“Bang!” Khan leveled the Bolter in his hands, its thick muzzle pointing straight between Roya’s eyebrows.
The surviving Astra Militarum soldiers around them raised their laser rifles, a dense web of red targeting beams crisscrossing over Roya’s blocky iron armor.
The atmosphere instantly dropped to freezing point.
Right at that moment, a sudden change occurred.
Without any warning, an extremely dazzling golden radiance burst from within Roya.
This light was not a normal physical light source; it carried a soul-shivering pressure—warm, domineering, and inviolably sacred.
The dim and cramped Underhive ruins were instantly illuminated as bright as day.
Under the golden light, the filthy blood of the Orks emitted a “hissing” sound and quickly evaporated into ashes.
Faintly, the grand and solemn chanting of hymns drifted through the air.
The eyes beneath Khan’s helmet suddenly constricted, and his hand holding the gun violently trembled.
This aura, this absolute wavelength of power, was engraved deep within the genes of every Space Marine.
This was the power of the Master of Terra!
“The Emperor…” Khan’s voice trembled.
Without hesitation, he put away his Bolter, and with a “thud,” dropped heavily onto one knee on the pockmarked metal floor.
This action felt like some kind of signal.
The tens of thousands of Astra Militarum soldiers around them collapsed to their knees in unison like toppled dominoes.
Tears filled the eyes of the desperate soldiers; they dropped their weapons, crossed their hands over their chests, and devoutly kowtowed toward the figure in the golden light.
Roya stood at the center of the light, his facial expression dignified and solemn, while inwardly cursing: “Huang Pizi has finally noticed me.” This high-profile psychic radiance could only come from the one sitting upon the Golden Throne.
Clearly, the Emperor had noticed his existence, going with the flow to give him a divine certification, or perhaps conducting some kind of warning and probing.
Regardless, this pass was extremely useful.
The golden light lasted for just over a dozen seconds before receding like a tide back into Roya’s body.
The ruins returned to dimness.
But everyone’s gaze toward Roya completely changed.
It was a burning intensity mixed with fanaticism, awe, and absolute obedience.
“My Lord!” Khan raised his head, his voice like a booming bell, devoid of any trace of doubt in his tone: “Ultramarines Chapter, 9th Company Khan, reporting to you!” Titus beside him also immediately dropped to one knee, heavily striking his right chest: “Recruit Titus, awaiting your command.” Roya nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping across the kneeling soldiers, cutting straight to the point: “Rise.
What is the current situation here?” Khan stood up and quickly reported the situation.
“The defense line has completely collapsed.
Currently, only twelve thousand Astra Militarum remnants remain in this area.” “In the underground bunker behind us, there is a civilian shelter with a population of five million.
The communication array was destroyed by the Orks, and we have lost all contact with the orbital fleet.” “Ammunition is running out, there are no medical supplies, and no reinforcements.” Ten thousand remnant soldiers guarding five million civilians, outside being an unknown number of frenzied and bloodthirsty Ork tides.
Roya rubbed his chin, his tone calm without a single ripple: “Then now we can only rely on ourselves.” As soon as his voice fell, Roya’s peripheral vision glanced toward the headless corpse of the Ork Warboss.
Above the corpse, two square fragments exuding a dark blue metallic luster were floating.
They slowly rotated, emitting an alluring purple shimmer.
Roya stepped forward and walked over.
At the same time, Titus’s gaze also locked onto that position.
A trace of astonishment and surprise instantly flashed through his deep eyes.
“You see it too?” Roya stopped his footsteps and looked back at Titus.
“Yes, my Lord.” Titus walked to the side of the corpse and pointed at mid-air, “Those two floating metal fragments… what are they?” This was the privilege of the “Villager”.
After being transformed, Titus’s sensory layer had been integrated by the system, and he could also see the drop models that only players could see.
Roya reached out and grabbed.
“Pop.” A crisp sound effect rang out.
The two fragments disappeared out of thin air, entering Roya’s hidden inventory.
With a thought, Roya brought up the interface, his gaze sweeping over the newly appeared icon.
[Damaged Mk VII “Aquila” Power Armor Fragment] Description: An extremely rare technological remnant.
Collect three such fragments to synthesize into [Mk VII “Aquila” Power Armor Manufacturing Blueprint].
After unlocking the blueprint, you can use a workbench to craft power armor!
Roya’s eyes suddenly lit up.
“Good stuff.” Roya grinned, his smile somewhat brilliant, “As long as we find one more piece, we can synthesize a complete power armor production template.” “Template?” Titus keenly captured the core vocabulary, immediately turning his head to stare burning brightly at Khan standing nearby.
To be precise, he stared at the scar-ridden, heavily damaged blue power armor on Khan’s body.
“Lord Roya.” Titus lowered his voice, his tone carrying a hint of utilitarianism that only players and NPCs would understand, “The power armor on the sergeant’s body should be able to make up one fragment, right?” Khan stood in place, completely baffled.
He couldn’t see the drops, nor could he understand what the “fragments” and “templates” that suddenly popped out of these two people’s mouths meant.
But being looked at by a recruit with such a gaze, as if looking at a pile of scrap metal materials, made the veteran’s pride knit his brows.
“Newblood, what are you looking at?” Khan asked in a deep voice.
“Khan.” Roya interrupted him, raising a hand to point at the armor on his body, “Can you take off the power armor on your body and give it to me.” Khan froze.
A Space Marine’s power armor was not just a piece of equipment.
It was an Astartes monk’s second life, a symbol of glory.
Take off the power armor and hand it over?
This request was simply even more absurd than asking him to go solo a Greater Daemon.
“My Lord, this…” Khan’s expression was extremely ugly.
Roya explained at this moment, “I need your set of power armor as the last material.
As long as you contribute it, I can reverse-engineer it into a manufacturing template similar to an STC.” “STC?!” Khan’s voice instantly rose by an octave, like a sand-worm whose tail had been stepped on.
In the Imperium, these three letters represented absolute technological miracles, the supreme treasures that the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars dreamed of digging up from underground.
“Not only that.” Roya looked at Khan’s gully-filled, shocked face, throwing out the final bombshell, “As long as the blueprint synthesis succeeds, in the future, power armor of this model can be mass-produced directly on an assembly line.
When that time comes, let alone this tattered set, I’ll replace it with a brand new set for you every day!” Khan’s Adam’s apple rolled violently, swallowing a mouthful of blood-mixed saliva.
Replace it with a brand new set of power armor every day?