Warhammer: My buddy has too many secrets!

Chapter 105 Rapid Team Building (1/5) Requesting Monthly Tickets!

"Genetic seed?"

When the commander of the Malakin Warband heard the question, he was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly replied, "Currently, there are about eight hundred complete gene seeds in the warband. In fact, since the establishment of the army, we have not had time to recruit new soldiers. In addition, we have carefully collected the gene seeds of our fallen brothers."

"I have a way to allow the Weeping Ones to quickly replenish their fighting comrades."

Lancelot didn't beat around the bush and went straight to the point: "I have an operating table from the dark age of technology that can quickly transform a veteran into an Astartes using a gene seed."

"Commander Malakin, you should understand that the Lamenters are far too few in number. If you want to protect a homeworld, you are simply outnumbered and outmatched."

As Lancelot spoke, he looked at the Imperial people in the distance, who were well-fed and huddled together for warmth.

Their clothes were tattered, and they struggled to survive in incredibly harsh conditions. They survived, and although the empire's incorruptible officials didn't care about them, their will should not be discarded like garbage and thrown into so-called sacrifices.

"I have an idea."

Lancelot looked at the Malakin Chapter Commander in front of him: "You fought alongside them, so you should directly select those warriors with unwavering will and outstanding character from among these people."

"These warriors don't need to be born exceptionally strong, agile, or intelligent. The key is their inner strength. Only those who have experienced weakness can understand the meaning of strength and comprehend its true purpose."

Lancelot said this.

Upon hearing this, the warband leader, Malakin, also became serious and solemn.

"If that's the case, then I agree with Elder Lancelot's proposal. However, the Gene Seed is the core of a warband, and I still need to discuss it with the others in the warband. But I think no one would refuse it."

Malakin looked at the ordinary warriors who were fast asleep, carrying simple weapons and having eaten and drunk their fill.

"Because they have already proven their skills and will in battle, they are undoubtedly the Emperor's loyal warriors. I wholeheartedly acknowledge them and agree with their acceptance of the genetic seed of our Astartes fighting brothers."

Lancelot nodded slightly and looked up at the sky. Boko Star IV was now shrouded in night, with two satellites orbiting around it.

"Commander Namarajin, let's wait until the warriors have a good, deep sleep first."

Lancelot gently pulled out the undamaged lake light, and the mist began to spread around him again.

"Now that I've rested well, leave the rest to me until dawn."

Lancelot walked into the mist.

At that moment, the leader of the Lamenters also watched Lancelot disappear into the mist.

As dawn broke, the Night Watchers observed continuous explosions and artillery fire from the orc strongholds surrounding the fortress. By daybreak, the surrounding orc warbands had been almost completely wiped out.

When Lancelot returned to the camp amidst a cloud of gunpowder smoke, the Weepers had already begun cooking their second meal. Amidst the fragrant aroma of the food, the proposal for the rapid formation of the guild had received unanimous approval from all the remaining Astartes of the Weepers.

While everyone waited, Chapter Master Malakin approached Lancelot and whispered with a hint of self-reproach, "I'm sorry—elder."

"What happened again?"

Lancelot said this, and Chapter Master Malakin replied with a slight sense of shame: "I am very sorry. Because of my dereliction of duty, some things that should not have happened have occurred. A group of warriors who were truly recognized by us have had their hearts stop beating in their sleep since last night."

Malakin's voice carried a hint of frustration. During the month-long battle, some people had always been at the forefront. Those people were still fresh in the minds of the Space Marines. In the battles with the Orks, the Lamenters and those mortal warriors had long since forged deep battlefield friendships.

They had clearly won, they had clearly seen hope, they had clearly stopped going hungry, yet their comrades, their brothers, their kinsmen, fell on the very night that hope had arrived.

"—Commander, you don't need to blame yourself. You've done enough."

After a brief silence, Lancelot spoke softly: "After a peaceful sleep, their glorious souls will return to the golden throne. They have fought the good fight, and justice will crown them. They will bless the living to move towards hope. All we have to do is inherit their will and drive the aliens out of our homeland."

The selected soldiers, when brought together, are undoubtedly a moving and formidable army of steel.

They all had different backgrounds.

There were slaves, miners, soldiers, and even gang members, but on this planet, under the oppressive rule of the orcs, those who acted alongside the Weeping Ones and held their ground had tempered themselves through countless trials, proving themselves to be a loyal army.

Lancelot was moved by the gazes of these people, and the heart on the left side of his heart, belonging to Anglona, ​​the lord of the Twelfth Legion, stirred slightly.

At this moment, Lancelot seemed to have gained the ability to empathize as well. Facing such strong people and feeling their emotions, he was still somewhat moved.

How could you not be moved, how could you not love people who can burn brightly with just a glimmer of hope?

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

In the highest heavens, a being radiating golden light slammed its fist on the table, seemingly shouting something, while on the other side, red, blue, and green—a rare unison—wailed in unison: "No! No! No!"

"Right—right?"

The pink figure fell into deep thought, but as Lancelot released the indestructible lake light and withdrew the power of his warp essence, the inviolable domain naturally unfolded once again, and everything on this planet became blurred in the eyes of the gods once more.

No one knew what was happening here; the orcs were still rampaging across the planet. But deep within the fortress, Lancelot took out the Astartes operating table he had acquired earlier.

Lancelot watched as the Astartes operating table gradually lit up before him, his gaze sweeping over the chosen ones who were willing to participate in the surgery, especially the mortal warrior chosen as the first participant.

His name was Ivan Petrov, a lone wolf scum who originally lived in the lower hives. He was hunched over and short, and had grown up in the lower hives since childhood. He was lucky.

He was given a body as resilient as a mouse, and he was also introduced to hopeful people who gave him a heart of gold.