Inside one of New Kato’s industrial facilities, Grot sat motionless on the factory floor, watching a logistics drones undergo repairs.
The machine had been crushed during raw material collection, its plating bent, its internal servos damaged.
Now, another drones—this one in perfect condition—was fixing it.
Grot rely observed.
He was a maintenance technician now, though in truth, this was not a real job.
It was just sothing to do.
A charity to keep people occupied, ensuring they had food, shelter, and sothing resembling purpose.
Most of the workers stood around just as he did, watching the drones do the real labor.
No one spoke.
Eventually, the damaged drones was repaired. It hovered away, returning to its duties.
And in that mont, Grot realized the truth—
This work did not matter.
He did not matter.
....
A black, spherical Drone floated toward a nearby worker.
The unit’s vox-emitter crackled to life, its voice was cold, emotionless:
["Personnel #488181. Occupation: Worker.
You have worked for one consecutive month.
You are now permitted to visit the chapel to alleviate ntal stress."]
The worker imdiately stood and left, wordlessly obeying the directive.
Then, the drone turned to Grot.
["Personnel #4. Designation: Forr Thunderborn.
You have not undergone any stress relief since the last conflict.
Your psychological assessnt indicates multiple instances of emotional distress.
You are granted leave to visit the chapel for stress alleviation."]
Grot smirked and gave the drone’s smooth plating a light slap.
"I'm not a Thunderborn anymore. Your database needs an update."
Then, he stood up and walked out of the factory.
....
Although it was still work hours, stress relief leave was an exception—
Anyone granted permission could take it at any ti.
As Grot and others left their facilities, they rged with other groups, forming a silent procession toward the city-center chapel.
The crowd was diverse—engineers, technicians, logistics personnel, and laborers.
Suddenly, a Sentinel drone hovered into their path.
Its red and blue lights flashed, the safety locks on its heavy bolter disengaging with a distinct click.
A bright scanning beam swept over them.
Then, after several seconds—
["Thank you for complying with the security scan."]
With its monotone confirmation, the drone’s weapons reard, and it drifted away to patrol another sector.
New Kato was orderly.
It was safe.
But only because watchful eyes were everywhere.
The group continued onward, entering the massive chapel—
A colossal structure that extended over 100 floors underground.
....
The above-ground structure of the chapel was a monunt to faith, its grand halls dedicated to prayers to the Emperor.
But its true purpose lay beneath.
Grot stepped into an elevator and descended into the underground levels.
When the doors opened, he entered a long tallic corridor, lined with countless doors on either side.
Each led to a private chamber, where workers could "relieve stress" through simulated experiences.
Grot chose an unoccupied room and entered.
The mont the door sealed shut, the dark, sterile chamber shifted.
The walls vanished.
The air changed.
And suddenly—
Grot stood on a serene beach, the ocean stretching far into the horizon beneath a vibrant blue sky.
Two bottles of alcohol erged from the floor.
A holographic prompt appeared before him:
["Would you like to continue 'Loyalists vs. Traitor Xenos'?"]
Grot nodded.
"Continue."
A lasrifle materialized in his hands.
Once again, he relived the Great Counteroffensive—fighting side by side with fallen brothers, experiencing war from the perspective of a common soldier.
....
When the simulation ended, Grot exited the chamber and took the elevator back up.
As the doors slid open—
He froze.
Waiting outside was a man clad in gold-trimd Thunderborn armor.
Grey.
New Kato’s Thunderborn Commander stood with his arms crossed, casually leaning against the wall.
Passing workers stole quick glances at him—so in awe, others in fear.
Grot grinned.
"What, even Captain Grey cos here to play 'Loyalists vs. Traitor Xenos'?"
He stepped forward, embracing his old friend.
Grey chuckled, shaking his head.
"I don’t like that ga.
I prefer watching a movie called ‘Super Grey Kills a Million Heretic Scumbags’."
Then—his expression turned serious.
"Maya has been found."
....
For a mont, Grot stood still.
Then—
His hands trembled.
His eyes widened.
His breath hitched.
And then—
Tears and snot stread down his face uncontrollably.
Grey patted his shoulder.
"Her new residence is right next to yours.
Go ho after work—you'll see her then.
You’ll also need to teach her the rules of living in New Kato."
Grot wiped his face.
"Rules?
Like what?"
Grey smirked.
"For starters—
No unauthorized entertainnt without permission.
No resisting Sentinel drone scans.
And most importantly…
The Lord Commander himself designed a gene-tracing device just to find her.
Thankfully, we got the real deal.
Imagine if we found so musclebound freak and had to tell you, ‘Here’s your sister’."
Grot laughed through his tears.
Then—Grey’s expression shifted.
"Also… your brother."
Grot’s face darkened.
He took a deep breath.
"He's dead, isn't he?"
Grey nodded hesitantly.
"Yes, but—"
"You don’t have to explain."
Grey fell silent.
"My brother never yelled at .
He used violence, yes—but he never relied on it.
He was a model of self-discipline.
But back then, sothing was wrong—
It was like… he wasn’t in control.
When I looked into his eyes, it was like staring at glass—
Like he was trapped inside, pounding on the walls, begging to help him."
Grey lowered his head.
"Call if you ever need anything."
Grey clasped Grot’s shoulder.
"I’ve got recruitnt duties to handle, but tomorrow night—
We drink."
Grot smirked weakly.
"Sounds good."
....
"He’s got sharp instincts."
Qin Mo remarked over the vox-link.
"Yeah…"
"So, uh… does this an we can give him his armor back?"
Grey asked cautiously.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
"We’ll talk about it later."
"Enter."
The door opened.
Duncan, the 87th Regint Commander, stepped inside and saluted.
"You summoned , my Lord?"
Qin Mo nodded.
"I heard you still keep a relic—a piece of your friend’s remains."
Duncan’s hands clenched.
Albert’s ashes.
His old friend had one final wish—
"To see the sky, even in death."
"You know…" Qin Mo mused.
"Most fallen soldiers had only two dying wishes.
One: Entrust their families to their comrades.
Two: See the sky one last ti."
Duncan swallowed hard.
"Now, they won’t just see the sky.
They’ll watch over us from orbit."
Qin Mo smiled.
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