Chapter 370: A "New Breed" of Xenomorphs and the "Employment Crisis"
Hiss—!!
The piercing screeches of xenomorph drones launching an assault echoed throughout the trial arena.
"Dammit! Atlas, you bastards!"
"How are we supposed to fight without weapons?!"
"Screw it! Better to die fighting than cowering!"
Faced with a swarm of alien drones and countless facehuggers, the dozen or so D-Class personnel cursed as they prepared for hand-to-hand combat.
Based on past "product testing" experiences, no matter how ruthless Atlas was, they would usually provide advanced weapons and ample ammunition.
But not this time.
The D-Class personnel had no choice but to grit their teeth and engage the xenomorphs barehanded.
The moment they clashed—
The xenomorph drones charged head-on, eschewing the stealth and baiting tactics used by worker or messenger variants. Programmed for direct combat, the drones lunged forward with claws and barbed tails aimed at their targets.
"Damn you!"
"Get off, you disgusting freak!"
Despite their curses, the D-Class personnel reacted with reflexes far beyond ordinary humans, deftly dodging the incoming attacks.
Two experienced individuals even grabbed the tails of attacking drones mid-motion, twisting their bodies to hurl the xenomorphs away.
"Roar—!"
The flung drones flailed in midair, attempting to regain balance.
Boom—! Boom!
But they smashed into the walls of nearby buildings, bringing sections crashing down in a cloud of debris that buried the drones.
What?!
Even the experienced D-Class personnel were momentarily stunned.
They had noticed changes in their bodies before, but the pressure of battle had left them little time to explore. They had initially assumed that Atlas had injected them with some new experimental serum, another of the countless trials they'd been subjected to as living guinea pigs.
However, this time, their newfound strength and speed exceeded all prior expectations.
The drones, known for their incredible agility and ferocity, appeared sluggish and predictable. The D-Class personnel had ample time to react and counterattack.
And their strength? It was enough to hurl drones into walls and collapse structures.
"Hiss—!"
Before they could dwell on these revelations, the drones resumed their assault.
"Hahaha! This is incredible!"
"Is this what those big guys—the Astartes—feel like?"
"I think I could take one of them on one-on-one!"
Emboldened by their newfound abilities, the D-Class personnel shifted from initial despair to unbridled confidence.
They retaliated with overwhelming force, outpacing the drones and intercepting facehuggers attempting to latch onto them. The facehuggers barely had a chance to leap before being grabbed and flung aside.
However, their euphoria was short-lived.
One of the D-Class members, attempting to tear apart a drone's jaws barehanded, succeeded in splitting its head open—
Hiss—! Hiss—!
—but was immediately doused in its acidic blood.
"Ahh! My eyes—!"
The unfortunate man screamed as the yellow-green acid splashed across his face, rapidly corroding his skin and flesh. Within moments, his features were unrecognizable, his eye sockets empty.
Though the D-Class personnel displayed strength and reflexes akin to unmodified adolescent Astartes, they lacked their resilience. A true Astartes, like Logan Sigurd of the Space Wolves, could withstand xenomorph acid with little more than a few scars.
The D-Class personnel were far less fortunate.
Seeing their companion's horrific death, the remaining D-Class fighters grew more cautious. They opted to hurl drones away or pummel them from a safe distance rather than risk close combat.
But—
Hiss!
The xenomorph drones abruptly changed tactics. Instead of charging head-on, they retreated and regrouped.
To the D-Class personnel's shock, several drones deliberately slashed their own tails, severing the tips to expose veins of acidic blood.
Hiss... Hiss...
The blood dripped to the floor as the drones leapt to rooftops, using their tails like whips to fling streams of acid at their enemies.
"What the hell?! They can do that?!"
"Scatter! Don't bunch up!"
"Ahh! My leg! My leg's melting!"
Caught off guard, the D-Class personnel were overwhelmed. Acid rained down like deadly droplets, corroding flesh and severing limbs.
Within seconds, more than half the group lay dead.
The survivors, crippled and writhing on the ground, desperately tried to crawl toward the drones for one final, futile attack.
The drones, however, didn't finish them off. Instead, they withdrew, allowing facehuggers to swarm in and latch onto the incapacitated humans.
The arena fell silent.
The remaining D-Class personnel, paralyzed by the neurotoxins injected by the facehuggers, were now incubators for an entirely new breed of xenomorphs.
Satisfied that the area was secure, the drones began fortifying the arena, preparing to nest.
Beep—Beep—!
Suddenly, a sharp alarm blared through the arena.
Clang—Hiss—!
The southern gate hissed open, drawing the drones' attention.
Thud... Thud...
Heavy footsteps echoed ominously from the gate.
The drones, instinctively recognizing the sound, scattered into alleys and buildings, adopting ambush positions.
Even though none of them had encountered an Astartes before, their genetic memory warned them of the approaching threat: the genetically enhanced super-soldiers who slaughtered their kind with ease.
But the drones' ambush was short-lived.
Bang—Bang—!
In mere seconds, their heads exploded, leaving headless corpses littering the streets.
Not even the remaining facehuggers survived; their bodies detonated from within.
All that remained were the seven facehuggers still attached to the D-Class personnel.
A squad of Dark Angels, clad in jet-black power armor, entered the trial arena, escorting a team of technicians wearing white protective suits and exoskeletons.
The six Dark Angels scanned the carnage in silence, their faces hidden behind their helmets. Though their expressions were unreadable, it was clear the D-Class personnel's performance left an impression.
Despite their modifications being crude compared to full Astartes gene-seed implantation, the D-Class personnel had displayed strength and speed comparable to young Astartes.
This realization, however, raised an unsettling question: what if such enhancements became widespread?
The thought of the Empire mass-producing soldiers with Astartes-like capabilities created a sense of "employment anxiety" among the Dark Angels. The more super-soldiers existed, the less "special" the Astartes would seem.
Nonetheless, the Dark Angels reassured themselves of their unique status as humanity's elite.
Meanwhile, the technicians got to work, collecting the bodies of the deceased D-Class personnel and sealing the parasitized ones in containment pods. Using anti-gravity stretchers, they prepared to transport the specimens to an upper-level isolation lab.
One technician activated their communicator and reported:
"Supervisor, the D-Class personnel exceeded all expectations. Their performance was stable, with no signs of mutation or insanity. I recommend we proceed with formal approval for the Battle Sister project."
"Understood," came the supervisor's reply. "But focus on preserving the experimental materials. They're vital for advancing our cloned flesh technologies."
"Yes, Supervisor."
Within minutes, the technicians completed their tasks and departed under the Dark Angels' escort.
---
Shortly after, T-800 units and Hextech repair drones moved in to clean and refurbish the arena.
---
Above the arena, in the observation room:
"Ms. Selene!"
The balding supervisor, reviewing test data on a holographic screen, could barely contain his excitement as he addressed the woman beside him.
"The D-Class personnel's results are incredible—stable with no mutations or insanity! Without your guidance, we might have only just begun live trials."
Selene, her purple-tinged eyes faintly glowing as she accessed files, replied calmly:
"I'm merely following the Emperor's directives."
As her eyes returned to normal, she turned to the supervisor and added:
"I've already devised a preliminary plan to improve our clone soldiers."
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