Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 817 Malakin VS Mind and Hunsso VS Cunning
"This will be one of your only and best opportunities, for you are inheriting from him a part of your father's essence that he valued most highly later in life. This is a blessing, not a curse." — These were the words spoken to him by a mysterious man behind a dining hall window during Malakin Forros's incredible journey.
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If a person has always been plagued by misfortune in the past but considers it a test for himself, then is this unreal world a satirical reflection of what he struggled to achieve in his previous life?

Malakin Forros sat in the hydroponic farm garden of the Destiny Steel, holding a cup of Reca coffee in his hand, his eyes slowly focusing as he began to ponder the question.

He turned his gaze to the lush vegetables in the deserted farm, as well as the nearby lawn and flowerbeds. The sprinklers were rotating and spraying a uniform mist of water, and a faint rainbow appeared on the lawn because of the bright artificial light.

He inherited Saint Gilles' keen sense of smell, which allowed him to detect the scents of very clean water, trace amounts of multi-nutrient fertilizer, the fresh grass from freshly cut stubble, and the fragrance of roses, marigolds, and jasmine from flowerbeds.

If there's anything wrong with this place, it's probably the lack of insects and birds. The eerie silence makes the tranquility seem somewhat monotonous and lifeless, but it's perfect for contemplation.

Is this normal?
of course not!
The Lamenters are an Astartes Chapter born from the twenty-first Founding, known as the Cursed Founding, and have served as a ship-based Chapter for over forty centuries since the 35th millennium.

They possess an understanding and research legacy that is unmatched by most people in the universe regarding the size, capabilities, and operational details of void ships.

Therefore, Malakin Foros can say with certainty: this ship is abnormal, even unreal.

Look, a ship that calls itself the Imperial Astartes Order sails quietly, the air is fresh, there are no errand boys everywhere, no pipes that are always in need of repair, no servants running around with tired faces and the sour smell of sweat, and no pale, thin slave laborers wearing chapter robes, no lumens that are often dimmed to save energy, no floors that are kept clean only in places like the bridge to save water, and no peculiar smells of chemicals, sweat, and other things that linger in a long-term enclosed circulating space...

Instead, the place is luxuriously decorated with constantly lit lights, automatic sensor doors, and autonomous patrol robots.

The ship was empty and clean, with few people maintaining it, but it was abundant and in excellent condition, and—very—huge—enormous.

The huge thing is that he secretly counted the steps when he was escorted by robots to the officers' quarters. They spent 90 minutes on elevators and conveyor belts and then walked for about 60 minutes.

Of course, such a walking distance is inhumane for a seriously injured mortal, but for an Astartes wounded, if the apothecary master kicks you out of his infirmary, then at least you won't have a problem walking.

—Let's get back to the topic of how huge this ship is.

He pondered, then subconsciously took a sip of the now-cold Reca coffee in his hand. The sweet coconut flavor moistened his slightly parched throat, and the angel's fangs retracted into his gums.

In other words, the distance from the ship's medical room to the dormitory area is at least sixteen kilometers. If the medical room and dormitory area were set up according to imperial standards, then including the bow and stern, the ship's length would need to be at least twenty kilometers.

That's absolutely impossible!
There is not a single ship still in service within the Empire that matches this data!

Of course, such massive warships did not completely not exist.

For example, Malakin knew that the Radiant Macragge, which the Ultramarines cherished, was twenty-six kilometers long, but the Radiant Macragge required tens of thousands of sailors, servants and workers, no fewer than dozens of Mechanicus and several companies of Astartes to make her able to sail in the void. Even so, the interior decoration of the ship was completely out of the style of any Ultramarines or their sub-companies that he knew.

So it's not the Makurag's Glory. It's more likely that he missed the Mother of Tears and the Storm's Daughter so much that he created this legendary giant ship for himself.

Because the whole ship is too...unrealistic.

His thoughts turned to the entire process of exploring the ship that he had undertaken since waking up that day.

Although it was very impolite, Malakin Foros was indeed not questioned or hindered on the ship.

