Five days passed by in the blink of an eye amidst the scorching sun and blowing sands of the Redblaze Wasteland on Aurelian IV.
As the fifth night fell, a convoy fully loaded with ore rolled over the packed dirt road and returned to the Crimson Dawn base.
The door of the lead vehicle swung open, and Zeke stepped out.
Moonlight cast down on his figure.
His original height of 1.87 meters had now solidly hit 1.9 meters.
His military uniform stretched tight across his frame. On his exposed arms, the muscle definition bulged with explosive power; his entire body had undergone a metamorphosis under the 100% completion of the Type-III Basic Physique Enhancement.
Bone density, muscle fiber arrangement, neural reaction speed... all of them had reached the theoretical limit of a mortal body without resorting to forbidden methods.
By the base gates, Bro G and Cogboy were already waiting.
The base right now was a world apart from the desolate outpost it had been five days ago.
The three-and-a-half-meter stone wall had been raised and reinforced to five meters. Its surface was coated in a quick-setting composite mortar redeemed from the shop, giving it a pale, grey-white sheen.
Twelve new watchtowers had been added along the walls. The tops were mounted with modified heavy machine guns and makeshift searchlights, their beams crisscrossing as they swept the night sky.
The perimeter of the walls had expanded inward by a full hundred percent. Rows of longhouses built from neatly cut stone blocks now stood upon the once-empty wasteland. Though they were still large communal dorms housing twenty people to a room...
...they offered shelter from the wind and rain, sturdy and warm—the fruit of the joint labor between the workers and the players.
Even more eye-catching were the mechanical creations.
A small wind turbine array had been erected next to the water purification zone, its blades spinning slowly in the night breeze.
In the vehicle maintenance area, several assault tractors—frankensteined by Cogboy with welded-on extra armor and heavy weaponry—were undergoing final adjustments, emitting the rugged, guttural roar of diesel engines.
You could even see two crude, four-meter-tall engineering mechs—scavenged and modified from abandoned mining mech-arms—clumsily hauling construction materials.
Bathed in bright lights and faint chatter, a settlement brimming with vitality and the fruits of united labor had firmly taken root deep in the wasteland.
"Looks like the mining is just about done," Bro G stepped forward with a smile, extending his fist.
Zeke bumped fists with him, and then with Cogboy.
The moment their knuckles met, they could feel the refinement in each other's strength and control.
"You guys aren't slouching either," Zeke said, looking at Bro G.
The latter's aura had grown increasingly serene. As he blinked, an extremely faint glimmer of psychic light occasionally flowed in his eyes—the mark of highly concentrated mental fortitude, signaling his formal entry into the realm of a true psyker.
He then looked at Cogboy. The tech maniac's arms had been completely replaced from the shoulder joints down with silver-grey mechanical prosthetics. They were intricately structured, with fingertips that could swap between at least five different tool interfaces.
His left eye had also been swapped out for a mechanical bionic eye flashing with a pale blue data stream. Right now, it was silently scanning Zeke's biometric data.
"You're straying further and further down the path of not being human," Zeke teased.
Cogboy's mechanical eye adjusted its focus with a faint click, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Flesh is weak; embrace mechanical ascension."
"Besides, no matter what our bodies are made of, we're still us, aren't we?"
"Damn straight." Zeke nodded. His smile faded, and his tone became absolutely resolute. "We will always be us."
The group said no more, walking in silent understanding toward the largest stone building in the central district.
What was once the mess hall and command post had now been expanded and reinforced, serving as the central hub for the Crimson Dawn Chapter.
Up in the second-floor conference room, the core members gathered once again around the rough-hewn stone table.
The atmosphere was different from the heavy, impassioned tone of five days ago when they first planned their future. It now carried the sharp, steady edge of having amassed real power.
Bro G didn't waste any time. He pulled up a set of charts. "Let's take stock of our assets first."
"The northeast mining pit. Five days of total excavation. All confirmed rich ore veins have been completely tapped out."
"Between all the assorted ores, associated crystals, and a small quantity of rare metals, the System's total salvage value is..."
He paused, announcing a number that made everyone's breath catch in their throats. "Eleven million, one hundred and seventy thousand Imperial Coins."
