This is the bonus chapter for reaching 300 Powerstones.
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Meanwhile, the workers...
Aska, supporting an elderly miner with bad legs, quietly observed all of this.
He looked at the Chapter Master who said he would treat them as human beings and grant them equality, and at the surrounding warriors who were willing to lend them a helping hand, watching their joyful expressions.
This was unlike any faction he knew.
The overseers of the Aru Group would deduct wages on payday and whip workers with power mauls if they demanded an explanation.
The private soldiers of the Atens Knight House would rob settlements and small towns of their property—and sometimes the residents themselves—under the guise of "protection fees."
The lords of the Conmo Psyker Dynasty viewed mortals as ants; when they were in a bad mood, a single thought could drive a person insane.
The Tech-Priests of the Order of the Omnissian Mind... they fundamentally didn't care whether flesh and blood lived or died.
But these people were different.
They fought, but not just to plunder.
They were powerful, but they didn't bully the weak.
They actually... treated workers as human beings.
"Uncle Aska," a young worker beside him whispered, "The base they mentioned... is it real?"
Aska looked into the distance.
On the horizon, the morning light was gradually tearing away the veil of night.
He revealed a faint smile.
"It must be real," Aska murmured. "The Chapter Master wouldn't lie to us." (TL/N: Damnn, is that hope I see in Warhammer?!)
–
High noon.
The scorching sun of the Redblaze Wasteland began baking the earth once more, but right now, no one complained about the heat.
Because everyone—Zeke's squad and the 2,137 workers—stood before a stone wall three and a half meters tall.
The wall was built from wasteland boulders gathered on-site and held together with some kind of adhesive. Its surface was rough, but it looked sturdy.
Upon the eight watchtowers dotting the wall, figures could vaguely be seen holding guns and keeping watch.
A heavy metal gate was shut tight. Painted on the gate in crimson pigment was a symbol: a sun rising from a dark horizon.
It was simple, yet full of power.
"We've arrived at the base," Zeke said.
He stepped forward and waved at the wall.
A few seconds later, the sound of grinding gears echoed, and the metal gate slowly swung inward.
The scene behind the gates unfolded before the workers' eyes.
Level, compacted dirt roads divided the area into neat sections.
To the east was a training ground where dozens of players were practicing marksmanship and close-quarters combat.
To the west, seven or eight modified vehicles were parked, with people currently conducting maintenance on them.
In the center was a public area set up with simple sunshades and long tables.
To the north was a plot of reclaimed land, where green saplings had already begun sprouting.
To the south was a humming water purification system, clear water gushing from its pipes.
Though crude, it was orderly and full of life.
"Welcome to the Crimson Dawn," Zeke turned and opened his arms to the workers. "From now on, this will be your home."
At that moment, many workers cried.
Children were held in their parents' arms, their wide eyes curiously taking in this unfamiliar environment.
The elderly dropped to their knees, touching the solid earth with their hands, murmuring thanks to unknown deities.
Aska walked up to Zeke and bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the ground. "Chapter Master... we... we don't know how to repay you..."
"No need for repayment," Zeke helped him up. "Here, you trade your labor for survival, and your efforts earn respect. As long as you aren't lazy and don't break the rules, you can attain total equality. It's that simple."
He waved over a few players. "Take the workers to the North District. Clear out those empty bunkhouses."
"Distribute nutrient paste and purified water by head count. Prioritize the wounded and children."
"Understood!"
The players immediately sprang into action.
These ordinary people—who might be students, programmers, or delivery drivers in reality—displayed astonishing organizational skills at this moment. Registering names, assigning housing, distributing supplies, arranging medical care... everything was done methodically.
"Boss," [Blood Angels' Second Emperor] walked over, his expression somewhat grave. "I asked about the girl's background."
The two moved to a relatively quiet corner.
Blood Angel pulled up the system memo recording his conversation with the girl's mother. "Her name is Helovia Elnor. She's eleven years old. She took her mother's surname. As for her father..." He paused. "Her mother said he was a mysterious man. They only had a few chance encounters in the lowest levels of the Aru City Hive, and she fell hopelessly in love with him. But one day, the man suddenly vanished without a trace or a warning. After the child was born, she raised her alone. Because she had a child out of wedlock, she faced severe discrimination in the underhive. In the end, she had to sign up for the Aru Group's recruitment and was forced to come make a living in the Redblaze Wasteland industrial zone."
