Over a month had passed since Blazkowicz returned to the War Continent.
Stumbling along the way, evading detectors and traversing several crystal caverns, he had finally made it back to the war base.
Upon his return, the very first thing he did was don his royal ceremonial attire and take the place of his frontline holographic projection to conduct inspections, award medals, and comfort the soldiers to boost morale.
During the mission, he had used the holographic projection as a disguise to deceive the Rangdan's scanning eyes and cover his secret operations. Now that he was back from the underground, his immediate priority was to head to the front lines and swap out the projection.
As Blazkowicz expected, amid the prolonged and fierce meat grinder of a war, legends were springing up like bamboo shoots after rain, and war heroes shone as brilliantly as the stars.
After patrolling the battle lines for a few days and clearing a long backlog of work, Blazkowicz found himself idle once more.
He had only been idle for a few days when a major event occurred on J-11.
The Dark Angels Legion began broadcasting the gruesome torture of Rangdan captives across a public channel flooded with profanity.
The Dark Angels deliberately livestreamed the executions, torturing the Rangdan captives with brutal methods that produced piercing, wretched screams. One after another, the executioners demonstrated superb craftsmanship; not a single Rangdan captive's agonizing pleas sounded the same.
This display struck terror into the Rangdan warriors and infuriated the Rangdan Overlords. One Overlord fiercely denounced the First Legion, claiming humanity was utterly insane and vowing that the Rangdan would have their revenge.
"Should we really not try to persuade Lion?" Blazkowicz sat in a chair in his quarters, Vulcan's holographic projection flickering on his desk.
"I have no pity for the fate of xenos," the black giant spoke, his voice like muffled thunder, his red eyes flashing with worry. "But the First Legion's actions will provoke Rangdan retaliation. It is easy to foresee how human warriors will be treated if they are captured."
Blazkowicz held a file, carving a medal as a grating rasp echoed through the room.
"There are pros and cons," he sighed, explaining to Vulcan. "The Dark Angels' tactics are, on the whole, a balanced trade-off."
"The Rangdan communicate via psychic fluctuations; emotions travel rapidly through their consciousness."
"The terror of a few Rangdan warriors will quickly spread across their psychic network, triggering collective panic."
"The downside is also obvious. When they share a common enemy, they become more united and fearless."
"It is a racial trait," Vulcan nodded. What his brother said was already included in the intelligence reports; the Rangdan race was highly susceptible to collective hive-mind effects.
Blazkowicz set down his carving tool, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk as he pondered Lion's underlying motive. "The Dark Angels want to provoke the Rangdan's emotions."
"This war has dragged on for a long time, and there is no telling how much longer it will last."
"Lion wants to incite the Rangdan's hatred, pinning them completely to J-11 to create more opportunities for the other Legions."
"Are you referring to the Space Wolves and the Blood Angels?" A spark lit up in Vulcan's eyes as his dark head nodded slightly.
Thinking from this perspective, Lion was indeed looking far ahead. By provoking the Rangdan Empire's hatred and forcing them to endlessly pour in reinforcements, it created an opening for the two offensive Legions to strike a devastating blow to the Rangdan.
Not only that, but the Nineteenth Legion had broken into small pieces early on, infiltrating deep behind the Rangdan lines. Counting the time, the warriors of the Nineteenth Legion should have finished regrouping and mapped out the Rangdan supply lines by now.
"That is likely part of the consideration," Blazkowicz said, shaking his head slowly, uncertain of exactly how many layers lay within Lion's calculus.
He shrugged helplessly, offering a reassuring smile. "Don't be too melancholic. The initiative is in the hands of the First Legion; we just need to coordinate properly."
"If you truly feel restless, you can head to the front lines to slaughter some xenos yourself."
"Better not," Vulcan shook his head bitterly. "The time is not yet right. Elite combat assets shouldn't casually show up on the battlefield; it would disrupt the high command's plans."
The Lord of Drakes sent over a file via the holographic vox, detailing an incident where the Salamanders' deployment had triggered a chain reaction. After reading it, Blazkowicz nodded. High command's decision was entirely correct, leaving him with no further room to criticize.
"I will go deploy the auxiliary lines to ensure they aren't taken captive." Vulcan sighed deeply, waving a hand in farewell. "At the very least, protect the mortals from suffering those cruelties."
Blazkowicz nodded heavily. "When the crisis point comes, we will use artillery fire to help end their tragic futures."
"I will..."
As the lingering sigh faded, the holographic projection cut out, ending the brief conversation.
Faced with his brother's sorrow, Blazkowicz could offer no other solace. He picked up his file again to resume carving the medals. After all, in a fierce war, kind-hearted souls had to face not only the enemy but also the psychological toll within their own hearts.
Vulcan's kindness was by no means weakness, and he knew his mission well, but the humanity and responsibility he bore would not allow him to turn a blind eye.
