The Trash Returned from Warhammer

[Entrance: No abnormalities.]

[Sector 2: No signs of intrusion.]

The power sector was pitch black. Elite soldiers, clad in heavy body armor, clutching rifles, and wearing night vision goggles, lay in ambush at various points.

This was originally a fishing operation—a final test by SEELE. Anyone entering this area would be arrested, and men like Mark would be subjected to scrutiny and execution for their lack of loyalty. It was a warning to Gendo Ikari and the entirety of NERV: defy SEELE’s orders, and you won’t just lose the ability to fight Angels—you won’t even be able to breathe in this underground world.

Thus, Gendo Ikari chose tacit compliance. He would rather act as a beast of burden, personally pulling the cables to launch Unit-00 and Unit-02, than attempt to restore the emergency power. Some things were best understood in silence; excessive persistence came at a price.

”It seems this Commander Ikari is smarter than we imagined.”

Inside the reactor control room, under the glow of candlelight, a man and a woman sat quietly. They wore the orange uniforms of the Logistics Department but made no move to perform repairs. What need was there for repair? One press of a button would restore power instantly.

”If he couldn’t see through even this, he wouldn’t be fit to execute the plan.”

The man was plain-looking, with a dark face like a farmer’s—lacking the dashing looks of an ace agent in a TV drama. ”Furthermore, the Security Department is performing its duties faithfully. Perhaps the Excellencies are overthinking things.”

Mark’s reports were too perfect, and perfection invites suspicion. SEELE had always worried that the ”eyes” they sent out might have been swayed by Gendo Ikari.

”That is why the Excellencies sent us—the true overseers. But through observation, the spies from the early infiltration phase haven’t had any contact with Gendo Ikari.”

the plain-looking woman nodded slightly. The testing was meant to be escalated level by level.

The members of ”The Owls” reported directly to SEELE. Each was absolutely reliable; no matter what conditions Gendo Ikari offered, betrayal was impossible. If even they were untrustworthy, the elders would have to come down here themselves.

”But these people are odd. Don’t you think they’ve become like dolls?”

”A bit dull, yes. But NERV does not possess the capacity for brainwashing surgery. We took one away for dissection; there were no changes to his physiological structure.”

The woman shook her head. She truly couldn’t fathom what was going on with the strange behavior of Mark and the others.

This was exactly the weakness of psychic puppets. Does destroying a personality not result in becoming a doll? Anyone with a slightly keen sense of observation would notice something was wrong and immediately call an Inquisitor to investigate. But this world had no Inquisitors and no psykers. The Owls could detect the problem, but they could not understand it.

”Put it in the report. We’ll rotate them out for a slow interrogation.”

The man made the safest judgment. He glanced at the pitch-black control room and asked, ”The Angel is attacking. How long is this test supposed to last?”

”Until the Excellencies are satisfied. No need to rush. Once the Angel breaches the outer defense lines, we will restore the power immediately. Gendo Ikari will use every ounce of his strength to repel the Angel anyway; otherwise, he has no value as an existence.”

The two fell silent. SEELE’s planning was very secure; they wouldn’t let a test compromise the big picture. They just had to keep waiting to see if they could fish out any other spies and use this test to purge NERV.

The candlelight flickered. The two stared at each other for a few minutes, and then their expressions changed simultaneously.

’Wrong.’

The status reports that came every thirty seconds had stopped. In this pitch-black, deathly silent underground, there was no sound at all. Without a second thought, they pulled out their communicators; through a relay point, they could contact their superiors directly.

”Signal’s been cut.”

”How is that possible? This is a special frequency. It requires high-power electronic warfare equipment, and there isn’t even any power right now.”

Both drew their rifles, chambered a round with a sharp clack, and aimed at the entrance. As elite direct-subordinates of SEELE, they made a judgment within seconds: peers had arrived.

”Group A, report status. Group B, answer.”

Aside from static, there was no sound in the earpieces. The two were utterly perplexed. There were fifty of the finest special operations soldiers outside; it was impossible for them to be eliminated silently.

Their heart rates began to accelerate. The woman gave a signal, pulled down her night vision goggles, and advanced with her companion in leapfrog cover. They had to restart the signal relay and report the situation to SEELE.

The corridor was dark, save for the faint sound of footsteps. Their muzzles moved fluidly to cover every angle, but they saw no sign of an enemy—not even a shadow. Their repeated calls

went unanswered. It was as if only the two of them remained in this underground world, as if fifty elite soldiers had collectively skipped work.

Rat-tat-tat.

Following a few gunshots, the shell casings hit the floor with a crisp sound. The two stood back-to-back for a while, their expressions growing grimmer. No enemy, no teammates. Even if communications were jammed, the moment shots were fired, everyone should have converged on this position. Yet, in the grey-white field of the night vision goggles, not a single heat signature could be seen.

Under the intense tension, breathing became difficult. They took out a device to test the air; there were no toxins.

”Damn it, are we seeing ghosts?”

