The metal deck of the internal passage within the Fortress Monastery vibrated slightly underfoot.
Outside the window, the eternally churning sulfur-yellow and rust-red cloud sea of the Rostov IV gas giant formed a magnificent yet dangerous backdrop, with massive ammonia ice storms appearing and disappearing like pale serpents within the cyclones.
Ten years had passed.
Nourished by Gene-Seed and blood coffin technology provided by Cawl, and with Alex's continuous investment of resources, this steel fortress, hidden deep within the gas giant, had expanded from a small outpost into a core of an astonishingly large war engine.
The air was filled with a mixed scent of ozone, promethium fuel, newly cast metal, and the sweat of young lifeforms.
Alex walked ahead, his steps steady.
Half a step behind him was Hathor Lupeca, who had shed her Primarch gear and reduced her physique to that of a mortal.
Although her physique was now no different from an ordinary person, Hathor's posture remained tall and outstanding, appearing not at all short even when walking beside Primaris Astartes who were over 2.4 meters tall.
She wore a well-fitted dark grey administrative uniform, with the insignia of the Sub-Sector Governor's office on her epaulets, and her wheat-colored skin appeared healthy and natural under the cool light of the corridor.
Only the occasional amber-gold glint in her deep eyes, like molten gold, and the quiet aura that made one instinctively hold their breath, even with her size and power restrained, subtly revealed her extraordinary essence.
Her iconic silver-grey wolf fur cloak and ivory white Terminator armor, along with "World Breaker" and "Horuss Claw," had all been properly sealed in the deepest part of the monastery.
They were currently passing through the recruit training deck.
Under the massive dome, hundreds of Primaris recruits in training Power Armor skeletons were engaged in close-quarters combat drills.
Heavy training Chainsword hummed deeply in the air, with the sounds of impact echoing continuously.
The recruits moved swiftly and with astonishing power, far exceeding the limits of mortal warriors, each chop and thrust accompanied by a tearing hiss through the air.
However, in Hathor's eyes, these movements appeared overly standardized, and even… somewhat clumsy.
Her amber-gold gaze was sharp as a scanning array, instantly analyzing every detail of their movements and their overall posture.
"Basic physiological parameters and physical output… impeccable," her voice was calm as she evaluated the Primaris Astartes recruits before her. "This physique, explosive power, and neural reaction speed would have been sufficient to be assigned to any company's assault vanguard in the Great Crusade Era."
Alex nodded slightly, not interjecting, knowing that the main point was yet to come.
Hathor's gaze precisely locked onto a group of recruits performing a simulated confrontation.
One of them, facing a feigned flank attack from an imaginary enemy, was half a beat slow in adjusting his center of gravity, causing his block to deform and exposing a fatal gap in his torso.
"Strength is merely the foundation," her tone carried an undeniable sternness. "Look at the tactical execution here, Governor. The movements are patterned, lacking battlefield awareness; the attack routes are singular, and defensive postures are rigid.
They can mechanically react to pre-set attack sequences, but once they encounter a truly complex threat or lack information…"
She shook her head slightly, a gesture as if dismissing an unqualified combat plan: "Their coordination efficiency will plummet, and individual advantages will be diluted by chaos.
Guilliman's Codex has trained them into precise components, but it has neglected the battlefield adaptability and tactical flexibility required to assemble these components into a deadly weapon.
It has stifled the soldiers' instinct for immediate decision-making and creative responses based on the rapidly changing battle situation—this is the fundamental for the Legion's survival."
Her words were like precise tactical analysis, directly addressing the core drawbacks of the Codex-based training system: while ensuring basic combat effectiveness, it sacrificed the unit's ability to survive and win in high-intensity, unpredictable real battlefield environments.
"The Codex is the cornerstone of the current Imperial Army military system, Hathor," Alex calmly replied, his gaze also sweeping across the training ground. "It provides quantifiable standards and a template for rapidly generating combat power.
Without this system, we would not have been able to expand the Ash Knights to their current size and maintain stable regional control within a decade, given our scarce resources and surrounding powerful enemies."
He acknowledged the practical value of the Codex but also understood the fatal flaws Hathor pointed out.
