53: New Blood, New Blades, New Hope

Jago Sevatarion was startled awake from his sleep.

Nowadays, a long, restful sleep has become a luxury for him. Since the modification was completed, he hasn't had a proper night's sleep. This was true on Nostramo, and even more so after leaving it and boarding the Nightfall for Terra.

Training, meditation, studying, sparring. His life was consumed by these things. Although Sevatar had indeed found a way to enjoy them, he would still prefer a good night's sleep if he could truly rest for a while.

That's why he was so angry when he was woken up.

"Are you ever going to stop?!" He stood up, waving his fist and shouting into the hallway outside the door. "Can't I even have a little peace and quiet?!"

A voice outside the door answered him with a sneer, "Who told you to sleep with the door open, Sevatar?"

"Just because I don't close my door when I sleep doesn't mean you can wake me!" Sevatar narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I think you're asking for it, Noon."

Kassati Nuang tossed a combat dagger at her with a sneer. Sevatar tilted her head slightly, caught it with her left hand, and returned it with even greater force.

Nuon caught it, and not to be outdone, pulled out another dagger and threw it over. Thus began a dangerous game of throwing— Sevatar, while keeping a close eye on Kassati Nuon's movements, asked a question.

"Are you all so excited about returning to Nostramo? Why is everyone running in the corridor?"

"Are you out of your mind, Sevatar?" Kassati Nuon raised his chin mockingly, while pinching the spine of a short knife between his fingers. He twisted his wrist and threw the knife back at a tricky angle.

"Today is the selection day for new recruits. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Of course not." Sevatar calmly lied, having slept too soundly after returning from his daily patrol yesterday. "How could I forget something like that? Where's Shen? Don't tell me your captain's already at the field ready to select players."

"Of course he's here. He's not like some people who become lazy as soon as they return to their hometown," Nuang chuckled in a low voice, raising both hands to catch the short swords.

They seemed to come alive, spinning a few times between his fingers before being sheathed. This was Shen's technique, which was directly derived from Karyl Lohars.

Sevatar looked at Nuon's boasting with disdain, curled his lip without any envy, and casually pulled a shirt from his bedside and put it on.

It took him two minutes to find another suitable coat, followed by heavy synthetic leather boots. He dressed himself up little by little, not forgetting even to comb his hair back.

Nuang frowned, his fingers resting on the short sword at his waist.

He said in a low voice, "It was a mistake for me to stop and talk to you."

"Oh, please, don't do that, bro." Sevatar walked towards him with a forced smile, putting his arm around Noon's neck, and they started walking down the corridor. "Haven't we always gotten along well? It's only right that you stop and wait for me."

"Come on, I wish I could cripple you during training."

"Unfortunately, you can't do it."

How do you know I can't do it?

"Because you just can't do it—okay, stop talking, please. Let's get to the venue quickly."

Eleven minutes later, they ran through the dissipating mist to the training ground of the "The Nest," where a large number of people had already gathered.

Most of the new recruits mingled with the veterans, while some chose to stay in a corner and silently observe what was happening below. Sevatar looked around for a moment and quickly found Shen in the crowd.

He leaned against the railing, even holding a Dataslate in his hand.

Sevatar couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"You'd better not spout nonsense at my captain," Kassati Nuon warned. "My patience has its limits, Sevatar."

"What do I have to say for you to consider it nonsense?" Sevatar asked, glancing sideways. Although he was still struggling with Nuon, he moved quickly and soon reached Shen's side.

The latter wasn't surprised by his arrival, but wasn't particularly enthusiastic either. Shen merely glanced at him before continuing to scribble and draw on the Dataslate.

"Is there anyone in mind?" Sevatar asked.

"Yes," Shen said, head bowed. "But I won't share it with you."

"What?" Sevatar was shocked and reached out to snatch Shen's Dataslate.

As he flipped through the pages, he sighed in the aria from Nostramo: "How could you do this, Shen? How could you do this?"

"."

He shook his head silently, and a flash of silver light appeared in the air as a short sword with bat-wing handguards was placed against Sevatar's neck.

Shen quickly reached out his left hand and took the Dataslate back from Sevatar. Sevatar raised both hands, but his eyes still followed the Dataslate.

