Chapter 360 – Hive Mind: I Will Personally Eliminate the Threat!

Bzzzz~

Flickers of faint purple lightning arced across the synaptic web of the Tyranid Norn-Queen, signaling a surge in the Hive Mind's psychic will.

It hesitated—torn between abandoning this region and ending the war here, or seeking a new feeding ground.

It was a difficult decision.

The Hive Mind of Leviathan had crossed the vast void to reach this barren scar of red soil, driven by vengeance.

Yet with the Savior's intervention, everything had changed.

It had invested too much into this front—too many resources, too much hatred. Retreating now would leave a bitter taste.

What's more...

The Hive Mind wasn't even sure its ravenous bio-fleet had enough biomass to make it to the next feeding ground.

Without new biomass, the fleet would be forced to cannibalize its own creatures just to sustain the voyage.

The losses would be immense.

This ancient intelligence of the Hive was caught in a dilemma.

Continuing the assault or withdrawing—neither was a good choice.

Suddenly, several new strands of synaptic impulses surged into its consciousness.

Before they perished, several scout units had relayed critical intel: the location of the Savior and his command center.

More importantly, they had identified a vulnerability—an exploitable weakness in the defenses that small groups of Tyranids could use to infiltrate the central core zone.

"Perhaps the swarm still has a chance to harvest biomass here..."

These fragments of intelligence gave the Hive Mind a new option. It had found a breakthrough.

Over the past days, it had come to understand why the Savior's armies were so much stronger than other human forces. The key lay in his precise and efficient command systems.

The Savior's control systems had forged his forces into a cohesive, well-orchestrated whole.

They didn't scatter and fight blindly under the pressure of Tyranid terror like most Imperial armies.

Without those systems of command, even the mightiest firepower would crumble against the swarm.

Any breach—no matter how small—could turn the tide, potentially collapsing the entire defense line.

In the eyes of the Hive Mind, if it could eliminate the Savior or destroy his command structure, it could sever the enemy's head, dramatically weakening their capabilities.

This wouldn't just shorten the war—it might tip the balance entirely in the swarm's favor.

The Hive Mind thought further:

"That Savior must not be allowed to continue developing within the galaxy, or he will hinder the Great Devourer's consumption of the stars…"

This ancient Tyranid intelligence firmly believed that once the Great Devourer descended upon the galaxy, all life would be consumed.

Even if all the galaxy's species, including those foul beings of the Warp, stood together—they still couldn't stop the maw of the Great Devourer.

In truth...

These tendrils of Leviathan were merely probes—temporary, expendable scouts sent ahead of the main feast.

Like the cloaked bio-scouts it had sent to the core of the Baal battlefield, these entities were here only to assess the nutritional strength of this region.

If the native lifeforms proved too weak, then the Great Devourer wouldn't even bother showing up.

The Leviathan tendrils would devour everything here themselves and bring the biomass back as tribute.

But as it stood now, these vanguard tendrils had labored for nearly ten thousand years and still couldn't fully devour the biomass of this sector alone.

So, they had summoned the Great Devourer—and changed tactics. Now they roamed the galaxy, devouring what they could and weakening the evolutionary momentum of the local species.

The goal: to make the Great Devourer's eventual feast smoother and more satisfying.

But the distances between stars were vast. It could take tens of thousands of years—or longer—for the Great Devourer to arrive.

Too many unpredictable variables could unfold in that time.

They had learned this the hard way.

Hundreds of thousands of years ago, in another galactic sector, a lack of early interference allowed a native species to flourish. It developed astonishingly quickly and managed to resist the Great Devourer. The resulting conflict destroyed swathes of the region—and the meal had been deeply unpleasant.

That mistake would not be repeated.

Now, as the Great Devourer made its way to the galaxy after finishing its last feast, Leviathan's role was clear: devour, disrupt, weaken.

Ensure that when the time came, the feast would be glorious.

But now, the Savior had emerged—Leviathan was growing wary, even fearful.

He had already started eating Tyranid flesh and turning the swarm into processed food.

Who could guess what horrors he'd attempt next?

To the Hive Mind, this "Savior" was the gravest threat in the galaxy, an abomination who would ruin the Great Devourer's banquet.

Compared to him, the rest of humanity were weak, foolish, and irrelevant.

Granted, the Savior was not the strongest being in the galaxy, nor was his army the most massive.

But they were growing. Evolving. Fast.

That rate of "evolution" unnerved Leviathan.

If the chance presented itself, the Savior had to be destroyed—devoured—utterly erased.

It wasn't just for the sake of the Great Devourer's appetite.

It was for the safety of every vanguard tendril.

If left unchecked, the Savior might destroy all of them before the main body of the swarm even arrived.

The Hive Mind processed these truths quickly. Risk levels were rising.

And so, it made its choice: to gamble everything on one final effort.

A decapitation strike—targeting the Savior directly, and the command structure of Baal.

Hssss~

With a hiss, the elder organism that housed the Hive Mind issued a new command. The space around it shimmered, and three special Hive Tyrant assassins emerged in the chamber.

