Several fuel drums were filled with black "dye" mixed using promethium.
Deserters in slightly different uniforms stood in long lines before the fuel drums, changing into matching black uniforms.
And every deserter who finished "changing," once they joined Sith's ranks, had their frightened, uneasy expression replaced by joy.
It was not only because they could follow an Astartes, but also because they were back on the rolls. Their three possible fates-starving to death, being found and hacked to death by Orks, or being shot by their officers-had finally given way to "hope."
Sith stood beside a trench, watching the steady influx of recruits before him. Although these deserters' morale instantly increased a hundredfold after joining him, their morale had been practically nonexistent to begin with. Even multiplied a hundred times, it could not compare with that of his veterans.
Their only advantage at this moment was their reasonably substantial numbers.
Holding the figures he had just compiled, Brunok strode along the trench toward Sith.
Snap!
He stood at attention and saluted.
"According to the tally, we've taken in nearly seventy thousand troops. Most are deserters, but some Astra Militarum troops who were holding out in isolated positions have also joined us."
He handed the report to Sith. Sith glanced at it. Together with the thirty thousand veterans who had survived this far, his force was back to a hundred thousand men.
But although their numbers had recovered, Sith sighed helplessly when he looked at the equipment section at the very end.
Apart from a rifle each, the newly joined soldiers had almost nothing.
"Has headquarters still not responded to our supply request?"
They were already close to the perimeter of the safe zone where headquarters was located, and supplies could be delivered by air.
Brunok nodded.
"They responded and dispatched three transports."
Sith's eyes lit up, but Brunok then shook his head.
"But the transports were shot down by the Orks besieging the city."
Sith gave Brunok a speechless look for not finishing his explanation in one go, then abandoned his hopes of headquarters.
He raised his arm and checked his watch, its glass long since shattered. Seeing the hour hand approaching the scheduled time, Sith lowered his arm.
Looking up to sweep his gaze over the expectant deserters one last time, Sith sighed softly.
"Give the order. Move out."
An infantry fighting vehicle lay overturned beside the road.
Its flames had long since gone out, and only wisps of black smoke rose slowly from its charred wreckage.
A soldier climbed out of the vehicle and raised a length of ammunition belt in his hand, his face covered in smiles.
The soldiers outside immediately took it. Carrying the belt together, several of them hurried onto the main road beside them.
Dense ranks of black-uniformed infantry marched along, their footsteps unending, but only after a long stretch of marching columns would a lone supply vehicle appear.
Seeing that these men had actually managed to scrounge up an ammunition belt, the soldiers in the ranks cast envious looks their way.
Only when the veterans serving as officers barked at them did the soldiers turn back around.
The soldiers handed the ammunition belt over to a supply vehicle, then received a whole block of compressed starch.
They quickly divided the starch into equal shares and immediately stuffed it into their mouths.
Even the bland, tasteless compressed starch brought boundless satisfaction to their faces.
But their eyes-closed enjoyment did not last long. The roar of motorcycles in the distance dragged them back to reality.
Turning to look into the distance, they saw more than a dozen Ork speed bikes kicking up clouds of dust across the wasteland.
The soldiers' expressions soured again. After glancing at the Orks, they even looked back toward the Imperium-controlled territory that had vanished completely behind them, their eyes filled only with the fear that had finally dawned on them.
As the deserters watched themselves venture deeper and deeper into occupied territory, with ever more Orks around them, their morale had long since reached the brink of collapse.
Yet after receiving Sith's Hundredfold Amplification, these former deserters not only failed to rout, but actually maintained their marching formation even with the enemy practically in their faces.
Even Daviro, who stood in the middle of the column, half a body taller than the mortals, found this sight puzzling and surprising.
He looked around at the soldiers again. Though fear had surfaced in their eyes, these mortals still showed no sign of fleeing. After turning it over in his mind, Daviro could only direct his gaze toward Sith at the very front of the column.
Apart from Sith's personal charisma and his regiment's rallying power, Daviro truly could not understand what had made these deserters summon their courage again.
And compared with these mortals, what concerned Daviro even more was that the Orks in the distance had clearly been following them for a long time, yet still had not attacked.
Orks, who went out of their way to find fights, had actually chosen to watch and wait when faced with such a large human force!
Daviro had spent more than two hundred years in the Deathwatch, and had almost never seen Orks react this way.
Because from an Ork's perspective, watching without fighting was already tantamount to admitting they were afraid.
And when he thought of how the nearby Orks were actually backing down before a mortal force, Daviro was so shocked that he wondered whether he could set aside his current mission for now and investigate the specific reason instead.
Then a transmission sounded inside his helmet, and another member of the Deathwatch sent over a large volume of data.
"These are the records I retrieved from local headquarters. I never expected this mortal force to actually..."
The praise reached his lips, but he swallowed it back down. After all, not long ago aboard the barge, he had been complaining about mortal weakness and looking down on Sith, whom the locals had assigned to them.
Changing his tune and praising them immediately was still somewhat difficult to bring himself to do.
As Daviro read the records compiled by the local Departmento Munitorum before him, his confusion gradually gave way to astonishment.
Perhaps headquarters feared Daviro would think they were being uncooperative and had casually assigned some unit to fob them off.
The combat record they sent concerning Sith was exceptionally detailed.
They had even added a great many embellishments and words of praise to the facts.
According to this information, Sith's force was practically the most outstanding mortal regiment on Vigilus.
Daviro simply ignored the praise and focused only on the actual combat achievements.
Broke through the defensive lines under friendly artillery fire, fought through the Hive City rebels and stormed the tower's summit, crossed the Ork desert unsupported...
Daviro silently repeated the achievements to himself as he read, and finally found an answer to his questions about the Orks.
The Orks nearby really did seem somewhat afraid of Sith. Or rather, the Orks actually acknowledged that...
Sith was Waaagh enough!
Faced with this fact, Daviro almost involuntarily turned his gaze back toward Sith at the very front of the column.
He also recalled the scene when Sith had met them.
The mountain of Ork corpses beneath his feet had certainly been staggering, but what staggered Daviro even more was that, throughout Sith's journey, almost every battle had left his enemies piled into mountains of corpses beneath his feet!
Thinking again of how the 101st Regiment had fought its way this far through almost constant, enormous casualties, Daviro finally understood clearly what it meant for Sith and his 101st Regiment to have come all this way from being cannon fodder.
Although headquarters' praise carried a slight suggestion of trying to absolve themselves, Daviro could only nod silently as he read these achievements.
Because not just on Vigilus, but throughout Daviro's career, at least, he had never seen currency as solid as Sith and the 101st Regiment.
Silence filled the three men's communicators. Only after an unknown length of time did the Deathwatch member with a single gold service stud, who had also gradually come to understand through their combat record, finally soften his tone over the vox.
"These mortals are worthy of courage."