Blazkowicz carved medal after medal, feeling the tremors rising from the ground. The artillery fire never ceased, ravaging the bodies and wills of the combatants, gradually wearing down their humanity and conviction until they collapsed entirely.
The Imperium created the Astartes and the Primarchs to purge human frailty, forging fragile human forms into bodies of iron to endure endless war. He understood Vulcan's kindness, but he understood the meaning of war even better.
If mortals were to be completely insulated from war, it would only happen when the Great Crusade concluded, the glory of mankind was restored, and the xenos occupying the galaxy were utterly purged. Only then would the Emperor's Webway project be realized, keeping humanity far away from the corruption of Chaos.
Beep... Beep...
A notification chime made Blazkowicz halt his file. A display popped up on the desk; a countdown sequence had just reached zero.
He tapped his finger on the desktop and quickly drafted a reference directive:
[The Genetic Devolutor has been activated and is currently running at minimum power.]
[Keep a close watch on the Rangdan front lines and record the progression of the Devolutor's potency.]
[If power adjustments are required, contact the Psyker Masters to drive the psychic crystals and modulate the device's output.]
Having made the arrangements, Blazkowicz resumed his carving work, quietly waiting for the great battle to arrive.
As iron shavings flew beneath his blade, he suddenly felt that his current preparations were still insufficient. Laying down the medal, he donned his cloak and walked out of his quarters.
"Arrange a warship. I am returning to Nur."
Blazkowicz boarded a shuttle to the warship without bringing anyone along, entering the Warp alone to head for Nur.
Before both mankind and the Rangdan committed their true elite forces to the battlefield, he slipped away quietly. The brief departure of a top-tier asset would have a negligible impact on the current theater of war. Both sides were currently expending naval warships and mortal forces; the intensity of the war had not yet escalated to a clash between elite elements.
Furthermore, Planet Five was rock solid, and Blazkowicz was filled with confidence. Ninety percent of the Doom Marine Legion's strength was stationed here, paired with various engines of war. As the Genetic Devolutor gradually took effect, a breakthrough of the defensive line was utterly impossible.
Blazkowicz's departure caused no ripples. His projection regularly appeared on the front lines and high platforms, confounding the Rangdan's eyes.
However, as time went on, many anomalous conditions began to manifest within the Rangdan ranks.
A month after the Genetic Devolutor was turned on, the first devolved individual appeared on the absolute frontline. An alien slave's sanity snapped completely; losing all control, it began slaughtering its allies within the battle lines.
Yet, this isolated case did not draw much attention.
The Rangdan lines were simply too dense. Across a five-hundred-kilometer front, layered upon layer, the slave soldiers constantly hovered around one billion in number. A single mentally broken individual carried no more weight than a lone mayfly.
The Rangdan warriors did not know that the degeneration capabilities of the Genetic Devolutor targeted the intellect of the brain first.
Intellect was the critical factor that defined a life form as a "sapient being." The number of neurons and synapses determined the upper and lower limits of a creature's intelligence, allowing life to comprehend a complex world and utilize science.
But what if, under a certain influence, the neurons and synapses inside a sapient being's brain began to diminish, making their thoughts sluggish and causing their comprehension to plummet rapidly?
The Rangdan slaving overminds were powerful, violating the free will of intelligent species, manipulating thoughts, and twisting wills to make them bow in reverence. With just a simple command, they could make armies of slaves throw themselves forward wave after wave.
But what would happen if, at a certain moment, the intelligence possessed by the slave army was no longer sufficient to comprehend the orders transmitting into their brains?
An ancient Terra poem went: Following the wind, it steals into the night; moistening things silently.
Though the poetic sentiment was entirely different, the underlying meaning could be applied here perfectly.
The degenerative radiation infiltrated the biological genes, causing severe intellectual regression across the slave army. Instability and ferocity gradually spread throughout the Rangdan lines.
Among various xenos species, "primitive" physical traits began to re-emerge. Their bodies hunched with bestial postures, and inexplicable guttural growls mixed into their speech patterns.
At first, the Rangdan overlords believed this to be a positive development, assuming that the high-intensity warfare had altered the slaves' genes, triggering an aggressive evolution.
It was only later, when small-scale internal riots frequently erupted within the slave army, that the mid-level Rangdan commanders realized something was wrong and immediately reported it to the higher-ups.
Following an investigation by their scientific caste, they discovered a specific, anomalous radiation permeating the planet, which was actively degenerating the genes of the lower species.
Orders for a thorough sweep were quickly issued. Deep-scanning arrays probed the planet's underground, but due to the presence of severe interference, they consistently failed to locate the source of the anomalous radiation.
Left with no choice, they could only order the construction of anti-radiation shielding at key positions to block out the degenerative effects.
Even though radiation also existed along the human lines, the mid-to-high-level Rangdan could only feel that the war was becoming increasingly difficult...