"It will take time."
Rameses was in no rush. He nonchalantly obliterated the right hand of the Daemonhost.
Arthur silently approached, readying the surgical instruments attached to his gauntlet.
"By the way, I recall Arthur has the ability to isolate the influences of the Warp, right?"
Romulus swiped through the briefing files on his data-slate twice more before speaking up.
"Is it really suitable for him to act as an Apothecary?"
"Would you rather send Karna up there to do the extraction?"
Rameses could not help but retort.
"..."
Romulus looked slightly embarrassed.
"Rest assured. I can still wield psychic powers right next to him without being nullified. As for the exact reason, just chalk it up to the paternal love of a good brother."
Rameses joked.
"If we really have to establish a hierarchy, I am definitely the father figure to you three."
Hearing this, Romulus could not help but chuckle and shake his head.
He understood what Rameses meant. Simply put, the reason their unique natures did not interfere with one another was because they were entirely defenseless against each other.
Otherwise, the conflicting abilities of the four Transmigrators would constantly clash and cancel each other out.
"Once Arthur fully takes over the biological research duties and can independently cultivate an Apothecary division for our future legion, I will wash my hands of this. I will focus entirely on researching the Stormcast Eternals and extracting knowledge from the Warp."
At the mention of this, Rameses rubbed his temples, a headache brewing.
Recently, Tzeentch had been relentlessly searching for his Enclave within the Warp. Ever since Rameses stopped abducting Tzeentch's Daemons, the Architect of Fate had been devising new methods of disguise, desperately trying to infiltrate his domain.
At first, he could easily spot the intruders, but now he actually had to expend effort to scrutinize them one by one.
Without those Daemons of Tzeentch, the Daemons serving the other three gods proved hopelessly unreliable. Rameses felt that his Warp search algorithms had become frustratingly sluggish and dim-witted.
The meticulously constructed knowledge collation system had lost its most crucial component under Tzeentch's tireless harassment.
"That does sound like a serious problem."
Romulus frowned after listening to Rameses complain about his recent struggles.
But what could they do? Tzeentch was the Chaos God of knowledge and the Lord of Change. The entity was notoriously difficult to deal with.
He did not know much about the Warp, but if even Rameses considered this a major issue, then it was a genuine catastrophe waiting to happen.
"Tzeentch is not the only entity in the Warp that hoards knowledge."
Arthur spoke up without raising his head, still meticulously repairing the skin on the Daemonhost's hand.
"?"
Romulus tilted his head in confusion.
"Vashtorr."
"Oh—"
Before Romulus could react, Rameses slammed a fist into his open palm.
"If you had not mentioned it, I would have kept tunnel-visioning on the Daemons of the Four Gods. There is an entire untapped goldmine of potential among the Daemons of Chaos Undivided waiting to be exploited!"
He had subconsciously ignored those entities in the past, treating them as useless scraps fit only for overseeing menial labor. Arthur's remark reminded him that the denizens of Chaos Undivided could also be infinitely categorized and utilized.
Damn it, what a wasted opportunity. He had let those Undivided Daemons live far too comfortably recently. It was just that the Four Gods were such absolute bastards that it skewed his perspective. He never should have looked at them through rose-tinted glasses, ignoring the undeniable truth that all Daemons were fundamentally exploitable bastards.
"Keep up the good work, you two. I need to go."
Rameses snapped his fingers, and his psychic projection vanished with a soft pop.
Deep within the Enclave in the Warp, the Undivided Daemons acting as overseers stared into the shadows. Watching the sudden spike in task quotas on their metaphysical slates, every single one of them felt a profound sense of impending doom.
"Well, he certainly moves fast."
Romulus mused, turning his attention to Arthur, who was packing up his equipment.
"Are you not going to continue?"
At first, when Arthur mentioned he was dabbling in medical studies, Romulus had not taken it seriously. He certainly had not expected his training methods to be this intensely practical.
"The warriors of the Nemesis Chapter have arrived."
Having eradicated the Daemon possessing the corpse, Arthur lightly clenched his gauntlet. The medical instruments deployed from his wrists immediately detached and retracted into the specialized compartments of his Backpack, driven by whirring micro-motors.
The power armor they currently wore utilized the most cutting-edge technology available. The built-in systems of the 'Armor of Fate' were arguably even more advanced than the golden plate of the Custodian Guard. With Dantioch's brilliant mind on their side, they could design and manufacture state-of-the-art wargear without any regard for resource costs.
