Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 400: Being able to destroy the world does not conflict with wanting to stay in bed

Ah, a new day, a new Rekha coffee, a new breakfast and a new…final holiday.

"Okay. Now that you've said this, the countdown to your lazy days of being a salted fish will begin. The good days when you only need to provide your 'power' are over, hahaha! I will arrange your new work schedule and start calculating their feasibility. When the calculation is completed, hehe... enjoy your last vacation, Ramizane Kalosini!"

——BY After five minutes of tender embrace with his own body, when Ramizane was still deeply moved, the black and white furry tyrant began to turn his face and grin with an absolutely terrifying statement.

"...Do you listen to what this person says? Are you a devil?!"

"Yes I am. I am not a human either."

"..."

------

And so, one morning in the Calixis Sector, possibly in 999.M41, under the artificial lumens of early morning sunlight, Mr. Ramezan Kalosini once again opened his eyes in his twenty-two-foot bed in his private quarters aboard the Iron Warriors flagship, the Iron Blood.

After reluctantly staying in bed for fifteen minutes while hugging the quilt and rolling around on the pillow, the current nominal commander of the Iron Warriors Legion, the chapter commander of the "Silver Skulls" chapter, the current head of the ancient and mysterious Kalosini Merchant Rogue Dynasty, and the fourth Primarch (his body) had to get up because the speed and strength of the border collie's claws waging war and trampling became increasingly impossible to ignore.

"Next time when you wake me up, please stop stepping on my shins and ankles so precisely, Pepe, baby. You don't want to get hurt, do you?"

"I have great confidence in the physical fitness of a Primarch like me, but don't think too much about it! Don't! Think! Too! Much! About! It!"

"Good good..."

Wearing old-fashioned X-shaped shoelace slippers with suspicious teeth marks (one of the many small personal items made by someone himself), he wandered to the indoor coffee machine and pressed a few buttons with a sense of ritual. Hot Reka coffee, artificial milk and a little hazelnut syrup were poured into Ramizane's favorite cup from the nozzle one by one.

Then came the daily washing and some strange little morning rituals, including but not limited to the fact that he had to check and wipe Perturabo's face, eyes, mouth and paws, feed him nutritional potions, and brush his teeth.

Fortunately, there are enough fully automatic robots and smart homes here - well, I have to say that some of the smart homes may be operated by Magna in multiple threads at the same time, but because the original function he was created for did include "controlling all system services of the Iron Blood", so it's okay, except.

"Is it considered child labor for us to ask Magna to serve us like this?"

Then he received the dog's cold stare.

"His basic personality is constructed based on that stone. His intelligence level test is far higher than the legal age, so the time when he was created cannot represent his true cognitive age!" Then their conversation was interrupted by the robot that knocked on the door to deliver breakfast. "It's so powerful! Super! Strong! Super cool! (Lami Zane's words)"

"Whiterace" is now responsible for many of the extra jobs that have been created due to the gradual dispatching of Ahlin and the Honor Guard members. The regional teleportation function allows him to handle the work with ease, and Magna's main computing body can spend more time on the bridge, learning more real-life experience and knowledge from Captain Watt, who has been driving this ship for ten thousand years, or allocating more computing power to cope with the increasing computing needs on this ship.

Today's breakfast is fried hydroponic tomatoes, spinach, fungi and runny eggs in olive oil sprinkled with pepper and salt, served with crispy nut toast on both sides. When someone complains that "there's not even bacon or fried sausage in it", "Whiterace" flashes into the bustling cafeteria before the black and white demon viciously attacks someone's dietary taste and the relationship between the brain's thinking ability.

After discovering that the first window might not be able to supply meat, the powerful warrior hunched over, then jumped up, stepped over the shoulders of two Dreadnoughts that had to lie there because they were judged to be destroyed (receiving a lot of Nuceria and Ancient Terra swear words and elegant curses), jumped onto a fortress tower that was being fought over by War Dogs and the Emperor's Children, and then accurately used the thrusters on his back to turn and land at the sixth window.

With one hand he accurately entered the identification codes of the two superiors he was serving, then he brought out a whole tray of fried bacon, Nuremberg sausages, and liver loaf, while opening his personal shield to prevent the tray from being hit by several paintball bolters that were firing at him, and finally reached into the basket filled with fresh sterile artificial eggs on the inside of the window with his other hand, grabbed two eggs, and then disappeared with a teleportation flash and a breath of ozone before several soldiers charging at him and the barbed metal mesh guns designed to catch him arrived.

The whole process was smooth and not a single egg was broken. It took only thirty-three seconds, and before Ramizane had finished his first cup of Hazelnut Rekha coffee, his plate was filled with sizzling bacon and grilled sausages, while Perturabo's plate was topped with liver loaf slices cut with a combat dagger without pepper or salt, and a small bowl was filled with an artificial sterilized raw egg.

"..."

"..."

"Look, can't we really consider building ourselves a robot like him that can go to the battlefield and the kitchen, has a high degree of self-discipline, and does not violate the limits of artificial intelligence?" Ramizar looked at Perturabo opposite him sincerely.

The latter glanced viciously at "Whiterace" with an extremely awkward and complicated look. Although his service was attentive and polite, he seemed to be extremely sarcastic for some reason.

"Well, the Core Meditator he used is...very rare and special, so it's a prototype, and the accompanying program can only be compatible with Magna. Decima should have told you that."

"Well, I really hope that the Armory can develop a similar Contemplator core someday."

"Uh-huh, yes."

To be honest, when Lamizane saw the battle record of "White Reese", he was really envious, but after the subsequent feedback from the armory told him the cost of this mecha, he could only regretfully give up the ambitious plan of mass deployment. Especially when the Decima sage who charged a very high price for civilian goods politely told him that the core cost of the most important and critical "Special Meditator" in "White Reese" might be higher than fifty Titan legions.

"What kind of 'Special Thinker' core is used? But as long as this type of core is not used, the arsenal is reduced to half, and the individual shield... well, the strength of this can't be too low... I'll bargain with Decima later..."

An ordinary breakfast on the Destiny Steel ended in such an atmosphere.

(End of this chapter)