Some Things Aren't for Us to Ponder

"So, what's the verdict? Are we still building that safe house or not?"

After leaving the warehouse, the four of them found a quiet corner to begin their final preparations.

"I believe that despite the high cost, it remains a means to protect humanity. Until we find a more economical and practical method, we must proceed with it."

Much like many projects they had encountered in the past, the construction costs were technically a loss, but it had to be built for the sake of the people, as life cannot be defined by mere value.

Romulus thought for a moment.

"How about this: we set aside five percent of all souls we acquire in the future to expand the safe house, until it can accommodate the natural death toll of an entire Hive City planet."

They certainly had ambition; once they secured their first pot of gold, they would address their identities, and once their identities were settled, they would secure a recruitment world to develop their forces.

After all, with their current abilities, they wouldn't lack equipment or production capacity; what they lacked were massive carriers like Void Fleets and the personnel to operate such gear.

Therefore, a stable world, unharassed by Chaos, was exactly what they needed.

"Fine by me. You're the one handling the books anyway."

Ramesses indicated he had no objections.

"I'll head into the Warp to monitor Astropathic communications. I'll take responsibility for pestering Old Man Gold, and I'll find a new spot to nest against the Demons. Even if I can't reach Old Man Gold, I can try stuffing the Demons in there instead. I'll also update the bestiary... why does it feel like I have so much to do?"

"Indeed, Ramesses II, your burden is heavy. We'll have to trouble you with these tasks."

"It's fine, I'm actually quite happy to do it."

Currently, Ramesses was the only one interacting with the Warp. Until they determined the level of danger the Warp posed to them, there was no need for a second Transmigrator to share the risk.

This was the consensus among the four of them.

"I will be responsible for the regiment's operations and diplomacy, as well as familiarizing myself with battlefield command," Arthur said.

"You are responsible for frontline combat and squad command, as well as studying professional Space Marine knowledge. Furthermore, fully explore your talent for combat. Leave the theoretically risky matters to us; you are responsible for keeping an eye on each of us at all times."

Arthur had always been steady and placed great importance on victory, so his thinking wasn't erratic. Back when they played games together, Arthur was usually the one covering for the others when they were busy pulling stunts.

And now—

Romulus glanced at Ramesses, who seemed to have another batch of wild ideas brewing.

It was even more necessary.

"Understood."

Arthur nodded.

The hidden risks currently between them were their own abilities and their contact with the Warp. Until the safety of these two factors was verified, he had no interest in getting involved.

He certainly couldn't learn those flashy maneuvers Ramesses pulled.

"So, can I go wander off?"

Seeing that there was nothing for him to do at the moment, Karna asked bluntly.

"Sure, go wander."

Romulus replied with an indifferent shrug.

Karna wasn't doing nothing; as a character with an observer's perspective, he needed to collect information from angles others ignored and then participate in the full debriefing.

Back when they acted as strategists to help their roommates chase girls, they always relied on Karna, who had scouted the situation from the outside, to fill in the gaps.

"We have thirty minutes of free time to get familiar with things, then we officially start work."

After arranging their respective tasks, Romulus clapped his hands.

"Dismissed!"

"Received."

The group scattered, quickly slipping into their roles, appearing quite professional.

In truth, this was hardly difficult for them.

It was just that in the past, they did this to live better.

Now, they were doing it to survive.

Inside the spacious cabin, the three of them, having finally calmed their nerves, began to carefully inspect the weapons.

They felt no shame in prioritizing the selection of armaments; the Imperium explicitly stipulated that leaders at the regimental level and above enjoyed the right to dispose of spoils of war in the absence of orders from superior officers.

After all, everyone knew about the logistical capabilities of the Administratum. If they didn't have these powers, half of the entire Astra Militarum would starve to death, and the remaining half would likely be fighting others with nothing but bayonets.

However, after a thorough inspection, they fell into a deep state of self-doubt.

Were these weapons truly something they were worthy of?

"These weapons... they are truly extraordinary."

Picking up a power weapon at random, Kovek swallowed hard.

Although they lacked the religious markings that had been widely circulated throughout the Imperium since the Age of Apostasy, these exquisite classical decorations and patterns...

When the wealthy planetary governors sought an audience with him, most were unable to bring such a blade.

"Uncommon—to use such a term to describe them is already bordering on blasphemy."

"My apologies, Canoness."

"It is of no consequence."

Arabella shook her head slightly. She was not one of the fanatical relic-keepers of the Sanctum Guard; she simply intended to correct a mistake in terminology.

The loyalty and valor of the Cadians were worthy of her respect. It was not every mortal who, after losing all heavy weaponry and facing a sudden assault by xenos and demons, could react with such speed, carving a path between the two forces to hold the central elevator until the Astartes arrived.

As for the fate of the weak, the Safra Chem-Dogs, now serving as decorations for the lower decks, had the most to say on that matter.

"They are holy relics, a legacy left to the present from the most glorious era of the Imperium."

Arabella approached the supplies the angels had prepared for the Sisters of Battle.

She recognized the equipment, which bore a resemblance to the force-feedback Power Armor of the Sisters of Battle, and knelt in pious prayer, recounting the origins of these armaments as she did so.

"The God-Emperor has the golden-armored Adeptus Custodes at His side, but few know that beside the Adeptus Custodes, the Sisters of Silence stand mute, existing only to drag the approaching Daemons into the Abyss of Silence."

"But I have never seen them."

The Commissar recalled his memories of returning to Terra to report for duty.

The Emperor's Adeptus Custodes were not actually difficult to spot; their noble, upright figures could often be seen before the gates of the Imperial Palace.

It was just that...

The Commissar's expression turned peculiar.

To be honest, he held complex feelings toward the Adeptus Custodes who had made him recite a Terran name for an hour in front of the palace.

"Of course, you could never have seen them."

Arabella stroked the holy silver armor, her eyes, usually rational and calm, burning with a rare trace of fanaticism.

"They fought for the Imperium while He still walked among men."

After hearing the Canoness's account, Kovek seemed to realize something.

He approached a suit of armor and began to examine it closely, only to discover that any information indicating its age had been erased.

His eyes widened.

"Kovek, do not think too much."

A hand pressed down on his shoulder as Alex's steady voice reached him.

"Take the equipment, follow orders, and fight until death—that is our mission."

Drawing a master-crafted Power Sword from the armory and eyeing the area where the serial number had been deliberately scrubbed away, Commissar Alex unceremoniously strapped it to his waist.

"There are some things that are not for us to ponder."