Deep in the Warp, Lu Sheng's humanoid form rested its chin in its hand, observing projections of Realspace.
Wang Zhong assigning missions in Dawn Hall, and the players working feverishly to build their base.
As well as footage of five transport trucks now driving out through the stone wall toward the Crimson Bright Wasteland, all unfolding in his consciousness like a bank of surveillance screens.
"This kid..."
Lu Sheng's energy form shimmered with approval. "He's got organizational skills, a sense of responsibility, and a commander's nerve. He's got it all."
He recalled Wang Zhong's choice in the industrial district at the last moment. Instead of fleeing, he had organized the players to save as many of the local workers as possible.
Though most of them had still died in the bombardment and at the hands of daemons, that determination to do what was right even when it seemed impossible was so rare in this dark universe that it might as well have been the Emperor's smile.
"Crimson Dawn..."
Lu Sheng murmured the Chapter's name, complex light rippling across his energy form. "They vow to bring dawn to the dark galaxy, and their slogan is that no one should have to be a beast of burden anymore..."
He was not unmoved.
Though Lu Sheng considered himself fallen to the dark path and now an entity of the Warp, and though he lived by feeding on emotional energy and even enjoyed it, he had still grown up as an ordinary person under a socialist education in his previous life.
When watching Warhammer fan videos, beneath all the teasing and jokes, he had also felt a measure of sorrow for the miserable fate of the people at the bottom of that world.
"Those lofty Primarchs, Space Marines, and Imperial nobles are always going on about the Starry Sea and grand narratives."
Lu Sheng's energy form quivered faintly. "But what about the billions of civilians who die under Exterminatus? The workers who toil on Hive City assembly lines until they drop dead? The innocents Chaos casually uses as sacrifices... Who cares about them?"
Wang Zhong did.
At least, he was trying to.
"In the real world, he was overlooked in peacetime."
Lu Sheng sighed. "If he'd been born in wartime, with that character and ability, he'd have been at least a regimental commander."
He watched the footage of the convoy.
Wang Zhong sat in the front truck's passenger seat, his profile half-lit by the cabin lights as he spoke with the driver, gesturing over a map.
His Type II Augmentation had made him so broad that he filled the seat. Even through his work clothes, the outlines of his muscles were visible.
"Such a talent..."
Lu Sheng murmured. "A fine leek... Ahem, such a promising recruit. Could I..."
A thought suddenly occurred to him.
As a Newborn Chaos God, he was still so weak that he could only hide behind the system and secretly feed on emotions. But he was an entity of the Warp all the same.
If the Four Gods could choose their champions, could he...?
"Xiao Zai."
Lu Sheng summoned the system. "Is there a way to permanently bind player Wang Zhong to a body in this universe?"
The cold mechanical voice responded at once:
[Searching for solutions...]
[Search complete. Solution found.]
[Solution name: Permanent Soul-Carrier Binding and Bestowal of Rebirth]
[Cost: 10.1 million units of system material energy]
[Details:]
100,000 units: Used to stabilize a cross-universe soul transit channel, permanently binding the individual's soul from its native universe to a body in this universe.
10 million units: Used to construct a perfect power of rebirth. (Note: This rebirth mechanism differs from the reconstructed-body resurrection available to ordinary players.)
Perfect rebirth means that after the individual dies,
his body will be reconstructed at a designated safe point in exactly the same state as before his death, including all augmentation progress, acquired skills, and complete memories, with no degradation.
[Additional optional feature: God-Chosen Bestowal]
[As a recipient of all emotional spectra, the host may expend additional material energy to select specific emotional traits from the emotions already absorbed and bestow them upon a chosen individual as a God-Chosen blessing.]
[Different emotional traits have different costs. For example:]
"Unyielding Will": 3.5 million units
"Heart of Compassion": 4.2 million units
"Will of the Pioneer": 3.8 million units
[Note: God-Chosen Bestowal will establish a shallow faith connection between the host and the individual. The individual will subconsciously incline toward the emotional sphere represented by the host, but their free will will not be distorted.]
