After a brief but systematic education, Old John understood just how expensive and rare the supplies he used were.
He also understood, with a deeper bitterness, how worthless his life had once been.
Even if you sold a hundred thousand—or even a million—Underhivers for all they were worth, you couldn’t hope to buy a single dose of gene-enhancement drug.
He also realized that the “great man” in his eyes hadn’t been lying; this truly was an ordinary, grueling job.
On the scale of the galaxy, the great man he had once looked up to was nothing more than an ant.
No, a speck of dust.
But this realization brought a sharp, agonizing sense of cognitive dissonance.
If the “great men” were but dust, then what was he, an Underhiver?
What were the countless others living in the depths?
Before his education, he thought gang members were big shots and gang bosses were the masters of the universe.
Now, if he wished, he could crush those people with a few words.
Yet this only made him more confused.
If he could achieve such things, then what about the Great Angels…
no, the Astartes?
What about the even greater Chapter Master of the Astral Claws?
Why didn’t they just wipe out the gangs?
Why did they watch the Underhivers suffer?
Did they enjoy it?
If so, what was the purpose of the construction projects?
Old John couldn’t figure it out.
The instructors hadn’t taught him anything about this, and he didn’t dare discuss such a sacrilegious question with others.
He could only keep it bottled up inside.
Then, he learned that those who performed well could not only remain at the training camp as staff but also have the chance to be selected as Astartes candidates—the chance to become a Great Astartes.
This gave him a goal.
Perhaps, perhaps if he became an Astartes, he could ask the others, or even the Chapter Master himself, to find the answer to this question?
Sustained by this conviction, Old John didn’t do what most of his peers did—crashing into bed for eight hours of sleep the moment training and study ended.
Instead, he compressed his sleep, squeezing in as much extra practice as possible and pestering the instructors for more knowledge.
At first, the instructors didn’t take him seriously, giving him only perfunctory answers.
However, after this continued for a month and Old John’s physical stats, technical skills, and exam scores all reached the top tier, the instructors’ impression of him improved dramatically.
They knew a hard-charger like him would almost certainly be retained as a colleague, so they began to take an interest and gave him “private tutoring.”
Much of the knowledge the instructors shared had little to do with the exam requirements.
But for a genuine “country bumpkin” like Old John, the instructors’ basic common sense was brand new information.
He learned for the first time that there were aircraft that could fly beyond the sky, Titan god-machines dozens of meters tall, and many different Astartes Chapters…
None of this answered his question, but he became certain of one thing: the Astartes were indeed observing them and considering them for recruitment.
This drove him to work even harder, hoping that becoming an Astartes would provide the answers he sought.
His efforts were not in vain.
His outstanding grades earned him a position at the training camp as an Auxiliary Instructor.
At the graduation ceremony, Old John stood among the top ten men at the very front, waiting to be honored by an Astartes.
As the ceremony reached the awards phase, Old John and the others stepped onto the stage, looking out at the endless phalanx formed by two million men below.
Though his doubts remained unresolved, the sight still made his blood boil.
This was the pinnacle of his life—even though every day since he had been conscripted as labor had felt like a new peak.
An Astartes clad in ceremonial power armor, draped in numerous decorations, held a medal case.
One by one, he awarded the ten outstanding auxiliaries the “Exemplary Auxiliary Representative” medal.
This was a medal Huron had personally designed.
Its prestige couldn’t compare to the established medals of the Imperium, but it was more than enough as a symbol of auxiliary honor.
A sense of ceremony was vital.
Although Huron had stripped away and altered many of the more abstract rituals, he had not changed the armor-granting ceremony for Astartes recruits.
On the contrary, he made an effort to attend those ceremonies personally to encourage the new brothers.
As the Astartes pinned a medal on each man, he offered a few words of praise.
When it was Old John’s turn, the Astartes said while pinning the medal, “Excellent performance, soldier.
Keep it up.
I look forward to the day you become a Battle Brother.”
These ten men were essentially guaranteed to become Astartes; their resilience over the past two months had earned the respect of the entire Chapter.
“Yes, my lord!” Old John performed the Aquila salute.
Looking up at the towering, magnificent Astartes, his face was flushed with emotion.
After the investiture, the Astartes turned to the phalanxes below and shouted, “Today is your graduation day.
You are the first batch of Chapter Auxilia formed by Chapter Master Huron.
I expect you to fulfill your duties in your future posts and live up to the Chapter Master’s expectations.”
He paused for a moment, then bellowed, “For Chapter Master Huron!
For the Astral Claws!
For the Emperor!”
“For Chapter Master Huron!
For the Astral Claws!
For the Emperor!” The phalanxes below erupted in a mountain-shaking roar.
With the ceremony concluded, the majority of the two million were assigned to oversee the construction of starch factories, finally liberating the Chapter serfs who had been pressed into service.
The designation and term “Chapter Serf” was then officially abolished, with those personnel being merged into various new organizations.
These included Army, Navy, and Void instructors for the Chapter Auxilia, and technical personnel working under Tech-Marines for research and development.
The second batch of four million people, pre-selected, immediately entered the training camps to begin their cycle.
Once the first two million auxiliaries entered the infrastructure projects, overall efficiency increased significantly.
These men could read and write and possessed a broader knowledge base.
Their personal terminals no longer needed to guide them through every tiny detail; providing general steps and reference answers was sufficient.
At the same time, managing a few hundred people was no difficult task for an auxiliary, which allowed for much finer management detail.
In this process, the auxiliaries also accumulated management experience through practice, preparing themselves to take on even more responsibility in the future.
Back at the training camp, Old John looked at the newly arrived auxiliary recruits with a sense of wonder.
He hadn’t expected to become an instructor so quickly.
As permanent staff, Old John not only had to teach the recruits but also had to continue his own advanced studies, training with the goal of becoming an officer or an Astartes.
Among the first batch of auxiliaries, about ten thousand were retained.
They were the best of the best, excelling in every category.
Like Old John, these individuals taught recruits while pursuing higher education.
They received one dose of gene-enhancement drug per week until their physical enhancement reached its limit.
Then, based on their performance during teaching and advanced study, they would be diverted into either the Astartes candidates or the elite Boarding Parties.