Warhammer 40k: Ours Journey

Chapter 43: The Resemblance is Striking

Romulus added a new processing module to the subconscious-generated interface. It was filled with the combat data he had just collected, which he would optimize later when he had the time.

Because souls were too expensive, after studying his interface, he had written his own system for commanding the drone Space Marines. It ranged from macro-level cluster commands to micro-level individual operations. He could load different action modules onto soldiers with different roles according to his needs, and by simply inputting short commands, he could make the controlled soldiers perform complex tactical maneuvers.

As more and more information was fed into this system, it would gradually undergo a qualitative change. A typical example was when he had his Imperial Fists remove their Tartaros Terminator armor. Now, he could have three Space Marines autonomously don the armor without any external interference, just by inputting a simple command. This troublesome experience had also served as a reminder to Romulus: he needed to record the data for equipping and unequipping all types of gear. Previously, he had always spawned them fully armored, so he hadn't thought of it.

This method was much more economical. If he could continue, Romulus was confident he could train a group of true hundred-battle veterans. Then, he could really just F2-A-move them like in an RTS game, without having to micromanage their every move.

Closing the interface, Romulus looked at the soul-point counter, which had jumped up significantly. Filled with dreams for the future, he turned his gaze to the Carcharodons, who had finished their post-battle cleanup.

The joint operation was over.

As the transmigrators emerged from the hangar, dragging the Archon who had been whittled down to a living torso, they were met with the admiring gazes of everyone present. Even Marshal Orlando, who had been sulking because they "didn't bring him along for the fight," now wore an expression of respect after seeing the unscathed assault force. It was clear that these warriors hadn't needed his help to deal with the xenos.

Although it was a blow to his pride, a son of Dorn would not refuse to admit his shortcomings. They would learn from this and strive to do better next time.

"A brilliant battle, son of Guilliman," Cawl said, looking at Romulus. In his eyes, this warrior, who was completely different from his gene-sire, now overlapped with the mighty figure who had slept in stasis for ten thousand years. "I wish to record your combat process. I can guarantee that this record will not be disseminated."

You've already recorded it, so what are you even asking for? Don't think I didn't know that servo-skull of yours was eavesdropping on my commands.

Despite his internal吐槽, Romulus replied politely, "It would be my honor, Archmagos."

"I will provide appropriate compensation." Archmagos Cawl produced a crypto-key and handed it to Romulus. "A Tyrant-class cruiser from my Explorator fleet. Her former name is no longer important. Now, she belongs to you."

Romulus did not reach for it. "Our original agreement was for a frigate." He needed a reason for the change.

"Indeed. But I believe that a Space Marine Chapter such as yours is worth this price to win over," the Archmagos stated bluntly.

"Of course, your gains will far exceed your investment," Romulus replied confidently, finally accepting the key. He wasn't worried about any hidden tricks. Any problems, I'll just have Arthur and Karna take a stroll through it later; they'll sniff out anything.

"I believe so as well."

Cawl genuinely thought that the Romulus before him was remarkably similar to Guilliman. Except for the face, everything was the same. It was a pity he had purged his own data banks on the Ultramarines multiple times; he couldn't find this warrior's name in any of the old rosters. A commander of this caliber should have had legends that survived to this day.

He then looked over at Arthur and the others, who were guarding the Archon. Arthur still had a cold, detached look, as if he were ready to plunge back into battle at any moment. Karna had already resumed his lazy, casual posture, as if the crimson angel who had just ravaged the battlefield was a mere illusion. Ramesses had one hand on his coffin, seemingly deep in thought, his eyes darting around, a sign that inspiration was sparking in his mind.

Cawl knew.

From their individual performances alone, the Archmagos, a master of biological research who could even perform modifications to the Astartes' surgeries, had already guessed their lineage with a high degree of accuracy.

It was more that warriors like these should have left their mark on that bygone era.

"Archmagos Cawl, if I may ask, will you still be proceeding to Pierdra?" Aglaia asked nervously, waiting for a pause in their conversation.

"Of course," Cawl replied, pulling his consciousness from his ocean of data. "The conditions remain the same. The fleet will not participate in high-intensity combat. After the escort mission is complete, you will all receive your due compensation."

"Haaaah—thank you for your generosity, Archmagos." Aglaia let out a long sigh of relief, then turned to thank the Space Marines. "And thank you for your sacrifice and contributions, my Lords."

"Our thanks to you, Lord Romulus. Your bravery and wisdom are an example to us all," Marshal Orlando said, striking a fist to his chest. He completely missed the Inquisitor's pointed remark aimed at him. His attention was focused on these powerful warriors. Even without a brain, he should have figured it out by now. The origins of this "Deathwatch" team were clearly not simple. It was debatable if they were even Deathwatch at all.

"After the crusade is over, the Black Templars will also provide compensation, my Lord," the Chaplain quickly added.

'This crusade fleet has survived this long thanks to the Black Templars' reputation and, I suspect, the great efforts of this Chaplain,' Romulus thought with a hint of empathy. He looked back at his three companions, each with their own unique posture, and was about to say something polite to brush off the topic. After all, besides large warships and actual living personnel, there wasn't much they were lacking.

"Loyalty needs no reward," Arthur suddenly interjected coolly. "Loyalty to the Emperor is its own reward."

"Of course, my Lord," the Chaplain immediately snapped to attention, saluting the holy relic in Arthur's hand with a solemn expression. The respect in his heart reached its peak.

As expected of an elder who is watched over by the Emperor himself.

Having effortlessly gained a massive amount of goodwill, Romulus glanced back at Arthur. 'How do you always manage to say the perfect thing at the perfect time?' With his social skills, Romulus would never have been able to come up with such an effective response.

He then turned his head back and looked at the Black Templars, who had once again fallen into a state of religious fervor along with the Sisters.

It was hard to imagine that he, a modern man from the 21st century, could repeatedly experience the religious shock of the Middle Ages in the 40th millennium.

This world was truly bizarre.