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The next two days might have been another hard stretch of preparation for everyone else in the camp, but for Rod, they were pure muscular hell.
He was like a self-disciplined machine wound tight.
Before dawn even broke, he buried himself in that pile of scrap metal and trained until the moon hung high.
At first, the veterans there still pointed and laughed at him, mocking this skinny recruit for wasting his effort.
But very quickly, that mockery turned into shock.
Because the weight Rod kept adding to that crude barbell had reached a ridiculous level.
Just yesterday afternoon, a Black heavy gunner who trusted in the fact that his arms were thicker than Rod’s thighs, a ruthless bastard who had once fought illegal pit matches in the lower levels of a hive city, saw Rod’s “delicate” appearance and wanted to squeeze his shoulder for fun.
The moment his hand landed on Rod’s shoulder, there was a faint crack.
That huge man with a face full of hard flesh dropped straight to his knees in the mud, cold sweat pouring from the pain.
His arm was pinned firmly by Rod’s single hand, unable to move even an inch.
From that moment on, word spread through the entire company.
This seemingly delicate recruit was a monster wearing human skin.
Some even swore they had seen him win an arm-wrestling match against an Ogryn.
Of course, that was nonsense.
But it was enough to prove Rod’s current deterrence.
[Strength LV3]
[Current Experience: 61/200]
Rod looked at the skill panel, closed his eyes, and fell asleep instantly.
On the morning of the third day…
Dim gray light had only just begun leaking through a hole in the top of the tent.
The air carried the damp chill unique to the rainy season.
Inside the communal sleeping area, snores rose and fell like thunder.
Rod was kicked awake by his biological clock.
He sat up from his bunk, rubbed his slightly swollen temples, and turned to look across the aisle.
There should have been a sloppy platoon leader lying there wrapped in a blanket like a giant shrimp.
But now…
It was empty.
The bare field cot had even had its bedding rolled away.
Rod froze for a moment.
His gaze immediately shifted to the metal locker on his left.
The slightly deformed locker door with a yellowed name tag reading “Karl” was wide open.
It was completely empty inside.
Gone?
Where did that old bastard go?
Even if he went to take a piss, he wouldn’t empty out his whole damn locker.
An indescribable unease shot through his entire body like an electric current, making every hair on him stand on end.
Without the slightest hesitation, Rod rolled out of bed.
He did not even fully button his clothes before grabbing the flak armor hanging at the head of his bed, throwing it on haphazardly, and rushing out of the tent with his gun.
Whoosh.
He yanked the heavy curtain open.
The instant he plunged into the morning fog…
Thud!
A muffled impact sounded.
Rod felt as if he had slammed into a wall of flesh.
His body only swayed slightly, his feet rooted in place.
The person opposite him was directly forced backward two steps by that terrifying strength.
“Ow, holy shit…!”
The unlucky bastard cried out, then landed heavily on his backside in the mud and rolled twice through the dirty water.
The one who fell was a bearded middle-aged sergeant built like a bear.
He had also been among the crowd when Rod competed with Silas at the shooting range.
He grimaced while clutching his backside, hissing in pain as he looked up.
The anger in his eyes instantly turned into a ghost-seeing expression when he recognized Rod’s build.
“Hiss…
Now that’s damn spooky.”
The bearded sergeant straightened his helmet and used his good hand to push himself up with some difficulty.
“That hit just now…
I thought I’d been rammed by a lost Ogryn.
Brother, you don’t look like you’ve got much meat on you, so how the hell are you this strong?”
He patted the mud from his trousers and, without waiting for Rod to apologize, asked bluntly,
“You’re Rod, right?
The recruit watched by the Emperor?”
Rod had no interest in listening to praise.
His anxious gaze swept across the camp around him.
Nothing.
There were soldiers washing up or doing morning drills everywhere, but not that familiar hunched figure with a lho-stick in his mouth.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Rod nodded vaguely, pulled his gaze back, and stared at the unfamiliar bearded man in front of him.
“Who are you?
Have you seen my platoon leader?
Platoon Leader Karl.”
“Oh, looking for Karl?”
The bearded man cleared his throat, adjusted his collar, and said with a serious face,
“I’m Griggs, squad leader of the heavy weapons squad in Seventh Company.