Each of them stood around five meters tall, clad in near-silver chitinous carapace. Their blades gleamed with crystalline veins that shimmered with unknown energy fields.

These were not ordinary bio-weapons.

Their talons were peerless—deadly and unbreakable.

And more crucially…

They could turn invisible.

More deadly than even the Lictors, these were the Hive Mind's final trump cards.

Now, it would send all three to slay the Savior.

And to win the war.

But it didn't stop there.

More elite mutated units were mobilized to support the strike team.

The Hive was emptying its vault.

This was all-in.

Zzzzzzt—

Energy rippled from the Hive Mind's chamber, as the elder Norn-Queen's spore sac opened. Bio-electricity surged outward.

Then…

A special mutated Hive Tyrant emitted a field of crackling energy. Its gaze sharpened, radiating intelligence—and endless hunger.

The Hive Mind had fully merged with it.

They were now one.

The ancient will had decided to personally strike down the Savior.

From the heart of the Leviathan bioship, a small, silver-white bio-vessel slipped silently from the tunnels.

Once in the void, it shifted color to blend into space—utterly undetectable.

It streaked through the swarm descending upon Baal.

Toward the planet's surface.

…

Surface of Baal – Central Combat Zone

A mid-sized tower rose among the ruins. It was the Savior's temporary sanctuary.

Eden had just finished a meeting with several merchant representatives.

In the lead-up to the Battle of Baal, the Savior's commercial departments had already released notices inviting cooperation on Tyranid resource development.

They offered partnership opportunities in processing Tyranid biomass into food and chemical products.

Once the notice went out, merchants flooded in—racing to arrive before the war even started.

They came knowing the planet would soon become a warzone.

Their ships were loaded with wartime supplies, which they offered to the Savior freely.

Over twenty years ago, after the Savior's domain began to flourish, its economy hit a bottleneck.

In response, the King's Court conducted deep research and launched a new commercial division—delegating economic authority to promote growth.

That reform rapidly boosted trade and re-energized the market.

This also matched Eden's vision of commerce.

He believed the Imperium's economy was far too barren.

Without prosperous trade networks, humanity would never drive its productivity forward.

Today, the domain's economic operations were handled by two departments: the Merchant Department and the Commercial Department.

The Merchant Department represented the royal sector, responsible for arms sales, high-tech goods, and pioneering routes.

The Commercial Department focused on civilian trade, conducting business once new routes were opened.

Years of development had made some merchants extremely wealthy—massively contributing to the domain's prosperity and resource stockpiles.

Those merchants knew…

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If they waited until after the war, others would have taken every seat at the table.

In fact, the overwhelming majority of merchant representatives who arrived on Baal before the war came from the Savior's domain. Only a few were itinerant traders from nearby regions.

They believed that the great Savior could protect them, that he would win this war, and that their contributions would be rewarded accordingly.

But for Imperial merchants, risking near-certain death to arrive at an apocalypse-tier battlefield just to develop the Tyranids' commercial potential—it was nothing short of madness, and extremely dangerous.

Not everyone could make such a choice.

Most traveling merchants who received the call backed away out of fear, choosing to wait until after the war before even considering a visit.

Only a few who had prior dealings with the Savior's domain—or who had taken the time to thoroughly study the Savior—made the bold decision to come in person or send their heirs.

Aside from business motives...

They mainly wanted a connection with the Primarch of Hope, the Savior himself.

Even a single glimpse of the Savior, even just making their family's name known to him, would be worth it.

Even if that meant potentially sacrificing their own lives or those of their children.

To put it simply, it was a gamble. A bet that the Savior would triumph over the Tyranids. A bet that he would not forget any who offered him their loyalty.

Fortunately, these merchants' gambles paid off.

Their safety was secured. They were granted an audience with the Savior and even obtained commercial projects.

They profited immensely.

Whether from the Savior's own domain or from the broader Imperium, every merchant left the Savior's office beaming with joy.

It was clear—

Their families would prosper for many years to come.

Perhaps even for centuries, or millennia. Their friendship with the Savior might ensure their lineage's survival across the galaxy.

"These fellows have guts... and vision," Eden remarked as he reviewed the list of merchant representatives.

After all, not just anyone would dare risk being devoured by Tyranids just to invest in a yet-to-be-formed Tyranid product market.

Especially those Imperial free traders.

Their ventures involved working with Tyranid-related materials—something highly dangerous under Imperial jurisdiction.

Even with more freedom than most, the risk of harsh Inquisitorial judgment loomed large.

No matter how you looked at it, this was a difficult decision.

But the fact that they came now showed they believed in the Savior's protection—and had confidence in the project's future.

That's why Eden appreciated these merchants and was willing to give them more opportunities.

In his eyes, commercializing Tyranids held real promise.

Especially in the food industry.

Looking at it from a developmental standpoint, these Tyranids—creatures that devoured everything and grew muscle no matter what they ate—were the perfect meat-producing organisms.

Capable of generating massive quantities of consumable meat.

