“Company, assemble!”
Following the battle’s end, Corian barked the command.
The First Company, which had seemed possessed by a manic frenzy moments ago, snapped into formation instantly.
Corian swept his gaze across the ranks.
There were no casualties, but several of them had an unusually high number of scratches on their armor.
“Andy, Tommy, Smith.” He called out the three unlucky souls with the most damaged paint.
“You three are barred from the next engagement.
Stay here and continue purging any mutants that might be hiding.
Any objections?”
“None, sir!” the three shouted in unison.
“Very well.” Corian nodded, satisfied.
Though he had acted like a combat-crazed beast huffing at Huron during their meeting, as the Chapter Master of the Tiger Claws—and now the Captain of the Second Great Company—he demanded strict discipline from his entire unit.
“First Company Captain, what is the next objective?” He stretched his body, his impatience palpable.
“The next target is an anomalous cult.
Chapter serfs discovered this cult performing blood sacrifices on living victims and have already initiated an assault.” The First Company Captain had memorized the operational data, organizing the mission sequence based on proximity.
“Excellent.
Another enemy of humanity who doesn’t know the meaning of fear.
They must die!
Second Transport, move out!” Raising his chainsword, Corian led the First Company onto the transport vehicles as they sped toward their next objective.
Due to a shortage of equipment, specialized Astartes vehicles like Rhino armored personnel carriers were naturally not allocated for such mundane tasks.
The Astartes had to make do with conventional transport trucks.
In the Second Great Company, aside from the First Company led directly by Corian, the remaining nine companies were mixed and reorganized.
Veterans led various squads as they fanned out through the Underhive to carry out the slaughter.
Most of the dregs of society never expected to have the “honor” of facing Astartes.
Consequently, they broke and fled almost immediately, only to be systematically exterminated.
The occasional “hard bone” that refused to break was met with the baptism of the Terminator companies.
For instance, a Genestealer Cult that had already been purged was wiped out by forty veteran Terminators supported by twelve companies.
The Genestealer Patriarch was hacked into such fine mincemeat that it could have been served as sauce.
Through the continuous, high-intensity purging by the two Great Companies, the overall security of the Underhive saw a marked improvement.
Because several deviant gangs were liquidated in passing, the various bosses and figureheads of the Underhive became increasingly cautious.
For a time, the mere rustle of leaves was enough to send them into a state of paranoid terror.
Under the influence of the System, the speed at which the new recruits gained experience through actual combat was astonishing.
Some naturally gifted recruits had already reached Level 2, signifying the completion of their initial training.
This made Huron even more enthusiastic about these low-intensity live combat exercises.
They cleared out enemies, improved public safety, and leveled up the recruits.
It was a triple win!
He had to ramp up the intensity!
Huron was even planning to incorporate the Sump into the clearing range, compressing the living space of these enemies of humanity and strengthening his control over Palatos Hive.
The Hive’s lowest levels generally fell into two categories.
One was the Sump, where the environment was so hostile it was unsuitable for long-term human habitation.
Only criminals, refugees, and bounty hunters went there to risk their lives.
These areas were overrun by mutants and warp-tainted beasts.
The other category consisted of Underhive sectors where the nobility had lost control.
If the nobles wanted to collect taxes there, they had to send in massive armies; the expenditure never justified the returns.
Thus, as long as no major incidents occurred, the nobles simply pretended these areas didn’t exist.
The lower levels of Palatos Hive fell into the second category.
It had become a “state within a state,” hiding a massive population.
To Huron, this was naturally intolerable.
Moreover, such regions were usually hotbeds for cultists.
If nothing happened, all was well; but if something did happen, it was always a catastrophe.
However, to truly control such a place, the Astartes simply killing everything wouldn’t solve the problem.
He needed enough troops and administrative personnel to actually exert control, as well as large-scale infrastructure projects to fully integrate these areas into the Astral Claws’ system.
Otherwise, it would just be a cycle of warlordism—kill one old ruler, and another would immediately sprout in their place.
If Huron were ruthless enough, he could simply treat the population of these areas as experience points to be farmed, disregarding their lives entirely.
He certainly had the power to do so.
But the moral values he had developed in his previous life made it impossible for him to accept such a thing.
As for ignoring his conscience and enjoying a life of depravity?
He was just a guy who liked playing grand strategy games with cheats; did anyone really expect him to be immune to moral pressure?
Don’t be ridiculous.
Therefore, he could only wait until he had trained enough Chapter Auxilia before moving to completely sanitize the Sump.
Fortunately, it wouldn’t take too long.
A year at most would suffice.
The training cap for Chapter Auxilia was determined by the current army size.
Once the first batch of two million auxiliaries finished training, the next batch could be four million, then eight, then sixteen.
By then, he wouldn’t be short on manpower, and he could properly deal with the nobility.
The first batch of Chapter Auxilia had already completed their training.
To ensure quality, Huron had specifically utilized two “Workers” to provide supplies for these two million people.
One produced gene-enhancement drugs.
On average, every recruit had received two doses.
Combined with the “high-energy nutrients” produced by the other worker and a continuous supply of vitamin supplements, their physical condition had been elevated to the average level of a Stormtrooper.
In terms of tactics and culture, they were instructed by the combat personnel among the Chapter serfs.
Every auxiliary was issued a personal terminal.
With the help of these devices, everyone could understand what the instructors were saying.
This significantly accelerated language learning, quickly unifying their speech.
This was followed by daily, non-stop, high-intensity physical training, cram-style knowledge sessions, and examination phases.
Huron had previously ordered a change to the Chapter’s recruitment rituals.
After deliberation, the grueling torture was replaced by the aforementioned methods.
Even with vitamin supplements rapidly repairing their bodies, six hours of high-intensity physical training, six hours of intensive classroom instruction, and the subsequent exams every day still left most auxiliaries utterly exhausted.
Most of them were Underhivers.
If you told them to hold their breath and work themselves to the bone for a single task, they were used to it.
But when that “single task” was extended to twelve hours a day for two months straight, many found they couldn’t endure it.
This was also one of the Chapter’s objectives.
Without the requirement for genetic compatibility, the Chapter naturally placed more emphasis on the willpower of the recruit candidates.
This wasn’t a standard of simply gritting one’s teeth for a moment; momentary bravado was not what the Chapter sought.
As Astartes who were expected to fulfill their duty to the Emperor for decades or centuries, they favored those who could endure for the long haul and continuously break through their own limits.
Aside from teaching knowledge, the instructors’ other task was to evaluate these individuals’ performance and identify those with exceptional perseverance.
At the recruit graduation ceremony, standing in the front row, Old John was exactly that kind of man.