The conference room fell dead silent, save for the faint whir of the servo-motors in Cogboy's mechanical arms.
"In accordance with our previous resolution, six million of that has already been distributed as development stipends and combat contribution bonuses to all the players who participated in the mining, defense, and transport operations."
"It was primarily used for self-enhancement, purchasing gear, and acquiring skills."
"Current average player enhancement levels: Type-II Basic Physique has generally reached over 50%. The core Chapter members have practically maxed out Type-II, with a few starting their push for Type-III. Sensory and neural reflex enhancements have also broadly entered the Type-II bracket."
Bro G swiped his finger in the air, switching the chart. "The Chapter's public account currently holds a balance of six million, six hundred and seventy thousand Imperial Coins."
"Based on Cogboy's analysis, and cross-referencing the pricing items we dug up under the genetic augmentation category in the shop..."
He looked at Zeke, his eyes burning bright. "...It is enough to support you through the Salamanders Space Marine augmentation surgeries, from Phase One all the way to... at least Phase Nineteen. And it's enough to equip you with the corresponding armor and weapons loadout."
"Meaning, it's enough to let you step across the threshold from an enhanced mortal into a true transhuman, acquiring the complete physical constitution, organ functions, and traits of a fully-fledged Astartes." (TL/N: Transhuman means a human who has had science enhance them.)
Zeke's hands, resting on his knees, silently clenched into fists.
"The upgrades across the players are comprehensive," Tax Bro added gruffly. He was built like a bear wearing a utility vest; the Type-III Physique Enhancement had caused his muscle mass to explode.
"The boys in Crimson Strike can now run off-road sprints while hauling heavy machine guns modified from stubbers."
"And don't even get me started on White Scars' crew. Their neural reflexes are maxed out."
White Scars crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "Crimson Wind is entirely specced for high mobility. I won't speak for anything else, but when it comes to penetrating enemy lines, launching sneak attacks, and grabbing loot before bolting... we are the professionals now."
Bro G continued his report, a hint of awe in his voice.
"As for the Crimson Spirit Chapter... in five days, every single member completed their psychic awakening. The lowest evaluation is E-Rank, the average is C-Rank, and we have seventeen B-Ranks."
"They've also grasped the basics of psychic linking techniques. When channeling their psychic energy collectively, they can subtly alter reality. Things like collectively deflecting low-velocity projectiles for a short duration, casting small-scale optical illusions, or... sparking an engine."
He cracked a small joke, but no one laughed.
Hundreds of psykers—even low-level ones—constituted a terrifying force that could not be underestimated in the Warhammer universe.
"The Crimson Machina Chapter," Cogboy's electronic voice was flat and calm. "Over ninety percent of our members have completed mechanization on at least one limb or sensory organ. Efficiency has improved significantly."
"We even reverse-engineered the schematics of some weapons sold in the shop. Although we couldn't perfectly replicate them due to material and energy constraints, we managed to cobble together a few usable, self-made energy weapons and enhanced munitions."
"The base's defense systems and vehicle modifications have completed their initial iteration phase."
"Also, those two engineering mechs—Shovel One and Pickaxe Two—might walk slow, but they've got plenty of muscle."
He paused, his mechanical eye flashing blue. "With our current overall strength—organizational structure, equipment tier, individual combat prowess, and logistics—as long as you, Zeke, successfully complete that critical metamorphosis and secure Astartes-level core combat power..."
"...Then, confronting and crushing a standard Aru Group infantry regiment lacking in heavy firepower, or capturing a lightly defended small town or industrial outpost on the outskirts of the Hive... has a feasibility rate exceeding eighty percent."
The goal had never felt so clear and within reach.
Bro G shifted the topic, his tone growing serious. "Then there's Helovia."
That name made everyone's expression tighten.
"After multiple psychic resonance observations, we have finally confirmed her talent: S-Rank. It's not simple pyromancy. It's a rare trait that leans closer to energy conversion and shaping. In just five days, under the guidance of Blood Angel and myself, combined with the aid of the Advanced Psychic Control Manual, her psychic level has skyrocketed to High-Tier."
A High-Tier Psyker!
