"Calgar told me there isn't enough milk for the plague?"
"I was just about to look for you about this. Filling buckets manually is just too inefficient. Supplying milk to one planet is fine, but expanding to an entire star system... the efficiency isn't enough."
Bela began to complain to Zeke. He wished he could split his day in half; his hands were practically smoking from all the milking.
"Ah, so that's how it is." Zeke came to a realization and nodded. "Say no more."
On the spot, he pulled out components from the Create Mod and began to assemble a contraption.
[Deployer], [Mechanical Arm], [Fluid Tank], [Large Cogwheel].
Driven by whirring gears, a mechanical arm would automatically extend toward the Stegadon, extract the milk into a fluid tank, and finally pipe it into a massive reservoir.
This machine's efficiency was more than a little higher than manual labor—it was industrial.
Zeke shouted loudly, extending a hand toward Bela. "Buckets!"
Several transport vehicles carrying empty tanks arrived at the camp.
At the edge of the camp, Zeke saw Cow sleeping soundly. The Hell Drake, which had grown a size larger, was sprawled on top of him, dozing.
These two little guys got along quite well.
Sensing the rumble of the transport vehicles nearby, Cow opened his sleepy eyes and saw a familiar scene.
Zeke gave him a cheeky grin.
Hey, buddy. Don't mind me.
With a startled moo, Cow scrambled to run away, but Zeke grabbed him.
"You've gotten heavier again!" Zeke grunted, bending down to lift Cow into the center of the automatic milking machine.
After securing the bovine, he connected the power source and flipped the switch.
The gears began to turn. Click, whirr, click. The mechanical arm extended and latched onto the udder.
Cow was a bit panicked at first, eyes wide, but soon discovered the mechanical arm didn't hurt. Aside from the indignity of being strapped into a brass contraption, it wasn't too bad.
Zeke connected the fluid reservoir to the transport vehicles. In a short while, three trucks were filled to the brim.
Large quantities of milk were transported through the Nether Portal, ready to be distributed wherever they were needed in the Ultramar system.
Before leaving, Zeke took out an Anvil and two prepared Name Tags.
He assigned names to Cow and the Hell Drake respectively. Considering that the Name Tag's text would always float above their bodies, Zeke honestly used their original names this time without adding any "creative" embellishments.
After setting everything up, Zeke left the machine behind, instructed Bela on its operation, and then returned to Macragge.
He had arrived aboard Archmagos Cawl's ship, the Iron Wraith. He had a very specific question to ask the Martian priest.
–
Armored transports painted with medical insignia smashed through the quarantine cordon and screeched to a halt.
"Move fast!" An Auxilia officer jumped off the lead vehicle. "Distribute it to every infected person. Better to give too much than too little!"
The soldiers sprang into action. They cracked open the tanks, filled simple containers with white liquid, and ran toward every figure struggling in pain.
A miracle happened again, in the most simple, unassuming way.
Those tortured by the tears drank. The uncontrollable weeping stopped. The rot vanished. The relief of survival washed over the district.
Such news quickly reached Guilliman's ears.
The Primarch put down the summarized report and let out a long sigh of relief.
He knew the horror of Nurgle's plagues too well. They were usually sticky and stubborn; every outbreak meant a long, grinding tug-of-war. Spending huge resources to develop a cure was often fruitless.
To quickly extinguish a Nurgle plague that was just beginning to scale up like this... in his ten thousand years of memory, such instances could be counted on one hand.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
But the relaxation didn't last long.
Guilliman realized that Chaos had methods as numerous as the stars. In the two days since his resurrection, two major incidents had already occurred. He couldn't stay here any longer.
He needed a once-and-for-all solution, not to sit and wait for death.
Guilliman decided to formally invite Zeke to join the Terran Crusade.
He had already gathered a Crusade force, which would board the Ultramarines' ancient and precious Gloriana-class battleship—the Macragge's Honour—and head for Terra.
After asking Calgar for Zeke's location and learning he was on Cawl's Iron Wraith, Guilliman set off to find him personally.
–
"Cawl, I remember Guilliman gave you a second task back then, didn't he?"
Cawl paused for a moment, his mechadendrites twitching, then admitted it openly.
Since Zeke already knew, there was no need to hide it. Moreover, Guilliman had already told him of Zeke's immense value.
During the long years of Guilliman's slumber, using the Sangprimus Portum—which contained the genetic material of all 20 Primarchs entrusted to him by Guilliman—Cawl had developed a new generation of Astartes.