He had already memorized many names, but he wanted to memorize more. Shen reluctantly sheathed his dagger, which mysteriously vanished from his wrist.

"It's pointless for you to memorize their names now, Sevatar," Shen said. "The company will select the first batch of new recruits."

"Why? Why weren't we assigned to the company back then?"

"The first batch of test subjects will always be subject to more restrictions," Shen said expressionlessly. "Furthermore, operating as a hunting squad is indeed more in line with my preferences. And you..."

He glanced at Sevatar from head to toe, said nothing, and simply shook his head. This single gesture made the First Reserve's expression turn dangerous. Sevatar took a deep breath, turned, and left.

He spent a few more minutes walking through the crowd, responding to the new recruits' greetings one by one—some were genuinely greeting him, while many others were simply making gestures. Sevatar responded to the former with a smile and to the latter with more complex gestures.

After dealing with them, Sevatar finally found the person he wanted to see in some corner.

"Xianni!" Sevatar called out.

The person whose name he called rolled their eyes very obviously.

"It's Instructor Xianni," he corrected patiently.

"Hey, what's the difference? Aren't I just greeting you?"

Xianni sneered and silently assumed an attacking stance. Sevatar had anticipated this and dodged his first three jabs, but was then kicked to the ground by a sneaky sweeping kick.

But Xianni did not let him go. The Terra used his arms to restrict his movement and began to slowly bring Sevatar to the brink of suffocation.

"That's just my greeting," Xianni whispered in his ear. "Learn to adapt, kid."

Sevatar gritted his teeth, seemingly oblivious, and began silently searching for the little oxygen left in his lungs. A few seconds later, he managed to straighten up with all his might and fell heavily backward.

A loud crash rang out, and the people around glanced at it casually before looking away. Xianni let out a low sigh, punched Sevatar hard in the lower left ribcage, and then released him.

Half a minute later, they stood together, neatly dressed.

"Could you please not attack me suddenly next time?" Sevatar complained, baring his teeth. "I just came to ask you something, why did you have to respond with punches and joint locks?"

"Because you, you little bastard, have absolutely no respect for me," Xianni said, rubbing his back, while simultaneously poking Sevatar's forehead. "Now, tell me, what do you want to ask?"

"What new blood is the First Company planning to absorb?" Sevatar asked tentatively.

"Have you finally gone mad?" Xianni looked at him in surprise, and then suddenly launched into a long speech.

"This is truly wonderful news; our number one troublemaker has finally lost his mind—oh no, this might not be so good news. Jairzinho will be heartbroken; his precious rest time is about to be squeezed out again. Terra, are you alright, Sevatar? Can you still do arithmetic? How many chainsaws are there if you add one chainsaw to another?"

"."

Why aren't you saying anything?

"I'm just asking, is that not allowed?" Sevatar complained, spreading his hands. "Can't you even tell me the number of men? Van Cleef gave a direct order on this?"

"The company commander didn't say anything," Xianni replied with a smile.

"Then why don't you tell me a little bit?" Sevatar probed again. "Anyway, you won't lose anything from it, right?"

Don't even think about it, kid.

Xianni chuckled softly and gestured to him, "Why don't you take a look for yourself and see which promising candidates are below? The selection process will begin in a few minutes."

Sevatar sighed helplessly.

--

Konrad Curze Curze felt a slight twitch in his stomach. He rubbed it, figuring it was probably because the sand eel he'd just eaten hadn't completely lost its vitality.

These delicious yet terrifying creatures cannot be fully cooked if they are to be cooked properly, and if you don't cook them thoroughly, they will trigger instinctive muscle activity in your stomach.

In other words, a long-dead sand eel was churning inside Curze's stomach.

He thought to himself, "I should have eaten dried eel meat," while simultaneously swiping the Dataslate.

A new document bearing the Cult of Mechanicum' logo was revealed. Curze continued to swipe his finger, flipped through it a couple of times, and his expression immediately turned serious.

The document contained no personal identification code; the only identifiable emblem was a white skull encased in a scarlet twelve-toothed gear.

This means the document came from Mars —from the core world of the Mechanicum.

