A Commissar of a Krieg regiment stepped off the spaceship, the brim of his cap casting a shadow over his face, revealing only a pair of calm, steady eyes.
He took a deep breath; the air carried a hint of industrial rust, but there were no unusual scents of sulfur or rot. Good.
The air wasn't too abnormal; it seemed the atmospheric composition of Amara Prime wasn't much different from other planets in the Orpheus Sector.
This was a good sign. It meant his soldiers wouldn't suffer a short-term drop in combat effectiveness due to environmental factors.
While the Death Korps of Krieg possessed extreme environmental adaptability, any factor that reduced uncertainty was something to be grateful for.
The first wave of the Death Korps of Krieg to arrive totaled two million men. They were originally stationed across various parts of the Orpheus Sector and had assembled at Amara Prime under the orders of the former Sector Governor.
This massive force, like a grey torrent of steel carrying the scent of death, rapidly deployed across the designated zones.
An official from the Departmento Munitorum soon handed the relevant tasks to the Commissar. He took the data slate and scanned it quickly, but after a moment, he spotted several issues.
First was the large-scale engineering work for the garrison area—this was no problem. Krieg was exceptionally skilled at engineering; they were masters of trench warfare.
Digging trenches, constructing bunkers, and building underground fortifications was as natural to them as breathing.
However, the tasks described called for digging out an underground space of such depth and scale that it was extraordinary even for Krieg, which explained why it was specifically highlighted in the briefing.
This gave him a faint sense of unease; such a workload was far beyond standard combat readiness.
But what truly concerned the Commissar was that their regiment was stationed next to an allied force called the 'Perditia Helldivers Legion'.
One must understand that in a single war zone, aside from Krieg, there was usually only Krieg.
This wasn't because Krieg didn't know how to cooperate; it was because the Death Korps' way of war—that disregard for casualties and advancement at any cost—had a severe impact on the morale of normal Astra Militarum units.
They were not suited for joint operations with other Imperial Guard regiments. Deploying them together was either a massive oversight by the Munitorum or... something more calculated.
The Commissar raised this issue with a Munitorum official, but the official didn't care. He simply waved him off, gesturing for him to hurry to the site and construct the defenses, as if the Commissar's doubts were merely a waste of time.
The Commissar had no choice but to follow orders and march toward the designated garrison.
Meanwhile, he began thinking about learning more about this unheard-of unit before the battle started to prevent any accidents once the fighting began. He didn't want unnecessary casualties caused by the "abnormality" of his allies.
Upon arriving at the position, the Commissar sent a message to the neighboring allied unit, expressing a desire to meet their senior officers to improve mutual understanding. The other party agreed very readily.
Such promptness caught him by surprise; usually, establishing contact between Imperial Guard commanders involved a great deal of red tape.
Then again, Krieg was never a regiment for formalities, so he didn't pay it much mind.
The Commissar set out. He wasn't worried that his brief absence would cause any trouble within this Krieg unit.
The chances of a Krieg soldier acting out were lower than the chances of a star suddenly exploding. The discipline of Krieg soldiers was famous throughout the Empire.
The Commissar went alone—he intended to observe the spirit of the rank-and-file before meeting the high-ranking officers.
He wanted to see what was so different about these "Helldivers" from the perspective of the common soldier.
He first encountered several "Helldivers" gathered around a Taurus All-Terrain Assault Vehicle, seemingly busy with something. He approached quietly, his footsteps light and nearly silent, wanting to overhear what these fellows were up to.
"Man, is this really gonna work? Our squad worked hard to scrape this car together," a voice said with concern.
"Exactly. Don't go messing it up and making it un-driveable. We'll have to spend more money to find a tech-Priest to fix it," another voice chimed in.
"Oh, just relax!" The 'player' buried deep in the engine spoke without looking up. "I told you, I studied auto repair for a few years. Once I'm done with these mods, the speed and maneuverability will definitely be on a whole new level!"
It sounds like they are performing unauthorized modifications on this wheeled assault vehicle. Do their officers and accompanying Tech-Priests not care? The Commissar thought to himself.
The discipline of this unit seemed... a bit loose. Despite his inner critique, the Commissar remained silent and continued to listen, wanting to see what other tricks these "Helldivers" had up their sleeves.
A short while later, the player finally slammed the hood shut, a hint of pride on his face. He wiped away non-existent sweat and announced to his companions: "Alright, it's done!"
Then, he pulled out a bucket of red paint from the side and said excitedly: "Now, all we need to do is paint this car red, and it'll be three times faster than before!"
"Wait, that's not right. Where's the horn?" another Helldiver asked in confusion.
The Commissar finally couldn't hold it in. A red paint job increases speed? This is pure, fantastical nonsense!
He spoke up: "I say, soldiers—"
The several Helldivers only then noticed the Commissar who had sneaked up next to them. After a brief startle, the player who had been fixing the car brightened up as if he had discovered a new toy. "Holy crap, a Krieg Commissar! Come here, come here, let's take a selfie!"
Before the Commissar could even speak, the Helldivers swarmed him, sandwiching him in the middle.
The Commissar felt himself being pushed and shoved by several forces. Before he could say anything, they all scattered after a few seconds, returning to their original positions as if nothing had happened.
"So, Commissar, bro," the auto-repair Helldiver asked with a hint of curiosity, "are you looking for us because you have a quest—I mean, a task for us?"
After being rattled by the Helldivers like this, the Commissar's train of thought was completely derailed. He steadied himself, trying to regain his rhythm: "I wish to see your highest-ranking officer to discuss certain matters. Do you know where he is?"
He had originally wanted to observe more, but after this encounter, his intuition told him—it was better to stop observing. These people were simply beyond reason.
The Helldivers looked at each other, all wearing an "I get it" expression. Yup, a very standard NPC line. Having successfully triggered the quest, they said in unison: "Of course! No problem, please get in the car!"
The Commissar had expected to go through more trouble—perhaps these Helldivers asking for identification or verifying with superiors—but they just agreed directly? The casual nature of this unit once again redefined his understanding.
He, of course, didn't know that on the players' system interface, the quest summary for [Escort Krieg 117th Armored Grenadiers Commissar Brooke to the target location] had already revealed his identity clearly. Brooke only felt that this was incredibly reckless, something completely unheard of.
As the player got into the driver's seat and started the vehicle, he said proudly: "You guys should thank me for getting this quest. If we hadn't stopped here to mod the car, would we have run into this Commissar? Auto repair is great; you guys gotta learn it!"
The other players gave half-hearted replies: "Yeah, yeah, you're the man, alright?"
The red vehicle started.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Brooke actually felt that the speed was quite fast.
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