Thanks for the Powerstones, never expected to reach 200 Powerstones in the first week. Hope we can reach the ranking next week.
--
Karmine looked at the empty vial in her hand, then at the visibly improved wounded soldier. Her gaze changed.
"Can I take some more?" she asked, turning to Zeke with an earnest tone. "I won't take it for free."
Zeke shook his head, but before the medic could feel disappointed, he nodded again. "You can try collecting it yourself."
He gestured for Karmine to do it.
Karmine fetched a tin bucket and walked over to Cow, who had calmed down slightly.
She didn't hesitate. Squatting down, she steadied the bucket under Cow's belly. Her fingers found the correct position skillfully and precisely, and she began to squeeze rhythmically.
Her movements were practiced and accurate; it was clear she understood the relevant physiological structure.
"I couldn't tell. You know how to do this?" Zeke was a bit surprised.
"Are you surprised?" Karmine didn't even look up, focusing on her task, her voice calm and unwavering.
"As a qualified combat medic, I understand and have mastered the physiology of most common biological organisms."
"Not just humans, but also Ratlings, Ogryns... Back in the Medicae Academy, my grades in related courses never dropped out of the top three."
"Then you're a bit overqualified for being here," Zeke remarked.
Hearing this, Karmine paused. She let out a short, self-deprecating laugh.
"When I first met Sergeant Victor, he praised me in almost the exact same way."
She looked up, glancing at the straight-backed veteran talking to Dance in the center of the camp. A complex look flashed through her eyes.
Unconsciously, the force of Karmine's hands on Cow increased a few notches. Cow let out a startled yelp.
"That stubborn old coot said I was just here to gild my resume," Karmine cursed under her breath.
She mimicked Victor's tone:
"My name is Victor. I'm an old soldier. I'm a straightforward man who likes to speak the truth. In the end, people like you come to the front lines just to add another mark to your service record."
The more Karmine spoke, the angrier she got, and the strength in her hands grew. Cow began to shift its hooves uneasily, snorting in protest.
Realizing she had lost her composure, she took a breath and calmed down.
One minute passed.
Two minutes passed.
Three minutes passed.
Fine sweat appeared on Karmine's forehead. She tried various pressures and angles, but the bucket remained empty. Not a single drop of milk appeared.
Zeke stood with his arms crossed, wearing an expression that said, 'I knew it.'
His ability to obtain milk relied on Minecraft rules.
"Let me do it." Zeke waved his hand grandly. "Bring every bucket in your base. I'll fill them all up for you in one go."
Karmine was still immersed in self-doubt regarding her milking technique when she heard Zeke. She brought over a dozen massive iron drums, each as tall as a person.
"These are drums for transporting purified water," Karmine explained.
Looking at the setup, Zeke rolled his wrists and cracked his neck. His gaze fell once again on Cow, who had a very bad feeling about this.
When the last giant drum was filled, Karmine straightened her back, clenched her fist over her chest, and gave Zeke a solemn military salute.
"Mr. Zeke, on behalf of all the wounded, I thank you for your selfless assistance. This milk is precious; I will not take it for nothing."
"I will settle this with you at the price of medical supplies, converted into Imperial Credits."
Imperial Credits? What use do I have for that? Zeke quickly interjected, "Can we exchange it for something else?"
"What do you mean, Mr. Zeke?" Karmine paused.
"Precious metals. For example, Gold."
Zeke wasn't entirely confident when he said this. He wasn't sure if the value of his milk was high enough to be exchanged for gold.
"Gold?" Karmine thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Specific details will have to wait until we meet up with the main force to discuss."
"However, I promise you, Mr. Zeke, I will do my best to fight for it on your behalf."
That's good. Zeke nodded. It seemed his Golden Apple was finally within reach.
–
Dance and Sergeant Victor finally finished their conversation and walked toward Zeke, one behind the other.
Finally getting down to business? Zeke perked up.
Before Zeke could speak, Sergeant Victor's booming voice rang out, clearly audible across half the camp.
"My name is Victor. I'm an old soldier. I'm a straightforward man who likes to speak his mind, so I won't beat around the bush."
