Daniel convened a military meeting. Governor Fax, Magos Theresa, Bishop Hydrak, and other high-level officials were all on deck, alongside military commanders like Major General Faraday.
Faraday's promotion speed was absolutely rocket-fueled. He'd been a mere Captain at the Lycard Space Station. Now, in a span of two months—a climb that would take others over a decade—he was a Major General.
Such rapid advancement raised a lot of eyebrows, making people wonder what Faraday's secret sauce was. Daniel let the whispers fly; he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone he was scraping the bottom of the barrel for competent military personnel. Faraday was a triple threat: good at fighting, effective at recruitment, and fiercely loyal.
He rushed the front lines attacking Stone Hive City, fought bravely, and knew how to command large units. He suppressed the Tyrian riot and followed Daniel's orders to the letter, controlling the guard and cracking down on the nobles with an iron fist. If he didn't get the stripe, who would? Some pencil-pushing aristocrat who wanted to throw me under the bus for no good reason?
The military meeting primarily focused on retaking the planet Atomal, annihilating the remaining rebels, and planning the reconstruction. Daniel's detailed plans were ready to roll. Once the surface was secured and the hives rebuilt, they would kick development into high gear.
The plan was to tap the mineral resources of the asteroid belt and colonize unattached satellites and planets, building space factories, docks, agriculture domes, and star fortresses in the void. At the same time, boosting the population was mission-critical.
Daniel had also tasked the Mechanicus with extracting Gene-Seeds from the players. The end game was mass-producing Astartes for expeditions to other star regions.
Gene-Seed is a general term for a series of reproductive cells and genetic programming data, which can be cultivated into various genetic organs. These organs are surgically implanted into healthy human boys, transforming them into superhuman Space Marines.
Each Astartes warrior can contribute two Gene-Seeds in his lifetime: a blank one from the throat after the recruit's transformation, and another near the chest cavity containing some of the implantee's combat memories, allowing new recruits to quickly grow into veterans.
When players choose to redeem their Gene-Seeds, they are pulled into the Emperor's realm to complete their transformation. Though their promotion is different from standard Astartes, they still possess the Gene-Seed.
While the Astartes are not the strongest fighting arm of the Imperium, their cost-effectiveness is unmatched. Today, the situation in the Imperium is precarious, and sufficient troops must be mobilized to suppress threats.
When bigwigs on Terra are plotting against a Primarch, you know the stakes are high. If your fists aren't big enough, they'll kill you without batting an eye. Of course, to play it safe, Daniel only cultivated the Gene-Seeds of loyal legions.
During the meeting, Daniel arranged tasks for everyone in detail and gave a final encouragement.
"This war is humanity's counterattack against Chaos. The Imperium must win, humanity must win."
"Everyone, let us claim victory and glory once more."
The crowd erupted in cheers, shouting slogans like, "The Imperium will win! Humanity will win!"
After the military meeting, everyone left quickly and got straight to work. All departments of the Tyrian Hive began to operate with unprecedented efficiency. Giant factory equipment roared incessantly, running day and night, churning out piles of war materials.
The population was also mobilized, and the state-religion propaganda machine was running at full throttle, preaching day and night.
Bishop Hydrak personally took the stage to speak throughout the Tyrian Hive, encouraging the people to join the army and sacrifice themselves for the war effort.
"The messenger of the God-Emperor has walked the earth; he will bring light and salvation."
"Confused and suffering people, it is time to band together and take revenge on those enemies!"
Players like Rigby, Warmaster, and Yuji, known collectively as 'Emperor's Cattle', decided to hit a tavern in the game to celebrate. After being promoted to Astartes, their average height was 2.3 meters.
This height isn't unheard of in the hive city, where many gang members and enhancement junkies are just as tall. People who saw them simply regarded Rigby and his group as tough guys not to be messed with.
They easily entered a well-decorated pub. The interior was filled with smoke, and cheap neon lights flickered constantly. Scantily clad dancers, smelling of cheap perfume, worked the crowd. Once the booze started flowing, talk inevitably turned to politics and military buzz.
A skinny guy was holding court, dominating the conversation as he harshly criticized the brass.
