Warhammer: Start with a dog

When Aharin came to the chapter leader's office to deliver hot drinks as usual, he really didn't expect that from the moment he walked in, he would be forced to start performing some tricks for a big guy wearing power armor who was more than 2.2 meters tall. Very thrilling ballet moves for me.

Holding the tray in one hand and holding the files in the other, he nimbly passed by the alarmingly large stacks of messy data pads like a giant dragon flying over water, while being careful not to step on another pile of chess pieces. There's also the ruler assassin sticking out of the side table - behind it are more piles of documents and chess pieces.

The squire's gold-rimmed black cloak was rolled up in his arms. After several difficult tactical maneuvers, the Iron Warrior squire's feet finally landed beside the desk.

What he heard next was——

"Hmm... So would it be better to place two teams of hoop robots at this position and let them be the forwards?"

"Of course! They can be used as scarab terminators! This arrangement is the best!" The psychic consultant who spoke afterward quietly added, "Should be."

"As for the Iron Ring Guards...of course the energy is full, but they are all in super self-discipline mode now, which means that if any emergency occurs, they need to deal with it themselves as soon as possible, and then uncontrollable situations will occur. It was fed back to me, and then LOGOS ran it and issued the processing method - there are so many steps, but it also depends on the actual battlefield situation. Overall, it is indeed closer to the situation of independent combat, which actually makes me very happy. Concerns, like, they might be a little bit inflexible.”

"Isn't that just right?! What are you worried about?! As line-filling soldiers, they already have long-handled thunder hammers, energy-absorbing shields, and shield connection locking protocols. Trust them! They can do a good job on their own! Listen to me and give it all a thumbs up Go ahead and clear the way!"

"Uh-huh, as a striker, is their movement speed okay?"

"Use it as a tactical fearless, don't worry about speed, just let the soldiers behind to cooperate with their forward front! Trust me!"

"I see..." Lamizane listened carefully to Uselma Atla's gang fighting class and took notes as he became more and more enthusiastic.

Aharin put down a tray of Reka coffee brewed with ancient medicinal herbs and buffalo milk and some kind of snack specially made into the shape of a sawed tree disc on the table next to them, and then tried to think of himself as a Steel vase - But after listening for a while, he became increasingly uneasy, or in other words, he hesitated to speak.

Of course, the psychic consultant paid no attention to the thoughts of a young nephew. He saw the attendant who brought the snacks as if he had received an amnesty, and immediately declared a break.

He put down the chess piece in his hand, went to eat a piece of snack and began to dislike it as not sweet enough.

Lamizane looked thoughtfully at the notes he just took down, and he noticed the small movements of the attendant.

"Aharin."

"Thy will, our Father."

"Do you have anything to say?"

"Uh...no."

Even though he has experienced so many incredible changes recently, from his own body to that of the original body, there have been great changes, and the content of daily work cannot be said to be earth-shaking, it is also a world of difference, but once it really Facing those eyes that were like light blue glaciers under the sun, Aharin still flinched.

Part of it is that he can still remember the precedents of Berossus and Dantioch, and the person being punished is just that. But under the premise that serving on the Iron Blood is such a beautiful thing, he was forced to leave because of trivial matters. The current daily life seemed sinister and unacceptable; and partly, although as an Astartes he shouldn't have such emotions, it was indeed because he was too scared.

As one of the Iron Warriors who was very lucky to have had a one-on-one interaction with his genetic father and primarch and finally survived intact, Aharin is very familiar with that frightening feeling of oppression.

In his opinion, although the father of genes has begun to return to the world from the devil's appearance in all aspects, he has become more human, more like ten thousand years ago - even deep down, he feels that the situation may be worse than ten thousand years ago. It was better years ago - but the essential horror is still there, and that won't change.

That is the deep thing that their original body has injected into the bloodline of each of his descendants from the beginning of creating the gene seed. Compared with other descriptions, the closest description is that it is a hidden attack on "oneself". Although some people can overcome the instinct of fear of huge things, it is not without reason - there is always something happening with it.

But in most cases, this instinct still works normally. Just like now, Aharin dare not look directly into those ice-blue eyes, even though he knows that they are now full of things that the Iron Warriors once dreamed of. The best thing that I dare not think of.

But that invisible sense of oppression is still clamoring, as if his instinct is telling him very strongly and definitely that as long as the father opposite is willing, he can immediately "assimilate" Aharin, yes, "assimilate", attendant I don't know if there is a more appropriate word, it's like the underlying execution priority of one kind of program is always higher than that of another the moment they are written. If he wanted to, he thought, he could instantly turn me into a fearless body, an iron ring, a kind of unconscious and fearless servitor, and completely kill "Aharin" on some level, and The lord didn't even have to lift a finger.

"Aharin?" His genetic father's voice sounded again, like some kind of mellow and bitter dark red spiced black tea, with a hint of concern, "Do you really have nothing to say?" He even asked He added gently, "It doesn't matter. If you have any suggestions for our discussion, you can tell me."

The mortal young man who was rolling the third layer of honey and soybean powder on the snack seemed to have chuckled in amusement.

But now I am willing to die for it, because it is the best thing that I have never dreamed of. Ahlin thought. He pursed his lips hard.

"Yes, my lord." The squire, the war blacksmith Aharin, heard his trembling voice breaking the peace in the office, "I think I have some little insights about this kind of war game. I can ask you to evaluate it with the advisor of Maatra and give you some advice."

"Besides," he added selflessly, "I think you can call all the Guards officers together, issue your orders, and let us know your goals. All of us will be very happy to fight for you. , to achieve any victory for you.”

He paused and emphasized his tone.

"Anything, victory."

Gua.

It seems that the fresh buffalo milk with strange ingredients added yesterday (it seems to contain Chinese medicine) really caused gastrointestinal problems (he looked hideous)

I hope my stomach and intestines can last until the end of the month (

Then it is said that the author received a series of invitations to weddings, birthdays, etc. from relatives, probably around the first weekend of January, and may take a day or two off by then.