Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Gray Tooth-19 underground factory.

Er Gou had just dragged the Orc Techba out of the burrower's control cabin when he punched half of its face.

Titus led the rescued engineers to a safe zone and quickly walked over.

"Where was Andros sent?"

Er Gou threw the Orc Techies on the ground and stepped on its still twitching head.

"Nonsense, of course we went to the emergency room."

Which emergency center?

"The best one."

Er Gou's face returned to its usual thuggish soldier look.

"Don't worry, brother, the boss's best doctors, best equipment, and best genetic engineering team are all there."

Titus sensed something was wrong.

"A genetic engineering team?"

Er Gou stomped on the orc Ji Ba's head, smashing it open, green blood splattering on his boots.

"Andros is a brother we raised together, how could I possibly harm him?"

"Don't worry, when he comes out, he'll be at least as sturdy as the original."

"If I'm in a good mood, I might report you again!"

"you……"

……

Emergency Room Number One.

The red light is on.

Andros, who was in a coma, was strapped to the operating table.

The chest cavity was opened.

The broken ribs were removed one by one and immersed in a regeneration culture medium.

The spore contamination was burned away little by little by the Golden Fire Micro-Purification Array.

A new reinforced skeleton template is being generated.

On the main screen in the operating room, a line of text slowly lit up.

[Skyforged Astartes Advanced Enhancement and Modification Experiment: Case 1.]

[Sample status: Near death.]

[Ethical Approval: Emergency Battlefield Medical Treatment]

[Authorized by: Er Gou]

Ultimately responsible party: The boss.

The genetics director looked at the screen and adjusted his goggles.

"start."

"Don't waste this opportunity."

PS: 10,000 words updated today.

Chapter 256 UR-025's Mech Modification and Guilliman's Request for Help

Andros's last memory is of the Graytooth-19 underground factory.

He remained in a deep coma.

After an unknown amount of time, a sound emerged from the depths of the darkness.

“The neural bundle connections are stable.”

"The reconstruction of the second heart is complete."

"Lung regeneration is complete."

"The black shell has a 97% deep interface integration rate."

"Honeycomb nucleus activation".

"The Tianzhu reaction is stable."

Andros's consciousness jolted; he sensed something was wrong.

The next moment, he opened his eyes.

The culture medium inside the biochemical repair chamber flowed down his cheeks and chest.

Outside the bulkhead, cold white light pierced my pupils.

A dozen alloy tubes ran from his spine, chest, back of his neck, and arms into his body, like a group of mechanical snakes sucking blood.

The first thing he saw was his own hand.

Oh no, that's not the hand he remembers.

The finger bones seemed to have been reforged, and the tendons under the back of the hand bulged with the slightest movement, power surging from deep within the muscles, like a wild beast locked in flesh and blood.

Andros had a bad feeling.

Looking down again, the chest cavity was thicker, the shoulders were wider, and the muscle density was abnormally high, with each fiber looking like a steel cable that had been forcibly compressed.

His bones were different too; he only slightly tightened his fingers, and the latches on the bulkhead made a soft, creaking sound.

No, this isn't right, is this still my body?

"This muscle structure..."

"It is not recorded in the sacred texts."

He suddenly lowered his head, feeling the unfamiliar rhythms of the organs inside his chest.

"This bone density..."

"It is not recorded in the sacred texts."

Deep in the back of the neck, a honeycomb-like organ is slowly contracting.

It's like a second brain nucleus growing inside the nerves, subtly connecting the edge of his consciousness to an omnipresent network.

Andros's pupils suddenly contracted; this was a serious problem. He began to feel angry and panicked.

"This damn communication method..."

"It's not recorded in the holy scriptures!"

The surrounding genetic scientists immediately looked up as the fluctuations on their monitoring screens skyrocketed.

"Sample awareness restored."

"The emotional reaction was intense."

"Increased mental stress."

"Rejection-induced neural currents were observed in the honeycomb nucleus."

Andros, however, was no longer listening; his emotions were fluctuating wildly.

Throughout his life, he was loyal to only one book.

The Astartes.

The Primitive Gene, a great example written by Guilliman himself.

It is also the source of order for the Ultra Warriors.

How should each battle unfold, how should each squad advance, how should each company coordinate, how should each emergency be handled, and how should each soldier fulfill their duties?

In Andros's eyes, that was truth, that was order, that was the iron law that distinguished Astartes from beasts, heretics, and traitors.

This is also the meaning he has always upheld.

In Andros's view, anything not found in the scriptures should be viewed with caution.

Anything that is contrary to the sacred texts must be corrected.

What the scriptures cannot explain often signifies contamination.

For example, Titus is like that.

Back then, when Titus withstood the energy of the warp on the battlefield, people admired his will, the Emperor's protection, and his status as a fierce warrior among the Ultramarines.

But what Andros saw was something amiss! Something was wrong!

The scriptures do not record that Space Marines can withstand that level of chaotic energy without cost.

The scriptures do not permit a company commander to treat "unexplained special physical conditions" as a tactical asset.

The holy book also makes no mention of that when a warrior exhibits an unclassifiable abnormality, his brothers should remain silent out of affection or for the sake of their war merits.

So Andros reported Titanus.

It was still a case of reporting to a higher authority.

He reported it directly to the Inquisition of Heretics.

He certainly knew what that meant; Titus had been imprisoned for a century.

He certainly hadn't forgotten that Titus had saved him, and countless others as well.

He knew, of course, that many people in the battle group had changed their gaze toward him from that day on, regarding him as a treacherous informer.

But he didn't regret it; he didn't think he had done anything wrong.

Everything was for purity, for the rules, for Lord Guilliman's holy code.

An extreme fighter must be able to point his knife at an enemy, and he must also be able to point it at a brother who is acting strangely.

This is both a price to pay and a responsibility!