This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 189 Needs and Efforts
The incandescent light illuminated the chest cavity under the shadowless lamp with every detail, revealing even the smallest capillaries.

'Gareth, you need to focus.'

It was unclear whether the whisper came from a communicator or from a memory.

The bright, cruel infirmary—

The medical room, filled with sophisticated equipment, was brightly lit. Every mistake was magnified in this setting, amplifying every tremor he felt.

The colleagues at the next operating table had already left one after another, and the number of people performing the surgery was decreasing. Some had completed their assigned tasks and gone to other religious orders for further study, while others had returned to their posts and begun writing the surgical reports that they would submit to the Legion Archives.

In one of the brightly lit operating rooms, Gareth noticed this scene, staring nervously at the exposed chest cavity before him, yet he hesitated to make the incision.

No one offered help, and no one criticized them.

Everyone has their own things to do.

Dark angels are all perfect; they are all capable of handling their own problems.

Apart from the rhythmic sounds of the instruments and the readings of the surgical procedure, there was only silence all around.

The silence made Gareth's face grow increasingly grim, and he suddenly remembered what his father had said.

You are not good at medicine. If you could, you should wield a sword and become a knight.

A mountain of pressure fell on his shoulders.

'But I just wanted to'

He could even sense the disgusted and questioning gazes directed at him again, and he stopped wielding his blade.

bleeding.

An artery ruptured due to prolonged exposure, leaving Gareth completely at a loss.

Dark Angels shouldn't make such a mistake.

The skilled swordsman hurriedly picked through the instruments, searching for hemostatic gel, his movements unusually flustered.

'Perhaps I shouldn't have been so determined to become a pharmacist.'

Gareth couldn't help but feel annoyed.

With Caliban gone, and his father and mother gone, who could he prove himself to?
He now resembles a fool stubbornly chasing after past illusions.

At this moment, a medical forceps precisely clamped the bleeding area, and a negative pressure tube quickly emptied the blood clots from it.

"Don't question your decision, Gareth."

A clear, cool voice rang out, like a gentle spring calming Gareth's agitation.

"Perhaps I am indeed incapable of becoming a qualified apothecary, Your Highness."

Arthur's arrival made Gareth feel subconsciously at ease, but at the same time, he felt increasingly ashamed.

This is an unprecedented mistake.

"Those who can pass the Astartes screening are not mediocre."

Arthur calmly helped clean up the surgical debris and stabilized the surgical situation.

"Go on, carefully recall what I taught you, and then continue."

He did not participate in the surgery.

There was no questioning, no harsh criticism.

He can provide a safety net for two lives.

".yes."

Gareth breathed a sigh of relief, like a drowning person who had been rescued, nodded slightly, and then began to recall.

Superman's brain perfectly replicates the scenes he has witnessed in the past, with every detail as if it were happening right before his eyes.

The organs, structures, and anatomical vessels to be preserved were carefully dissected and removed.

The organ was then implanted, and blood vessels and nerves were anastomosed.

Next, the wound was sutured and anti-rejection medication was injected.

Finally, the cycle repeats.

Gareth's knife was steady, just like when he held a sword.

The doubts in my mind faded away with the stitching, and those voices gradually disappeared from my perception, never to be heard again.

"well-done."

Arthur's voice came from behind as the last biological suture was tied.

Gareth looked around and realized that the operating room was empty. Only the mechanical clock on the wall showed the passing time. He had completed the surgery on ten people in less than an hour with absolute focus.

Arthur scrutinized each modification report. This was the first batch, containing the genetic seeds of both the Blood Angel and the Dark Angel, and the modification records of 130 Astartes.

Hmm, there are ten places missing; Gareth hasn't written it yet.

"Remember to write the report."

Arthur offered a reminder, then turned and left.

"Wait, Your Highness."

Gareth suddenly spoke up, calling out to the departing knight.

Arthur looked slightly surprised.

Outside of mission hours, very rarely—no, absolutely never—a Dark Angel would take the initiative to talk to him.

More often than not, he would explain the reasons to these soldiers while assigning tasks.

He stopped and turned around, closing the report board in his hand with a crisp "click." Arthur looked directly at the other person and then spoke.

"Please say."

Of course, he was also willing to listen to what these outstanding soldiers had to say.

After all, thanks to his childhood friend's powerful connections, although he has taken on frontline military duties, he doesn't actually have many tasks and has plenty of time.

Gareth breathed a sigh of relief, quickly packed up the equipment, and after sealing off the infirmary, he went to Arthur's side, who had been waiting for him outside the corridor.

Then, this warrior, who was only 28 years old before the Caliban explosion and, including his miner career, was just over a hundred years old, voiced the question that had been lingering in his mind.

When I first met you, I thought you would be a very proud and arrogant being, like a lion.

"You are naturally perfect, that's undeniable, but you've also given me so much patience."

His Adam's apple bobbed.

"I am very grateful to you, Your Highness."

"In this universe, it takes a lot of courage to choose a path that you want to take and that is the right one."

Arthur smiled, a hint of reminiscence on his face, and then spoke.

"In the future, the Dark Angels team will expand. No matter how many people there are, and no matter what problems each member has, I will give them the same patience as you."

"But I am not a god, and I cannot always have the time to listen to everyone's story, to help everyone, and to discern right from wrong every time."

"At that time, I hope you can pass on the patient guidance you received from me to others, to your other comrades, and to me as well."

He knew someone was eavesdropping.

In the shadows of the corridor, through the cracks in the metal walls, perhaps a few pairs of eyes were still lurking. Their locations flashed through Arthur's mind, but he didn't point it out.

Many people hope to be critical of others, while others are expected to be lenient with them.

Of course, some people are equally critical of themselves and everyone else.

This applies to emperors, and also to many Primarchs.

Arthur had high standards for himself because he knew this universe was awful and he had to get involved.

Moreover, he was quite lucky. His hardware after transmigrating was top-notch, he had powerful cheat codes, he had three reliable partners, and he was able to avoid the gaze of the evil god.

But others are different.

Before Ramses figured out a safe way to disseminate knowledge about the subspace, even he, a transmigrator, wasn't sure how much of the truth he could reveal to the original inhabitants of this universe.

If even the truth cannot be revealed, how can one ask for more?
Balancing needs and efforts can sometimes be really difficult.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Gareth bowed respectfully.

Arthur nodded in return.

"Thank you for your words, Gareth."

He gazed at the soldier before him who seemed to be living in the past, and at the same time, he believed that this exchange meeting was a breakthrough.

In fact, he sometimes struggled with how to give these soldiers more worthy rewards, and he was also well aware that he could not simply judge them based on stereotypes.

They deserve more than just cold orders and rigorous training.

“You are all outstanding individuals, but even the most outstanding individuals cannot understand you without communication—there are times when I don’t know where to begin, so I think you are the same.”

Gareth unconsciously straightened his back, a subtle movement that did not escape Arthur's notice.

Bathed in the warm white light, his face appeared less stern in the soft glow.

"If possible, I hope there can be more opportunities like this so that we can get to know each other, solve each other's difficulties and doubts, and make progress together."

(End of this chapter)