” Meanwhile, in orbit above Hephaestus…
The black void suddenly split apart as violent Warp energy erupted.
A brilliant blue rift tore open reality before collapsing inward.
A small Imperial fleet was violently expelled from the Immaterium, hurled back into realspace like debris ejected from a storm.
Aboard the battle barge Mother of Tears, warning klaxons blared throughout the bridge.
“Stabilize the Navigator’s readings!” “Report the condition of every vessel!” Chapter Master Malakim Phoros steadied himself against the command throne while issuing orders.
Moments later, reports flooded in.
Phoros silently sighed.
The Lamenters’ infamous luck had struck again.
While responding to an Imperial distress call, the fleet had encountered a rare Warp storm and been thrown completely off course.
Instead of their intended destination…
They had arrived in an entirely unfamiliar star system.
The fleet’s losses were severe.
Only the battle barge remained fully operational, accompanied by four Strike Cruisers and several escort frigates.
Barely four hundred Battle-Brothers remained combat ready.
“Chapter Master.” The communications officer saluted.
“We’ve intercepted a weak distress signal from the hive below.” “It carries Ultramarines encryption codes.” Phoros immediately nodded.
“It doesn’t matter where fate has carried us.” “So long as the Emperor’s servants still bleed…” “…the Lamenters will answer.” “Keep the fleet in orbit for emergency repairs.” “First and Second Companies…” “Prepare for immediate deployment.” Half an hour later…
Thunderhawk gunships descended into the underhive.
Their engines roared as they landed upon the cleared metal platform.
The ramps slammed downward.
Phoros led more than four hundred Space Marines onto the battlefield.
Bright yellow armor immediately dominated the scene.
Each warrior bore the Lamenters’ emblem upon his shoulder— A bleeding heart set upon a black-and-white checkered field.
Yet despite their legendary reputation…
Their appearance was almost pitiful.
Their power armor was dented.
Patched together with crude battlefield repairs.
Covered in centuries of scars and dried blood.
Some suits clearly consisted of salvaged components from entirely different armor marks.
Then…
Every Lamenter stopped walking.
Their eyes fixed upon two figures standing beside Kahn.
Roya.
And Titus.
More accurately…
The flawless Mk VII Aquila Power Armor they wore.
Its deep-blue ceramite gleamed like polished sapphire.
The Aquila upon each breastplate looked as though it had only moments ago left the forge.
Even the servo motors hummed with perfect precision.
Compared with the battered relics worn by the Lamenters…
Those suits looked like priceless treasures preserved within the deepest vaults of Mars.
An indescribable sadness spread through the yellow-armored Space Marines.
“Have the Ultramarines become this wealthy?” “They’re handing out factory-new Mk VII armor now?” Phoros slowly walked forward.
“Brother Ultramarine.” “I am Chapter Master Malakim Phoros of the Lamenters.” “We were diverted here by a Warp storm.” “But now that we’ve found Imperial survivors…” “…we have come to reinforce you.” Roya quietly studied the famous “unluckiest Chapter” of the Imperium.
A slight smile appeared.
Four hundred veteran Space Marines.
If he could integrate them into the Minecraft system…
The Orks outside would no longer pose a serious threat.
“Perfect timing.” Roya spoke calmly.
“Your equipment is in terrible condition.” “I’ll replace every suit of armor.” “Each of you will receive a brand-new Mk VII Aquila Power Armor.” Silence.
Absolute silence.
Phoros blinked.
“…I’m sorry.” “I don’t think I heard you correctly.” “We have over four hundred Battle-Brothers.” “That means…” “…over four hundred suits of power armor.” Roya waved dismissively.
“Only four hundred?” “That’s not a problem.” He turned toward Kahn.
“Kahn.” “Explain everything.” “Titus.” “Silas.” “Come with me.” “We’ve got work to do.” The three walked toward the open space behind the camp.
