You'll Be a Girl Soon

His words came to an abrupt end.

Because behind him stood that familiar, enormous, silent, statue-like red figure.

Once the benefactor of Khorne, Gore is now Cawl's "right-hand man".

It was like the most precise machine, raising high that modified giant metal gauntlet that could easily shatter concrete.

It slammed down hard on the back of his neck, which he was completely unprepared for!

The instant the fist struck his body, the Space Marines's battle instincts, honed through countless trials and etched into his very bones, erupted like a volcano awakened by ice water!

It forcefully overcame the intense drowsiness and limb stiffness brought on by the anesthetic!

Calgar's dreamy smile froze and shattered instantly, replaced by absolute coldness and sharpness!

His core muscles contracted with superhuman efficiency, propelling his entire body to perform an extreme, almost contorted, slide dodge to the side!

Call--!

The heavy gauntlets grazed the exquisite embossed carvings on his shoulder armor as he swung them through the air, the resulting gust of wind sending a few strands of his grey-gold hair flying.

"Huh?"

Belisarius Cawl let out a genuine, human gasp of surprise.

His sophisticated sensors clearly show...

Calgar had alarmingly high levels of neurodepressants in his blood.

Logically, he should be dazed, unsteady on his feet, and even starting to talk nonsense by now.

That dodging... that's not scientifically possible!

Calgar successfully executed an extremely difficult dodge.

He was currently leaning against the cold metal workbench with one hand, panting heavily, his forehead instantly covered in a fine layer of cold sweat.

That last blow almost completely drained him of all the focus and coordination he had left, which were suppressed by the anesthetic.

A strong wave of dizziness and nausea surged back like a tsunami, my vision blurred, and my ears rang.

He forced back his discomfort and looked at Cawl with a confused, helpless, and slightly accusing gaze:

"Archmagos... what... what is this doing?"

A subtle clicking sound of pistons and gears adjusting appeared on Cawl's mechanical face, seemingly simulating a slightly embarrassed expression of being "caught off guard."

The synthesized sound even carried a hint of mockery:

Oh, this?

I see the concentration of anesthetic in your body is quite high, so I thought I'd save on using one vial if possible.

"Just knock them out directly, quick, easy, economical, and environmentally friendly."

He shook a mechanical arm, as if to say, "You know what I mean."

Calgar: "..."

He blinked his slightly blurry eyes, and instantly understood!

So, all our previous combat brothers were "invited" to the operating table like this?!

He could almost hear Cawl's chuckles as he wrote down notes behind the Dataslate.

"Okay... okay..."

Calgar waved his hand helplessly, feeling as if he were on a boat even while standing, his head spinning.

"I'm already like this... and you're still trying to save that little bit..."

"Alright, I was too stingy. After all, you're the leader of the Ultramarines ' Chapter Master; I shouldn't have been so stingy with those anesthetics."

Cawl picked up a large syringe filled with a bright green liquid from the side; the needle gleamed coldly.

"Don't worry, this injection will make you fall asleep quickly and soundly, absolutely painless, uh, at least the injection itself won't hurt."

He walked over to the swaying Calgar and skillfully inserted the needle into the specially designed injection port on the side of his neck.

The cold liquid rushed into the bloodstream, mixing with the remaining anesthetic and producing a chemical reaction.

Calgar's last vestiges of consciousness, like a candle flickering in the wind, were extinguished in an instant.

His body went limp, his eyelids closed heavily, and he slumped backward.

Before consciousness completely slid into the abyss of darkness.

He seemed to hear the electronic voice of the Cawl panel, muttering in a tone that was almost like a "prankster's triumph," with a crackling, electrical sound:

"Sigh, young Calgar, even if he faints, he probably still thinks he's about to become an even more powerful 'son,' right?"

Actually...

Cawl paused deliberately, as if savoring the last vestige of hearing that Calgar might have retained before falling into a coma:

"... What I'm going to do for you is gender reassignment surgery."

!!?

In the almost completely silent depths of Calgar's consciousness, it was as if a bomb had been detonated!

His eyes widened suddenly for a moment while he was unconscious. Although they were empty and lifeless, the shock and disbelief he felt were almost tangible!

He emitted extremely faint, intermittent hoarse sounds from his throat:

"No... no... no way... the Archmagos...?!"

"Oh dear, how come you're still conscious?"

Go to sleep! Go to sleep!

Cawl's synthesized sounds are full of morbidly humorous "concern":

"Don't worry, it'll be over in the blink of an eye."

When you wake up again, you'll be the Primarch's caring and powerful 'good daughter'!

Ha ha!"

No... no!!!

Calgar looked as helpless as a man at that moment.

With the last of his soul's strength, before utterly succumbing, he struggled to shake his increasingly heavy head.

Belisarius Cawl, meanwhile, calmly pulled out a spare syringe.

They plunged the needle into the other side of Calgar's neck, injecting the last bit of a booster dose of anesthetic.

"Save when you should save, spend when you should spend."

Cawl looked at Calgar, who had completely lost consciousness and was slumped on the operating table, his electronic eyes flashing with satisfaction:

"However, opportunities to joke with Chapter Master like this are rare indeed, hahahahaha!"

He muttered to himself as he began the actual modification surgery—a proper upgrade of the Primaris, of course, not some damn sex reassignment surgery.

The warm, life-energy-filled liquid enveloped Calgar's consciousness, slowly pulling her back from a void and a terrible "nightmare."

He suddenly opened his eyes!

At first glance, through the transparent culture chamber, he saw the handsome face of Robert Guilliman, the Gene-Father, with a smile of satisfaction and pride.

"Father!"

Calgar almost instinctively sat up, splashing nutrient solution everywhere.

He fumbled around to open the hatch, then stood up with a whoosh, thick nutrient solution flowing down his muscular body.

His first action, almost reflexively, was to quickly and nervously reach his hands down to his groin—

Phew... The touch is familiar, all the important parts are safe and sound, just as they were!

Her body has no extra curves or unnecessary softness!

A tremendous sense of relief, as if he had escaped from a desperate situation, overwhelmed him instantly, almost making his legs go weak.

He immediately jumped out of the incubation chamber, and before he could even dry himself off, he knelt heavily on one knee in front of Guilliman.