With no psychological preparation, the two felt as if they had stepped directly into the set of a horror movie. Sweat began to pour uncontrollably from their pores.

”To the relay point. We have to get the message out first.”

Long years of training allowed them to maintain their composure. They advanced with alternating cover. They rounded a corner and stopped dead.

The first heat signature appeared. They felt something slick beneath their feet. A thick stench of blood flooded their nostrils. Raising their heads, they saw a soldier in heavy body armor and black fatigues pinned to the wall. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the corridor red.

This scene was too bizarre. No sound had been heard, no enemy seen, yet an elite subordinate had been nailed to the wall. Every member of The Owls was a top-tier agent and assassin; they were long accustomed to death. Yet this sight made their scalps crawl.

”Intruder!”

The muzzles guarded the surroundings, yet still, no shadow was seen. The corpse before them was even harder to understand. What kind of person could kill a soldier silently and pierce through two layers of Level V ballistic plates? What kind of strength would that take?

”Go, now! We must get the message out. NERV definitely has secrets.”

They quickened their pace, and then felt as if they had moved from a suspense thriller into a slasher film. There were corpses everywhere. There was blood everywhere. The thick stench of gore was enough to make even battle-hardened veterans like them gag.

One, two, three...

Elite soldiers, enough to carry out a large-scale infiltration, were strewn across the floor. Some had their heads severed, sitting silently at the end of the corridor. Some had been hacked into pieces, their limbs scattered everywhere. Others were mangled, like a doll crushed by a giant beast.

Blood, corpses, entrails. Not a single shell casing. Not a single gunshot heard. Everyone looked as if they had been murdered by a ghost. The relay point, which should have been reachable in five minutes, felt worlds away.

They couldn’t reach the destination. They wandered endlessly in this bloody corridor. No enemy was visible—only the mountain of corpses piled up like some cult ritual. They even forgot how many men they had brought, because the corpses they saw had already exceeded a thousand.

Rat-tat-tat...

”Come out! Whoever you are! Come out!”

The man could no longer take it. He pulled the trigger frantically until the magazine was empty, the bolt locking back with a clack-clack-clack. He ripped off his night vision goggles, revealing a distorted face.

”Elena, we have to fall back. Damn it, I’ve had enough!”

There was no response. He turned his head, and his frantic expression froze instantly. There was no companion beside him. In this bloody and terrifying corridor, he was all alone.

The presence of a companion is the only foundation for maintaining sanity. Like someone crossing a canyon who suddenly finds the wooden plank beneath their feet vanished—the sudden overlap of loss and panic was enough to drive one mad.

Every pore opened. Every muscle tensed. Even this specially trained elite trembled all over, frozen in place, lost. Confusion, tension, horror, the unknown, loneliness... every kind of negative emotion exploded at once.

And then, at that moment.

Pat.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. This ace spy, who had executed dozens of assassinations and was practically omnipotent, even forgot to draw his pistol. He turned his head stiffly.

His grey eyes reflected a clear-featured youth. A white shirt had been stained the color of blood. The boy stared at him like a demon and split his lips.

He revealed forest-white teeth.

.

.

.

’Emperor above, please forgive my blasphemous actions.’

In the blood-stench of the underground, Shinji was praying softly.

Astartes were not fond of torturing enemies; they preferred to blow your head off with a bolter the moment they met you. But that did not mean they didn’t know how to torture an enemy or destroy a mental defense line.

In fact, every Astartes was an expert in this field because one of their primary enemies—the various Chaos cults—were masters of this craft. Whether it was Khorne, Slaanesh, Nurgle, or Tzeentch, they were all experts; the only difference was whether it was direct, refined, or subtle.

Believe me, no normal person remains unbroken after seeing the horrific rituals of Khornate cultists, the extreme pleasures of Slaaneshi followers, or the floor-wide sores and stench of Nurgle. Thus, handling this filth required special units, one of whose prerequisites was an unshakeable faith in the Emperor. Only faith could mentally repel this absolute terror.

”Blame the fact that the ’AT Fields’ of the humans in this world are too thick; I have no choice but to use some blasphemous methods.”

Shinji looked at the vacant-eyed man and woman before him. Their AT Fields had been as thick as Gendo Ikari’s, but now fear had split the barrier like a blade. Their personalities were destroyed, their bodies turned into psychic puppets.

The entire plan was simple. It utilized the mind control techniques of Tzeentchian cultists, stacking doubt, tension, and fear step-by-step, combined with the visual impact of Khornate rituals. The two had been ensnared the moment they left the control room.

As for those dozens of fully armed special forces? Completely negligible.

”Elena. Robert.”

”Present.”

The two knelt on one knee. After going through such a process, their loyalty was off the charts.

”No need for such formality.”

Shinji crossed his legs, interlaced his fingers, and focused his gaze exactly like a priest of the Ministorum.

’If you are not loyal, then I shall make you loyal.’

”Now, let us talk about SEELE.”

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