Warhammer: Empire Reboot

He stared blankly at the "short guy" in front of him, who was much shorter than him, with his lightbulb-sized eyes, and for the first time, a vague sense of confusion arose in his mind.

Why is it that even though I'm not weaker than my opponent and am much bigger, I still can't win?

This is a very complicated issue.

His prefrontal cortex couldn't handle such a high density of thought.

He stood up, dusted himself off, and walked back to the Star Guardian camp dejectedly like a child who had done something wrong.

The Oglin walked up to a political commissar of the Astronomical Army who was wearing a black trench coat and a peaked hat.

He lowered his large head, his rough voice carrying obvious grievance:

"Short guy..."

Oglin pointed to the black-vested assassin in the field, "I can't beat him. He's strong and keeps throwing me around."

The political commissar had a stern face, and his left eye was a prosthetic eye that flashed red light.

On the left lapel of the trench coat was a golden laurel badge of the Imperial Political Commissars, and in the medal section hung three purple and silver star crosses, an honor specially awarded by the Empire to political commissars who brought back an overstaffed force from the meat grinder.

The political commissar patted the Oglin man's waist, which was as solid as a load-bearing wall.

“You’ve done a great job, Knok.”

"You have persevered for a long time. The Emperor has witnessed your bravery. Go and rest."

Lawson strode toward the Astral Army's camp.

The atmosphere in the Astral Army camp instantly tensed up as Lawson approached.

The soldier who was repairing the laser rifle put down his tools, the soldier who was chewing on a can of minced meat put down his spoon, and the veteran who was mending his cuffs put down his needle and thread.

The soldiers stopped what they were doing and quickly stood up straight.

The political commissar suddenly turned around and stood at attention.

The heels of the leather boots slammed together with a loud thud.

"grown ups!"

The political commissar clenched his right fist and placed it across his chest, performing a perfectly standard Imperial Eagle salute.

The political commissar witnessed all the miracles firsthand.

In the minds of the lower-ranking Astral Army, Lawson was the earthly agent of the Emperor's will.

Lawson nodded slightly in return.

His gaze fell on the Oglin who was squatting on the ground.

"Is he injured?" Rosen asked the political commissar.

"Sir, no."

"Nork only suffered some shock. Their bone and muscle density is enough to withstand light artillery. They are the best warriors and the best bodyguards in our regiment. In the seventh sector of Iron Oath Keep, Nork single-handedly withstood the poison gas of Nurgle and used his body to shield our squad from the high-pressure corrosive liquid sprayed by Plague Crawlers. A layer of skin was burned off his entire back, but he didn't utter a sound and gritted his teeth to finish the entire battle."

Lawson looked at the Eugrim.

On that rugged, ugly face, there was no scheming whatsoever, only pure loyalty and naiveté.

These are the most primitive consumables in the Imperial arsenal, and also the most loyal cannon fodder.

Oglin squatted on the ground, staring at Lawson with his big, bulb-sized eyes.

Lawson extended his right hand.

Oglin paused for a moment. He looked at the political commissar, who nodded at him.

Only then did the Oglin cautiously extend his hand, which was twice the size of a palm-leaf fan, and loosely grasp Lawson's hand with three fingers.

Nock's knuckles were covered with old scars and calluses, and the skin on his palms was so hard that it could dull a bayonet.

But his handshake was so gentle that Lawson could hardly feel any pressure.

It was a form of etiquette that the Oglin people had repeatedly taught them to show their "respected superiors."

Then, Lawson slightly rotated his wrist.

"Bang bang bang!"

A dozen or so heavy crates appeared out of nowhere and crashed heavily onto the open ground in front of the Oglins.

The surrounding veterans of the Star Realm gasped in shock.

Lawson pointed to the boxes and said, "These are all rewards for you."

Oglin, the big man, glanced at Lawson with a puzzled look and gripped the edge of the crate.

He ripped the sturdy packaging cap off with his bare hands.

Inside the box, a large number of "Spark-3" minced meat and seaweed cans were neatly stacked.

