Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Katarina, Vera, Sera, and Sena were standing barefoot by the pool.

Upon hearing the door open, the four of them turned around simultaneously and knelt on one knee.

Their heads were bowed, their hands clasped on their knees, their movements perfectly synchronized.

"grown ups."

Katarina spoke up, "We request that you be washed away from the fatigue of the battlefield."

Lawson took off his undershirt and walked toward the pool.

"approve."

The four of them breathed a sigh of relief almost simultaneously.

Hot water washed over Lawson's waist and then covered his chest.

The four nuns exchanged a glance.

Then they quickly got up and gathered around in a rather rigid "pre-arranged formation".

Lawson closed his eyes.

He had already guessed what Adela had taught them, and how they would carry it out in a terrible way.

Katarina stood behind him.

She took a deep breath and placed her hands on Lawson's shoulder blades.

Adela taught her to use the heel of her palm, applying pressure in a spiral motion, with enough force to penetrate deeply.

Therefore, Katerina strictly followed the instructions.

Her palm pressed against the junction of Lawson's shoulder and neck, almost as if testing the pressure limit of an enemy armor plate. Golden flames lit up along her wrist, and she gritted her teeth, beginning to slowly rotate it.

Lawson felt a dull pain in the muscles of his shoulder and back.

Katarina's methods were devoid of any skill; she was simply trying to use physical strength to contend with Lawson's extraordinary bone hardness.

She clenched her teeth, her breathing rapid, and focused intently on executing the so-called tactics.

Lawson leaned against the pool wall with his eyes closed.

Their techniques were far inferior to those of Madame Adèle.

These four nuns treated their service as a battle to be won.

They were putting in their strength and completing their mission with the rigid attitude of following military orders.

Lawson did not intervene.

Fortunately, he was serious and his loyalty was commendable.

Lawson opened his eyes and grabbed Katarina's wrist with his other hand.

The red-haired captain was stunned.

With a flick of his wrist, Lawson pulled her into the water. He then broke the nuns' rigid tactical formation.

The initiative has shifted.

The water splashed and surged.

The defenses built by the four living saints collapsed.

Lawson dominated the battle with his absolute strength and physical prowess.

This was uncharted territory for the nuns.

Professor Adela's posture and coping strategies were rendered ineffective in the face of Lawson's rhythm.

Katarina tried to provide a stable foothold, but quickly became exhausted.

Sera and Sena's flanking maneuver turned into a rout.

Adela probably taught Vera to soothe her with her voice.

Vera opened her mouth several times, but could not utter the soft syllables that she had written down in her handwritten copy.

Finally, she began to read the Word of God in a soft voice.

"Light is not afraid of darkness."

"The blade is not afraid of blood."

"Those who return should lay down the flames of war."

At first, it sounded like a prayer.

Later, the voice gradually lowered, becoming a murmur that was almost exclusively heard by Lawson.

Two hours passed.

Lawson pushed open the door and strode out.

The battle in the bathroom is over.

The four nuns remained on the large couch.

Katarina, despite her formidable stamina, couldn't even lift a finger in the end. Sera, half-buried in the pillow, mumbled something about not being a failure. Sena slept more upright than her, yet even her brow was relaxed. Vera curled up under the blanket, as if still keeping watch for someone in her sleep.

Adela stood by the door and slightly bent her knees as she watched Lawson come out.

Lawson glanced at her.

"Well taught."

Adèle lowered her head, her smile perfectly timed.

"They studied very hard."

"Too serious."

Adèle's smile deepened a little.

"The saintesses treat everything as a holy war, including gentleness."

Lawson did not reply.

He walked toward the tactical command room.

Adela tactfully withdrew and gently closed the door.

Only the low hum of machinery remained in the command room.

Lawson braced his hands on the metal tabletop and gently turned his neck.

The bones made a crisp cracking sound.

More importantly, the killing intent he had brought back from the battlefield of Agrippina finally stopped throbbing in his temples.

A slow smile crept onto his lips.

"Different."

"It really helps relieve fatigue."

Looking at the star map, Lawson saw that the Bi'an Warband had just sent intelligence that he was already infiltrating a rebellious planet, and the Cornerstone Sequence was already working to hack into communications and orbital control.

…………

The middle-level nesting city of Albitl-3 has not experienced a true dawn for a long time.

The sunlight is blocked by the steel dome of the upper city and cannot reach this place.

The residential area's day and night cycles are simulated only by the low-quality light bulbs installed in the walls.

Those light tubes used to switch color temperatures every twelve standard hours, with white representing daytime and yellowish representing nighttime.

Later, the energy rationing was reduced, and the light tubes began to flicker erratically. Then, half of the maintenance team was withdrawn, and the daytime light on the middle floor became intermittent gray light.

When Ellen Worth woke up, the overhead light was emitting a buzzing, insect-like electrical sound.

He did not get up immediately.

On Albitel-3, opening your eyes too quickly is not a good habit. You have to listen first.

Listen for the sound of patrol boots in the corridor.

Listen for alarms indicating toxic backflow in the ventilation ducts.

Listen for crying sounds from next door. If the crying is too shrill, it means someone was dragged away last night; if it's too faint, it means someone died at home and the family is afraid to speak out.

Today was relatively quiet.

It was unusually quiet.

Ellen turned his head and saw his wife Mira sitting on the edge of the bed, mending her old work clothes with a bent needle.

That work uniform originally belonged to him.

It was grayish-blue, with the old markings of the pipeline maintenance team on the back. Now the markings had worn off, the cuffs were missing a section, and there was a hole in the chest.

Mira sewed the hole very slowly because there was so little thread, and she had to carefully estimate the position of the next stitch after each pass.

"The ration station is open today." Mira didn't look up.

Ellen rubbed her shoulder and asked, "Who said that?"

"Last night, the 23rd district broadcasted: Middle-class residents should register at the Ninth Rationing Square with their family card, work hour ticket, and loyalty stamp. They will receive an extra three days' worth of rations."

Ellen sat up, the bed creaking slightly.

"An extra three days' worth of rations."

This sentence is like a clean piece of meat thrown into a room full of rats. Everyone stares at it, but no one believes it will belong to them.

Mira finally looked up.

She has lost a lot of weight.

When she worked at the ration station, she still had a touch of color in her face, a rarity for middle-class families. Now, her cheekbones are prominent, her lips are chapped, and there are dark circles under her eyes from staying up all night.

"Tom threw up again last night."

Ellen's eyes darkened.

In the corner of the bed, seven-year-old Tom was curled up in a blanket, sleeping lightly. The blanket, originally dark gray, was now indistinguishable, revealing only indelible oil stains and patches. The little boy's hand dangled outside the blanket, his wrist as thin as a piece of tubing.