"Finally here?" The Night Lords narrowed his eyes without surprise, temporarily setting down the Dataslate without continuing to read. Those few swipes were enough for him to obtain sufficient information; Mars had mentioned three things in this document.

First, they have a fleet "fully loaded with all kinds of weapons and equipment" heading towards Nostramo.

Second, they want to make a deal with Nostramo "any kind of deal".

Third, if possible, they would like to acquire a planet near Nostramo and transform it into Forge World, providing Nostramo with services "lasting until the end of time".

Although these three messages were brief, they conveyed a great deal of information. Mars' sincerity was certainly not insignificant.

"I thought you guys had plenty of Adamantium," Curze muttered.

A Tech-Priest could provide some services to Nostramo in his private capacity, but Mars, the birthplace of the Mechanicum, remained unmoved, even though the Nightfall had passed by Mars several times without sending a single message.

The whole thing was quite bizarre; Curze almost thought that Mars didn't lack Adamantium at all and wouldn't care about Nostramo's meager production.

Now it seems they're probably just holding back for something big.

"That's good," Curze thought. "Full cooperation can only benefit Nostramo; what harm could cooperation with the Mechanicum possibly bring?"

Are there more red-robed mechanical monsters appearing in Nostramo, or are there more job opportunities in the local area, allowing direct recruitment into the factories and Secutarii of the Cult of Mechanicum? Neither of these things sounds like a bad thing at all.

The Night Lords tapped the table with amusement and stood up with satisfaction.

He smiled and opened the door, using the rapid movement device inside the "The Nest" to reach a training room that was not open to the public. He even deliberately entered stealth mode before entering the room.

Right now, eight people are engaged in a real sword duel. They're not fighting one-on-one, but rather in a chaotic melee. You can tell without me saying that this scene won't be very entertaining, Konrad Curze Curze sighed, his brief moment of good mood quickly vanishing.

He silently crept along the wall into the darkness, trying to find a better angle to observe the company commanders' battle situation, but he encountered another person in the darkness.

"How long have you been here, Karyl?" the Night Lords asked in a low, almost whispered voice.

"What do you think?" the instructor from the Eighth Legion replied without looking at him.

"I asked the question first!" Curze said, slightly annoyed. "Why are you answering questions with questions again?"

"Shh, don't speak yet, Konrad Curze," Karyl said. "They'll decide the winner soon."

He was right; only two people remained standing in the ring. They were Van Cleef, the company commander of the first company, and Anric Barbatos, the company commander of the eighth company.

The two company commanders clashed fiercely, neither giving an inch. Their Chainsword whirred incessantly, their monomolecular saw blades roaring incessantly. They appeared to be evenly matched until Van Cleef tripped Anric with his right leg, at which point the fight ended.

"You fucking cheated again!" Anric Barbatos roared, lying on the ground. "What happened to the pure sword fight?!"

"I won," Van Cleef said casually. "What else do you have to say, loser?"

I wish you complete defeat!

"Oh, I'm betting on both sides." Van Cleef gave a rare smile. "I think the Primarch is either ten or twelve years old, how could I possibly lose?"

In the darkness, Konrad Curze Curze slowly turned his head and glanced at Karyl.

The latter nodded to him without changing his expression and said softly, "Now you know why I'm waiting here, right?"

"Impossible! The Primarch is at least sixteen!" shouted Fer Zalost, lying on the ground. "You bunch of idiots who think he's young, and you, Van Cleef, you two-timing opportunist, you're all going to lose!"

Fer's words caused a ripple effect, and the company commanders began to quickly refute each other. Those who had fallen earlier also got up from the ground; most of them had several minor wounds, the bleeding of which had already stopped, but the scene still looked somewhat gruesome.

This argument quickly became the catalyst for another battle to begin—in fact, if it weren't for a voice suddenly rang out beside the ring, they probably would have actually engaged in a second round of sword fighting.

"I'm five years old," Konrad Curze Curze said with a smile.

A moment of silence fell over the arena, then a series of uniform, suffocating gasps suddenly filled the air. In the darkness, Karyl subtly averted his gaze, suppressing a laugh.

This chapter is 4.5k words long, and there's one more chapter to go.