Kapitel 15: Spicy

The fight was over. All was left, rubble and dirt. Buildings– they no longer hold that adjective. A putrid waste land, decimated by the explosion from the mobile outpost. Corpses long gone in the aftermath. Survivors left to tell the tale. Onlookers in awe as it all transpired from the safety of their bases. The sons of the Dragon have landed on this Earth.

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Dureaus and his legion set up camp to lick their wounds just south of the battle. Not many fell– even less were injured, but none can deny that there were casualties; such is the consequence of righteous violence.

Dureaus spent three Chapters worth of marines and countless amounts of vehicle support. Each was varied, versatile in their own way. But as much as he had spent on that battle, he had equally gained or exceeded profits from the aftermath. Not only was his Legion properly running, the onslaught brought forth prizes that have been siphoned for the benefit of Dureaus.

More schematics and blueprints. They can't actually integrate within the Legion's systems, it seems something actually has to exist within the physical form for it to trigger. Dureaus has tried in the past with the previously gained blueprints. Curiously, Xarvass has gained not one but two wargears– Dembit being given one. Not only that but the BLADE system as well. It allows the storing of three weapons, which the user can then configure said weapons. In simpler terms, the BLADE system allows the user to change their current weapon from the three stored weapons– in that case, only two weapons since the user will always be using one of the three. A neat little tech.

The Super Soldier Serum formula– not the serum– but the formula. Given the right environment, Dureaus could create super soldiers to act as grunts; his mind tinkering with ideas. The serum, Pilot Training Simulator, and the titan chassis… as if Titanfall Pilots weren't deadly enough.

But that's all for future him to mess with.

As for the wargears, Dureaus distributed them himself. Xarvass with the Hammer of Cinder; its description states the weapon is made from the remains of a star dragon, each hit has a small push back AOE with the given chance to light things on fire when hit. Dragon's Breath, a revolver reconfigured for a space marines hands. Six rounds, each able to puncture human size holes against those it's pointed at. There was no ceremony, no big spectacle. Both weapons on hand, Dureaus gave them to Xarvass; in doing so automatically registered the weapons in his character sheet.

Like handing off a family heirloom, Xarvass bent on one knee. Hands out to receive his prize. His reaction was… expected. Simply a golden retriever in power armor.

The other recipient was Dembit, it being the Draconic Vorpal Blade. Red and black, enlarged to fit the hands of an Astartes. This blade is drenched upon millions of dragon souls. Every slice evaporates its enemies, turning them into mist. Its heat grows the longer the user is in combat, effectively increasing the user's melee capabilities. His reaction was more thoughtful and laid back. A large contrast to his brother's hyper overreaction, like a child during Christmas opening gifts.

Unfortunately, the RNG gods do not favor Aze and Frymrorth today. Much to Dureaus's relief, this did not create a rift between the brothers and himself, nor did it create a sort of favoritism towards the other marines. To them, They are the Keepers, deserving of the greatest wargears known to man, who were they to object? At the end of the day, they are his gene-sons and he is their gene-father– forever and always.

Given the casualties, Dureaus used some of the points to refill the missing ranks– opting for a more subtle portal than drop pods. There was a funeral procession for the fallen brothers, their names recorded within the stronghold– forever immortalized and remembered. Dureaus had a more innocent thought in mind, feeling bad for the fallen as they were his first marines to drop in the legion– excluding the four Keepers– they were his first-borns. Unbeknownst to him, they saw his caring character, pushing him in higher regards within his legion.

Now, Dureaus initiated the battle for a more… selfish reason. It wasn't for glory, not for humanity… it was for chance. It paid off, he got something akin to what he was hoping for.

A Ship Core.

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Another day, marines were well rested and ready for orders. Most just slept sitting up in their armors. Those in watch didn't sleep, but not being in a strenuous situation helped with their fatigue alone– even though it was little to nonexitent. Dureaus was one of the few that didn't get a wink of sleep; actually, he hasn't slept for about a month now. His mind is always busy with thoughts, gears running 24/7.

It was morning, the sun still hadn't taken its place in the sky before most of the marines awoke.

"Morning, brother Zarphel."

"Morning, brother."

Dureaus watched as his marines awoke; though, something was missing.

"A morning breakfast," Dureaus mumbled.

He skimmed through his items, over a hundred Mapo Tofus. A hand on his chin shows his interest upon the meal, hinting of his virgin tongue upon such spicy nutrients. But the problem is, only a 132– not enough to feed three chapters worth of marines. He can't possibly recreate the food either due to lack of ingredients and know how– wait.

A theory came to mind, one utilizing the Legion System. With quick taps, the Mapo Tofu was assimilated.

"Yes!" The Primarch mumbled excitedly.

[Extremely Spicy Mapo Tofu - 10 Legion points]

"Alright boys!" Dureaus rallied, "Wake up! Time for your meal!"

Everyone gathered, including the Keepers. They were some of the few that didn't sleep, opting to explore the wilderness and this Earth. It brings forth a first hand experience compared to the records of Terra in 40k.

"Lord Father, morning to you Sire," a marine greeted.

"To you as well young Jvorn," Dureaus returned the gesture, with an added pat on the shoulder.

Dureaus eyes them, silently they wait. Patiently, they endured. Not for long seeing as everyone gathered quite quickly. Suddenly, a bowl of Spicy Mapo Tofu digitally spawned in front of them. Each floated in mid air with no support to be seen.

"Your meal, take it," Dureaus requested. He himself spawned a bowl before leaning against a tree as he sat with bowl in hand. How convenient for it to spawn with necessary utensils; its size, presenting the system's ability to shift everything into the marines' likeness. Each bowl was enough to feed a family of four.

