Thud.
Platoon Leader Karl’s elbow jab landed right on the funny bone of Rod’s arm.
“Hiss…”
Rod sucked in a sharp breath.
The platoon leader paid no attention to Rod’s reaction at all.
His eyes were fixed firmly on the holographic projection in midair, and his grin stretched almost to his ears.
“Look!
That’s you, kid!”
He pointed at the illusory light and shadow, his face full of excitement and pride, like his family’s pig had finally rooted up the best cabbage in the whole village.
“Tsk, tsk.
That shot was damn handsome!
I bet your merit has already been uploaded through the data-link to the desks of those big shots by now.
How do those rotten clerks put it again?
When one man ascends, even his chickens and dogs rise to heaven?”
The platoon leader was probably too excited.
Even the idiom came out wrong.
Rod did not answer that.
Chickens and dogs rise to heaven…
He knew the platoon leader was trying to praise him, but why did that phrase sound so awkward?
He was not swept away by this sudden vanity.
Compared to some military merit that had not yet landed in his hands, he trusted the heavy thing in his grip and his own panel far more.
“Platoon leader.”
Rod interrupted Karl, who was still chattering away about the future, and casually handed over the autogun wrapped in black insulating tape.
“This thing jammed earlier and almost got me killed.
Do you know how to disassemble a gun?
Teach me.”
This gun was standard Imperial Guard trash.
It had been soaking in corpse piles and mudwater earlier, so its machine spirit had probably been cursing for a long time.
Platoon Leader Karl froze for a moment.
He looked at Rod’s unusually dark eyes, then at that broken gun, and gave him an approving look.
These days, recruits usually came in two types.
One type wet themselves the moment they reached the battlefield.
The other type lifted their tails to the sky the moment they earned a bit of credit.
Someone who had just brought down an Ork Boss and still remembered to clean his gun was practically a rare animal.
“Not bad, kid.
You’ve got a future.”
The platoon leader slapped Rod hard on the shoulder.
He kicked over an empty ammunition crate, sat down on it, took the autogun, and swiftly rested the gun body across his knees.
“Watch closely.
This kind of old autogun has a simple structure, but it’s temperamental too.
Especially in this damn weather.
Once mud and sand get inside, the recoil spring is the easiest thing to jam.”
Click.
The platoon leader’s thumb skillfully popped open the receiver cover latch.
His movements were smooth and practiced.
“First, push this open.
Then pull out the recoil spring…
Be careful not to let the spring smack you in the face.
This thing’s got some kick.”
Rod crouched beside him, staring unblinkingly at every movement the platoon leader made.
At that moment, the system screen on his retina flickered wildly.
[Teaching behavior detected…]
[Skill [Firearm Maintenance] experience being acquired…]
The platoon leader only demonstrated once.
“Got it?
If you didn’t, I’ll…”
“I got it.”
Rod took the gun without wasting words.
The platoon leader’s movements replayed in his mind as if in slow motion.
Click.
The receiver cover was pushed open.
Zzzk.
The recoil spring was pulled out, carrying a sharp smell of machine oil.
Although his first attempt was still a little awkward, and his finger was cut by a sharp metal edge, he did not pause at all.
Disassemble, wipe, oil, reassemble.
Then disassemble again and reassemble again.
Each time was faster than the last.
Each time was smoother than the last.
By the third attempt, his fingers were already dancing between the parts, producing a rhythmic clicking sound.
[Firearm Maintenance Experience +5]
[Firearm Maintenance Experience +5]
[Firearm…]
“Whoa!”
The platoon leader stared in amazement.
He rubbed his stubbled chin, then turned and shouted at the veterans nearby who were still holding their guns in a daze.
“You all see that?
Learn from him!
Even a fresh recruit knows to keep familiarizing himself with his gun’s structure, while you old bastards only know how to play dead during breaks!”
“That’s what you call elite!
Have all your battles gone straight into a dog’s belly?”
The platoon leader’s booming voice drew the attention of many people nearby.
Those soldiers whose morale had been low looked at the figure focused on cleaning his gun in the rain, and before they realized it, they began moving too.
For a moment, the trench was filled with the sounds of bolts being pulled and parts being removed.
The atmosphere that had been suffocatingly oppressive was actually diluted quite a bit by this simple mechanical activity.
However, the outside world did not give them much time to breathe.
Rumble…
A muffled roar came from the distance, and the ground trembled faintly.
Immediately after came the dense explosions of shells.
That was the crude artillery of the Greenskin Orks roaring.
The battle line had moved closer again.
The morale that had just begun to recover receded once more like the tide with that single cannon blast.
Fear crawled back onto everyone’s faces.