Recently, Romulus had commissioned Dantioch to design a mass-produced variant of the suit. Once those final refinements were complete, their future legion would be equipped with magnificent armor.
"Alright then, let us head out together."
Romulus waited for Arthur to shove the grotesque surgical remains into the incinerator for total destruction before the two of them finally stepped out of the gloomy holding cell.
"My Lords!"
Upon arriving at the bridge, Romulus and Arthur were surprised to find that Supreme High Marshal Ledodes had come over as well.
'Did he not just visit this morning?'
"As the acting representative of the joint expeditionary fleet, I have come personally to deliver a message from the Navigators' Sanctum."
Ledodes noted Romulus's confusion and elaborated, "In thirteen Terran hours, the fleet will set sail. We will be heading to our first stop, Baal, to meet with the Blood Angels."
The Hades sub-sector, where Baal was located, sat just south of the Pierde sector. Since the expeditionary fleet was ultimately en route to Ultramar, stopping there was indeed perfectly on the way.
"Understood."
Romulus had no objections to this arrangement. Building rapport with the illustrious First Founding Chapters was always a positive endeavor.
Necessary diplomatic exchanges were essential in this galaxy. Besides, theoretically speaking, the Transmigrators actually possessed the means to cure the Black Rage.
"Then, My Lord, may the duel commence?"
Ignoring the piercing gaze burning into his back from the Nemesis Chapter Master standing behind him, Ledodes asked the question with practiced ease.
"..."
'I was wondering why the esteemed Supreme High Marshal needed to deliver a simple departure notice personally. You just wanted an excuse to come pick a fight, didn't you?'
Romulus decisively stepped aside.
'I will just let Arthur, our resident high-command magnet, handle this.'
"Very well."
Under the heavy gazes converging upon him, Arthur calmly strode into the sparring ring that had been hastily erected specifically to handle these constant dueling requests.
Deep within the Soul Forge of the Warp.
"Soon... very soon."
Vashtorr the Arkifane examined yet another completed contract in his grasping claws. He callously tossed the harvested Souls into the roaring flames of his forge, watching with satisfaction as endless legions of twisted war engines surged forth from the demonic machinery.
This particular batch was a shipment bound for Abaddon the Despoiler, Warmaster of Chaos.
Normally, he would have intentionally delayed this shipment to squeeze out a better bargain. However, numerous independent warbands had grown increasingly active lately, flooding his forges with lucrative orders. There was simply no need to penny-pinch the all-conquering Warmaster at this exact moment.
A sinister glint of blue light flared in Vashtorr's eyes as he gazed into the searing depths of the Soul Forge.
Although he had no idea what grand scheme the Lord of Change was currently weaving, Vashtorr did not care. As long as fresh bounties of Souls kept flowing into his accounts, the lesser deity—who constantly schemed to ascend to the pantheon of the true Chaos Gods—was perfectly willing to turn a blind eye to Tzeentch's petty machinations.
As long as he could exploit the Four Gods for his own gain, nothing else mattered.
Ultimately, once these hellish weapons were unleashed upon the material realm, every drop of blood they spilled would serve as fuel for him to manipulate the very fate of the universe.
Vashtorr stared at the roaring forge, his mechanical eyes brimming with immense pride.
'Look,' he thought. 'This is my domain. This is an absolute advantage that not even the Four Gods possess.'
'Fight. Let the dark gods bicker and war amongst themselves. While I snatch the scattered grains of sand slipping from your greedy maws, those very grains you so carelessly disregard will compact into an unstoppable avalanche. And when that day comes, I shall grant you all an unprecedented surprise.'
Vashtorr, the self-proclaimed God of the Dark Mechanicum, cast his gaze across the metaphysical veil toward the material universe. His piercing sight locked onto a colossal asteroid fortress drifting silently through the boundless void.
It was The Rock, the mobile fortress-monastery of the Dark Angels. Hidden deep within its impenetrable vaults lay the very prize he had coveted for millennia.
"Soon... very soon."
He watched as The Rock flickered out of his metaphysical sight, vanishing back into the vast, trackless expanse of the Galaxy without a trace. A low, metallic chuckle rumbled from his throat.
Vashtorr was patiently waiting for the day the Galaxy would finally be torn in half. His ultimate opportunity to ascend to true godhood would arrive in that exact moment.
The intoxicating joy brought on by this grand fantasy was so captivating that he entirely failed to notice the sudden, inexplicable disappearance of several of his Undivided Daemons directly from the Soul Forge.