The room was bright and clean, but empty. His officer's quarters had clearly been home to many neighbors; each room even had a nameplate with initials and motion-activated lights that would light up when someone approached.

It was a clever little trick, but after staking out the entire corridor for an hour, Malakin concluded that he was probably the only officer living in the area.

What about everyone else?
He had no clue about it.

But whoever is in charge of the ship, at least they have put excellent code into those patrolling combat robots.

As he tried to remain alert and prepare to backflip at any moment, then approached one of the patrol's robots, the robot, which was indeed painted with a symbol that did resemble the Silver Skull Chapter's insignia, turned around and asked him in a very human-like voice if he needed any help. His first reaction was to growl in a low voice: "Heretical!"

The other party immediately pointed out the inappropriateness of the wording and skillfully quoted passages from the Imperial Canon and the Astartes to explain his purity and necessity of existence.

Malakin was reluctant to admit that he had been persuaded, but the other party’s attitude was so restrained and polite that, as a weeping man, he felt a politeness and a peace that was free of discrimination—something he hadn’t experienced since he became a recruit.

It has been a very long time since I have met someone who is so devoid of any pity, doubt, or blame.

He was then filled with shame to find that he had finally been persuaded by a combat robot and sent to a place called the "Officer's Dining Hall".

“I think what you need right now is a hot meal and some conversation, sir.”

Then, as he stood blankly in the equally empty cafeteria, he heard a call.

Someone was calling him from behind the cafeteria window.

He seemed to have said something to that person, he forgot, but he felt an unprecedented peace, and the sacred sorrow that Saint Gilles had left them seemed to be greatly soothed, almost disappearing without a trace.

Then he got a cup of Reca coffee from there, which had a fruity aroma. The voice from the window told him it was an "Exotic Coconut Latte Reca Coffee".

“Drink it,” the voice said, with a palpable sigh. “This is the best… solution we can get right now, but if you can… then perhaps…”

Then he came out in a daze and found himself sitting in this tranquil and beautiful garden, holding a coffee cup, his throat burning with a thirst that had never been so soothed.

—There must be some warp conspiracy involved, and it also targets his mental weakness, because he remembered how he was injured and dying. So, it's very likely that they are currently traveling in the warp, and the Geller field might be somewhat weak. Worse still, they may have been captured by some Chaos traitor, and now his brain is being invaded by the traitor's blasphemous apothecary...

Malakin gasped for breath at this terrible prospect, struggling with the hazy comfort that kept creeping into his body and soul.

He unconsciously picked up his coffee cup and took a sip; the refreshing coconut aroma quickly cooled him down.

So what? Open yourself up, accept us, and a new covenant is about to be established. You are the first step in fulfilling it.

--Do not!

—Open yourself to us, Malakin Foros. Open it and accept me.

This conclusion must involve the question of whether he was previously brought here from his stasis pod, treated in a state-of-the-art medical room, and even spoke with the master pharmacist who treated him.

So, what's the story behind this master apothecary? And what about their conversation?
Based on the rumors he had heard and his experience, Malakin Foros judged that this master apothecary was very likely one of his own hallucinations.

He is walking through a veiled, dreamlike realm of the soul, conversing with an imaginary figure. This may be a test of his own inner weakness.

This may be some kind of illusion where one must overcome the demons within their own heart to escape.

So this place is so beautiful, so peaceful, so egalitarian, and even offers a healer and a mentor-like figure he has imagined.

weak.

This is precisely the cage that his weak and pessimistic heart has built for himself.

He, Malakin Foros, proclaimed to both the outside world and his own comrades-in-arms, "Hardships will not defeat us; every hardship will only make us stronger!"

—So, is that the most sinful bit of cowardice deep in his heart really what he thinks?
Did he lie so many times to every unfortunate comrade who sacrificed his life and to every comrade who fought alongside him that he himself came to believe it was true?
Realizing this, a sudden and overwhelming sense of guilt and the need for repentance immediately overwhelmed his mind.

