The portal expanded again, its diameter widening to two meters.
More mechanical arms extended from the void—six, eight, finally stabilizing at twelve.
They arranged themselves in a precise formation, the tool head at the end of each arm distinct from the rest.
One held an incubation chamber cultivating some kind of biological tissue; another was a syringe loaded with microscopic nanobots; yet another was a probe array meant for neural splicing...
The gene-seed hovering over Zeke's chest violently shuddered!
Immediately after, from deep within the mechanical portal above, a pure white torrent of energy—as dense as a pillar of liquid light—crashed down, completely swallowing the gene-seed!
Under the infusion of energy, the cooling magma shell on the seed's surface instantly turned transparent, revealing an internal biological structure as complex as a miniature galaxy.
It began to pulse like a heart. With every beat, it expanded a fraction, frantically devouring nutrients from the energy torrent.
Using this seed as a blueprint and massive amounts of System energy as raw material, a complete, living set of Salamanders transhuman organs—tailored exclusively for Zeke—was being cultivated in a higher-dimensional mechanical manufactorum within the void.
[Secondary Heart Cultivation Complete... Commencing Implantation]
The first mechanical arm reached out. At its tip was a beating, fist-sized mass of flesh—the Secondary Heart.
The surgery had officially begun.
Outside the observation room, in the main hall.
When Schrödinger Bro pushed the doors open and walked out, the hall was bustling with noise and excitement.
Hundreds of players were gathered there. Some had just returned from patrol missions, some were resting after sparring in the training zone, and others were just there to mooch off the public lighting and enjoy the lively atmosphere.
The long stone tables were packed. Some players were wiping down their weapons, some were studying maps, but most were just shooting the shit.
"I'm telling you, my aim today was god-tier! Three Razorhounds, three headshots, smooth as butter!"
"Give me a break, you practically shoved your lasgun down the dog's throat! You call point-blank DPS god-tier?"
"What the hell do you know? It's called tactics! Close-range guaranteed kill!"
"Speaking of which, how long has Schrödinger Bro been in there?"
"Almost two hours? Phase one should be done by now, right?"
"Schrödinger Bro is out!"
Someone sharp-eyed spotted Schrödinger Bro coming down the stairs, and a crowd immediately swarmed him.
"Schrödinger Bro! How's Zeke doing?"
"Is the augmentation going smoothly?"
"When's he gonna turn into a Space Marine?"
Schrödinger Bro looked at the familiar faces before him. Some IDs he remembered, others he only recognized by sight, but every single pair of eyes held the same anticipation and concern.
He walked over to the stone dais in the center of the hall and cleared his throat.
His voice rang out over the regional channel:
"Everyone, quiet down for a second."
The hall quickly fell silent as every player turned to look at him.
Schrödinger Bro surveyed the room and slowly spoke.
"First off, Zeke's Phase One augmentation has been successfully completed. Genetic compatibility restructuring was a success."
"Right now, the full nineteen-stage augmentation surgery has begun."
A low cheer rippled through the crowd.
"Secondly..." Schrödinger Bro paused, his tone turning solemn. "I want to speak from the heart for a minute."
He looked at the crowd.
"It's been almost a month since we were pulled into this game."
"We started out as five thousand unlucky bastards waking up in an abandoned workshop without even a decent weapon to our names. Now, we have a base, we have gear, we have enhancements, and we have over two thousand native brothers fighting side-by-side with us."
"We did time in the Aru Group's lockups, took lashes from overseers' whips, and were sliced open and studied like lab rats."
"But we also saved workers, fought Daemons, and built this stronghold out here on the wasteland."
"Normally, logic dictates that this is just a game. Everyone does their own thing, grinds mobs, levels up, and keeps things light and fun."
Schrödinger Bro's voice rose slightly.
"But we didn't do that."
"We chose the hardest path. We decided to do something different in this cesspool of a world."
"To save people. To build a base. To conquer new territories. To change this world."
"And you guys..."
He took a deep breath. "Not a single one of you complained. Not a single one of you dropped the ball."
"Running three shifts during the mining operation, working non-stop even with blistered, bleeding hands."
"Charging forward in battle, dying, respawning, and charging right back in. Everyone is pulling their weight in building this base."
The hall was completely silent.
"Honestly."
