บท 4: Upgrades People, Upgrades!

Does one enjoy the cold of night? The twinkle of the stars and the silent blanket of darkness overlapping everything in view. The lights from cities projecting an image from afar– a beautiful serenity of illumination.

Civilization burns tonight. The beauty of distant light from darkness lost all meaning as the smell of smoke, iron, and putrid alien essence hangs in the air.

In a forest deep within the Northeastern hemisphere of the U.S., four marines of the Draconian Legion unwind around a campfire. Their silver and gold colors produce an unexpected shine.

These were the four marines Duraeus Vendrandar has summoned, and they have stayed for a week. For a week they have hunted and obliterated their foes horde after horde. The experience building up without rest. In fact, this brief respite is one within the entire week.

During that time, they have encountered nothing but the same black ants– much to Duraeus's dismay. But that didn't impede on the grind.

Now, their Primarch is elsewhere. Told to rest, they await further orders as their Primarch goes off into the unknown.

"This feels wrong, brothers. I feel as if we should've insisted on following him."

"Do you doubt our Primarchs strength brother Xarvass?"

Xarvass, one of the four marines to be named under his Primarch. The marines summoned have no recollection of being named– of identity. At least that's their Pimarch's head cannon. In fact, they did have names akin to that of auto generation. Cold and meaningless. But now, they were named by his will. To be named by their gene-father is to be marked with holy burden to carry his honor. They were his pride, and they should act upon such an honor.

Xarvass shifted his position. He leaned over on his makeshift chair– that being fallen timber fell for themselves. A large and uneven puncture that separated the tree to its stump suggested they used blunt methods instead of cleaving it with a clean and sharp edge.

"You worry too much Xarvass. Our father is not one to be felled by such measly alien scum. Even if he were to be wounded, we'd at least know he has felled thousands beforehand. And if he's fallen into a trap, best know he intentionally does so– a visible foe is easier to punch than a foe unrevealed."

"You're right, brother Aze– you're right. I should cast such thoughts aside."

Aze, another of the newly named marines sat across from Malthael. Sitting on a tree he chopped himself– chopped being more punched to a right size.

"Cease your talks behind our Primarchs back; it's unbecoming of you."

"Relax~, brother Frymrorth. This is hardly anything harmful now right? Brother Aze– brother Xarvass?"

Aze and Xarvass chuckled at the thought, "calm your bolter brother Frymrorth, we mean the Primarch no harm." Xarvass chimed in.

"If anything, our Primarch would support such activities. It brings forth openness, a valuable asset when it comes to communicating," Aze added on.

"Besides, if any of us were to be dissatisfied, we'd let the Lord Primarch know. We owe him such honesty at the bare minimum with his declaration and accepting nature he showed us."

"Hmm," Frymrorth groans in acceptance. What they say is true: their Primarch is of the open sort. Leaning towards talk and understanding before attributing any misunderstandings.

"Then, what say you of our gene-father?" Frymrorth suddenly asked from the brief silence of their bickering.

The question brought forth thought amongst each other. It seemed as though finding their Primarch hasn't set in as of yet. Only now with this rest has it crept in their minds.

Frymrorth looks at his brother standing at the cozy fire, "Brother Dembit?"

"Hmm, charismatic comes to mind. He rallied us and set our minds straight when he first laid eyes on us. Within the week, we fell into a sort of groove. I also took notice of his careful positioning."

"Aye, brother Dembit. I second that." Aze agreed.

"He has characteristics of multiple Legions. I see a kindness only a Salamander could show, a brutal yet controlled rage only a War Hound could bring, and a sudden instinct similar to Primarch Lion El'Jonson," Xarvass listed, "and you Frymrorth? Your thoughts on our gene-father?"

"Someone worthy to be venerated into the age of time." Frymrorth was brief yet he had no hesitation in speaking his mind.

Dembit chuckles, "it seems you've taken a liking to our Lord Primarch, brother Frymrorth."

"Hmm, aye."

"Hahahahah!

Xarvass, Aze, and Dembit didn't hold their amusement in. Their mechanically filtered laughs rang in the dead of night as they continued to converse among one another. Normal, to them for sure; but unnatural nonetheless when taken out of context in the dead of night. Frymrorth didn't hold the same sentiment but wouldn't down the mood for the rest of his brother. After all, they aren't mistaken.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

"And~ done!" I exclaimed, retrieving my arm from the head of a black ant.

I was out and about for the entire week. Punching holes on these insects. Purging this planet of these inhuman abominations. Getting a bit zealous here, but you get the point. These last few hordes were something of my greed. I just wanted more points to be sure I can at least buy three upgrades for my marines.

Thinking back, I wonder how rested they are. Ordering them back into the stronghold of the Legion System would guarantee their recovery, but that also seems like a cruel living. Being summoned, do a splendid job in putting one's foot in the innards of the fallen, only to be sent back by your gene-father. They aren't tools.