"Efficiency and survival are sometimes contradictory," Hathor's voice was low and insightful. Her gaze penetrated the recruits before her, as if seeing countless possible future front lines. "The Codex pursues the former, but sacrifices the latter. The Legions of the Great Crusade Era, even their recruit companies, were forged in continuous high-intensity conflicts.
They learned to read the battlefield in desperation, find openings in chaos, and form tactical nodes independently when the chain of command broke. And these youngsters…"
She pointed to the training ground: "Their 'battlefield' is too clean, with too few variables. Guilliman's directives have molded them into efficient killing units, but have neglected to forge them into warriors who can independently survive, think, and ultimately dominate the battle in the fog of information and the crucible of flesh and blood.
An Astartes is, first and foremost, a master of the battlefield, and only secondarily an executor of orders."
Ahead in the corridor, there was the sound of synchronized footsteps and commands.
A company of veterans, having completed their patrol mission and just returned to the fortress, was marching past in formation.
Their MKX Power Armor was covered in subtle scratches and repair marks, their steps steady, their eyes sharp and restrained, and their movements carried an unspoken understanding and a quiet demeanor forged in battle, forming a stark contrast to the energetic but somewhat unrefined recruits on the training ground.
Hathor's gaze briefly lingered on this company of veterans, her sharp golden eyes like the most precise evaluation instruments, capturing every scratch on their armor, the unspoken coordination in their steps, and the settled alertness in their eyes.
"Hmm… finally seeing some 'living' essence," she murmured, with a barely perceptible hint of approval. "While still a far cry from the bone-deep battlefield intuition of Legion veterans, at least… the instinct for battlefield survival is beginning to sprout.
It must have been accumulated in the continuous low-intensity conflicts on the edge of the Mariupol Sector, right? This environment is a primary crucible for honing the core ability to 'survive'."
"Yes," Alex confirmed. "Clearing out Ork raiders, striking pirates, encountering small groups of Chaos Infiltrators. Casualties are the price of growth, but the survivors form the true combat backbone and experience repository of the Chapter today."
He paused, looking at Hathor: "The Codex provides the organizational framework and logistical support, allowing them to go out. But what gives them value, what transforms them from 'recruits' into 'warriors,' are the combat records written in blood and fire in the Star District."
Hathor was silent for a moment, her gaze once again turning to the churning gaseous inferno outside the window, as if weighing the cruel price required for the future wars of the Imperium.
When she turned back to Alex, the meekness of an administrative secretary had faded from her eyes, replaced by the undeniable decisiveness of a Warmaster and a hint of urgency to reshape power.
"The foundation needs to be solid, but the blade needs to be tempered, Governor," Hathor's voice was steady, yet carried an undeniable resolve. "Give these recruits—no, these 'semi-finished products' not yet fully tempered by battle, especially those showing tactical potential and a will to survive—to me.
The Codex gave them bones and muscles; I will give them nerves, claws, and the instinct to tear apart the battlefield and dominate the killing beyond Guilliman's regularized blueprint."
"This 'secretary' of yours should also inject true 'Legion-level' effectiveness into your core combat power," a faint, yet absolutely confident, curve appeared at the corner of her mouth. "I can't possibly just help you calculate the Sub-Sector's grain output and promethium quotas, can I?"
Alex looked at this "secretary" who had reined in her Primarch's splendor yet still exuded a strategic oppressive aura, and a knowing smile also appeared on his lips.
"This is exactly what I expect, Ms. Hathor. The training plan is entirely yours to formulate. I look forward to seeing not a group of well-trained 'recruits' but 'warriors' with nascent sharpness during my next inspection." He emphasized the last two words specifically.
A similarly faint, yet tacitly understood, curve appeared at the corner of Hathor's mouth, and the molten-gold light in her eyes was like an ignited tactical projection map.
Without words, a contract regarding the reshaping of power had been reached. The low growl of thunder outside the window seemed to roar in anticipation of the even harsher tempering to come.
------------------------
I've posted 70+ chapters in advance on Patreon.
Webnovel updates will still be daily, as usual.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
[email protected]/TripleCrown
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"