"Now the war mobilization has started again. It hasn't been long since we recaptured Stone Hive, and they're going to fight again. The higher-ups don't give a damn about our lives."
"The welfare benefits are pretty sweet these days, so take a chill pill," someone retorted. The man shook his head with a sneer.
"Those are just table scraps they tossed out to win you over. When the war's done, they'll reel back everything they gave you and demand their pound of flesh."
"Isn't this par for the course? Every time they're vying for power and engaging in internal strife, they make all sorts of promises, only to turn their backs once they gain power."
When Rigby heard this, he immediately frowned. His real identity is a passionate student, and hearing someone slander the Guide's policies like this made him slam the table. The sound was so loud that the entire pub went dead quiet in an instant.
The drinking guests all turned to look at them. Because Rigby's group was so muscular and tall, looking like real tough customers, no one dared to say much for fear of stirring up trouble.
The skinny man who had been talking so arrogantly was also stunned, a trace of panic and fear flashing across his face.
Warmaster stood up and walked in front of the man, his eyes razor sharp.
"Have you ever been in a war?"
The man shook his head.
"Have you ever killed a rebel soldier?"
The man still shook his head.
"Then why are you here wantonly criticizing and slandering those who risked life and limb to protect you?"
Warmaster looked around, sizing everyone up with sharp eyes, and no one dared to meet his gaze.
"Do you think we have the upper hand in this war? No, we never chose this war."
"No one wants to face those monsters, no one wants to die at the hands of those heretics, but in this desperate time, we have no choice in the matter."
The tavern fell silent, with only Warmaster's voice echoing. Everyone looked at him, some in shock, some deep in thought.
"Do you think those enemies are here for a picnic, to bring warmth and happiness?"
"They are not. They are here to kill us."
"I saw piles of bodies—some skinned, some beheaded—men, women, and children."
"Their despair and fear, even long after they died, were still deeply etched on their faces."
"If we don't fight back, more people will suffer the same fate."
"Think about your wives and children, your parents. Would you be willing to let your family suffer like that?"
Warmaster strode up to a middle-aged man. "Level with me," he demanded. "Are you willing to let your family be slaughtered like cattle by those enemies?"
"No, I don't want to." The middle-aged man shook his head.
"What about you?"
"I don't want to either."
"How about you?"
"I don't want to."
Warmaster pointed at several people one after another. He looked around at everyone, "What about you?"
"I don't want to."
Everyone gave the same answer.
Warmaster smiled and spoke again, his voice gradually rising, filled with fire and passion.
"War is never a pleasant thing, but in order to keep more people alive, we must fight."
"Maybe we can't enjoy a peaceful life, but we can make sure our families and our descendants get to."
"The war has to happen, so why shouldn't the ones already living in this hell be the ones to step up to the plate?"
"The Supreme God-Emperor will embrace the soul of every dead person."
"For the God-Emperor, for our families, we will fight tooth and nail."
Warmaster's words made the people in the tavern gasp.
"In this war, you may die and lose many things, but your descendants will gain a happy world."
"They will stand here and talk; young couples will hide in corners and make out; frustrated middle-aged people will drown their sorrows in alcohol; and dancers will worry about what to eat after get off work."
"They'll worry about a lot of things, but the one thing they won't have to worry about is being killed by those enemies tomorrow, being dragged out like a dog and beheaded."
"This is the meaning of our fight. If I don't die, I will keep fighting until everyone is happy."
"If one day I die, I have only one request: that my body be covered with the double-eagle flag and buried where I fell, so that I can witness the defeat of the enemy."
The entire pub was as quiet as a tomb. This was followed by thunderous applause.
Warmaster bowed to the applause and spoke a final word.
"For the Emperor, for our families, we will never compromise. We will fight to the death."
The emotions of the people in the tavern were fully aroused. They started shouting, and for a moment the sound was shocking and deafening.
Yuji looked at Warmaster in the crowd, his jaw on the floor. "I asked you to give a speech at a pub as a joke, and you actually did it?"
Players like WrongHammer were also stunned. It was like meeting the guy for the first time.
"I wonder if he's a theater major in real life," someone mused. "The guy is so talented, he can light a fire under people with just a few words."