New Technology Sightings

Of course Pablo could not say they had done poorly.

If anyone could say that, he would not only be the first to object, he might even come to blows with the one who said it. No matter who it was, if they could say such a thing after witnessing the courage and fearlessness of the Astra Militarum, Pablo would make sure they tasted his fists.

A group of mortals had come here first, facing Orks spread across the mountains and plains, and had fought them for half a month—what more did you want? What more could you ask of them?

Ask them to kill every Ork here? Ah, sure, that would work—provided every one of them was given the full conversion package, turning all eighty thousand Astra Militarum troops on this planet into Astartes.

He was simply depressed about it. The Imperial Fists and their successor Chapters all regarded honor as life itself, and the extremists among them would even deliberately place themselves in danger for the sake of some glory. Those of a more moderate temperament would also do everything they could to fight for the vanguard position before a battle began.

But on the other hand, their adherence to discipline was also well known.

Moreover, this was the leadership of a Primarch—the warriors of the Crimson Fists knew his identity, something Steve had explained on the very first day they met. This matter had not yet been fully made public within the Imperium, and so the warriors of the Crimson Fists felt deeply honored by it.

A Primarch.

A brand-new one.

Pablo's gaze flicked, almost imperceptibly, to the longsword burning with golden flame in Steve's right hand. His throat bobbed, and he very much wanted to ask if he could touch it. But his reason stopped him