Back in the late Warhammer 30k era, a High-Tier Psyker was a formidable existence capable of single-handedly fighting lesser Daemons, swaying localized battlefields, or even holding high-ranking positions within a Legion's Librarius.
And Helovia... was only an eleven-year-old child.
"During that accidental psychic overload five days ago, the peak intensity momentarily reached a level capable of tearing the veil of reality and triggering a Warp rift."
Bro G's voice dropped to a low whisper. "But right on the verge of losing control, that fluctuation... was forcibly cut off and shielded by some unknown power."
"We detected the gazes cast from the Warp vanish the very second they approached."
"Since then, Helovia has been perfectly fine. Her psychic growth is rapid and stable, showing absolutely zero signs of Chaos corruption."
He looked around the table. "I don't know who or what mechanism is protecting her. But the fact remains: she is now an incredibly powerful, yet extremely dangerous card in our hand. She must be handled with caution and protected with maximum security."
Zeke took a deep breath and nodded.
The Helovia situation was a sweet burden, but also a responsibility they absolutely had to bear.
"Finally, we have external intel." White Scars took over, pulling up a hand-drawn localized map of Aurelian IV, heavily marked with red lines. "Our recon squads have been operating at great risk along the fringes of the industrial zone's corruption."
"Latest confirmation: the scope of the Chaos corruption has spread from the core of the industrial zone, now covering roughly fifty-five percent of the territory previously controlled by the Aru Group."
"The main Daemon forces—primarily Tzeentch's Pink Horrors and Changelings, mixed in with a portion of Khorne's Bloodletters—are massing together. Their spearhead is aimed directly at the Aru Hive."
"The joint military forces of the four major factions are mounting layered defenses, but they are taking staggering casualties. Their battle lines are constantly retreating."
He pointed to the region on the map between the Aru Hive and the industrial zone, which had been heavily shaded in red pen. "We estimate that in a month, tops, the Daemonic vanguard will reach the very gates of the Aru Hive."
"When that happens, the four factions will have zero time or manpower to spare for anything else. Every single resource and troop will be thrown into a life-or-death defense of the Hive."
"This is our strategic window for development."
"As for the Daemons themselves," Bro G's eyes flashed with calm analysis. "We don't need to worry about their potential to completely wipe out the planet."
"The Great Crusade is not over. The Emperor Himself has not yet returned to Terra. His attention might have withdrawn from the frontlines, but the Imperium's war machine is still operating at peak efficiency."
"The galaxy has not yet begun to burn."
"The Golden Throne hasn't been ignited, and the Emperor isn't bound to the seat yet."
"A Chaos invasion of this scale at this specific point in the timeline is more likely a probing move by Tzeentch, or the prelude to some grand conspiracy."
"I hypothesize that if the Aru Hive truly nears the brink of collapse, the Imperium—specifically whichever Astartes Legion is stationed closest—will absolutely not sit by and watch a vital mining world fall completely into the hands of Chaos."
"Reinforcements will arrive, sooner or later."
He looked at Zeke, his gaze burning bright. "Therefore, the time we actually have left is far tighter than we imagined."
"We must use the cracks in this titanic wrestling match between the Imperium and Chaos to grow as strong as possible. We have to lay down an unbreakable foundation and secure the right... to speak on equal terms with the four major factions, all before the Imperial reinforcements arrive and redraw the world order."
"And the prerequisite for all of this," Tax Bro summarized gruffly, slamming his fist onto the stone table, "is that you, Ol' Zeke, have to become a Space Marine first!"
"Everyone has saved up the money and sharpened their skills. We're just waiting for you to lead the charge!"
Every eye focused entirely on Zeke.
Zeke slowly stood up.
His 1.9-meter frame cast a long shadow under the flickering lights.
He surveyed every face around the table.
He walked to the center of the conference room, where there was nothing but empty space.
But he could see it—the [Salamanders Legion Gene-Seed] he had purchased for a million Imperial Coins. It was resting quietly in his inventory, radiating the warm, fiery breath of flowing magma.
"You all paved the road all the way to this point," Zeke began, his voice not loud, but carrying a quiet, immense power. "You've piled the resources right in front of me."
"You staked all your hope and trust on this choice."
"In that case, I have absolutely no reason to hesitate."
"Let's begin."