The remaining Lamenters exchanged bewildered looks.
Four hundred new suits of power armor?
He spoke as casually as if distributing ration packs.
Phoros immediately grabbed Kahn.
“Cousin…” “What exactly is happening?” “Did the Ultramarines accidentally bring an entire forge world with them?” Kahn slowly shook his head.
“No.” “Lord Roya isn’t an Ultramarine.” “He is…” “…the Emperor’s chosen.” “I watched him create my armor from absolutely nothing.” “…From nothing?” Phoros’ expression stiffened.
That statement sounded more impossible than daemonic sorcery.
His first instinct was Chaos.
He immediately turned toward Chief Librarian Karkullis.
“Examine him.” The Librarian closed his eyes.
Psychic senses spread outward.
Several tense seconds passed.
Then…
His eyes suddenly snapped open.
His breathing had become noticeably heavier.
“Chapter Master…” “There is no trace of Chaos.” “No Warp corruption.” “In fact…” “I cannot sense the Warp around him at all.” “It is as though…” “…he exists according to an entirely different set of universal laws.” “Perfectly ordered.” “Perfectly pure.” “Sacred.” Phoros fell silent.
Looking toward Kahn, he quietly asked, “…Is this really true?” Kahn gently struck the pristine breastplate covering his chest.
“I doubted him too.” “Until I watched miracles happen with my own eyes.” Meanwhile…
Roya had already placed several Crafting Tables side by side.
Titus and Silas worked beside him like experienced assembly-line workers.
Silas continuously supplied Iron Ingots and Redstone Dust.
Titus sorted the materials into precise quantities.
Standing before the Crafting Tables, Roya’s hands became little more than blurs.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Each familiar Minecraft crafting sound echoed repeatedly.
One perfectly manufactured Mk VII Aquila armor component after another appeared inside his inventory.
Helmet.
Chestplate.
Leggings.
Boots.
Power Pack.
Each completed suit was casually tossed into an ever-growing pile.
The mountain of pristine power armor rapidly grew taller.
Rubbing his sore wrist, Roya sighed.
“I really hope this system supports mods someday…” “Crafting everything by hand is exhausting.” The surrounding Lamenters could only stare.
Crafting power armor…
Instantly…
Yet he was complaining that it was too slow?
If the Tech-Priests of Mars heard those words…
They would probably suffer collective logic failures.
Barely an hour later…
More than four hundred complete suits of Mk VII Aquila Power Armor had been completed.
Roya dusted off his hands.
“Alright.” “Come get changed.” Phoros slowly approached the mountain of priceless armor.
His breathing became increasingly heavy.
Finally…
He knelt before Roya.
Crossing both arms over his chest, he offered the highest salute of respect.
“Lord Roya.” His voice trembled.
“No amount of gratitude could ever repay such a gift.” “From this day forward…” “The Lamenters Chapter shall answer your call.” Behind him…
More than four hundred Space Marines knelt simultaneously.
Roya simply nodded.
“Stand.” “We’re all fighting for humanity.” “No need for excessive ceremony.” Then his expression became serious.
“Don’t celebrate too early.” “The real battle hasn’t even started.” His eyes slowly swept across the Lamenters.
Suddenly…
They began shining with unmistakable excitement.
“Oh…” “Chapter Master Phoros.” “I have one more favor to ask.” Phoros looked up.
“What is it, my lord?” Roya smiled brightly.
An Iron Pickaxe suddenly appeared in his hand.
“Mind lending me some of your best equipment?” “Terminator Armor.” “Master-crafted Power Swords.” “Plasma Cannons.” “Anything valuable.” Phoros blinked in confusion.
“…Borrow them?” Roya nodded enthusiastically.
“I only need them for a moment.” “I’ll turn them into blueprints.” “Once that’s done…” “I guarantee every one of your Battle-Brothers will eventually be wearing Terminator Armor while smashing Orks into the ground.”