The command room of the Flesh Tearers chapter in the nuclear power plant was dim, the light reflecting off Gabriel Seth's weathered face, which always bore a look of suppressed rage. The Chapter Master, feared by countless enemies and even allies, was quietly listening to the report from Chaplain Apollus.
Apollus did not omit any details. He described the changes in Read over the last few days, and his own experience with the so-called "Blood Offering Ritual."
"Chapter Master, the key lies in the process," Apollus said, choosing his words carefully. "The mortal must offer their blood entirely of their own free will, and the Astartes must maintain absolute stability and restraint while drinking. We cannot loot it like starving beasts; we must feed with elegance and dignity, like a noble accepting tribute from their subjects. This psychological suggestion helps us anchor ourselves, allowing us to remain clearly aware of who we are and what we are doing, even amidst the craving for blood."
Seth frowned, a hint of incredulous shock in his imposing eyes. He looked at Apollus as if he were hearing a tall tale.
"Apollus, are you telling me that the gene-curse that has plagued the sons of Sanguinius for ten thousand years, that has tortured the Flesh Tearers to the brink of extinction... can be alleviated by such a simple, even laughable, ritual?" Seth's voice was low and hoarse, laced with deep suspicion. "Just a cup of blood, a little bit of so-called 'ritual'?"
Facing the Chapter Master's skepticism, Apollus was silent for a moment before a bitter smile appeared on his face, filled with helplessness and poignancy.
"Chapter Master," Apollus sighed softly. "In the past... we couldn't even meet the simple conditions for such a ritual."
Seth's words of rebuttal were caught in his throat, and he froze. This simple sentence hit the hard-bitten man like a heavy hammer. He realized the deeper meaning of Apollus's words. Yes, simple conditions? The most critical condition was a mortal willingly offering their blood.
Throughout the history of the Flesh Tearers, what was the reaction of mortals wherever they went? Screaming, fear, desperate flight. Those mortals would rather retreat to another galaxy than be near these bloodthirsty butchers in power armor. Even the Imperial Guard, who fought side-by-side with them on the battlefield, avoided them whenever possible.
Never, not once, had a group of mortals lined up with almost fanatic anticipation to voluntarily slit their wrists and offer their blood to them.
Seth fell silent. The air in the command room seemed to freeze. After a long while, he exhaled, pushing that surge of emotion back into his heart. As Chapter Master, he had to remain calm, even when hearing such potentially chapter-changing news.
"This is too sudden, too strange." Seth regained his usual cold rigidity, his fingers tapping the table. "While the effect seems significant, we cannot define whether this is purely good or some unknown trap. We can attempt to promote it, but we absolutely cannot roll it out to the entire chapter at once. If something goes wrong, the Flesh Tearers are well and truly finished."
Seth looked up, his gaze sharp as he stared at Apollus: "Besides you and Read, have you told anyone else about this?"
"No, Chapter Master. I came to report to you immediately."
"Good." Seth nodded and began to issue orders. "You will personally select... eight brothers who are in an unstable mental state, on the edge of the Black Rage but not yet completely lost. Form a nine-man squad with Brother Read."
Seth paused, seemingly calculating something, and continued: "Then select 99 of those so-called 'helldivers'—mortals—and integrate them into the squad as 'support staff'."
Nine Astartes on the edge of danger, matched with ninety-nine mortals voluntarily offering blood. It was a bold experiment and a dangerous gamble.
Apollus nodded, taking note without objection: "Are there any other matters to attend to, Chapter Master?"
Seth pondered for a moment, gazing deep into the star map, as if contemplating more profound questions.
"Don't rush to execute this just yet," Seth said slowly. "Go and determine the list first, select both the Astartes and the mortals. I still need to confirm some things... wait until I am certain before officially starting this plan."
Although Seth did not specify what he needed to confirm, Apollus knew the Chapter Master's caution was necessary. Whether this ritual truly had no side effects required the test of time.
"Understood, Chapter Master," Apollus gave the Aquila sign, then turned and left the command room, leaving Gabriel Seth alone to face the darkness of the room.
After Chaplain Apollus left the command room, he wasted no time returning to the maintenance tunnel where Brother Read was located.
He first approached Read and seriously informed him of the Chapter Master's decision—or rather, the preliminary trial plan. Apollus emphasized that this was a direct order from the Chapter Master, currently top-secret, and must never be revealed to any other brother besides those present.
Brother Read, though surprised that the plan was being trialed so quickly, had absolute loyalty to the Chapter Master and the Chaplain. He nodded solemnly and vowed in a low voice: "Please rest assured, Brother Chaplain. My lips will be as tight as the dead; unless I have your or the Chapter Master's permission, I will never utter a single word to any other brother."
After getting Read's assurance, Apollus turned around, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group of helldivers who were squatting on the ground, bored.
"You," Apollus's voice was low and intimidating. "Regarding this blood offering... have you told other mortals?"
This was critical. If this ritual of unknown origin spread, it would inevitably arouse the suspicion and chaos of other Astartes, and might even be mistaken as a precursor to some Chaos corruption.
The Squad Leader's heart skipped a beat. Of course, he knew that hogging the rewards was the best—if the whole server knew there was a hidden quest here, how were they going to grind? But facing an NPC's interrogation, he had to act.
He glanced back at his squad members, giving them a signal.
"Leader, you know me," one player said, spreading his hands innocently. "I've been within your line of sight the whole time. Even if I were posting on the forums, you'd definitely notice. How could I have had the chance to leak information?"
"Leader, you know me," another player said, yawning. "I'm just a corporate slave; I go to work the second I log off. I'm tired like a dog; I have no time to post or troll the forums."
"Leader, you know me," the third player said. "If I had leaked it, thousands of people would have already squeezed this maintenance tunnel to bursting. How could it be this quiet?"
Watching his subordinates, who, while speaking nonsensically, had a clear core message, the Squad Leader turned around and said to Apollus with a firm face: "Officer, rest assured, absolutely no one has told anyone. Such an honorable opportunity, how could we bear to give it to others?"
Although Apollus didn't understand the jargon they used like "forums" or "log off," he nodded after seeing their expressions, attitudes, and the fact that no other mortals had come to bother them these past few days.
"Very well." Apollus withdrew his gaze, his tone softening slightly. "Next, eight more unstable Astartes will be transferred here. You don't need to overthink it, nor be afraid. Just treat them as you treat Brother Read and me—offer blood on time."
As soon as these words were spoken, the helldivers present were stunned for a moment, then it was as if they heard the sound of system notifications bombarding them.
Eight! Plus Read, that made nine!
If everyone needed blood every day, that was nine times the happiness! Nine times the merit points!
The players' eyes lit up instantly. They were gleaming, like starving wolves seeing meat—even more eager for blood than the bloodthirsty Flesh Tearers—well, of course, eager to offer blood.
The Squad Leader was so excited he almost jumped up. He hurriedly stepped forward and asked impatiently: "Officer! Are we the ones offering blood for all of them? Are we covering the blood for these nine lords?"
Seeing their greedy, expectant expressions, Apollus couldn't help but feel a sense of absurdity. Other mortals would have peed their pants at the thought of offering blood to nine Flesh Tearers on the edge of a breakdown, but this group was worried someone else would steal their business.
He glared at the Squad Leader, scoffing: "Dream on! Can you even produce that much? Even with your special constitution, the consumption of nine Astartes could drain you into dried corpses."
Apollus paused, shattering their fantasy: "The Chapter Master has already ordered that a total of 99 mortals will be selected to enter here to provide blood. You are only a part of it. Just do your part."