Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 194 Garros is advancing. 946.M41

The war on the Webway continued to burn in the cold, psionic light of Karasta. But Cohen knew very well that the battlefield was not the priority in Garros at this moment. His first task upon returning to Garros was to expand the Webway from a temporary route into a strategic passage that could be truly used by the Empire. When the flames of war in Karasta were finally extinguished, the entire Empire would know that the Webway had been reconnected.

The first batch of portable Webgates has been set off by thirteen teams. Each team consists of three people: one technical priest and two psionicists who possess the keys.

Before setting off, the leader of Engineering Team Three under the Kolo Garros Netway Fleet conducted a final check on the portable Netway Gate. All the latches on the adamantite folding frame were locked, the resonant parameters of the psionic focusing array were stable within the preset range, and the surface of the spirit bone guiding patterns was covered with a thin protective coating, sufficient to support multiple activations. His two psionic partners were working: one was adjusting the resonant parameters of the psionic focusing array, and the other was making a final confirmation of the target system's conditions. Kolo's mission was simple: arrive at the designated system, deploy the portable Netway Gate, activate it, and then wait for Cohen to pass through from inside the Netway.

Thirteen teams, thirteen coordinates, are distributed in the transition zone between the eastern edge of the hazy star field and the western edge of the extreme star field.

The coordinates of Group 2 were obtained from the Webway ambush. The Garros Webway fleet intercepted a Dark Eldar ship within the Webway, following it as it passed through the main gate and infiltrating the Reality Audit to confirm the coordinates of the corresponding system. However, Cohen was in Karasta at the time and could not leave to create the permanent secondary gate. The original gate that was passed through automatically disappeared into the Webway structure after closing, and could not be located again by the naked eye or sensors. The process has been verified to be feasible. A small group only needs to deploy and activate a portable Webway gate in the target system. After the Forging Director arrives from inside the Webway, the permanent secondary gate can be created on the Reality Audit side.

The remaining set of coordinates also originated from the Dark Eldar, specifically from the Maraudon system, which had previously been plundered. The Webway fleet had located several possible main gate nodes; once activated from the Webway side, Garros could confirm the node passages.

Cohen was currently in a private workshop deep underground in Garros, a foundry space that the mechanical priests called the "Hall of the Directors".

The production and stockpiling of the Type 500 power armor is progressing on a large scale. The standard equipment for the Guardians of the Order is still mainly the Type 1200, while the Type 500 is currently only used by elite units. Ordinary soldiers are only allowed to use it as a last resort when they are seriously wounded and near death. The production line is running day and night. The ceramic steel composite armor plates come off the line in the foundry and are transported to the assembly station by machine servitors. The neural interface modules are waiting to be installed in the temperature-controlled chamber.

But Cohen is going to do something else entirely.

In the workshop, he directly shaped the Radiant Gold atoms into condense within his consciousness, allowing the dark golden metal to grow from nothingness. Radiant Gold is the exclusive material for the Imperial Guard's armor; it is quantum inert, almost transparent to psionic energy, and its neural signal transmissibility is second only to exposed biological tissue. Using the design blueprints of the Type 500 Power Armor as a base, he completely replaced the ceramic steel and adamantite with Radiant Gold, enabling this suit of armor to achieve a leap forward in terms of material quality.

The first batch of Radiant Gold Power Armor quickly took shape. The dark gold armor gleamed with a somber luster in the cold light—Radiant Gold itself is dark gold, requiring no additional coating and blending naturally into the Garros system. Crimson cloaks fluttered slightly in the circulating wind, and crimson plumes cascaded from helmets bearing the gear and skull emblem. This was the closest thing to a relic in the Garros technology system, forging the limits of mortal potential with Radiant Gold, providing the Storm Assault Team with a barrier against psionic corruption.

He named this batch of armor the "Type 500 Y". The first batch of recipients was the Storm Commando – 200 sets in the first batch, followed by a second batch of 1,000 sets, which will be deployed in succession.

He wouldn't implant the psionic resonance circuits possessed by the Imperial Guard into the armor. Those things touch the soul level, outside his domain, and creating them rashly would be risky. However, Garros's existing mental barrier amplification module was already embedded within the Radiant Gold Armor, and with this dual enhancement, it was sufficient for the wearer to resist relatively high-intensity psionic erosion.

Kara stood in the workshop, watching the two hundred sets of dark gold armor arranged in a cold light. Then her gaze shifted to the depths of the workshop—where thousands of Hades-type Terminator armors were stacked, and further away, there were even larger outlines of models she couldn't name. She knew those were for the Phoenix Legion. Finally, she turned her gaze back to Cohen, pondered for a moment, and then asked.

