Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

Lin had of course heard about the flesh-mutation afflicting the Second Legion — the Hunter Dreadnought himself had mentioned it on the very day he awoke.

Flesh-mutation in itself was nothing unheard of. The Fifteenth Legion, the Thousand Sons, had been plagued by it grievously. Their Primarch — Rainbow Pony, as the veteran had called him — had even traded away one of his own eyes to Tzeentch in exchange for the knowledge to cure his Legion's affliction.

— Though at the time, the Pony had no idea that Tzeentch was one of the Warp's Chaos Gods. And that bargain, which had only ever helped at the very beginning, ultimately led to the entire Thousand Sons Legion falling into Tzeentch's service.

When Lin had first listened to the Hunter Dreadnought recount his Legion's flesh-mutation — and even learned that their Primarch had similarly struck a deal with Tzeentch — the natural inertia of his assumptions had led him to conclude that the Second Legion's affliction was the same kind of thing as the Thousand Sons'. After all, both were Legions with an affinity for absorbing genetic material.

But now, having seen with his own eyes how Admir had been brought back from the edge of death by a Silver Rathalos's heart, the truth crashed over him like cold water: the Second Legion's flesh-mutation was nothing like the Thousand Sons' at all.

The Thousand Sons had suffered from uncontrollable physical growth — human flesh and limbs proliferating out of control until they consumed the warrior entirely, leaving nothing but a mindless, writhing mass of meat. The Second Legion's condition was something else entirely: a conscious, deliberate absorption and rewriting of their own genetic code.

In other words — it wasn't just their Primarch. Every single one of them could voluntarily turn themselves into something alien.

Lin stared at the Hunter Dreadnought. He was quite certain the veteran had deliberately left out certain details when telling his Legion's story.

Drawing genetic information from others was a baseline ability granted to every Space Marine by the nineteen implantation surgeries. At the time, the Hunter Dreadnought had glossed over it with a casual mention of an extra gland complementing their Gene-Seed neural interface, and Lin hadn't thought to press further.

But who could have anticipated that what he'd called "targeted evolution" meant this? That eating a single piece of flesh could let a human body accept and use a Silver Rathalos's heart — an organ utterly alien to human physiology?!

"At least he's alive." The Hunter Dreadnought met Lin's gaze and said: "We cannot afford to lose Brother Admir."

"We can't lose him, no — but your abilities are... a little too dangerous," Lin replied.

Unstable abilities were dangerous, but abilities that were too stable and reliable were equally so. Lin understood all too well just how much enthusiasm humanity could pour into something that could be directed and practiced repeatedly.

To say nothing of anything else — any random Forge World within the Adeptus Mechanicus would routinely lose three-digit numbers of tech-priests to explosions caused by tinkering with "mature" thermite processes or "improvements" to plasma technology.

Lin struggled to imagine what manner of abomination a Legion that could splice monster genomes into their own DNA just by eating might eventually stack themselves into.

If it ever reached that point, "flesh-mutation" might actually be an understatement...

Lin suddenly found himself with a somewhat better understanding of why the Emperor had so thoroughly struck the Second Legion from the records. But the Hunter Dreadnought offered him a reassurance.

"It is precisely because we know our abilities are too dangerous that those of us who follow the principle of restrained use left the Legion in the first place. In truth, even across all the years I slept, I believe my brothers held to that principle. The fact that they lived for so many years on a planet teeming with monsters without any uncontrolled mutation is the best proof of that."

"I trust you," Lin said, "but I trust what I see with my own eyes even more."

Lin looked toward Admir. As the Silver Rathalos's heart beat steadily within his chest cavity, his breathing gradually grew more even, and his internal organs began to repair themselves with remarkable speed.

That fierce, surging vitality surprised Lin. He found himself thinking back to the emergency surgery he had performed on a badly wounded Space Marine at the Felyne camp — that warrior's tenacious self-healing ability, which he had chalked up as exceptional at the time, was clearly no anomaly at all.

He hesitated for a moment, then injected Admir with a nutrient supplement anyway.

Admir's regenerative capacity had already reached a level where Lin's intervention was entirely unnecessary — pure nutrition was all he needed to make a full recovery. Assuming, that is, that he didn't end up with any Silver Rathalos components growing in unexpected places.

So what did this count as, then — the birth of a Wyverian in the proud Warhammer tradition?

"We can selectively choose what genetic material to absorb," Deputy Aibo said quietly, "but Brother Admir's injuries are severe enough that his body's survival instinct has taken over — he is absorbing everything available to him right now."

"He was originally the most principled among us. What is happening to him now cannot be held against him," the Deputy added.

Lin shook his head. "I know. But this has never been a matter of individual conduct. If we're thinking about long-term cooperation, I will need to examine your Gene-Seeds."

"Once Brother Admir wakes, I will seek his consent," said the Hunter Dreadnought — who had already relinquished overall command.

Lin nodded, accepting that answer. He began suturing Admir's body closed. No one spoke during the process, and the atmosphere grew quietly heavy.

It wasn't until Sergeant Arlo returned from the outer perimeter defense together with Lieutenant Vigan — who had gone out to reinforce him — that the silence finally began to ease.

"There was nothing to reinforce!" Lieutenant Vigan announced loudly. "After the Silver Rathalos died, those dragon spawn that had broken through just... up and left on their own for no apparent reason!"

"Including the Deviljho?" Lin confirmed.

"Including the Deviljho."

Sergeant Arlo picked up the thread. "If we factor in the World Soul that was mentioned earlier — suppose the World Soul sent those dragon spawn to harass us precisely when we began hunting the Silver Rathalos. Now that the Silver Rathalos has fallen, the dragon spawn have withdrawn, forgoing any chance to press an attack against our exhausted forces. Does this indicate that the World Soul is trying to extend us some form of goodwill?"

"Who knows? I never try to guess the intentions of inhuman things," Lin answered. "At least we're safe. For now."

The battle had been brutal. Thanks to the Felynes' timely rescue effort, they had somehow come through without a single fatality — but the number of wounded who had lost limbs or worse was far from small.

Had three or more monsters continued to press them, Lin and his group would have had no choice but to scavenge more materials from the space hulk and make a hasty retreat. But with the dragon spawn gone, they suddenly found themselves with a generous amount of time.

Lin first attended to the most critically wounded, then organized the Felynes to help him recover usable materials from the Silver Rathalos carcass. Finally, with Deputy Aibo assisting in coordinating, he organized the remaining able-bodied warriors and established a defensive perimeter along the outer hull of the space hulk.

When all of that was done, he went to the space hulk himself and cut an entrance through its armored hull plating.

Everything else could be delegated — but cracking open a mystery loot box? That required a personal touch.

"Time to collect the greatest reward this battle has to offer."

Setting aside every concern that had come before, Lin rubbed his hands together with barely-contained excitement as his treasure-hunting instincts surged to life: "Let's see just what secrets are hiding inside this thing!"

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