[Brain? What brain? Five-eyed Tzeentch, don't you damn well get in my way of hacking and slashing and hacking and slashing and hacking and slashing!!!]
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The end of the 41st Millennium.
Segmentum Obscurus, a certain Hive City.
Thick, heavy clouds blanketed the entire continent. Pale blue ice crystals drifted down, falling into the continuous trenches alongside the towering Hive City that pierced the sea of clouds in the distance.
Before they could melt upon landing, a pair of military boots stepped down with a crisp click, crushing them into powder.
Sith wore the uniform of a Planetary Defense Force Colonel. Beneath his peaked cap, his youthful face tilted up slightly, watching the dense ice crystals overhead.
He reached out to catch one. The crystal melted, and even through his gloves, the bone-chilling cold still pierced his skin and sank into his marrow.
He took a sharp breath in pain, but the air felt like an icy blade scraping his throat, making him frown involuntarily.
Feeling this tangible pain, Sith suddenly clenched his right hand, crushing the ice crystals within.
"Yel..."
"The Emperor, that old man, really did bring me here..."
The expression on Sith's face beneath his cap was one of utter, speechless frustration. In his heart, he wanted to 'respectfully' refer to the Emperor as a 'Yellow Skin', but when it came to his lips, he didn't dare say it.
After all, he usually just shouted about loyalty online; he never actually intended to go!
Well, now it was done. He had woken up to find himself in the glorious, great, and luminous Imperium of Man.
And he had become a minor Colonel of the Planetary Defense Force on this Hive World, ready to serve that old man, the Emperor, faithfully.
But looking at the Astra Militarum Political Commissar waiting for him nearby to oversee the battle, the frustration on Sith's face turned into a helpless look of wanting to die.
The Political Commissar's cold eyes were pinned on Sith. Sith endured the blade-like air for one last deep breath before gritting his teeth and treading through the frozen trenches toward the Political Commissar.
"Colonel Sith of the 101st Regiment, reporting for duty!"
With a sharp 'thud' of his boots on the hard ice, Sith stood tall and saluted.
The Political Commissar's icy gaze didn't change in the slightest. He scrutinized Sith for several moments, and only after confirming that the young man showed no signs of insufficient loyalty did he raise his hand to return the salute.
"I am here to remind you, Excellency, that you and your regiment are to launch an attack on the rebel positions in half an hour. This is not a request, it is an order!"
Sith glanced at the enemy positions in the distance from the corner of his eye. Even though he had prepared himself mentally, his eye still couldn't help but twitch.
The permanent fortifications, built with massive amounts of Plasteel, were riddled with dense firing points.
And in front of those positions, the entire landscape was covered in endless corpses, leaving no place even to step.
In just the small section Sith could see, the death toll already far exceeded his entire regiment.
Sith felt bitter, but he didn't dare show it on his face. After all, in the eyes of the Astra Militarum, local forces like the Planetary Defense Force weren't even considered cannon fodder; calling them 'expendables' would be a compliment.
For instance, in some defensive battles, even if the fight was won by local forces alongside other Imperial units, the Planetary Defense Force—which suffered the most casualties—wouldn't even have its name mentioned after the victory.
While they weren't worthy of being mentioned in victory, they were always the scapegoats in defeat.
Or if communication couldn't be maintained on the battlefield for various reasons, the Planetary Defense Force in charge of communications would become the ultimate cause of all problems, ending with a mass hanging to give the higher-ups an explanation.
It could be said that facing the higher-ranking Astra Militarum, Sith simply could not raise any objections, nor was he permitted to.
Seeing that Sith had 'no' problems, the Political Commissar finally nodded with some satisfaction.
"Have your men ready. I want to see you charging out of the trenches in half an hour."
Sith snapped back to reality, his gaze subconsciously drifting to his soldiers.
A group of terrified people huddled in the trenches. Forget about a single piece of Plasteel armor; even their uniforms were terrifyingly thin, let alone capable of withstanding the extreme cold!
With the charge imminent, the entire regiment didn't even have a single campfire for warmth. The soldiers could only huddle together, shivering as they breathed onto their pale hands.
As the Political Commissar prepared to leave, Sith saw this and hurriedly reached out to stop him.
The Political Commissar stopped, frowning with dissatisfaction as he looked at Sith. The coldness that had slightly dissipated from his eyes returned.
Sith was speechless at himself, wondering where he had found the courage.
But having already reached out, he could only stand straight and salute quickly.
"Reporting, sir! I would like to request some promethium fuel for the soldiers to warm themselves before the battle!"
As soon as these words were spoken, not only was the Political Commissar stunned, but even the surrounding soldiers looked at Sith in shock.
The Political Commissar scrutinized Sith seriously. Once he was certain that Sith truly only had this thought and wasn't trying to delay the attack, his brow relaxed again.
However, his gaze remained icy.
"The Imperium's resources are precious and cannot be wasted on unnecessary things."
After responding, the Political Commissar ignored Sith and the nearby soldiers entirely, walking straight through the crowd and away into the distance.
Sith withdrew his hand helplessly and looked back at the soldiers around him. Though still shocked, their eyes now held a bit more goodwill toward him.
He really didn't have the energy to continue acting like a commander who loved his men like sons. Hearing the first bugle call from the distance of the trench—signaling that five minutes had already passed—Sith quickly wrapped his relatively warm military overcoat tighter and found a crowded spot to lie down.
"Twenty-five minutes left. Every second of comfort counts."
Sith lay flat, ready to give up, but just as he had settled, a line of subtitles suddenly appeared before his eyes.
"Hundredfold Amplification? As long as it is something I personally participate in, I will receive a hundredfold positive feedback?"
Sith whispered subconsciously. After digesting this information, he was only briefly stunned before immediately chanting several names in his heart:
"Yellow Skin? Khorne the Second? Tzeentch?..."
After going through the list, Sith quickly closed his eyes, waiting for a potential slap across the face from a deity. But after waiting for a long time and finding it still quiet, Sith slowly opened his eyes, certain that this wasn't a joke played by some big shot.
His eyes, which had been resigned to fate, lit up again as he read it once more.
"A hundredfold for everything?"
After thinking for a moment, Sith reached out and gripped a piece of hard ice that would normally only show a white mark if struck by an entrenching tool.
With a slight exertion of force, the ice shattered!
Sith's breathing instantly became heavy. After a slight pause, he gripped his sidearm, ejecting and reinserting the magazine.
His speed was so fast that even the soldiers beside him didn't react at all.
The soldiers only wondered when their Colonel had suddenly taken his gun into his hand.
Sensing the dazed, frozen looks of the soldiers around him, Sith slowly holstered his sidearm.
"Strength, reaction, and speed have all increased a hundredfold, but I feel like this 'hundredfold' shouldn't be that simple..."
Sith pondered, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. After a moment's thought, his gaze suddenly landed on the numb soldiers beside him.
"As long as I participate, there is a hundredfold positive feedback..."
"What if I lead them in training?"
Sith's eyes suddenly brightened, but along with the idea of training came another, even bolder thought.
"Since training can be amplified a hundredfold, then if I lead them through a single battle, does that mean every one of them will be..."
"A veteran of a hundred battles?!"