Schrödinger Bro smiled, a touch of deep emotion in his expression. "In the real world, I, Schrödinger's Loyalist, am just an ordinary guy with a bit of spare cash."
"All I can do is support our collective, support Zeke, who is willing to stand at the very front and carry our banner, with everything I've got."
He paused, then suddenly raised his voice.
"Therefore! I announce—"
Every player perked up their ears.
"Tomorrow! Is Thursday!" Schrödinger Bro flashed a wide grin. "Everyone is gonna take shifts logging off to rest."
"I, Schrödinger's Loyalist, am treating every single brother to a KFC Crazy Thursday! I'll Venmo you all 50 bucks! Go eat to your heart's content, it's all on me!"
Dead silence.
And then—
"Holy shit! Daddy!"
"Schrödinger Bro is too generous!"
"Crazy Thursday! I'm gonna eat till I fucking explode!"
Roars of laughter, cheers, and whistles practically blew the roof off.
A psyker player was laughing so hard he was doubling over. "Schrödinger Bro! You really are my sugar daddy! From now on, you point east, and I won't even look west!"
Another player wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Honestly, Schrödinger Bro, you didn't have to get so sentimental."
"We're all brothers who did time in the same cell and took lashes from the same whip."
"Everyone here knows exactly what kind of character you guys have."
"If you guys were selfish, we would've disbanded and gone solo a long time ago."
"Exactly!"
Someone chimed in, "This game is no joke, and we all know it."
"With the way things are, sticking together is the only way to survive."
"Running off on our own?"
"We'd just get dragged off for experiments sooner or later, or corrupted by Chaos into some freak of nature."
A player with the ID [I Want to be a Hive Governor] chuckled.
"Honestly, I'm just here for the thrill of it. I work a boring, straight-laced job in the real world. Can't I at least live a little in a game? Once our faction gets big enough, just make me a Hive Consul and I'll be happy. I won't ask to be Planetary Governor; I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to resist the temptations of Slaanesh..."
The crowd burst into laughter.
"Give me a break!"
"Temptations of Slaanesh? Get a girlfriend first!"
"Hive Consul? In your dreams! Let's conquer Red Town first!"
"But seriously though... it's only been a month, and we've already gone from being slave miners to this."
"In the future, everyone getting their own planet isn't completely impossible, right?"
"Warhammer might lack a lot of things, but planets aren't one of them! There are millions of human-colonized worlds in the galaxy!"
"Then I'm calling dibs on an Agri-World. I'll farm all day, entirely cut off from the galaxy's bullshit..."
"I want a Forge World! I'm gonna build tanks, mechs, and battleships!"
Schrödinger Bro looked at the players dreaming about their futures, shaking his head with a smile. "Alright, alright. You'll all get your chance but the prerequisite is that you don't get corrupted by Chaos. We're here to change this world, not become just another batch of monsters in it."
"Don't worry, Schrödinger Bro!" A player patted his chest. "I have food, drinks, family, and friends in the real world. Why the hell would I want to get corrupted?"
"Exactly! If we're gonna rule, we're gonna be clean officials, capable ministers, and... you know, the totally just and incorruptible kind!"
Amidst the laughter, the atmosphere was passionate and warm.
Meanwhile, in the workers' residential area in the northern sector of the base, over two thousand workers lay on communal beds inside the stone houses.
They could faintly hear the laughter carrying over from the distant main hall.
Aska lay on his side. Listening to the joyous laughter of their guardian angels, the corners of his mouth unknowingly curled up into a smile.
The young worker beside him whispered,
"Uncle Aska, what are they laughing about?"
"They're laughing about the future,"
Aska said softly. "Laughing about... the future they believe is coming."
The young worker only half-understood, but he smiled anyway.
"When they laugh, I feel happy too."
"Go to sleep." Aska patted his shoulder. "We still have work tomorrow. Tending to the fields, reinforcing the walls, building our home to be even sturdier—that's what we can do to help."
"Mhm."
Inside the stone house, the sounds of breathing gradually evened out.
The workers, exhausted from a long day's labor, drifted into deep sleep.
In their dreams, there were no overseers' power whips. There were no eternally empty stomachs, and there were no children with bellies swollen from edema.
There were only solid walls, warm fires, and those guardian angels who were willing to crouch down just to speak with them.