Fender Manor, Howard's private parlor.
The newly appointed Count, now the new head of the family and inheritor of its full wealth, set aside all formalities and raised his glass in a toast.
"Nareth, thank you for your assistance this time."
Nareth lifted his own glass and clinked it against Howard's.
"This time, you've made quite the name for yourself—defeating one of Tizca's top gold rank barristers in open court. I believe you should abandon the factories. A single noble case earns more Martian credits than your entire dome operation."
"More importantly, being a lawyer is one of the highest-status professions a hive commoner can attain. It even grants significant political standing among the upper echelons of the hive."
"I have no long-term interest in practicing law."
Nareth knew that in times of peace, legal professionals were the most common path to political power. But Vostroya-no, the entire galaxy, was on the cusp of the grand and tumultuous era of the Great Crusade.
Now that his "Lawyer" persona had served its purpose, he had no intention of accumulating political capital. Plans for a "Barbarian" style uprising, a violent revolution, were already brewing in his mind.
As for Howard, after their recent interactions, Nareth had come to admire the sixteen-year-old's capability and open-mindedness.
"If that's your decision, I won't press further. Follow me to the vault and choose your reward."
Howard set down his glass and led Nareth through the manor.
Their footsteps echoed across gleaming crimson tiles. Howar noticed Nareth's gaze never lingered on the lavish decor, priceless murals, or exquisite furnishings.
His expression remained as calm and measured ever, walking at a steady pace behind Howard.
Soon, they stood before a cogitator, its panel flanked by something vaguely humanoid.
A servitor, an automated construct created by lobotomizing and augmenting a human.
But Nareth recognized it was no ordinary servitor. This was a Sentinel.
"This was a gift from Magos Kivior to my ancestor when House Fender was founded. Only the bloodline of my family can open it."
"The master-crafted power armor I wear, also bearing his name, was bestowed at the same time."
Nareth nodded. 'House Fender's ties with the Adeptus Mechanicus run deep.'
The Sentinel turned its head toward them, an amber iris flickering to life in one eye socket.
With a piercing shriek, its jaw unhinged, wider than any human's, lined with jagged metallic fangs.
The fangs pierced Howard's skin and embedded into his flesh, drawing dark red blood into the Sentinel's throat. Moments later, servo motros whirred, pumps hissed, and the cogitator's screen flashed erratically.
With a thunderous rumble, the vault's heavy metal door groaned open.
Nareth followed Howard into the Fender family vault, his enhanced vision took in the 2,300-square-meter treasure trove, all 513 display cases cataloged in an instant. He paused before one.
Howard explained, "This stone appears solid, yet it seems to contain a raging sea within. Its unique properties led the sixth family head to acquire it."
"It hails from an ocean-covered world in the Vostroya system, named Oceanus Aria by Magos Kivior.
"When seawater crashes against this stone, it emits a shrieking sound like a sea siren."
Nareth recognized it instantly. The Blasphemy Slate identified this as a Sirenstone, a primary ingredient for the Sequence 9: Sailor potion.
After fully digesting the Lawyer potion and returning to the Kingdom of Disorder, he'd found no increase in his authority over the source essence, but the slate now bore six additional Sequence 9 formulas, including Sailor. He'd also confirmed the chainsword as a secondary material for the Warrior pathway.
Yet the Sirenstone wasn't his choice. A Sailor held little advantage on the landlocked world of Vostroya with little to no ocean remaining, and one of its main ingredients couldn't be found anyway.
He moved on, seeing more than a dozen different potion ingredients, and finally stopped before a round black stone.
Howard continued, "That stone was discovered on Vostroya's moon. Magos Kivior noted its resemblance to Terra's own moon, the human home solar system."
"I'll take this."
The moonstone was the key ingredient for the potion of the Sleepless pathway, and Nareth had already secured the remaining materials.
With the Moonstone in hand, Nareth had gathered everything required for the "Sleepless" potion.
Back at Magnitogorsk Steelworks foundry, Nareth placed the moonstone in a long, slender silver case and sent it to the Kingdom of Disorder.
Then his short-range vox crackled. It was Roslov, his voice brimming with excitement:
"Boss! We've located the Black Widow—the biggest lung-spider in the underhive!"
The boss always rewarded merit. Another bottle of premium Vosvoth Vodka awaited him.
"Meet me in the control station."
Minutes later, Nareth arrived to find Roslov and a brown-skinned, blue-eyed boy of about nine. The child's gaze burned with reverence.
"Boss, he's the one who found the Black Widow."
For a short and fleeting moment, Roslov considered claiming the full credit, but he had crushed that thought. The boss seemed to read minds. Deceiving him? Unthinkable.
"Boss, I'm Bukayo."
The boy steadied his voice, introducing himself smoothly despite his awe.
"Good work. You've done a good job this time. Now, lead the way, I want to see this beast."
Bukayo guided them, with Nareth bringing fifty men toward the lung-spider's nest. Among them were two rat-catcher teams, men trained to hunt giant rats, with decent combat skills. Today, they'd be hunting the apex predator of the dome's outskirts.
Four kilometers along the dripping metal pipe, Nareth's keen ears detected movement.
A group trailed them a kilometer back, mirroring every turn.
'They're after me.'
They moved further until they reached a wider junction, Nareth's peripheral vision confirmed their pursuers: five hulking brutes, each over 2.5 meters tall, the largest nearing 3 meters.
But what caught Nareth's true attention were the two men leading the group. There was a familiar feeling about them.
He searched his memory and quickly identified them.
'Dimitrov's men.'
'No… An Arbiter wouldn't be foolish enough to send assassins. And Ogryns? Way beyond his reach.'
'These must be Estupinian's doing. Perfect, he's delivering the Barbarian's pathway main ingredients to my doorstep.'
Nareth didn't strike yet. He murmured:
"Bukayo, take me to the nearest narrow passageway."
The boy didn't falter. Masking his lips with his left hand, he whispered back:
"Understood, boss."
His right hand tightened around a dagger, his steps unwavering.
Two kilometers later, they reached a dim tunnel, just 3.6 meters wide. Three hundred eighty meters in, Nareth gave the order:
"Lights out! Flank positions!"
His gang veterans, hardened during the conquest of Hantmann West Dome, reacted instantly, pressing against the metal walls.
Then
Bang