Chapter Seventy-Seven: Olt Peckhart

“Are you certain about this, Thomas? You saw with your own eyes what kinds of enemies we have fought. Are you sure you want to send your only son into my army?” Wang Ming settled into his specially-made office chair and brewed a cup of locally-grown tea from Moers. After handing Thomas the tea, he fixed him with a serious gaze and posed the question.

“I am certain, my lord. Absolutely certain. As you know, I once served in the Astral Army myself. I am well aware of the dangers lurking among the stars of the galaxy,” Thomas replied earnestly, accepting the cup.

“Very well, Thomas. Take me to see your son first,” Wang Ming said, looking at Thomas’ determined face with a hint of resignation.

Transforming an ordinary human into an Astartes was something the transmigrators had no experience with. Such things could only be entrusted to surgical robots or the tech-priests.

“Thank you, my lord,” Thomas said, setting down his cup and bowing gratefully.

Thomas led Wang Ming through the governor’s mansion to where his son was waiting. Jose followed behind with a squad of thirty Primarch’s Honor Guards.

This Honor Guard had been assigned at Jose’s repeated insistence after a previous assassination attempt. Ever since that incident, Jose had felt personally responsible for Wang Ming’s safety, believing he had failed to protect the Primarch. He had fervently requested to station a squad of Honor Guards at Wang Ming’s side to respond to any future threats of assassination.

Despite Wang Ming’s repeated assurances that mere mortals could never truly protect him, Jose remained steadfast in his conviction.

“Great Primarch, our frail mortal bodies cannot compare to the might of the Emperor’s Angels, but when danger comes, we can at least buy some time with our lives,” Jose had once told Wang Ming.

Moved by Jose’s sincerity, Wang Ming had agreed to his request and allowed a squad of Honor Guards to be stationed by his side.

“How old is your son, Thomas?” Wang Ming asked as they walked side by side through the palace.

The Astartes transformation procedure had strict requirements regarding the subject’s age—if the candidate was too old, the likelihood of dying on the operating table was high.

“He is fifteen this year, my lord. A healthy, robust young man,” Thomas answered promptly.

“I see,” Wang Ming nodded, thinking the age should be suitable.

Soon, Thomas brought Wang Ming to a small room in the governor’s mansion. Though modest in size, it was meticulously tidy.

Inside, a young boy was engrossed in a data slate, watching one of the Empire’s mindless war dramas. The posters of the Astral Army and Astartes on the wall showed Wang Ming that Thomas’ son clearly idolized the Imperial military.

“Ort,” Thomas called, drawing the boy’s attention to the doorway where his father and the unfamiliar man stood.

“Father, esteemed Lord Protector, Uncle Jose,” the boy said, putting down his data slate and coming to the door to greet each of them in turn.

Wang Ming nodded. The boy was exceptionally polite.

“My lord, this is my son, Ort Peckhart,” Thomas introduced.

Wang Ming nodded to Thomas, then turned his gaze on Ort Peckhart. The child was visibly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of a giant nearly four and a half meters tall, but his noble upbringing gave him the courage to look directly at Wang Ming, despite the overwhelming pressure.

“Child, do you wish to become an Astartes?” Wang Ming’s voice held an imposing gravity that made Ort shiver, though Wang Ming noticed it was only slight.

“He’s nervous,” Wang Ming thought to himself.

Indeed, Ort was deeply shaken. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the holy Emperor’s son, the mighty Lord Protector of the Empire, would speak to him—much less ask if he wanted to become an Astartes.

“Yes, of course, my lord. I wish to become a great Astartes, to fight the enemies of humanity across the Emperor’s starry sea, and to defend the Empire,” Ort replied after a brief moment, dropping to one knee as if taking a solemn oath.

“Very good. Tomorrow, report to the auxiliary regiment’s barracks. Someone will come for you. Be prepared for harsh training,” Wang Ming instructed him.

“Yes, esteemed Lord Protector,” Ort replied.

Having made all the arrangements for Ort, Wang Ming returned to the Imperial Truth to prepare for the boy’s surgery.

First, Wang Ming dragged Hu Jin to the infirmary and, using the automated surgical robot, obtained a gene-seed—one that belonged to Wang Ming himself.

After securing the gene-seed, Wang Ming made ready all the organs and instruments required for the twenty-two surgeries. He uploaded the entire Astartes transformation procedure into the medical robots’ system, so the operation could proceed automatically when the time came.

With the surgery preparations complete, Wang Ming went to his office and summoned Wang Xiaofa and Hu Jin to discuss Ort’s case with them.

After all, this was the first naturally transformed member of the legion and deserved their utmost attention.

“Boss, I think we should have the veterans of the auxiliary regiment train this boy first, so he can learn some combat discipline. After all, he can’t be resurrected,” Wang Xiaofa suggested after hearing about Ort, and Hu Jin agreed.

Ort would need extensive training before undergoing the Astartes transformation. He did not possess the transmigrators’ ability to resurrect; his survival would depend entirely on his combat skills.

The next day.

As the first rays of sunlight touched the towering spires of the hive city on Moers, Ort set out for the auxiliary regiment of the Starfarers at Thanatos Hive. Presenting the documents Wang Ming had given him, he entered the barracks.

He was greeted by an officer of the Honor Guard. Through their conversation, Ort learned that for the coming year, he would remain in the barracks, studying combat techniques and the theory of war—essential knowledge in preparation for becoming an Astartes. Only then could he better fulfill the Emperor’s great mission and dedicate his life to the Empire.