The ship's bulkhead gate rumbled open.
Karna stepped out under the gaze of countless crimson eyes, then reached back to shut the gate again.
Only after the gate was fully sealed, and after carefully checking the internal surveillance, did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.
So this is what others feel when facing the pressure of the Black Rage?
"Brother Karna, what's this about?"
Beside him came Kahurangi's voice. He had just finished his daily routine of pestering Ramses, and now it was time to spar with Arthur to settle today's "daily quest reward."
On the way, he had heard that the Deathwatch had borrowed a sealed compartment as their private space, so he came by to take a look.
"It's like the grey blindness that happens among you."
Karna tapped his temple.
"We have the same thing."
There was no attempt to conceal it.
"Oh."
Kahurangi immediately understood.
No doubt about it—there were definitely Blood Angels among these people.
After all, within their Chapter, the records of each of the Founding Chapters were meticulous, down to the distinctive traits from the Great Crusade era. In some cases, they might even know more clearly than Chapters that had undergone later upheavals.
Of course, these "Deathwatch" weren't simple either.
They knew the Sharks' origins and their genetic flaws all too well. Yet as a Chapter that had been active across Imperial space, their grasp of the current Imperium was oddly shallow—so shallow they didn't even have a complete star map.
It was one thing to pull out chain axes—nowadays seen as the exclusive symbol of Chaos traitors—but when they learned about the current Imperium from the Sharks' data archives, they were shocked. Their expressions of "What the hell happened to humanity?" made the Sharks whisper among themselves.
"Well then, I'll head to the gladiatorial arena."
Now that he understood why they'd asked to use the warehouse, Kahurangi no longer dwelled on it.
For the Sharks right now, daily rewards mattered more.
"Mm. I'll go check the other warehouses."
Karna nodded, and both tacitly avoided continuing the subject.
He also knew full well why Kahurangi had hurried off.
Ever since they'd boarded the Sharks' flagship, Ramses hadn't been able to mess around with his Warp stunts. With nothing else to do, Arthur naturally went to spar with the Sharks—"to learn from them."
And to learn, of course, meant paying tuition.
Karna glanced at the supply readout on his arm display. Compared to yesterday's replenishment, it had already dropped significantly.
Barely a month into the voyage, he felt like he had to restock every single day.
"Let's see the timing."
Karna lowered his head, switched to his memo pad, and prepared to package today's intel to hand over to Romulus later. That was when he noticed—they'd already exited the Warp.
"Looks like we're almost at our destination."
"The Sharks' mission this time is to pay their Grey Tax. I heard there's a Mechanicus Explorator fleet nearby. Their original plan was to rendezvous and resupply strategic materials."
In a sector designated for the Deathwatch, Romulus—fresh from joint drills with the Guardsmen—pushed open a bulkhead.
Right in front of him, having just dealt with Kahurangi, Ramses was burning incense before a small censer, though Romulus still had no idea what that Librarian was trying to achieve.
Recently, aboard someone else's ship, Ramses didn't dare get too creative. At most he could fish for profits in the Warp. So he focused instead on a few workable projects.
After more than a month of effort, he had finally managed to splice an external line into the Warp link between Karna and the Black Rage.
Now Karna could, by sharing the channel, unleash the flesh of an Angel's offspring to indiscriminately attack any Horus in his line of sight.
The fewer people sharing the channel, the stronger the Black Rage, and the greater the combat power. Raising the cap required more investment.
This directly meant that each small team's "profit share" shrank even further.
"They're probably not too keen on this project anymore, huh?"
After bowing three times before the censer and muttering a few lines of Classical Chinese, Ramses finally spoke.
"Of course not. Their battered old gear has all been refurbished now."
Romulus couldn't help but smile, remembering how the Sharks had pointed at the Stormbirds gifted to them and asked if they could be exchanged for the equivalent weight in ammunition and military supplies.
Once given away, it couldn't be taken back. In the end, Arthur stepped up and taught them a way to profit through material trades.
Bolter rounds couldn't be given in bulk—too costly—but power weapons, incendiary arms, masterwork components? Those they had plenty of.
"These guys have basically decided that fighting Arthur daily is a way to claim gear. And Arthur, for his part, is happy to learn from them—real combat techniques honed in blood and war, passed down for ten millennia."
Romulus couldn't help but mock the Sharks' utilitarian streak. Once they smelled a profit, they were like men possessed.
The only problem was that over time, the Sharks had less and less to teach. By now only a handful of captains, Librarians, and Tyberos hadn't been drained dry. For the Chapter's future, those captains hardly got any rest.
If not for the prohibitive cost, Romulus felt they'd even wake a Dreadnought to serve as a trainer.
"Looks like our stretcher is evolving again. I knew it. Beyond our soul-to-matter power, we each must have our own unique traits. After all, our starting paint schemes weren't random."
Ramses quipped, then drew out three more sticks of incense to offer.
Then he went back to muttering ceremonial Classical Chinese over the experimental materials.
"You actually care about that?"
Romulus, understanding the words, asked curiously.
He'd seen the aftermath of their experiments—grisly enough. For Ramses to do this so seriously, and for Arthur to stand by stone-faced watching for hours, was astonishing.
"You wouldn't understand. You're not in this field."
Ramses lifted his head, face turning solemn.
"I have to maintain a sense of reverence for life."
"Even though I slacked off after graduation, my teachers drilled it into us: no matter what lies on the operating table—even just a dead fragment of tissue—you must approach it with reverence."
"This is the line a medical researcher must never cross. These bodies are separated from normal humans only by consciousness. A single act of arrogance—that's the line between angel and demon."
"...Seems I don't have to worry about you after all."
Romulus fell silent for a moment, then smiled.
He'd always worried about Ramses' "I'll exploit anything if I can" attitude.
But now, seeing his mindset, Romulus realized he'd been overthinking.
"Come on, man. I was raised in a proper family, parents and all. You don't really think every rich kid is a spoiled brat, do you?"
Ramses replied with a touch of pride.
"Have a little faith in your brother. Don't fuss like an old granny. Still, I don't mind more communication. After all, in this world, the only ones who can truly understand each other—"
His smile faded into something more restrained.
"—are the four of us."
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