Warhammer: Empire Reboot

How will ordinary people survive? How will the grassroots operate? Will the Huo clan's veterans be able to control their emotions? How much of the Shui clan's propaganda still has its effects? These are questions that need to be investigated.

The two Slaanesh were happy to take on this job.

When they emerged from the temporary base of the Lawson Fleet, the two great demons had already changed their skins.

Ash's purple hair disappeared, her skin turned light gray-blue, her facial contours were reshaped into the soft curves of the Tau tribe's aesthetic, her eyes were slightly larger, and her pupils had a light purple tinge.

The bridge of her nose was flattened, leaving only a narrow slit for breathing.

Its body shape is shrunk to a proportion close to that of a female Titan, with narrow shoulders, a straight back, and feet that also mimic a hoof-shaped gait.

She looked down at herself, her expression like she had swallowed a live toad.

Qianxian, standing to the side, became even more exaggerated.

She had the same blue-gray skin, but her eyes were brighter, her cheekbones were higher, and she wore small metal rings on the sides of her ears. She wore a replica of a Turkic engineering robe with an excessively tight belt.

Ash looked her up and down.

"You've sculpted yourself to look like a recruitment poster."

Qianxian turned around, the hem of her long robe fluttering.

"It's better than you. You look like the Shui widow who just crawled out of the medical pod."

Ash reached up and touched the slit on her face, tracing a line with her fingertip.

"I don't have a nose."

Qianxian also touched his own.

"I don't have any either."

The two Slaanesh demons stared at each other for a second.

For Slaanesh, the face is the hunting ground.

The curve of the nose, the thickness of the lips, the temperature of the breath, the scent emanating from the skin—everything is a tool to pry open the prey's desire.

The aesthetic of the Titanium Tribe flattens all these things, replacing everything with functionality and group identity.

Qianxian reached out and pinched her own face.

"I can't believe these blue-skinned people can accept this kind of face. I think it's a punishment for my master to make me dress up like this."

Ash took a step forward.

"If he punishes you, he'll make you polish Xiong Wei's power boots."

Qianxian's smile vanished.

"I like the humiliation bestowed by my master, but I don't like the mud on Oglin's feet; that's a hygiene hazard."

They walked down the suspended walkway on the outer edge of the administrative district.

The main city of the Vision Enclave is much cleaner than the Imperial Hive.

The streets are wide, the pipelines are neatly arranged, and the residential buildings are not piled up into towering steel mountains that oppress the sky.

Suspended railcars silently traverse between buildings, while drones patrol the air, handling traffic, cleaning, maintenance, and announcement projection.

The shadow of the highest good is imprinted everywhere.

The public dining hall is divided into sections according to work groups, and children learn about basic engineering, history, and caste responsibilities at the education center.

The Earth Clan maintenance workers discussed equipment damage in hushed tones, the Water Clan coordinator comforted the families at the wounded registration desk, and the Fire Clan patrol team, though disarmed, maintained order in their neat uniforms.

The city had just been defeated, but it was functioning like a machine that had simply changed owners.

Qianxian listened for a long time, then frowned.

"There is shame, worry, a little anger, and a dull ache of betrayal."

She tilted her head, as if trying to discern a complicated but disappointing dish.

"It's like a pot of soup, with all the seasonings in it, but diluted with ten times the amount of water."

“The highest good,” Ash said.

The Vision Enclave has broken away from the Etheric Council, but the education system shaped by the Ether will not disappear overnight.

Qianxian stared at the Ti tribe civilians queuing in the restaurant, a hint of resentment flashing in his eyes.

"I do not believe."

Ash looked at her; Qianxian had already walked into the restaurant.

The restaurant has soft lighting and seating is divided according to job type.

Qianxian sat down opposite a young female technician from the Tu ethnic group.

The other person was checking a maintenance data panel, their fingers flying across the screen. They pushed their plate aside, having only eaten half of their meal: a standard nutritional supplement, a glass of light-colored beverage, and a small amount of vegetable puree.

Qianxian rested her chin on her hand and spoke in fluent Titanic language: "You've been staring at the circuit map the whole time, and the food has gotten cold."

The technician from the Tu family looked up and saw Qianxian's disguised face.

"Which department are you from?" the technician asked.

"Are they still divided into departments?"

"During a period of defeat, resources need to be allocated even more. Resource allocation is already very tight, and non-staff entering the maintenance area will affect efficiency. Where is your work permit?"

Qianxian does not have a work permit.

But she has ten thousand years of hunting experience.

She didn't press the department further. Instead, she focused her attention on the technician's plate—the nutritional blocks had only been bitten twice, the drink untouched, and the vegetable puree still sealed.

You eat very little.

The technician's fingers paused for a moment. The statement wasn't offensive; in fact, it carried a hint of concern.

"The rations are enough. I'm not hungry."

"It's not that I'm not hungry," Qianxian said softly, as if stating a fact they both knew. "It's just that I can't eat."

The technician didn't answer, but she was a beat slow in swiping the data panel.

Qianxian knew she had found the right entrance.

"You're in charge of the water pumps in the third shelter, right?"

The technician looked up at her.

Qianxian had already caught a glimpse of the work order number and region code from the corner of her eye on her data panel.

"More than four hundred juveniles and two thousand wounded are all waiting for you to fix this board before they can drink water."

The technician's expression subtly changed.

Qianxian said the most crucial thing.

"How many hours have you slept since yesterday?"

The technician's lips moved slightly.

Qianxian experienced—injustice.

A young technician who has been silently shouldering the responsibility of supplying water to 420 infants since the defeat has not been asked by anyone whether she is tired.

Qianxian did not urge her to answer.

She simply sat quietly opposite her, her eyes conveying a carefully crafted understanding.

Five seconds, ten seconds.

The technician lowered his head.

Four hours.

A faint purple light flickered in Qianxian's eyes.

Four hours.

Qianxian repeated, her tone tinged with just the right amount of heartache, "You were probably like this before the defeat, and you're still like this after the defeat. Have you ever thought about why no one has ever fixed your board or let you finish that drink?"

Qianxian sensed that the shell he had trained with ether was cracking.

It wasn't smashed open; it was softened little by little by soaking in warm water.

She was preparing for the final push; once the first complaint was uttered, the rest would pour out like a burst dam.

"You deserve it..."

"I know what you're doing."

The technician suddenly looked up and stared into Qianxian's eyes.

Qianxian's words remained unspoken.

“In Shui’s emotional guidance training, it was taught that when a stranger accurately points out your fatigue and then implies that your efforts are not being seen, this is the standard rhetoric for guided confession. The purpose is to open up the other person’s emotional vulnerability and reduce their judgment.”

“Your technique is better than what Instructor Shui demonstrated, but the structure is the same.”

Qianxian stared at her.

After the technician finished speaking, he lowered his head again to draw on the board.

"The water pump in the third shelter won't be fixed ahead of time just because I cried. If you are a Shui Shi psychological counselor, please show your work ID and make an appointment for a non-working time. If not, please leave the maintenance staff's dining area."

Qianxian stood up and walked out of the restaurant.

Ash followed.

"what about the taste?"

Qianxian tugged at the damned slit in her face.

"I had already made her eyes sore from soaking in water, but she turned the tables on me with the Shui family textbook."

Ash raised an eyebrow.

"Exposed by a blue-covered psychology textbook?"

“She was trained, and even the way she was comforted had a standard procedure. Any comfort that was not in the procedure was classified as suspicious contact.”

They continued walking down to the lower-level commercial area.