This Is Our Warhammer Journey

Romulus added an extra processing module to the panel that had appeared based on his subconscious. It contained all the recorded combat data, and he would later take time to optimize this data.

Since souls were too expensive, he had, after studying his panel, created a system to command Space Marine operations.

From collective commands for clusters of soldiers to precise individual maneuvers.

The system could assign action modules to different soldiers based on their position, and all Romulus had to do was input brief commands to make the manipulated soldiers execute more complex tactical actions.

As this system continued to accumulate information, it would eventually undergo a qualitative change from the quantitative build-up.

A typical example was when he gave the Imperial Fists their Ironclad Terminator armor. Now, with simple commands, he could have three Space Marines autonomously wear the Ironclad armor without external interference.

This troublesome replacement process also gave Romulus a reminder: he should record the data for the equipment replacement process for these warriors. He had always sent both the soldiers and their armor together, so it hadn’t occurred to him to track this before.

This method was much more economical. If he kept at it, Romulus believed he could train a group of true veterans.

At that point, he could command them like playing an RTS game, just F2A, without needing to micromanage every soldier.

The joint operation was over.

When the transmigrators dragged the governor, who had been reduced to a stick, out of the chamber, the surrounding people couldn’t help but show admiring looks.

Even Orlando, who had earlier pouted due to being excluded from the fight, couldn’t help but show admiration when he saw the intact team.

One could only say that these warriors didn’t need them to deal with the xenos.

Though it was humiliating, the Sons of Dorn would not refuse to admit their shortcomings. They would learn from it and strive to do better next time.

“An exquisite battle, son of Guilliman.”

Kaul looked at Romulus.

In his eyes, this warrior, so different from the Gene-Seed progenitors, now seemed to overlap with the towering figure who had been dormant for millennia.

“I hope to record your battle process. I can guarantee that this record will not be shared outside.”

You’ve already recorded it, and now you’re saying this? Don’t think I don’t know that servo-skull was eavesdropping on my commands.

Romulus silently scoffed in his mind but still responded politely.

“It is my honor, Great Sage.”

“I will give you appropriate compensation.”

Kaul took out a key and handed it to Romulus.

“A Tyrant-class cruiser from an explorer fleet. Its former name no longer matters. Now, it belongs to you.”

Romulus didn’t reach for it.

“You initially said it was a frigate.”

He needed a reason.

“True, but I believe a battle-brother like you and your chapter is worth my investment to win over.”

Kaul spoke plainly.

“Of course, your gain will far exceed your cost.”

Romulus finally reached out to take the key, not doubting any conspiracy behind it. He confidently responded.

“Joke, if there’s anything fishy, I’ll have Arthur and Garna take a walk and find it out for you.”

“I think so too.”

Kaul genuinely thought Romulus resembled Guilliman.

Except for the face, everything else was just like him.

Unfortunately, Kaul had already reviewed the information on extreme warriors multiple times and couldn’t find Romulus’ name on any past lists.

Such a commander should have had legends that survived from that era.

Then Kaul glanced at the guards holding the governor.

Arthur still had a cold expression, seemingly ready to jump into battle at any moment.

Garna had already returned to his lazy, carefree posture, as if the crimson angels' rampage on the battlefield had been a mere illusion.

Rameses had one hand pressed against a coffin, pretending to think deeply, while his eyes darted around, indicating that inspiration was sparking in his mind.

Kaul knew well.

Based on their performance, this sage, who was renowned for his work in biological research and even capable of altering Astartes surgeries, had already guessed their bloodlines fairly accurately.

These warriors should have left marks in that era.

“Great Sage Kaul, may I ask if you will be heading to Pierde?”

Once the conversation ended, Agleia nervously spoke up after a moment’s pause.

“Of course.”

Kaul detached his mind from the sea of data and responded.

“Conditions remain the same. The fleet will not participate in high-intensity combat, and once the escort mission is complete, you will all receive the corresponding rewards.”

“Phew—thank you for your generosity, Great Sage.”

Agleia exhaled deeply, then turned to thank the Space Marines.

“Also, thank you for your sacrifices and contributions, my lords.”

“Thank you, Lord Romulus. Your bravery and wisdom are something we can all learn from.”

Marshal Orlando pounded his chest in salute, not realizing that the Inquisitor was subtly pointing him out.

He was more focused on these powerful warriors.

Now, even if he had no brain, he should have realized that these Deathwatch warriors had an unusual origin. It wasn’t even clear if they were actually Deathwatch.

“After the expedition, the Black Templars will also offer a reward, my lord.”

The priest quickly added.

‘This expedition fleet has survived up until now, and besides the Black Templars’ strong support, it’s probably due to the priest’s substantial contributions.’

Romulus thought to himself, glancing at the three of them, each with different postures. He felt a slight sense of empathy. He was about to say something polite to change the topic.

After all, now that they only lacked large ships and real humans, there wasn’t much else they were missing.

“Loyalty requires no reward. Loyalty to the Emperor is the greatest reward.”

Arthur suddenly spoke up, coldly.

“Of course, my lord.”

The priest immediately stood up straight, solemnly bowing to the sacred relic in Arthur’s hand, his admiration reaching its peak.

No wonder he was a predecessor who had earned the Emperor’s gaze.

Romulus couldn’t help but feel a wave of goodwill flooding in. He glanced at Arthur again.

‘How do you always manage to say such fitting words at the right time?’

Romulus, with his social approach, could never come up with such an effective response.

Then he adjusted his posture, watching the Black Templars, now once again consumed by religious fanaticism along with the Sisters.

It was hard to imagine that he, a twenty-first-century youth, could repeatedly experience medieval religious awe in the 40K era.

This world was really something else.