Zeke frowned. "A mysterious man? Any other distinguishing features?"
"Yes," Blood Angel lowered his voice. "Her mother described him as having black hair, gray eyes, and a very faint scar on his left cheek. He spoke very softly, but every word seemed magical. The most crucial part is..." He looked toward the training ground. Helovia was currently surrounded by several female players asking if she was hungry or cold. "Her mother said the man once accidentally let slip that, in the past, relying on his surname alone would have allowed her to live a very good life. Alar."
Zeke's pupils contracted.
Eighty years ago, the Seventh Administrative Sector at the peak of the Dawn City Hive crashed. The Blaec House was exterminated, and the Psykers of House Alar were taken by the Black Ships. These two massive factions had suffered endless persecution across all of Aurelian IV.
But a psychic bloodline... is hereditary.
"So Helovia's father is an orphan of House Alar? Or... the descendant of some Psyker who luckily escaped the Black Ships?"
"Very likely," Blood Angel nodded. "Furthermore, I checked Helovia's psychic signature. Although she just awakened and is still very raw, its fluctuation frequency is a seventy percent match to the residual psychic imprint we sensed in the industrial zone."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning..." Blood Angel took a deep breath, "The psychic bloodline of House Alar was never truly severed. The purge eighty years ago by the Iron Hands only eradicated most of their power on the surface. Although the other three Great Factions—excluding the Order of the Omnissian Mind—have been hunting them ever since, they still have scattered bloodlines hidden in the underhive, surviving."
Zeke fell silent.
He walked onto a jutting rock and looked out over the entire base.
In the distance, players were helping the workers build temporary shelters, laughter mixing with shouts.
Nearby, Helovia took a piece of nutrient paste and ate it in small bites. A bit of color finally returned to her pale face.
The wind blew past, lifting the hem of his jacket.
This body created by the game was 1.87 meters tall, its muscle definition clearly visible beneath the fabric.
The Type II enhancement brought not just physical strength, but also a steady, composed aura.
"Helovia... the vanished man... House Alar... the psychic bloodline..."
Zeke pondered for a moment before speaking slowly:
"The unrest involving millions in a planetary hive sector, and billions across the world, might merely be an acceptable margin of loss on a spreadsheet within the Emperor's grand design."
He spoke very softly, but the words carried immense weight in Blood Angel's ears.
Because this was the cruelest truth of the Warhammer universe: behind the grand narratives of the sea of stars involving gods, Primarchs, and Space Marines lay a road paved with the bones of countless mortals.
And what the Crimson Dawn was doing right now...
Was giving these bones a chance to stand up.
"Helovia's treatment and training will be handled by you and Schrödinger," Zeke hopped down from the rock. "Buy a copy of the Advanced Psychic Control Manual from the store. Use Chapter funds. Remember, our goal isn't to train her into a war machine. It's to let her control her powers so she can live like a normal person. Who knows, maybe one day she'll give us a pleasant surprise?"
"Understood," Blood Angel nodded. "What about the other workers? Is it possible there are latent psychic talents among them..."
"We don't touch them for now," Zeke shook his head. "They aren't players like us whose psychic awakening only costs Imperial Coins. Their psychic awakening requires a catalyst. Forcing it is too dangerous. We just need to create a safe environment and let them grow naturally. If any more awaken later... we'll handle them the same way."
"Then..." Blood Angel hesitated. "Should we proactively investigate the industrial zone? There are definitely things left behind by House Alar there. It might help Helovia, and it could help us understand the history of this planet better."
Zeke pondered this for a moment.
The Chaos incursion in the industrial zone had already proven that the place was far from simple. Chaos energy welling up from the underground had empowered the daemons, indicating that there was either a Warp rift down there, or something terrifying was sealed away.
Exploring it recklessly was extremely risky.
But...
Knowledge is power.
In the Warhammer universe, ignorance often got you killed faster than taking risks.
"Wait until the base stabilizes. Wait until the workers are settled in, and wait until we have sufficient equipment and strength prepared," Zeke finally said. "When the time comes, I'll personally lead an elite squad to investigate."
"Alright."
Blood Angel left to make arrangements for Helovia.
Zeke stood alone in the center of the base, looking at everything before him.
The players were training, the workers were laboring, and the children were playing.
The water purification system hummed, the young seedlings in the agricultural zone stretched toward the sunlight, and the flags on the watchtowers fluttered in the wind.
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Next Goal = 400 Powerstones.