Their species were diverse, filled with unique chemical fluids and internal structures. Many boasted long lifespans, invisibility, bioelectricity, acid secretion, regeneration, and frenzied combat states.

Tyranid bio-ships and flesh-based buildings could also transform nearly any material into nutritional slurry and energy to rapidly breed more organisms.

It was biotech's future. Full of potential!

Even in energy, medicine, and health supplement industries, Tyranid development had bright prospects.

You could even breed specialized Tyranids to help terraform planets, process garbage, clean up industrial waste, or remove pollutants.

Eden had even more ideas.

According to intelligence, one Tyranid fleet in the galaxy had already evolved the ability to consume Chaos-tainted material.

If he could cultivate a strain that could devour Chaos Daemons or Chaos Space Marines, it would become a valuable weapon in future Chaos incursions and purging operations.

Wouldn't it be fitting for the great Devourer of Daemons, the Four-Armed Savior, to raise a swarm that consumed Chaos?

The biological sage Moss had long ago crafted a special Tyranid clone-body for Eden—it had remained unused. Now, with Leviathan's genetic data, he could turn that clone into a true Hive intelligence.

With that, he could fully control the cultivation and domestication of the Tyranids.

The only remaining problem... was winning this war and capturing Leviathan alive.

Of course, even if he couldn't capture it, just obtaining Leviathan's core genetic sequence would be enough.

Eden's thoughts darkened slightly:

"Behind these Tyranid fleets, there are even more terrifying beings... Who knows what we'll face then..."

From his past life's memories, the Great Devourer was already en route to the galaxy.

And based on the lore, the Great Devourer was virtually invincible. No race could truly resist it. It could very well be the one to devour and erase the Milky Way.

"Well... whatever. One step at a time."

There was no point worrying now.

The Great Devourer's threat was too distant, far less urgent than Chaos and the current xenos threat.

Besides...

As long as he developed quickly enough, who would devour whom was still an open question.

Fifty years ago, he had been sleepless and sick with fear just thinking about a tendril fleet of Tyranids arriving.

Now?

He was eating Tyranid meat like it was a delicacy—and plotting to capture Leviathan alive.

Who could've predicted that?

So yes—threats deserved vigilance, but not paralysis.

The only true solution to all problems was steady development and focused internal growth.

Eden turned his attention to a report on Tyranid research, archiving it alongside the merchant list and forwarding both to the Commerce Department's system.

Then he shifted his focus to the Baal warfront's defenses.

Just yesterday, Leviathan's scouts had infiltrated the central zone. That defense sector now required heightened alertness—he couldn't afford a disaster in the backlines.

…

Outside the Savior's Office

"By the Emperor, this trip was worth it..."

Yor, a pudgy, slightly sweaty itinerant trader from the Hawk System, wiped his brow. His face wrinkled into a wide grin.

He'd done business once with the Savior's domain. After learning of the Savior's achievements and ideals, he held the man in reverent admiration.

When the Savior's Commerce Department sent out its call, Yor had ignored his family's protests and dumped nearly his entire fortune into the venture.

He loaded his only two rickety ships with supplies and rushed to Baal at top speed.

He had only one thought:

"Following the great Savior can't be wrong!"

Upon arrival, that belief only solidified.

The Savior had constructed fortresses at astonishing speed. Even during wartime, the central rear zone remained orderly and stable.

Yor knew the importance of a well-maintained rear line.

Even in the dead of night, people moved diligently through their roles.

Supply warehouses, repair bases, logistics teams, hospitals—even temporary Ecclesiarchy chapels—remained in constant operation.

Were it not for the black sky full of Tyranid swarms, the thunder of distant artillery, and the gunfire echoing in the streets, Yor might've doubted he was even in a war zone.

This place was safer and more prosperous than many planets he'd seen.

"Lord Yor, what exactly is the 'Galactic Trade Hub' that the Savior mentioned?" asked another Imperial trader nearby, clearly puzzled.

Moments ago, these merchants had all been granted an audience with the great and merciful Savior—and had even been praised by him.

In high spirits, the Savior had promised them a storefront space in something called the Galactic Trade Hub.

None of them truly understood what that meant—but none dared ask either.

Yor thought about it and shook his head. "Not too sure myself... maybe a new trade port? But anything the Savior promises must be priceless…"

Whatever it was, it sounded lucrative.

The name alone spoke volumes.

And in truth—

These merchants didn't yet grasp just how astronomical that promise was.

The Galactic Trade Hub that the Savior had casually granted them access to?

It would be located within the Webway.

It would become the core nexus of interstellar commerce across the galaxy. Its value would be beyond estimation.

Even the high nobility of Holy Terra would salivate at the thought of owning such a storefront.

If they could, they'd trade their most prosperous planets just for a permanent stake in it.

Yor was just about to say more when—

BOOM—

A massive explosion rocked the area, accompanied by violent tremors. Merchants were thrown off balance, tumbling to the floor.

In the next moment, piercing alarms wailed.

It meant a critical defense sector had just been breached by the swarm…

(End of Chapter)

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