Just before the darkness completely swallowed the last glimmer of twilight on the plains.
The first wave of troops responding to the call arrived. The roar of engines and the grinding of treads vibrated the air around the camp.
"Good lord, is this a Leman Russ Battle Tank?"
Zeke leaned in close to one of the steel behemoths, looking up at its heavy, sloped frontal armor and the short, thick barrel of its battle cannon.
Curious, he reached out and knocked his knuckles against the metal side plating covering the tracks. Clang, clang.
The tank hatch opened, and a middle-aged man with tired but sharp eyes jumped down, striding toward Sergeant Victor.
The two began talking rapidly, using hand gestures, while the middle-aged man scanned the crude campsite.
Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, Zeke quietly slipped behind a tank.
He pulled out the [Blueprint] and aimed it at the majestic Leman Russ.
[You can only copy devices you have built yourself or fully understand the principles of.]
Figures. Zeke realized he could copy the blueprints for the previous buildings because they were structurally simple, and Dance had explained them to him.
Sergeant Victor and the Armored Captain were still speaking in low tones.
Zeke saw Karmine directing others to carry out crates of the portioned milk, distributing them to the newly arrived tank crews.
Bela was busy by the dark green tent, having set up a larger pot with a fire roaring beneath it.
He even sneakily swiped a few freshly grown potatoes and wheat from Zeke's farm.
He thought his movements were covert, unaware that Zeke saw everything clearly.
The conversation between Victor and the Armored Captain drifted over.
"Your camp is too small and too primitive." The Armored Captain looked around, his tone blunt.
"My tanks need space to deploy for maneuvering and firing lines. As it stands, if the rebel artillery spots us, one barrage will wipe us out."
Victor realized the problem as well.
Zeke walked over and interjected, "I can solve that."
The Armored Captain turned his head, seeing a young man in strange iron armor, and looked puzzled. "And you are?"
Sergeant Victor coughed dryly. "This is a key figure in our next phase of operations. You don't have the clearance to know the specifics yet."
"You said you wanted to expand this base, right?" Zeke confirmed, the builder's itch beginning to stir within him.
The underground "matchbox" he showed Dance last time had too small an audience; it wasn't satisfying enough.
Now that the camp was bustling with newcomers, it was time to show them some real technique.
He reached out his hand directly to Sergeant Victor. "Lend me your pen."
Victor hesitated for a moment but handed over the gold-plated fountain pen.
Zeke spread the paper out on a relatively flat crate and began sketching rapidly.
"First, we build a ring of walls, expanding the entire camp by five times."
Zeke drew a large circle on the paper, then framed a grid in the upper left corner.
"This area will be converted into farmland. One block of water can hydrate an 8x8 area. We can dig two more layers underground to serve as planting levels, ensuring the food supply keeps up."
Victor opened his mouth to say that there was no sunlight underground, but remembering the plants that had fully matured in less than an hour, he wisely shut it again.
The pen nib scratched across the paper, moving to the bottom right corner to draw a small circle.
"We'll put an Infinite Water Source here. Soldiers can fetch water, clean wounds, and bathe. You guys really need to do something about the smell."
Next, Zeke drew a large area of neatly arranged rectangles in the middle-right section of the circle.
"Residential Area. What style do you guys prefer? The Classic Matchbox or the Classical Matchbox?"
"Is there a difference?" Sergeant Victor asked.
Beside him, Dance seemed to recall some less-than-pleasant memories and gave Victor a meaningful look.
"The difference?" Zeke looked up, his face dead serious.
"The Basic Matchbox is square and boxy. The Classical Matchbox is... boxy and square."
Victor and the Armored Captain: "..."
"And here," Zeke ignored their reaction and continued marking the blueprint, "Defensive walls, watchtowers, a centralized medical bay..."
Zeke got more and more excited as he drew; he was practically planning a small fortress.
"Zeke," Sergeant Victor had to interrupt him, his tone somewhat helpless.
"There's no need to go to such lengths. The troops are only resting here temporarily."
"No, no, no, no," Zeke shook his head repeatedly, cutting Victor off.
"Soldiers need rest, and they need a relatively good environment to recover their stamina and morale. Besides..."
He paused, a confident smile appearing on his face.
"Building these things won't take me much time at all."
He patted Victor on the shoulder, shoved the pen and the densely scribbled paper back into his hands, and gave him a look that said, 'Relax, watch this.'
"Let me show you a thing or two."
–
Taking advantage of the fact that Karmine was busy attending to the newly arrived critically wounded, Soldier No. 3 sneakily scooted off his bed and slipped out of the medical area.
His wounds were mostly healed thanks to the milk, but he had been ordered to rest quietly and was bored out of his mind.
"Ah, the scent of freedom." He excitedly lifted the canvas flap and stepped outside the camp zone.
Then, he froze.
Wait... where is this?
Where was the messy, crude camp from before?
Replacing it was a territory ringed by towering walls of cobblestone.
The walls looked to be over three meters high, thick and solid, with protruding firing embrasures spaced at regular intervals.
The internal space of the camp had clearly expanded several times over.
Even more striking was that on one side of the camp, several "matchboxes" had already risen from the ground.
A growing crowd of people and soldiers had already gathered at the scene.
The newly arrived tank crews and the original camp soldiers had all put down their work.
Holding their distributed portions of milk, they stood nearby, watching this inconceivable scene.
Soldier No. 3 squeezed into the crowd in a daze and whispered, "What's the situation?"
The tanker he asked didn't even turn his head, muttering:
"I don't know. I swear I've never seen Psyker powers like this. He built a house in 32 seconds! Emperor above, did you see that? 32 seconds!"
"You call that a house? That's just a matchbox," another soldier chimed in.
"So what if it's a matchbox? It's a hundred times better than huddling under wreckage or lying in a mud pit freezing to death."
The crowd buzzed with eager discussion, their eyes following Zeke's figure.
Zeke's vanity was greatly satisfied.
"Hey, Master Builder!" a bolder young soldier shouted, scratching his head.
"Um, if it's possible, could you use some wooden planks or something to partition a small space inside that big room?"
"My comrade snores like an earthquake at night; I really can't stand it."
"You're lying! I do not!" the accused soldier immediately retorted, drawing a wave of good-natured laughter.
"Of course," Zeke answered crisply.
He walked up to the newly built matchbox. In two shakes of a lamb's tail, he dismantled a section of the wall facing the crowd, making the internal structure clearly visible.
Then, he took out Oak Planks and a Crafting Table, crafting a wooden door on the spot.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he deftly divided the originally spacious open room in two using wood, installing the door in the middle.
"Is this okay? One on each side, no disturbances."
"That's perfect! Thank you!" The soldier who made the request was overjoyed and thanked him repeatedly.
This action was like opening the floodgates.
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