Ilya took a deep breath, yet she couldn’t calm the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
She stared wide-eyed at the golden wheat swaying gently before her.
Then she looked down at her now-empty palm.
Her mind went completely blank.
She wasn’t the only one.
The six Battle Sisters behind her looked equally stunned.
Some instinctively rubbed their eyes.
Others quietly pinched themselves to make sure they weren’t hallucinating.
This was the polluted depths of a hive city.
The air was thick with toxic exhaust fumes, engine oil, and decay.
Even the hardiest mutant fungus struggled to survive here.
Yet in only a few seconds…
A field of fully grown wheat had appeared.
Just as the Sisters wondered whether they had somehow fallen into a Warp-induced illusion…
They noticed something strange.
The Lamenters remained perfectly calm.
Not one Space Marine looked surprised.
None of them even blinked.
It was as though watching crops appear from thin air had become completely ordinary.
Roya ignored everyone’s astonishment.
Walking into the wheat field, he swung his fist.
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
The mature wheat instantly shattered into Minecraft item drops.
Bundles of Wheat…
Along with fresh Wheat Seeds…
Scattered onto the ground before flying into Roya’s inventory.
Holding the newly acquired seeds, he immediately replanted them.
Then he reached into the Mob Farm’s storage chest.
Pulling out a handful of Bone Meal, he scattered it across the farmland.
Tiny green sprouts burst from the earth.
They grew taller.
Produced ears of grain.
Turned golden.
Only seconds later…
The wheat had fully matured once again.
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Harvest.
Replant.
Bone Meal.
Grow instantly.
The process repeated over and over.
Within two minutes…
Roya had harvested hundreds of bundles of wheat and accumulated an enormous stockpile of seeds.
He casually walked over to a nearby Crafting Table.
Three pieces of Wheat were arranged across the crafting grid.
Click.
A fragrant loaf of Minecraft Bread appeared in his hand.
Another.
Then another.
Soon…
More than a dozen loaves rested neatly on the metal floor.
Without turning around, Roya spoke.
“Phoros.” “Bring me the brothers who were gravely wounded.” “The ones still conscious.” “At once, my lord.” Phoros immediately hurried toward the field hospital.
Less than a minute later…
Several Lamenters carried three severely wounded Battle-Brothers on makeshift stretchers.
Their armor had been almost completely destroyed.
One had lost his left arm at the shoulder.
The wound had only been sealed temporarily with battlefield coagulants.
Another had a massive hole torn through his abdomen by an Ork Power Klaw.
Even through the emergency dressings…
His internal organs remained visible.
Only the incredible resilience of an Adeptus Astartes had kept them alive.
Roya picked up three loaves of bread.
One by one…
He placed them into the wounded Space Marines’ hands.
“Eat.” The three warriors looked down at the unfamiliar food in confusion.
Despite their doubts…
None questioned Roya’s order.
They quickly finished the bread.
The moment they swallowed the final bite— Something incredible happened.
Minecraft’s hunger mechanic activated.
As their hunger bars filled…
The health regeneration effect immediately began.
Crack…
Crack…
Crack…
Bones shifted.
Muscles regenerated.
Skin rapidly knitted itself together.
The Space Marine whose abdomen had been torn open watched in stunned silence as flesh rapidly grew across the wound.
Within seconds…
Not even a scar remained.
Nearby…
The warrior missing an entire arm suddenly cried out in shock.
New bone extended from the severed shoulder.
Muscle, tendons, nerves, and skin rapidly formed.
A completely new arm regenerated before everyone’s eyes.
Moments later…
All three Space Marines stood up.
Healthy.
Strong.
As though they had never been injured.
“…Impossible…” Standing nearby, the Chapter’s Apothecary stared at the readings on his narthecium scanner.
His hands trembled violently.
Ignoring all protocol…
He immediately grabbed the warrior whose arm had regenerated.
The Apothecary tore open the Space Marine’s bodysuit and pressed the scanner against his neck before moving it to his chest.
“Apothecary?” Phoros frowned.
“What is it?” The Apothecary suddenly looked up.
His eyes shone with disbelief.
“My Chapter Master…” “It’s not just their injuries.” “These three brothers entered the Chapter only two or three years ago.” “But according to the scans…” “…their gene-seed organs…” “…have fully matured.” Silence.
Absolute silence.
Phoros felt as though lightning had struck him.
He grabbed the Apothecary’s shoulders.
“What did you just say?” “Fully matured?” “Yes!” The Apothecary almost shouted.
“Completely mature!” “The progenoid glands can be harvested immediately!” Every Space Marine present froze.
Every Adeptus Astartes possessed two progenoid glands.
One located in the neck.
The other within the chest.
The cervical progenoid normally required five years to mature.
The thoracic progenoid required ten years.
The availability of gene-seed had always limited the size of every Space Marine Chapter.
Yet now…
A single loaf of bread…
Had compressed ten years into mere seconds.
“By the Emperor…” Phoros’ enormous body trembled uncontrollably.
With this miracle…
The Lamenters would never again suffer shortages of gene-seed.
Their numbers could recover.
They could recruit hundreds…
Even thousands…
Of new Battle-Brothers.
At that moment— Thud.
Ilya and the six Battle Sisters simultaneously dropped to one knee.
Crossing their arms over their chests, they lowered their heads deeply.
A single loaf of bread had instantly matured an Adeptus Astartes’ gene-seed.
If this was not the Emperor’s divine power…
Then what could possibly be?
Meanwhile…
Roya maintained a calm expression.
Inside…
His thoughts raced.
“Interesting…” “Minecraft’s healing doesn’t just restore HP.” “It also completes unfinished biological development.” A bold idea immediately formed in his mind.
Existing Space Marines could eat bread.
Their progenoid glands would mature instantly.
Those glands could then be harvested and implanted into new recruits.
The recruits could eat bread…
Instantly completing the implantation process.
Finally…
They could be converted into Villagers.
As long as he possessed enough experience levels…
Enough iron…
Enough resources…
He could continuously produce an ever-growing army of Space Marines.
An army equipped with Terminator Armor.
An army that could respawn endlessly.
An army unlike anything the Imperium had ever imagined.
A true industrial-scale production line for Adeptus Astartes.
Roya suppressed the smile threatening to spread across his face.
“Phoros.” He pointed toward the irrigated wheat field.
“Select several reliable Battle-Brothers.” “They’ll do nothing except maintain this farm.” “Harvest the wheat.” “Replant the seeds.” “Apply Bone Meal.” “Bake bread.” “I want this entire process standardized.” “It will become one of the Chapter’s most important production lines.” “Yes, my lord!” Phoros immediately knelt on one knee.
His voice boomed through the ruins.
His eyes burned with even greater reverence than when gazing upon the Chapter’s most sacred relics.
At that moment…
Ilya looked up.
Determination filled her eyes.
“My lord.” “We have witnessed the Emperor’s miracle.” “The 17th Squad of the Order of Our Martyred Lady humbly requests permission to remain at your side.” “We wish to help you purge every heretic in His name.” Roya had no reason to refuse.
He simply nodded.
“Very well.” “You’ll accompany us.” “Once this campaign is over…” “I’ll prepare a better set of armor for all of you.”