A rich aroma, carrying the scent of salt and the umami flavor of protein, instantly filled the air.

All the veteran Astronauts around who caught the scent simultaneously swallowed hard.

Oglin's eyes lit up instantly.

He grabbed a can with ecstasy, pressed his large thumb into the metal top, and yanked the lid off.

He held the can directly to his mouth, poured the meat and some metal fragments into it, and began to chew it heartily.

He looked up, and a pure smile bloomed on his face, which was covered in minced meat.

"Short guy, you're a good person!"

Lawson chuckled to himself.

He gently touched the Oglin man's bald head, which was covered in sweat and mud.

In that instant...

Ding! An unrecorded variant human genome map has been detected.

Gene donor characteristics analysis: a product of evolution under extreme gravity. Bone density is 4.7 times that of standard humans. Atrophy of the prefrontal cortex and degeneration of the logical thinking center.

Core value extracted: the ultimate physical defense and brute force.

System analysis in progress... 10%... 100%.

System notification: This gene sequence has been recorded. After the host completes the next 'genetic base jump', a new unit option will be unlocked: Heavy Armored Subhuman (Oglin Template).

Lawson withdrew his hand, his expression unchanged.

He chewed on his cigar and mentally raised an eyebrow at the system.

An effortless "head pat" unexpectedly yielded a new unit for free.

Ordinary Oglins, due to their intellectual disability, can only serve as cannon fodder.

But what if these colossal beasts with terrifying physical attributes became Lawson's assassins?

All the assassins adopted swarm intelligence.

This means that Lawson will gain an army of heavily armored monsters with Oglin human bodies and microsecond-level tactical coordination capabilities.

The thought only flashed through Lawson's mind for a moment. The most important things were yet to come.

At that moment, a deep rumble came from the sky.

Five Thunderhawk gunboats pierced through the clouds and landed vertically at the edge of the square.

The gunboat's flanks are painted with the Blood Angels Chapter's blood droplet emblem, interspersed with the Flesh-Tearers Chapter's purplish-black cubes.

Upon landing, the high-pressure airflow swept the dust that had accumulated on the square dozens of meters away, and several temporary tents were torn apart and rattled loudly.

The hatch opened, and a large number of crew members pushed out in a line carrying hovering trays.

Dante's men have arrived.

On the tray, rows of brand-new power armor were neatly fixed in place.

It has no paint color, presenting a cold and austere factory gunmetal gray.

The heavy terracotta armor plates and the streamlined Mark X helmet showcase the beauty of the Empire's cutting-edge technology.

Six hundred and four brand-new original-cast power armors.

Lawson immediately went back, his hand stroking the cold breastplate.

He accepted the generous gift with satisfaction.

The elite members of the White Tiger team no longer have to wear those patched-up remnants of the old era.

With these new armors, the team's offensive capabilities will undergo a qualitative change.

Dante walked up to Lawson.

"All 604 bodies are here."

Lawson nodded in acknowledgment.

Dante paused for a moment: "As for the three thousand damaged power armors, they are not on the warships now; they are piled up in the wastelands of Baal."

"I will send it to you once the fleet returns to the Baal system."

“No rush,” Lawson replied.

These three thousand pieces of scrap metal, under Lawson's hands, through the repair process of T-series mechanical assassins and living metal, can eventually produce at least two thousand Mark series power armor suits that meet combat standards.

"The warships you requested are ready."

Dante pointed to the sky, "Two cruisers and ten sword-class corvettes are already in synchronized orbit with Klein-IX. Your men can be dispatched to take them at any time."

The Gothic-class heavy cruiser "Blood Oath" is 7.8 kilometers long and is equipped with the Imperial Navy's sharpest array of light spears, specializing in armor penetration at ultra-long range.

The Luna-class cruiser "Angel's Wrath" is a well-balanced weapon and a mainstay of the Imperial Navy.

In addition, there were ten accompanying Sword-class corvettes.

Dante gave them to Lawson without reservation.

The handover is complete.

The power and resources of the empire's dark side have undergone a substantial transfer.

Dante prepares to board the ship.