Their emotions, I can sense it. Even from here. I was in the middle of town as I farmed for more LP. It's faster this way. Not to discredit their abilities, it's more or less my fault for summoning them with inadequate gear and numbers to deal with the horde.

I was excited. A momentary lapse in judgment, as they say. Even so, I wanted them to rest. Being in constant combat for a week straight is something they'd be used to, but they'll get plenty of that in the coming months or years. Best ease them in lest they tire out later. This separation also gives me time to upgrade.

Taking my time heading back, I glanced at the upgrades. Only to find something I failed to see.

Four character panels: Aze, Frymrorth, Dembit, and Xarvass in full armor. I saw their stats like health and will– hit points and how well they're resistant in the mind. As well as their career like lifetime kills and missions complete. It's like seeing a D&D character sheet. I can even see where their loyalties lie. They even have skills per level. I wonder if it's automatic in selection or if I can dictate it. The latter would be better.

All four were level ones, halfway from leveling up. They had standard gear which being the Bolter. They had wargear slots for both armor and weapons.

Oh, looks like I'll have to keep naming my marines a sort of honor or ritual. I don't want to keep track of over 1,000 marines at a time. Yeah, I said over– fuck the codex astartes.

The wargear slots of the marines don't seem applicable for the weapons in the general tech tree, leaving me to believe they're founded out in the world.

Upon further inspection, each marine has a preset personality. Dembit is more humorous and lighthearted than the other four; says his character sheet. A future Bladeguard Veteran.

Frymrorth is stoic and skeptic. It also says he prefers melee combat, something about it being more personal. But, he also prefers to be defensive– definitely a future Terminator Veteran.

Aze, calm, collected, slow yet methodical. He's an all rounder, simply put. A future Sternguard Veteran.

Lastly, Xarvass. Surprising one. Is easily able to feel compassion, remorse. He's simply the most 'human' of the four. Which is odd considering his panel states–

[Prefers to mangle his foes in close combat]

[Easily enraged, therefore, caution is advised.]

[Would drop all pretense of defense for even a slightly better offensive capabilities]

Yup, Vanguard Veteran. The panel almost makes him out to be a member of the Death Company.

After walking for some time, I picked out my upgrades for the marines. Even though they're named characters, they're not discounted on the global upgrade tree. Meaning, they can still benefit from upgrades like Blessed Armor.

[Blessed Armor - Increases the armor scaling of the marines.]

Or Xeno's Bane–

[Xeno's Bane - All marines deal increased damage to anything nonhuman.]

These are two of the six upgrades I could purchase. The rest are–

[Frag Grenades - All marines are equipped with Fragmentation throwables.]

[Combat Blade - All marines are equipped with increased basic melee capabilities.]

[Stingers - All marines are able to protrude stingers from their lower backs. Increasing melee capabilities.]

[Blessed Gun - Increases the penetration scaling of all marine range weapons as well as their base damage.]

Just six brought me down to 23 Legion Points; and the stingers, I never used them. May as well have the marines play with them. With the upgrades done, I picked up the pace.

Coming along a viewing, the four marines were idly chatting. The trees swayed and shrubbery shook, making my presence known. Frymrorth was the first to notice, even before I made all the noise. Aze and the others soon followed, all eyes on me.

"My Lord Primarch," greeted Aze.

"Your outing brought forth good news Sire?" Xarvass inquired.

I gave a welcoming smile, "indeed my sons. Head on back to the stronghold, consider them my birthday gifts to you four."

None showed excitement, as to be expected. I wonder if my informal speech would break them down to being my actual sons. Of course I know how to be formal and certainly will do so when in the presence of others outside my Chapter, but in the end they are sword and shield. Ultimately my family, best to treat it as such whenever I can.

They turn to portals that suddenly appeared before them. Neon borders, oval in shape. Nothing but the darkest of black in the middle of the portal. The four didn't question it, no cries of heresy or xeno witchcraft. It's as if it was already common knowledge, less explaining on my part. Frymy was the first to go in as the rest followed. He's… oddly willing… I even sense a bit of anticipation of what I have unlocked for them.

I guess my friendly way of communicating is working.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

For a week now, groups of hostiles have been wasted. Reports say they have spotted giants engaging the ants. Their armor imposing as it is majestic. They wield guns of explosive power. First reports suggest they arrived via pod from the sky. A civilian in the town they first appeared at is the only source of such information. Being the only eye witness, it's hard for them to accept such a theory much less think of it as a fact. They didn't match any Fencer prototypes or vehicles, safe to say their a whole different organization that's slipped under their noses.

What's even more absurd is the even bigger giant that's allegedly leading them. EDF HQ sent in a scout team to survey the rumored appearances of the man. A single video being the only evidence of his existence. Satellite imaging can't get a read on the guy either, as if he knows where and when to walk out in the open.

Well, it's a concerning subject. But in the end, EDF focused on the alien threat that's at their doorstep.