"Can I wear it now?"

'

"It's ready. It has a complete life support system and is compatible with neural interfaces. Once you put it on, you don't need to take it off; the armor itself will adapt to your gait, body temperature, and all metabolic functions."

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She nodded and walked towards the nearest set of armor. Her fingers paused on the surface of the breastplate; the dark gold armor felt cool and smooth to the touch, completely different from ceramic steel.

Cohen watched as Kara stepped into the dark gold armor and activated full-body mode. The gleaming gold armor plates closed one by one, driven by servo motors, the clicking of the locking mechanisms echoing through the workshop before falling silent. She moved her arms, the servo motors at her joints emitting a faint hum, which quickly subsided to an almost imperceptible level. She turned and walked towards Cohen, stopping. "Feels good. I'll try it out." After saying this, she didn't remove her power armor but headed to the training grounds to adapt. As the captain of the Storm Assault Team, she needed to complete her training first before she could better guide her teammates.

Cohen also walked out of the workshop, the workshop door closing behind him.

The Phoenix Legion's base was located on the edge of Dome 30, separated from the Papacy's training grounds by an airtight door.

The air was filled with the smells of disinfectant and the warm air drying fabrics, which swirled slowly in the circulating airflow of the corridor.

Preparations for the Proto-Forged Space Marine transformation surgery across the entire Phoenix Legion began several months ago. The Phoenix Legion, led by Rellano, comprises over 15,000 elite soldiers, all candidates for Space Marine transformation. These warriors have demonstrated physical resilience and mental fortitude beyond the limits of ordinary humans in numerous battles. However, for a smoother adaptation process, the surgery needs to be conducted in stages and in batches.

The selection criteria are extremely stringent, not solely based on combat skills, but also placing great emphasis on the candidates' physiological and psychological responses under extreme pressure. The most outstanding candidates are the first to enter the surgical sequence. According to Gallos's plan, the surgeries proceed in multiple batches: the first batch of candidates entered the surgical sequence immediately after Cohen's return, and a new batch of candidates was initiated periodically thereafter. Each batch requires four deep surgical windows, involving the full implantation of all twenty-two organs, taking approximately one year in total. The intervals between the four batches range from several weeks to several months, with the specific schedule dynamically adjusted based on operating room capacity and the candidates' recovery progress.

The genetic seeds used for modification are currently all from the Imperial License stockpile that Rellano brought back from Terra. The technical framework provided by Kaul has been fully replicated, and Garros does not need to rely on external experts to complete the modification; everything is done within its own closed-loop system.

The operating room door was open.

Liz stood under the operating lights, eight mechanical limbs extending from the back of her crimson robe. Two of them had their end interfaces switched to surgical instruments, and the third was connected to the life support terminal beside the bed. Lying on the operating table was a body—wearing a gray medical liner, its face calmed by medication, its breathing maintained by an auxiliary system.

The man lying there was Damian, one of the first candidates selected for the Phoenix Legion. He had lost an arm and had undergone a mechanical prosthetic. This meant that before entering the Primal Forged modification sequence, he had to undergo limb regeneration surgery to remove the prosthetic, regrow a biological arm, and wait for it to recover sufficiently to support the subsequent modifications. This step itself increased the risk of the surgery, as the coordination and genetic compatibility of the newly formed limb would inevitably be weaker than the original.

When Rellano wrote on his application form, he only asked one question: "Your chances of failure are higher than average, are you sure?" Damian answered: "Yes." And then he lay down on this operating table.

The modification of Proto-Forged Space Marines, from the initial cultivation of candidates to the crossing of the "Proto-Forged River," was far more complex than the standard nineteen surgeries. In addition to their existing organs, subjects needed to receive three additional implants: a tendon coil, a Sacred Pituitary Gland, and a Belisarius Furnace. These three were responsible for enhancing physical resilience, promoting growth and strengthening all implanted organs, and releasing chemicals to sustain life in the event of fatal trauma, respectively.

Damian was one of the first candidates selected for the Phoenix Legion. His limb regeneration surgery was completed before Cohen returned, and he has now entered the first deep surgery of the Primal Forged Transformation sequence.

In hundreds of cubicles, multiple surgeries were being performed simultaneously. Liz's team was mature enough to advance the entire batch of modifications in parallel. Cohen walked past each operating table in the operating room, watching the robotic arms move under the operating lights, and observing the waveforms fluctuate briefly after each key operation before stabilizing.