The coffee paper cup rolled to the side.

Malakin knelt in the garden and began to fervently confess to his father, praying that he would give him enough strength to break through the corrupting illusions before him.

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Meanwhile, on the other side, aboard the Flesh Rippers' cruiser, the Heavy Claw Dragon.

Hong Suo finally went inside and quickly scanned the room that originally belonged to the apothecary of the Flesh-Tearer Warband. Its walls were now covered with bloodstains and blasphemous graffiti of the Genestealer Cult, but the other equipment was still recognizable.

The apothecary glanced at some suspicious blood-drawing devices and even more suspicious restraint devices—their strength was as if they were trying to bind a raging, rutting male Grox.

Some of them have been used for a long time, while others show signs of hasty welding and use.

Clearly, things were already spiraling out of control before the ship even reached the harbor.

"Shit."

The apothecary cursed under his breath and shoved his gun into the eye socket of a creature that suddenly lunged at him, emitting a piercing scream, with a bulging forehead and the claws of a crustacean. He pulled the trigger.

The sounds of claws striking and colliding with the chitinous carapace increased dramatically, becoming almost incessant.

The pipes in the ceiling suddenly burst, and the falling creatures blocked the only door they had entered through.

"Ah, a bunch of little pests, quite efficient! How long has it been, and they've already reproduced one generation? Two generations?"

A group of newly minted gene-stealers surrounded them, illuminated by searchlights.

Their bodies were still covered in the undried nutrient slime from cultivation, and only a small portion of human genes could be seen in their limbs. Their distorted faces were filled with pure hatred and cruelty, and their open mouths emitted sharp, piercing curses and howls from their sharp teeth and long tongues.

No living being answered the pharmacist's muttered question.

Then, as if they had heard the same command to charge, they swung their huge pincers and monomolecular claws at the ends of their arms and charged toward Honso and the fighting robots.

Clearly, the sole remaining gene stealer did not sit idly by or hide away; it was also finding a way out for itself.

This was originally the apothecary's laboratory on the Baryonyx. So, according to the female doctor's assistant, in addition to the genetic seed reserves in the deep vault, there were also a large number of seriously injured people who were still alive but were basically beyond cure or able to return to work in the preparation room and operating room on the outer layer.

“We preserve their lives there for periods ranging from a few weeks to a few months,” she said tactfully.

As a war blacksmith and a master apothecary who had read medical literature related to the Blood Angels, Hongsuo immediately understood her unspoken meaning.

“Clearly, some of the empires are just as bad as the pot calling the kettle black, which is probably why they need a false god…” he muttered. “The strangest thing is why they haven’t received any blessings from some supreme being…”

If his chapter commander were here, he'd probably say: Who said that? The Imperial Chapters have received blessings from the High God more than once or twice, like the Wolf Pack...

Of course, his warband commander wasn't there, so Honsoe's mutterings still went unanswered.

Apart from the burning, screaming, and melting hissing sounds emanating from the faces of the gene stealers—the wounded who had been transformed from the wounded who hadn't been able to be taken away—as his combat robots poured terrifying light and heat energy onto them during this time, there was nothing else happening.

The outer room was quickly cleared out.

But Hunsso failed to find the cunning leader of the pests he was looking for.

A cunning beast.

Perhaps it has already escaped, using the newborn offspring left here to attract my attention.

But it doesn't matter, it can't escape this ship.

I'll clean it up in a bit.

He thought to himself, his boots stomping over the charred, deformed skull on the ground, crushing it to pieces. Then he walked to the deepest part of the vault door, which looked damaged but not yet damaged enough to be opened, and began to violently break it down.

A combat robot was making strange noises.

"How come..."

Hong Suo suddenly licked his lips.

There was some sticky, salty liquid dripping down from it.

He suddenly realized that his nose and ears were bleeding.

Then a shadow beside them bulged, twisted, folded, and "spit out" a creature that only appears in the most terrifying nightmares, which suddenly pounced on him.

(End of this chapter)