This is the bonus chapter for reaching 400 Powerstones.
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At the edge of the Laer system, the void was as silent as eternity.
A dark red glow quietly emerged in the sea of stars, like a leviathan slowly breaching from the deep ocean.
The five-kilometer-long hull of the Light of Dawn shimmered with a metallic luster under the starlight.
On the bridge, Paul stood before the observation deck. His dark gold eyes locked onto the increasingly large azure planet on the star map.
"Archmagos Paul, we've arrived at the edge of the Laer system." The communications officer's voice rang out from behind him. "We're detecting the 28th Expeditionary Fleet's perimeter ahead. Three frigates are running outer patrols."
Paul didn't turn around.
"Activate the stealth generators and the simulation array." His voice was deadpan. "Reskin us to match the True Iron."
"Yes, sir!"
At the rear consoles, three Tech-Priests immediately went to work.
Data streams flashed across their mechanical optics as their metallic fingers danced across the keyboards.
The hull of the Light of Dawn began to shift.
This wasn't some cheap holographic camo—it was actual, physical molecular reconfiguration.
The Crimson Dawn crest on the bow slowly retracted beneath the armor plating. In its place, a silver-grey slab emerged, actively shaping itself into the Legion sigil of the Iron Hands.
A silver gauntlet.
The broadside armor plates flipped like living scales, shifting from their dark red base to a stark silver-grey mid-turn.
Every single plate locked into a new configuration, subtly adjusting the ship's entire silhouette.
Popping out a few extra turrets, tweaking the angular geometry of the bridge, and extending the thruster exhausts.
This was a top-secret project Paul had dumped on the Dawn Mechanical Academy sixteen years ago.
He had cashed in System points for complete ship-mimicry tech and paired it with the exact exterior blueprints of the Iron handsstrike cruiser that the players had scraped together before they logged out last time.
It took the Academy's engineers seven full years to complete this massive overhaul on the Light of Dawn.
And it wasn't just the Iron hands.
Blood Angels strike cruisers, Ultramarines strike cruisers, Iron Warriors strike cruisers, Raven Guard rapid strike vessels...
Twelve completely different modular loadouts were packed into the Light of Dawn's complex internal architecture.
In just thirty minutes, it could cosplay as a strike cruiser for any of the loyalist Legions.
An hour passed.
The transformation of the Light of Dawn was absolute.
Back on the bridge, Paul checked the holocast of their shiny new warship, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
A silver-grey hull, the textbook silhouette of a strike cruiser, and the Iron Hands insignia on the broadsides gleaming with cold, hard light under the local sun.
Emblazoned on the bow was the name—True Iron—crystal clear in the void.
"Brothers," He broadcasted in the regional chat. His voice was calm but carried a resonant punch. "Remember our roles."
"We are a support fleet dispatched by the Iron Hands' Primarch, Ferrus Manus, to aid the Emperor's Children."
Five hundred Astartes players, all decked out in Iron Hands-painted power armor, grinned in unison.
"Copy that, Paul!"
The chat started blowing up, aggressively spamming Iron Hands battle cries:
"Flesh is a shackle, iron is liberation!"
"Only iron can endure eternal war!"
"For the Gorgon! For Medusa!"
Paul looked at the sea of silver-grey usernames in the chat, his smirk widening.
These guys get into character way too fast.
--
Meanwhile, on Dal, just outside Bankal City.
Hundreds of dropships slowly massed in the atmosphere, pressing down like a thick grey storm cloud over the colossal metropolis anchored in the middle of the southern continent.
Inside a Thunderhawk gunship, [How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] slouched in his seat, bored out of his mind, aimlessly swiping through his System menus.
The final wait before boots hit the ground was always the absolute worst.
Flipping idly through his UI, he noticed a leaderboard tab. Figuring it was a decent way to kill time, he tapped it open.
First up was the Crimson Dawn Faction Reputation Board.
Rank One: Paul Dawn, Reputation: 999 billion.
Rank Two: [Blood Angels' Second Emperor], Reputation: 25.73 billion.
Rank Three: [Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus], Reputation: 21.18 billion.
Rank Four: [I'm Not the Regent I'm Just Passing By Guilliman], Reputation: 18.76 billion.
Rank Five: [The Emperor's Tax Must Be Paid Even if the World Ends], Reputation: 15.32 billion.