The unlucky loader in my squad collapsed from diarrhea the day before yesterday, so we happen to be short one man.
From now on, you’re with me.”
At this point, he paused and gave Rod a complicated look before adding,
“This was specially arranged by Platoon Leader Karl.
He spoke to me last night and transferred you over to my side.”
Arranged?
“Where did he go?”
Rod stepped forward.
In his urgency, his hand even grabbed Griggs’s shoulder armor without regard for etiquette.
“Why did he transfer me away?
Where is he?”
Griggs was forced half a step back by his momentum.
He shook his head.
A trace of helplessness appeared on that bearded face.
“I’m not sure.
I was confused about it too.”
He turned and looked toward the southern side exit of the camp.
That direction led to a more barren wasteland area, and it was also where the heavy vehicles had gathered yesterday.
“Last night, orders came down from the regiment.
A lot of veterans and non-commissioned officers were pulled out.
Captain Reno also took a team over there.
Many of them were old brothers who used to run with him in the hive city.”
Griggs rubbed the mud in his beard and recalled,
“Heavy equipment was moved intensively.
Ten Chimeras, two Leman Russ battle tanks, one Valkyrie, all fully fueled and loaded.
This morning before dawn, around a little past four…
they set off.
Quietly.”
A little past four…
It was six now.
They had been gone for two hours.
The best equipment, the most elite veterans, led personally by the captain…
Rod was not an idiot.
As a transmigrator, as a player familiar with Warhammer plots, what else could this kind of configuration and secretive movement be except a suicide assault mission with nine deaths and one chance of survival?
That was why Karl had inexplicably given him that chocolate that day.
That was his farewell!
That was his inheritance!
Fuck!
Did he think I was a child who could be coaxed like that?
Nameless fury surged straight to the top of Rod’s skull, mixed with an emotion that made his nose sting.
Without another word, Rod tightened the heavy bolt pistol at his waist and sprinted toward the direction where the tracks led out through the side exit.
“Hey!
What are you doing?”
Griggs reacted quickly.
Although he had just been knocked back earlier, his response now was extremely fast.
He grabbed the tactical strap on Rod’s back, dropped his center of gravity backward, and held onto him like a heavy anchor.
“Let go!!”
Rod roared, stomping forward with force.
Griggs was actually dragged more than a meter through the mud, his military boots carving two deep grooves into the ground.
“Holy shit…
Have you lost your damn mind?!”
Griggs’s face turned red, but he did not let go.
Instead, he wrapped both arms around Rod’s waist from behind and desperately dragged him back.
“Where are you going?
To chase them?”
He shouted into Rod’s ear.
“They left hours ago!
That’s a mechanized force!
You think your two legs can outrun wheels?
Besides, do you even know where they went?
Do you know how many Greenskins are ahead?!”
“If you run out now, you’re just sending yourself to die!”
“That old bastard Karl went through all that trouble to leave you behind because he wanted you alive!
Not so you could throw your head away!
If you die, how are you going to face him?!”
Those words hit like a basin of ice water dumped over Rod’s head.
Rod’s forward momentum suddenly stalled.
He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling hard.
Did he want to cry?
Yes.
But in the world of Warhammer, there was no place for tears.
He felt a kind of frustration he had never felt before, as if something were stuck in his throat.
He could neither spit it out nor swallow it down.
“Hah…
hah…”
Rod clenched his teeth so hard the muscles in his jaw twitched.
He knew Griggs was right.
He could not catch up.
Even if he did catch up, he would change nothing except adding one more corpse.
The will of a mortal was as fragile as a joke before the machine of war.
“WAAAAAAAAGH!!!”
In that suffocating silence…
A savage roar suddenly came from the distant northern front.
It was the bellow of tens of thousands of throats at once.
Even from several kilometers away, it still made the mud beneath their feet tremble slightly.
Greenskins.
Another reckless charge.
That direction…
Rod suddenly raised his head.
He felt something flowing down his face.
He did not know whether it was sweat forced out in that instant or morning dew.
He raised his hand and rubbed his face hard, until the skin turned red and hurt.
That suffocating feeling needed an outlet.
That urge to kill needed a target.
If he could not save them…
Then he would kill!