The Imperial Dream, a single luxury treatment room.

Three months prior to the reconstructive surgery.

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The original luxurious and fragrant infirmary room was now filled with the special poisonous gas of Barbarus.

The gases were collected by the servants of Barbarus, and then the compressed gases were mixed with the air on the Emperor Dream in proportion to the air, and then discharged into the large and empty sanatorium.

The owner of the room, Motarian, was sitting on the edge of the bed, quietly flipping through a thick book.

He was not wearing a gas mask, and the concentration of these gases on Barbaros could simply be called pleasant air.

Mortarian was dressed in simple white casual clothes, and the large, comfortable fabric was loosely draped over his body, revealing the bandages and medical gel inside.

There was nothing in the room but a bed, a work table, and a huge bookshelf stuffed with books.

Mortarian demanded that all the bells and whistles be removed, and he could not admire the intricate ornaments that shimmered with gold, or the carpets sewn from thousands of silk cloths in praise of the exploits of the warriors.

Waste, utterly wasteful, and a complacent, flaunting act of taste.

Motarian could not comprehend these actions of the Empire, but he also accepted the mission given to him by the Emperor.

After he decapitated Nacre and then passed out, it was the Emperor, known as his own father, who saved him and Hades.

When Motarian came to his senses, the man with the golden light slowly came to him.

He showed Motarian the size of the Empire, and he showed Motarian how much the human world is struggling under the rule of the Xenomorphs at the moment.

He made an invitation to Motarian to free humanity from the dire straits.

He made a promise to Motarian to give him a large and powerful space force and a chance to transform the Barbarusians.

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"Motarian, my child, join us."

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There is no doubt that Motarian promised the emperor.

The terms he offered were too tempting, and the force he displayed was too strong, and Motarian had no other choice.

In the face of the emperor, no one can have any other choice but to submit.

No one.

Maybe this man named the emperor is a good man?

Such childish and absurd thoughts filled Motarian's brain.

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During these months, Motarian recuperated in peace in the convalescence room.

The massive star ring, which is under construction, spins over Barbarus.

His death guards are brought to these rings, where they will be transformed by the Empire to become Space Marines, the true blades of Motarion.

Motarian had seen the Imperial troops known as the Space Marines, and it was ...... It's incredible.

A muscular carcass that no mortal can reach, reflexes beyond the ordinary, a superb memory, combat experience that can be passed down from generation to generation, and a power armor built for war......

Such powerful warriors, if he had given Motarian seven such warriors in Barbarus, he would have been able to pacify all the aliens in Barbarus in a month.

The thought that he could lead such an army in the future made Motarian a little excited.

He will take these powerful warriors with him to save humanity from the hands of the aliens......

"Whew."

A soft sound from the door of the recuperation room interrupted Motarian's thoughts,

Someone's coming.

Maybe it's the scientists who came to check on the injuries again, Motarian thought impatiently, he was already healed, these injuries were not worth the long time to recover, he didn't want to spend any more time recuperating, he was going to see his army.

But when the door slowly slid open to the right, and a faint golden light shone from that side—

The visitor was dressed in simple clothes, a minimalist brown linen blouse, loose trousers that showed slender legs, gold threads were delicately embroidered on the edges of the clothes, and the golden olive leaves lay quietly on the black hair, and the elegance and nobility were unobstructed in every gesture.

- It's the emperor.

Motarian didn't move, stubbornly pretending that it was a medical staff member who came in, and continued to pretend he was reading.

He didn't want to salute.

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The Emperor walked in, frowning a little displeasurefully, the lavishly furnished convalescence room had been removed, only the most basic necessities had been removed, the elegant and ornate golden sculptures had been removed, the carpets that sang the praises of the warrior's exploits had been removed, and the various furniture that ordinary people had loved so much and used to relax were gone.

The whole room was even filled with poison gas!

The Emperor couldn't help but frown again, as if he was very dissatisfied with Motarian's arrangement.

But he quickly regained that calm, even benevolent expression, and he calmly walked over, ignoring Motarian's own little awkwardness, and sat down on the edge of the bed, beside Motarian.

Motarian reluctantly raised his head,

"Good afternoon, father."

"Good afternoon, Motarian."

Then the emperor raised his head and looked around,

"This air is yours...... Personal hobby? ”

"Yes, father, I don't really like the air here."

Motarian looked calm and said confidently,

The emperor nodded lightly and continued to say indifferently,

"Child, I want you to pay attention to your personal image to the outside world."

On his first walk out of the confirmation room, Motarian ignored all the forbidden soldiers who saluted him.

Motarian didn't reply.

"As the leader who will lead the legion in the future, we must establish a good image for the human empire."

"Okay, I'll take care of it, father."

The Emperor didn't have the patience to continue the conversation this time, he beckoned, and a praetorian soldier with a tray walked in.

The Emperor removes a specially made syringe from the tray.

The golden eyes looked at Motarian,

"Your friend, Hades, is seriously injured and is still being treated."

"And for his makeover, we're going to need some of your blood."

Hades, his best friend, his right-hand man, Motarian was worried about him, and in his last memory, Hades was dying, not like he could survive......

Without hesitation, Motarian stretched out his right hand, and he rolled up his sleeve.

The emperor still maintained that perfect expression, indifferent and full of divinity and benevolence, and he accurately plunged the needle into the solid skin of the original body, and the blood slowly flowed out.

Motarian watched his blood flow out little by little,

"Is this to specifically cultivate a set of modified organs?"

Motarian asked, in fact, through his constant reading of Imperial books, he knew that in those Space Marines' modification surgeries, modified organs with original genes would be implanted.

"Yes, you are smart, my child."

The emperor's indifferent voice rang out, and he lowered his head and silently stared at the needle.

Enough blood draws.

Motarian couldn't wait to reach back for his arm, and the pinhole healed quickly thanks to the original body's powerful recovery ability.

"Will he be okay?"

Motarian remembered Hades' ability to burst out before his death, and he wouldn't have succeeded if it weren't for Hades.

But that ability, what exactly is that? This doesn't quite fit the nature of the untouchables that Motarian had read about.

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The Emperor looked up, his golden eyes staring emotionlessly into Motarian's amber eyes—

Motarian's expression instantly became dazed.

In an instant, the Emperor withdrew his gaze, and Motarian acted as if nothing had happened.

Motarian silently watched as the emperor walked out, bowed his head again, and began to read.

"Wow"

The door was closed.

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Small Theatre:

The emperor had a kind smile on his face.

Inside: Hard, fists hard.