Rank Six: [Did the White Scars Speed Today], Reputation: 14.21 billion.
Rank Seven: [Schrödinger's Loyalist], Reputation: 13.87 billion.
Rank Eight: [Execute Old Man the War Criminal], Reputation: 10.14 billion.
Rank Nine: [Have You Been Loyal Today?], Reputation: 9.83 billion.
Rank Ten: [Don't Ask Me My Orky Senses Tell Me It'll Work], Reputation: 9.16 billion.
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice]'s eyes practically bulged out of his skull.
He scrolled down frantically. He kept scrolling and scrolling for what felt like an eternity until he finally found his own name sitting all the way down at rank 13,821...
Rank 13,821: [How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice], Reputation: 2,847.
He sat in stunned silence for three full seconds.
Then he opened the regional chat and fired off a message.
[Regional Chat (Crimson Dawn)]
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice]: "Holy crap guys... Paul's rep... is this even remotely balanced??"
The chat went dead for two seconds.
Then the replies flooded in like a tidal wave.
[Optimus Lemme Pilot You Real Hard]: "Balanced? You're asking if this is balanced?"
"Nine hundred and ninety-nine billion???"
"Blood Angel bro in second place barely has twenty-something billion!!!"
[You Ashe I Soraka]: "Don't just look at the reputation, go check the Imperial Coin leaderboard!"
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] immediately swapped tabs.
Crimson Dawn Imperial Coin Leaderboard.
Rank One: Paul Dawn, Imperial Coins: 16.78 billion.
Rank Two: [Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus], Imperial Coins: 320 million.
Rank Three: [Blood Angels' Second Emperor], Imperial Coins: 290 million.
Rank Four: [I'm Not the Regent I'm Just Passing By Guilliman], Imperial Coins: 240 million.
Rank Five: [The Emperor's Tax Must Be Paid Even if the World Ends], Imperial Coins: 210 million.
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] felt his eyelid twitch.
He glanced at his own Imperial Coin balance... Five hundred and thirty-seven thousand.
Yeah, that's fine. It's enough to buy a few decent armor sets.
But compared to Paul...
"What the hell!"
A newer player chimed into the chat. "If I had that many Imperial Coins, I'd literally buff myself into the strongest guy below a Primarch!"
"I'm so freaking jealous of Paul!!"
"I'm malding so hard from jealousy right now."
[Execute Old Man the War Criminal] spoke up in the regional chat. "What's the point of just being jealous?"
"Everyone grinds for their own Imperial Coins."
"You newbies probably have no idea how much Paul has pulled off over the last twenty-four years."
"Back in the Aru Industrial Zone, he led the OG players to break through a daemon encirclement and saved thousands of workers."
"At Red, Merida, and Bordeaux, he was the one who faced down the old factions that had been entrenched there for decades."
"In the Kent Hive, he orchestrated the trial against the old regime, showing over a hundred million Imperial citizens what true justice actually looked like for the very first time."
"During the invasion of the City of the Holy Anthem, he went toe-to-toe with Greater Daemons."
"A Great Unclean One of Nurgle, a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, and all the other messed-up horrors that came crawling out after them."
"And here on Dal, he soloed three Khorne Bloodthirsters, plus King Charles."
[Execute Old Man the War Criminal] paused, a hint of awe in his tone.
"You could pick any single one of those feats, and a regular player would be flexing about it for the rest of their life."
"Paul did all of them.."
"So tell me, is there a problem with him having 999 billion reputation and 16.7 billion Imperial Coins?"
"The only problem here is you guys..."
"Kids, you better hurry up and start slashing some Dal xenos. Go farm some Imperial Coins instead of just sitting around being jealous."
"Rack up those coins so you can unlock custom rides and personal housing. Those things give you serious passive buffs."
The chat was dead silent for a moment.
Then, a new player asked timidly, "Uh... what about the Merit Leaderboard?"
Someone immediately switched tabs.
Crimson Dawn Faction Merit Leaderboard.
Rank One: Paul Dawn, Merit Points: 999 billion.
Rank Two: [Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus], Merit Points: 5.13 billion.
Rank Three: [Blood Angels' Second Emperor], Merit Points: 4.87 billion.
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] was officially out of words.