They possessed three more organs than ordinary Astartes and had greater strength, resilience, and stature.
These Primaris Space Marines were secretly stationed by Cawl in various bases across the galaxy, sleeping in stasis. The purpose was to wait for the day of Guilliman's resurrection to awaken them, providing the Primarch with a legion to retake the galaxy.
"Can you take me to see them? I'm quite curious."
Zeke asked. The surgical modification of Space Marines was legendary, and naturally, he wanted to witness it given the chance.
But the more fundamental reason was that Zeke felt he might have a chance to obtain some mods from these Primaris Space Marines.
At this moment, Guilliman also arrived on the Iron Wraith.
Upon learning of Zeke's interest in the Primaris project, Guilliman struggled internally. The Primaris were his secret weapon. But eventually, he agreed.
For this future partner who wielded reality-bending magic, it wasn't a secret worth keeping.
–
In a surgical chamber, Zeke stood over a Primaris Space Marine sleeping on a table.
He took the schematic handed over by Cawl, which detailed various surgical information. The moment his fingers brushed the diagram...
[Mod: Chest Cavity Unlocked]
Zeke grinned. This mod's name was simple. In his old world, it was widely known in modpacks like "Bountiful Baubles."
Its function was simple: using a Chest Opener, one could remove organs from creatures and place them into others—or one's own body—to gain special abilities.
Crafting the Chest Opener was cheap: one stick, one iron ingot, and one lever.
Holding this pincer-like tool, Zeke briefly introduced it to Archmagos Cawl.
"Extraction? Transplantation?" Cawl's voice went up an octave, his binary cant blurring with excitement. "A Space Marine's organs are designed layer by layer. The transplantation process is extremely complex, with a very high mortality rate. If it's truly as magical as you say, wouldn't we be able to mass-produce Space Marines..."
Looking at Cawl, it seemed he wanted to grab the Chest Opener and test the truth of Zeke's words himself right then and there.
Guilliman, hearing about mass-producing Space Marines, felt his worldview being violently reshaped.
Archmagos Cawl calculated the risks and benefits. Under the dual premise of pursuing knowledge and the potential for this technology to benefit the Imperium, he agreed to Zeke's outrageous request.
Zeke stepped forward. When a creature was near death or in a coma—like stasis—the Chest Opener could access its inventory.
Click.
Under the effect of the Chest Opener, the Primaris's chest cavity was unfolded.
There was no bloody scene. An interface window, clean and grid-like, appeared hovering over the warrior's chest.
Cawl and Guilliman stood beside him, seeing nothing but Zeke staring at the marine. They waited, thinking he hadn't started yet.
Zeke, however, was looking at the interface before him.
Besides miscellaneous tissues, a Primaris Space Marine had a total of 23 main organs.
This corresponded exactly to the 19 implants of a Firstborn Space Marine, plus the 3 new implants added by Archmagos Cawl for the Primaris—the Magnificat, the Belisarian Furnace, and the Sinew Coils.
For an ordinary person to become a Space Marine, the process was brutal. Years of surgery, hypno-therapy, and genetic modification.
Zeke tested it; he dragged an organ icon into his backpack. It moved instantly.
However, the health bar of the marine flickered. Taking too long to extract organs might cause the Primaris Space Marine to die on the spot.
Zeke put the organ back.
Good lord.
If this was the case, Zeke could now mass-produce Space Marines by hand. No lengthy surgical process was needed. As long as those organs were provided, he could use the Chest Opener to transplant them directly, vastly reducing the risk of surgery.
More importantly...
Zeke saw that besides these standard organs, this Primaris Space Marine still had three empty slots in his chest inventory.
This meant he could add three new organs to him.
Many new ideas suddenly flooded Zeke's mind.
He could transplant organs from Tyranids, Orks, or Chaos entities...
He quickly rejected this idea himself. Too unstable. Leaving aside the issue of loyalty, Zeke didn't even know if a modified Space Marine could still be called human; the Inquisition would probably classify them directly as xenos.
Since that was the case, Zeke had a better idea: replace them with some Minecraft organs.
Endermen. Blazes. Withers. The Ender Dragon...
Minecraft creatures were not only cute but also possessed powerful abilities.
The idea of creating a Minecraft-augmented Space Marine Chapter, unique to himself, quietly sprouted in his heart.
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