The amplitude of those waveforms was decreasing. The bleeding from the severed blood vessel had already subsided before the robotic arm even touched it, and the immune rejection at the organ docking interface had subsided the instant he passed by. Liz didn't look back at him. She simply continued doing what she had to do, and she knew that as long as this man was present, the success rate of the surgery would no longer be that cold percentage.

After the surgeries were all completed, Cohen turned and walked back towards the temple. The next batch of candidates would enter the modification sequence in the next scheduling window. He would repeat the same procedure for each batch of surgeries until all batches were completed.

He wouldn't miss a single batch. When he wasn't present, the surgery was paused, awaiting his next arrival. Not because he didn't trust Liz, but because he didn't trust probability. The approximately 60% failure rate was Caul's calculation, and even that required various assumptions; in the actual Phoenix Legion's case, the failure rate might exceed 90%. And Cohen wanted to reduce it to zero in Garros.

The operating room door slid shut behind him.

He encountered Relano in the corridor. The veteran, dressed in a dark gray combat uniform, cast a deep shadow in the dim light due to his tall, unconventional physique. He leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, clutching a data tablet—a messenger had just left, and a new batch of dispatch orders had clearly arrived. He seemed to have been waiting there for a while, his posture relaxed, but his gaze never leaving the direction of the corridor.

"Is this batch finished?" he asked.

"Yes." Cohen didn't stop.

Rellano didn't follow immediately; a voice came from behind. "I knew the surgery would be successful once you arrived."

Cohen stopped and turned around. He saw the data board in Relano's hand, densely marked with the names of the candidates for modification—each person's physical assessment, psychological report, and surgical risk factor were all clearly organized. The veteran had never used "waiting" as an excuse; his silence itself was a complete preparation.

"I will still be present for the next batch of modification surgeries, while the rest will be handled by Liz's team for preoperative preparation and postoperative recovery."

Rellano was silent for a moment. "These people from the Phoenix Legion are all people I personally trained. I don't want them to die on the operating table."

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Rellano continued, "Given the Phoenix Legion's situation, the risks of modification are too great. Even with careful selection from minors, the success rate is only about forty percent. That's the cruelty of Astartes, and I know it better than anyone." He paused slightly, his tone unchanged, but each word heavier than before, "You can do it one hundred percent. Lucis has Terra's fast communication channels. The news has already reached Garros; the Emperor calls you a close friend, saying you are the God of Machines. When you saved me, you already made that clear."

"That's why I told Liz to wait until I got back before starting the surgery," Cohen said. "But you're wrong about one thing."

I am not a god. The title "God of All Machines" was imposed on me by the Emperor; He requires the division of faith. I merely stood in that position and did what was expected of me.

Rellano looked at him silently, neither refuting nor nodding.

"The surgery will be fine," Cohen said. "I'll be there for every batch. You'll be in charge of the recovery and adaptation training after the modifications. You just need to make sure they know how to use their new bodies after the modifications are complete."

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Rellano lowered his arms from his chest. "Of course, I'll make sure. They're trustworthy."

He turned and walked towards the training area, his steps as silent as when he arrived. Cohen stood there, watching him disappear around the corner of the corridor, before continuing towards the temple.

The lights in the side aisle of the temple narrowed to a thin line behind him and then went out.

Carlos the Weaver's two heads failed to reach an agreement in the darkness. The Weaver hovered within the collapsing node, Tzeentch's blue flames rising from the Grand Magister's array beneath his feet. The left head read fragments of the past—the repaired conduits, the healing psionic circuits—confirming its vision. The right head gazed into the future, a branch briefly clearing before snapping. That path had originally marked the completion date of the Web's repair—two years later—but that mark had vanished. Now, when it reappeared, it had been rewritten as a century. The Repairer had left the Web, and erosion was accelerating, peeling away the healing boundaries layer by layer. It could see the Web healing, but not the healing itself—the past and future were etched clearly in its mind, only the present was an impenetrable blank. The left head believed it was a trap, a gap deliberately left by the Emperor to make them believe the Web was spiraling out of control, luring them to invest more. The right-wing believes that waiting itself is a trap; continuing to wait is tantamount to admitting that the Emperor is reconstructing the skeleton of the network, and once it is closed, there will be no chance to break it from the inside.

Carlos the Fateweaver had not yet made a decision. But its gaze had already pierced through the cold psionic light, landing on the dark golden ray of light deep within Karasta that stretched from the direction of the Golden Throne—and it was still moving forward. Slowly, but never stopping.