He silently closed the leaderboard UI, leaned back against the bulkhead, and stared out the window at the looming skyline of Bankal City.
The city's perimeter was choked with a dense maze of fortifications. Trenches, bunkers, energy shield generators, flak cannon batteries... every defensive measure imaginable had been deployed.
And right in the core of that city, over 1.5 billion Dal xenos were waiting for a decisive battle with absolutely nowhere to run.
1.5 billion.
460,000 versus 1.5 billion.
A kill-to-death ratio of roughly one to three thousand.
"Tsk, tsk." [How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] smacked his lips. "Now this is gonna be a fun fight."
He reopened the leaderboard and glanced at his own rank again: 13,821.
He looked back at Paul holding the number one spot.
"Whatever." He closed the interface, flashing a toothy grin. "Comparison is the thief of joy."
"I'll just stick to being a grunt. Grind some xenos, farm some Imperial Coins."
"Once I've saved up enough, I'm getting myself a set of Terminator armor to mess around in."
A newbie sitting next to him leaned in and lowered his voice. "Hey man, have you checked out the leaderboards for the other two factions?"
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] blinked. "Nah, I haven't. Why?"
The newbie opened his own menu with a secretive grin, navigating to the Global Faction Overview page.
–
Imperium of Man Faction Leaderboard.
Reputation Rank One: [The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor], Reputation: 187,000.
Imperial Coin Rank One: [Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood], Imperial Coins: 183,000.
Merit Rank One: [Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood], Merit Points: 193,000.
–
Chaos Faction Leaderboard.
Reputation Rank One: [All According to Plan], Reputation: 298,000.
Imperial Coin Rank One: [Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe], Imperial Coins: 324,000.
Merit Rank One: [Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe], Merit Points: 262,000.
–
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] stared at those numbers. Once again, he was dead silent for three seconds.
Then he looked down at his own Imperial Coin balance: 537,000.
He checked his own reputation... 2,847.
Okay, sure, my reputation doesn't hold a candle to the top players in other factions. They're sitting in the hundred-thousands while I barely broke two grand.
But my Imperial Coins...
537,000. That's three or four times what their top guys have.
[Crimson Zealot] Chris's voice popped up in the chat.
"Honestly, it's just because Crimson Dawn set up such an insane foundation for us."
"That's why we're so ridiculously far ahead of the players in the other two factions."
"It's basically like we spawned in with a pro player carrying us through the raids, while the other guys are out there trying to figure out the tutorial with starter gear."
Hearing that, all the new players instantly felt like geniuses for picking the Crimson Dawn faction.
Inside the dropship, the veteran players exchanged knowing smiles through their screens.
These rookies are finally starting to grow some brain cells.
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] suddenly felt a lot better about his life choices.
"Now that's what I like to see." He leaned back against the wall, a highly satisfied grin creeping onto his face. "Crimson Dawn is so freaking overpowered..."
"When the players in the other factions find out, they're gonna regret their lives."
"Haha."
"We literally got power-leveled from day one. Free gear swaps, free cybernetic mods."
The newbie nodded vigorously. "Yeah, exactly! I was just thinking, if I'd picked the other factions, I'd probably still be eating dirt in a trench somewhere on Laer."
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] patted him on the shoulder, adopting a wise, grandfatherly tone. "Kid, you've got exactly the right mindset."
"Once we clear this raid, I'll take you to Tax Bro so you can apply to join our chapter."
"The Crimson Fist Chapter desperately needs talented rookies with good taste like you."
The dropship shuddered slightly as it locked into its descent trajectory.
The skyline of Bankal City loomed larger through the porthole. The densely packed fortifications. The overlapping layers of trenches, the countless crimson eyes staring from the walls...
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice] stared out the window, his gaze sharpening.
"We're here."
He stood up and cracked his knuckles.
"Alright boys, time to get to work."
"Let's show these monkeys what the..."
"Crimson Dawn is all about."
The dropship ramp slowly lowered. The sweltering wind of Bankal City poured into the cabin, carrying the heavy stench of sulfur and blood.
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Farther away, deep within the city's core, Bankal Darwin stood at the apex of a command tower. His crimson eyes were locked onto the growing silhouettes of the dropships descending from the sky.
Around him, 1.5 billion pairs of crimson eyes were also watching the approaching tide of death.
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