court will decide. Your punishnt will fit your cris."

He pressed himself against the wall as dozens of ard youths poured in.

"I'll live, I will. I was only an accomplice, not guilty enough for death. Worst case, I'll get life in prison…"

He tried to reassure himself. Before the Midnight Phantoms ca, he lived in constant dread that the monster would co for him.

But now? Now he felt oddly relieved. The Phantoms judged before killing. Only the truly damned were executed.

Most henchn were just accomplices. Life imprisonnt was harsh, but at least it wasn't death.

Curze stood upon the rooftop, watching but not intervening. This gang fortress was the last obstacle on the 33rd layer to justice and order.

Each kill he made was logged, cris recorded, causes of death noted, building the frawork of the Midnight Phantoms' law.

99.9% deserved death. Only 0.1% were granted a chance at redemption.

The gangs didn't know that. To them, the law was a mystery. All they knew was that so who surrendered survived.

And so, many convinced themselves they were among that 99.9% who lived.

What they didn't know: that number included honest, law-abiding workers.

That sliver of false hope sapped their will to resist. It made the Phantoms' advance easy, with losses minimal.

Curze had deceived no one. He had only wielded their ignorance.

"This really is the glamour of statistics," Caelan muttered in awe.

"Encircle but leave a gap," Curze said. "That's what you taught ."

Most of the ti, he didn't need to give hope. He only needed people to believe they had seen it.

He vanished into the shadows.

"You're not going to watch the end?" Caelan asked.

"No need. The Phantoms will win."

"Because of prophecy?"

"Because I trust them. That, too, is your teaching."

"Kids grow up fast. Now they even talk back."

Curze stopped and stared at him silently.

"…What are you looking at like that for?" Caelan asked, uncomfortable.

Curze said nothing, gaze unyielding.

Caelan cracked first, grumbling: "You really have ti to waste glaring? Don't forget, you still have plenty more people to kill!"

Curze turned away with a faint smile.

He leapt into a lift shaft, bounding beam to beam, climbing quickly.

The lower hive had eighty levels. He had stalked gangs on everyone, killing every boss.

Just as he expected, the nobles ordered the gangs to unite against the Midnight Phantoms.

But the gangs were too busy at each other's throats to obey.

So nobles tried to impose order themselves, descending with hundreds of elite guards. They never returned.

All that was found in the lift was the sll of blood and a few stains. No bodies. No survivors.

Curze prowled from level to level. Whenever one faction gained dominance, whenever a new boss rose, he ca.

And killed. The leader, the lieutenants, every last one. Blood bathed every den.

On and on. Each cycle of infighting and massacre left the gangs weaker.

Eventually, they caught on to the monster's pattern. New leaders no longer fought to rise, choosing instead to lie low, clinging to their own scraps of turf.

Their passivity left Curze "helpless." He was too busy to hunt them all.

But the once-unified syndicates fractured into dozens of petty factions, too divided to resist the Phantoms.

The snowball grew. From the depths of the underhive, the Midnight Phantoms had claid 33 of 80 levels, each secured with strongholds and exclusive lift access.

They now commanded billions of workers, millions of fighters, and vast industrial zones. Food, arms, clothing, goods, all self-sufficient.

Anyone could see it now: the Phantoms were unstoppable. Within a year, they would rule the entire lower hive.

The nobles panicked, severing all links between upper and lower hives. Lifts now only ran within their own districts.

It made no difference to Curze. He never used lifts. Too slow.

"Please… I have a family…"

The woman staggered back in terror, tripping over the corpses of her guards, falling into a pool of blood. Her fine clothes were soaked scarlet.

"I'll give you everything, my estate, my body, my mother, my sister, my daughter, everything, just spare !"

She sobbed in desperation, trembling, her beauty pitiful in its fragility.

She was gorgeous. Millennia of gene-craft had made every noble handso, flawless.

But their hearts were fouler than the underhive's murderers.

"I have seen thirty-seven of your futures," Curze's blade traced her throat before his voice reached her. "Not one of them moved . Don't worry, your family will join you soon."

.....

News! This has been added in my p@treon. 30 Chapters ahead.

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