Carcharodons: Heh heh, rich bro, here I come!

"Lord Karna!"

Karna, having wandered for the day, returned to the central elevator area.

As his iron-shod boots stepped into this domain, a harmonious scene greeted his eyes.

Space Marines clad in Cataphractii Terminator armor patrolled the perimeter, accompanied by a squad of Cadian soldiers wearing Void Armor.

On the other side of the plaza, a well-ordered queue stood before the mess hall, and at tables of varying sizes, Astartes and mortals were enjoying their meal together.

Unlike half a month ago, the area that once served as a defensive stronghold had been transformed into a place for the Astra Militarum and Astartes to reorganize and dine.

"The usual."

Handing his mess kit to the cook, Karna began to scan his surroundings.

Sisters performing pre-meal prayers—yes, that's right.

Comrades who had started gorging themselves long ago—yes, that's right.

Colonel Kovek was on duty for the meal service—yes, that's right.

The Tech-priest... wait! Where is he?

Squinting slightly, Karna looked around until he finally spotted the orange-geared lad on the lower deck, kowtowing and swinging a censer before a massive aerial vehicle.

Oh, so today he's kowtowing to that Stormbird?

One had to understand that when this Tech-priest learned they were gifting these vehicles and equipment directly to the Astra Militarum, he looked like he was about to spray machine oil in a fit of stress, muttering about how these items belonged in a reliquary and that giving them to these "grunts" was a waste.

One can only say that's how these Tech-priests are.

Damn it, if we don't spend these points, are we supposed to let them rot in our hands after we get swarmed to death in an encounter?

After experiencing Romulus's firm refusal, the Tech-priest had spent every day kowtowing to the vehicles, hoping to beg their Machine Spirit to have a change of heart.

Yes, still kowtowing hard—that's right.

"Thanks."

Reaching out to take the tray filled with a hearty meal, Karna walked over to the table belonging to the Astartes.

There, the other three companions, who had long since painted their armor in the style of the Deathwatch, had finished their meal some time ago.

"Did you find any good loot today?"

As soon as he sat down, the inquiry from Romulus reached him.

"Nothing left. I've searched every corner of this ship, and I checked the Orks' side too, but their tech level isn't unlocked enough. The smaller components still require a Waaagh! Field, which we can't use."

"Fair enough. Finishing the collection before the rescue arrives is worth celebrating."

"It is worth celebrating. We've managed to make Corpse-starch taste like a gourmet meal."

Sprinkling a pinch of Plasteel powder into his tray, Karna speared a thick chunk of meat and popped it into his mouth.

"Thank goodness the Imperium's technology is advanced; otherwise, I'd rather burn a few more Demons to trade for some cola and fried chicken."

Ramesses, who had finished eating first, wiped his mouth.

At this very moment, what everyone was eating was a signature dish of the Imperium of Man, famous across the multiverse—

Soylens Viridians!

Also known as Corpse-starch.

Essentially a high-nutrient substance derived from the Promethium refining process, it was the sole food source for the vast majority of the Imperium's citizens.

It was almost flavorless on its own, taking on different appearances depending on the additives, usually manifesting as a viscous paste.

As for how it turned into what they were eating now?

One can only say that humans capable of sustaining such an extreme regime as the Imperium also possess extreme technology to match.

Nutrient formulation tech obtained from the Tech-priest, food texture customization tech found in a fleet officer's quarters, and Corpse-starch that could be produced endlessly just by processing Promethium.

Together, they could synthesize a meal that was nutritionally balanced, delicious, and aromatic.

And the most important point.

It was as cheap and abundant as Corpse-starch, enough to sustain the living souls on this ship for a year.

One has to admit that the Imperium's civil technology is actually decent—it's just never used on the people of the Imperium.

"Why are you two staring at toilet paper every day?"

He noticed the two of them had returned to studying the Codex Astartes after finishing their meal.

"Setting aside the restrictions placed on the Astartes, the Regent's suggestions are still highly valuable for reference."

Arthur replied without looking up: "Besides, we don't know the details of this universe. The Codex itself can perfectly fill the gaps in our knowledge, so studying it is very necessary."

"After all, it teaches you step-by-step how to wage war, how to operate a Chapter, and even details what each warrior should do during combat. It has different solutions for different environments, which is very helpful for my command of the troops."

Romulus watched with great interest.

It must be said that the Codex Astartes is a top-tier reference book. It covers almost every situation you might encounter as an Astartes; it's essentially a guide that, if followed, makes you a qualified Astartes.

Setting aside the prejudice of "toilet paper" and some of its outdated tactical decisions, the Codex Astartes is a good book.

The Regent must have put a great deal of effort into writing it.

"The two honor students are starting to roll us again."

Ramesses couldn't help but complain as he watched the two of them looking so serious.

"If they weren't rolling on these, you'd be the one having to study them."

Karna set down his Plasteel chopsticks, which had a chunk bitten out of them.

Ever since they transmigrated, his brain hadn't grown much, but his teeth had certainly gotten a lot stronger.

"Then let the honor students keep rolling."

Ramesses folded instantly.

"That said, are we just going to let this misunderstanding continue?"

Glancing at the Sisters at the neighboring table who had long finished their meal and were waiting for their orders, Karna chose to change the subject at the right moment.

"I feel like the four of us are about to be treated as holy relics."

Ever since they handed out that pile of equipment, those 26 Sisters had been guarding them almost every step of the way.

Except for Karna, who was left alone because he preferred to act independently, the other three were met with the Sisters' gazes the moment they tried to leave the room.

"This is a good thing; it's better than them suspecting us of being a traitor legion."

Romulus spoke up.

"Since it's a benefit, there's no need to worry about it. Arthur and Ramesses II, just tell them you're Ultramarines, and for the rest, improvise. Let them fill in the blanks themselves."

"But won't a disguise eventually have flaws?"

Karna wasn't very confident in his acting skills.

"Why disguise it? The equipment isn't fake, and the fact that we don't fit in is also real. Besides, how does that saying go? We try so hard to imitate, uh..."

Ramesses tried to recall it, then got stuck.

"It's not as good as a moment of genuine emotion from a filial son."

Karna added.

"Feels like it's not as good as M3 Earth."

Romulus, who was still reading, chimed in with the meme at the right moment.

"See, I told you there was no need."

"..."

Arthur's expression was hard to describe.

But it was true; people from their M3 looked at the current Imperium and saw a pile of crap, and people from M31 looked at the current Imperium and also saw a pile of crap.

Just look at how melancholy the Regent has been since he woke up.

It's the same; there's no difference.

"My lords, we have received a transmission from an Imperium warship."

The brief post-meal study session didn't last long before a report from a messenger arrived.

"Encryption?"

"Verification passed."

"Affiliation?"

"They claim to be the Carcharodons."