The marines, helms off, took to their respective seats– bowl in hand.

"A strong smell," one comments.

"Quite refreshing," another chides in.

Then, they ate.

One by one, a spoonful– then, heat.

"BY THE DRAGON!" one shouts.

"SO SPICY!"

All around the camp each marine showed their surprised states as they ate– but not discontent. In fact, their eyes brimmed with excitement. Their tongues burned in familiar heat, teasing their draconic heritage with each bite. They scooped faster and faster, savoring each bite.

Dureaus, seeing his sons enjoy their breakfast too joined in on the fun. The first bite– and… nothing. No, Dureau's gleeful face contradicts that. It wasn't just nothing. Each bite tingled his tongue– his dragon gene moaning in delight upon every bite. It wasn't nothing, simply he was too dragon to experience the slight tingling pain his sons were experiencing from such spiciness. Nonetheless, it had an explosive flavor.

"So that's what it tastes like," Dueaus comments.

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Sometime later, the marines and him were done with their meal.

"A fine meal that was," Aze complimented as he walked by.

Dureaus just nodded in appreciation, watched as Aze mingled with the marines. Dureaus looks up at the sky. A refreshing blue; the sun peeking over.

Their camp was not hidden this time. Keeping about three thousand marines hidden is a tough feat, one Dureaus wasn't even willing to try. Instead, it was just outside of some forestry. The forest being used as firewood for a campfire. Surprisingly they didn't get any visitors from either the Primers or the EDF in the middle of the night.

The open plains again, only disturbed by a lake or two to give the land some variance. His helm was off, integrated with the suit like nanomachines before he called for it again. The air billowed. A small chill in the morning air… a welcome one.

"Another day, another massacre…" he sighs, "got a lot of shit to do today– but first, a home."

He stood up, a technological sphere on hand. Each marine took notice– stopping whatever they were doing. Grabbing their gear, they followed their Primarch. In the open, Dureaus held a sphere; his marines in tow. Dembit and the other keepers caught up behind him, and soon walked side by side. Rhinos and their variants roared to life, marines entered them expecting a battle.

With the sphere on hand, he raised it. The sphere glowed slightly, floating into the open sky. Its distance grew greater between the marines and itself… then it stopped, it being out in the void of space.

A blinding light engulfed everything with a very large radius. It slowly receded, leaving nothing where Dureaus and the marines stood. They were gone; instead replaced by something metallic. As the light receded, within formed a large ship. Silver and gold, black and white accents, the ship showed its form. Large, an underestimating word, men find it spoken to them in dreams. It was a fortress, one of a kind– well, 'one of a kind' until Dureaus showed up. Fully receded, it showed itself full with no impurities.

SDF-1, a fortress ship. What was once an alien ship reconfigured with human hands. Later used against the Zendradi– a militaristic xeno race– for many battles to come. It housed many things, from varitech fighters to a city, the space within was massive. Now, it can house larger things. The ship itself was massive from the start, now it was bigger.

Ship Core - Manifest any ship upon the user's mind, free to modify and mold it to one's imagination. Note that it is bound by technological means and limitations.

The ship is now 12 times its original size, going from 1210 meters to 14,520 meters (15,879.265 yards or nine miles). With its size came with its newly added weapons on top it's already busted weaponry. With some drop pod launchers, SDF-1 was now made in the Imperium's image.

Inside, three thousand marines gaped in awe as they were suddenly transported. Those in tanks exited and had the same thought process.

"What the fuck just happened?"

Frymrorth came to Dureau's side, "Where are we?" he questioned.

Dureaus smirks, "My marines– my sons, welcome to our new home."

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A sudden ship appearing in the blackness of space was not unseen by the primers. If anything, it was alarming to see such a large ship come to fruition from nothingness. The Nameless was not pleased.

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Up in the sky, the silhouette of the ship is seen in the atmosphere. Down below, a group of humans stumbled around. Tired, and hungry, they walked towards their last hope.

"That's him again," Esmeralda mumbled underneath her breath as she gazed up in the sky.

Chris just smiles, "From an army to a big fucking space ship, what can't he do?"

"Where the hell was he hiding that?" Dezmond questioned."

All this time they were following little tidbits of hints left by Dureaus. He had the insight to assume Dezmond and some of his men were to be kicked out. What was once a large group that followed them, dwindled to only twelve. The others that were kicked out immediately went their separate ways. It's amazing that the group started with massive numbers in the first place. The twelve people were a closer ring of people compared to the rest of them– at least for the three.

Exiting some forestry, before them was a kit. A button with a note on the side. One by one they surrounded the curious object. Esmeralda picked up and held the button, Chris taking the note.

"If you're reading this," Chris starts to read, "Then–"

—Boop!

Everyone looked at Esmeralda's hands. Thumb tightly pressing the button.

She looks out in confusion at everyone's look of stupor, "What? We came here for his help right? No sense in reading the note."

That earned a forehead smack from everyone as they sighed. How can someone be so smart yet so dumb? Chris with a shaking head continued on, "Then you've come for my help. Well, I'll give you a choice: press the button next to this note then you agree to being a new branch of soldiers under my banner. Or don't."

"See," Esmeralda comments matter of factly.

A noise, a whistle as it distinctly came closer. Everyone craned their necks as they looked up in the sky. A dark gray thunderhawk with silver traces swoops by before landing– parting some of the grass. The front opens up, showing empty seats.

"Soldiers we were, soldiers we shall be," one of the twelve states jokingly.

"Well, shall we?" Dezmond asks, entering before anyone else can answer.

They boarded the thunderhawk, its ramp closed– their fates now sealed as they raced off into the stars towards SDF-1.