“How long do we have to keep fighting this battle…”
“That monster…
who exactly killed it?”
To disperse the suffocating fear, a veteran with bandages wrapped around his face suddenly stood up.
He strode over to the adjutant still fiddling with his data-slate and grabbed the man’s spotless sleeve.
“Who was the man in that image?
Was he an angel sent by the Emperor?
Tell us!
We need to know who the hero watched by the Emperor is!”
The adjutant was startled.
He looked at the pairs of eyes around him, filled with longing and madness, then adjusted the monocle in his eye socket.
If he did not give these common soldiers a satisfactory answer, this situation would probably spiral out of control.
“Ahem…
Everyone, calm down!
Please calm down!”
The adjutant forced himself to remain composed.
“I…
I’ll contact company command right now!
We’ll confirm this hero’s identity immediately!”
With trembling fingers, he pressed the communication key on his earpiece and quickly whispered a few words.
A few seconds later.
He straightened his back and cleared his throat.
“Everyone!
Good news!”
He announced loudly.
“After verification by company command, that earth-shaking strike just now was carried out by none other than our always brave and fearless acting commander of Fourth Company…
Lord Sebastian von der Lahr!”
The adjutant paused, as if waiting for cheers.
“To commend this great achievement, Lord Sebastian has been promoted on the battlefield to regimental logistics director, effective immediately.
He will proceed to the rear command post to assume his duties!
This is the Emperor’s grace!
This is the glory of nobility!”
The rain continued to fall.
But the trench fell into deathly silence.
All the soldiers froze.
They looked at one another, their faces filled with confusion and bewilderment.
“Sebastian?
Who’s that?”
“That noble pretty boy who only hides in a bunker drinking tea?”
“I’ve never even seen him either…
Didn’t I hear he already ran off on a shuttle?”
The whispers gradually grew louder.
And on Rod’s side…
The expressions of the platoon leader and the comrades who had witnessed everything with their own eyes shifted from stunned disbelief to sheer fury.
“Bullshit!!”
A bearded veteran spat hard, the veins on his neck bulging like earthworms.
“What damned Sebastian?!
That was clearly our brother Rod!
I watched the platoon leader hand him that plasma gun with my own eyes!”
“Exactly!
That useless bastard probably doesn’t even know how to hold a gun, and he thinks he deserves to steal our brother’s credit?!”
“Damn it!
This is too much!”
The soldiers stirred, and the killing intent forged from rolling through blades and gunfire was no longer hidden.
Platoon Leader Karl was trembling with anger.
That was his soldier!
That was a good seedling he had personally led, someone who had survived in a pile of corpses!
And those worms sitting in their offices wanted to steal even this little bit of blood-earned credit?
“Move!”
The platoon leader suddenly turned, grabbed Rod’s wrist, and squeezed hard enough to leave red marks on his skin.
“Come with me to find that company commander and make this clear!
That credit is yours.
Not even the Planetary Governor can take it away!”
Rod was still holding the recoil spring latch he had just removed.
He staggered as the platoon leader pulled him, almost dropping the part into the mud.
“Hey, hey!
Platoon leader!
Don’t rush!
I only need a little more to level…
I mean, I’m almost done putting it back together!”
He glanced at the system panel.
[Rapid Firearm Maintenance LV1]
[Current Experience: 99/100]
Just a little more!
My obsessive side is about to lose it!
But the platoon leader did not listen to his explanation at all.
“Train my ass!
Your military merit is about to get stolen, and you still want to train!”
Several veterans nearby also gathered around, each one filled with righteous anger.
“Rod!
Don’t be afraid!
Our whole platoon has your back!”
“That’s right!
Today, we’ll make those dog officials spit out what belongs to us!”
Rod looked at these men who were even more agitated than he was, and warmth flowed through his heart.
But even more than that, he felt a helpless kind of amusement.
He sighed, but his hands did not stop moving.
Click, click, click.
The last few parts snapped back into place at high speed.
[Skill Level Up!]
[Firearm Maintenance LV2]
[Experience: 0/200]
[Special Effect Acquired: Mechanical Affinity (Weak).
Firearms you have disassembled and assembled have a 10% lower malfunction rate]
Now that feels better.
Rod slung the gun over his back with one hand and let the platoon leader drag him along.
Surrounded by the angry soldiers, they surged toward the adjutant who was still speaking endlessly.
Looking at the somewhat blurry projection in the rain, the soldiers staring at one another, and the adjutant still proclaiming the achievements of some unknown noble, Rod lowered his voice and muttered softly, only loud enough for himself to hear.
“Ah, yes.
Now this broken, rotten Imperium finally feels right.”