Karmine, who was preparing to leave, looked up. Hearing those familiar words, an ominous premonition instantly clouded her heart.
Victor stopped a few steps in front of Zeke, his hawk-like gaze locking onto him.
"You. Your name is Zeke, right? I want to ask you one thing: What exactly is your objective?"
His tone was aggressive and pressing.
"Hey, hey, is there a need to be so hostile?" Bela, on lookout duty above, couldn't help but poke his head out.
"Sergeant Victor, what do you mean by that? Mr. Zeke has been helping us treat the wounded all this time!" Karmine shouted angrily.
Dance, standing next to Victor, subtly distanced himself from the sergeant.
His eyes asked a silent question: This isn't what we discussed just now, is it?
Victor ignored the reactions around him. His posture remained as straight as a pine tree, unwavering.
"I hate politicians," he said slowly, every word hitting the ground with weight.
"Because those people always speak in riddles. They act one way to your face and another behind your back, always hiding ulterior motives."
He shifted his focus, thrusting his words at Zeke again. "So what about you? You possess powers..."
His gaze swept over the lush green farmland nearby, then landed on the milk Karmine had just collected.
"From the moment you stepped into this camp, you've been helping us for free. What are you plotting?"
Victor took off his heavily worn military cap, revealing gray but neatly trimmed short hair.
Those eyes, tempered by countless fires of war, were clear and piercing as they stared dead at Zeke.
The entire camp fell silent. Zeke met Victor's scrutinizing gaze without a hint of panic.
He paused, seemingly giving serious thought to his wording.
"Who told you I was helping you for free?"
Sergeant Victor froze.
Zeke followed up immediately, his voice clear: "Everything I do has a very specific purpose."
He raised his hand and pointed at Victor, but his gaze seemed to look past him, toward something further away.
"I want to cooperate with you."
"No, to be precise, not with you personally, but with the power of Cadia that you represent."
To be honest, Zeke actually appreciated Victor's attitude.
Before starting a real partnership, it was better to put all doubts on the table and clear them up.
It was far better than falling apart halfway through due to suspicion or hidden conflicts.
This was also why he chose to head to Tyrok Bastion, hoping to make contact with Lord Castellan Creed.
Dealing with pure soldiers or commanders might be uncomfortably direct at times.
But it was far more reliable than maneuvering around calculating politicians.
Even in the precarious 41st Millennium of the Imperium of Man, there was no shortage of greedy, short-sighted parasites.
Zeke didn't fear god-like opponents; he feared pig-like teammates. (TL/N: Me too)
"Dance should have briefly mentioned some of my abilities to you, right?"
As he spoke, Zeke casually pulled out a Crafting Table and placed it on the open ground between them.
Victor nodded.
"Materials," Zeke got straight to the point. "I need a lot. A vast variety of materials."
"Gold, diamonds, obsidian, redstone. Common ones, rare ones, precious ones."
Zeke recalled the time in the Greenskin cave. If he hadn't been lucky enough to find that mine...
He didn't know how much time he would have wasted just to gather the basic resources for a set of Iron Armor.
Leveraging the resource-gathering capabilities of a massive faction was obviously the more efficient choice.
"Also," he added, emphasizing this point, "I need access to specific talents. For example, Tech-Priests."
Zeke had long been thinking about the application of Minecraft automation and Redstone technology in this world.
In his previous life, he only had a shallow understanding of Redstone and various tech mods. Hand-cranking an iron farm or a simple mob grinder was fine.
But when it came to building complex, high-level automation systems, he was out of his depth.
But the Warhammer world had Tech-Priests!
Those "Engine-Seers" who viewed machinery as divine and spent their lives studying mechanical principles and applications...
Their understanding and application of machinery far exceeded his own.
The extremely high freedom of Minecraft automation combined with those Tech-Priests... Zeke couldn't even imagine the sparks that would fly.
After saying so much in one breath, Zeke felt a bit parched.
Naturally, he pulled another bucket of milk from his backpack, took a few swigs, and moistened his throat.