Lu Sheng's energy form fluctuated violently.
"It really is possible?!"
He quickly opened the energy reserves panel [System's current material energy: 33.1212 million units], followed by a detailed list of sources. Most had come from players frantically salvaging and exchanging supplies in the industrial district; a smaller amount came from the system's cut of base construction and augmentation purchases over the past few days.
"Over thirty million..."
Lu Sheng ran the numbers. "Binding Wang Zhong and giving him one God-Chosen blessing should cost a little over ten million. That'll leave more than ten million in reserve..."
His gaze returned to the convoy.
Five transport trucks bounced across the wasteland.
The Crimson Machine Chapter had modified them, reinforcing their chassis and suspension and welding simple machine-gun mounts to their roofs.
Players crouched on the mounts, holding crude heavy machine guns they had bought from the shop. They were essentially oversized black-powder weapons, but with a 20 mm caliber, they were enough to take down mutant beasts.
"Let's watch a little longer."
Lu Sheng suppressed the urge to invest immediately. "A candidate for God-Chosen blessing has to pass a few tests."
On the edge of the Crimson Bright Wasteland, in Realspace.
Wang Zhong stuck his head out the window. The wind swept dust and a certain decaying smell into the truck, making him squint.
"Thirty kilometers to go."
The player in the driver's seat had the ID [Old Driver Take Me]. He really was a freight truck driver in real life, and his hands were steady on the wheel. "At this lousy pace, it'll take us over an hour."
"Slow and steady."
Wang Zhong ducked back inside and checked the rearview mirror.
The four trucks behind them kept fifty meters apart, following the marching regulations set by the Crimson Wind Chapter to avoid driving into mines together or getting wiped out in one go.
Each truck carried twenty-five people, making a hundred scouts in all, elite players drawn from the various Chapters.
His team was well-balanced: thirty musclebound men from the Crimson Fist, forty quick-draw gunslingers from the Crimson Wind, twenty Psykers with weak psychic abilities from the Crimson Spirit, and ten technicians from the Crimson Machine.
"Brother Loyalty, three o'clock."
The front truck's spotter reported over the onboard radio. "Signs of living creatures. From the footprints... they look human, but their strides are strange."
Wang Zhong grabbed his binoculars and looked.
About five hundred meters away, in an area of weathered rock, several hunched figures were rummaging through something.
They wore clothes patched together from rags, had filthy bags slung over their backs, and moved slowly and stiffly.
"Scavengers."
A voice came from the second truck. A player named Second Emperor of Holy Blood, who also had a B-rank psychic talent, was scanning them with his newly learned psychic sense. "Their life signs are very weak... There are slight signs of mutation, but no Chaos corruption."
"Long-term malnutrition and radiation sickness."
"Should we make contact?" Old Driver Take Me asked.
"No."
Wang Zhong shook his head. "Keep our distance. A fully armed convoy like ours would scare them to death."
He paused, then added, "Mark the location."
"On the way back, if it's convenient, we can toss them some nutrient paste and water. Throw it from a distance."
This was a rule Wang Zhong had set before they left: don't rob or harass the wasteland's lowly survivors, and lend a hand if they could.
The players had grumbled about it—"We're barely scraping by ourselves"—but Wang Zhong had stood firm.
"We're the Crimson Dawn, not bandits. Even if this is only a game, there's no leveling-up-and-killing-monsters system here. There's little point in killing these people for no reason."
That was what he had said at the pre-battle meeting. "If we're going to rob anyone, let's rob people like the Alru Group, the capitalists who eat human flesh and drink human blood... Those damned feudal slave owners."
"When it comes to people like us, scratching out a living in the dirt, we should help whenever we can."
The convoy continued onward.
The closer they got to the industrial district, the stranger the surroundings became.
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