After the third and final bone density surgery, Kian shut out the rest of the world and trained.
His body weight climbed to 225 kilograms. The mass was substantial but not ungainly. Across all three procedures, Antonius had deliberately enlarged the skeletal fra itself, not rely densified it — breaking each bone and allowing it to regrow larger, the sa principle as limb-lengthening surgery but applied to every bone in the body simultaneously, with far greater precision. The result was that Kian now stood two tres tall, broad-frad and long-limbed. From a distance, soone might mistake him for an undersized Astartes.
During one of the final sparring sessions, Kian in Standard Reactive Power Armour with resistance mode engaged, Songbai in the Infiltration suit at full output. They had been exchanging for nearly forty minutes when Songbai stopped mid-sequence, removed his helt, set down his blade, and bowed.
"My lord, I have nothing left to teach you. My blade cannot find your body. You have emptied everything I have accumulated across a lifeti, and you did it in four months. A swordsman of your calibre belongs sowhere larger than this. Go and make sothing worthy of the talent."
Kian removed his own helt and returned the bow.
"Thank you, Master Songbai. You put on the path."
The apprenticeship ended there. Songbai took his three hundred million Agri-Scrips and left the Underhive for his baronial estate. Kian rested briefly, shouldered his longsword, and walked into the cage one final ti.
The Aeldari warrior was already prepared. Mask on, curved blade raised, standing in fighting posture. If you looked closely, her body carried a number of blade wounds, every one of them put there by Kian in previous sessions.
As his physical stats had climbed and his technique had developed, he'd reached the point where he could genuinely injure her. Their exchanges now ran close to a hundred rounds, and there were monts where he had the upper hand. The Aeldari were proud and formidable, but behind the war mask, she had developed sothing that might have been grudging respect for how fast he'd closed the distance.
"Human. Your progress surprises . You seem to believe today is the day you surpass with a blade."
Kian settled into his opening stance, both hands on the grip.
"Not even slightly interested in surpassing anyone on the noble path of the blade. I just want to learn how to use this length of sharpened tal to take xenos heads. Speaking of which: you have killed 126 tis. Today I am going to cut you into 126 pieces."
Two hours later, the cage door opened from the inside for the first ti.
Kian staggered out. One arm missing. Abdon split open, intestines trailing. A curved blade still lodged in his chest.
The power-armoured soldiers standing guard outside stared at him like they were watching sothing that had crawled out of the Warp.
"Boss — BOSS — if you die on us what are we supposed to do?!"
Shiv took one look at the state of him, determined he was beyond saving, and sat down on the floor and started crying loudly.
Kian grinned. It was not a reassuring expression.
His intact hand was dangling the Aeldari warrior's severed head by the hair. He swung it in front of Shiv.
"Pop that gemstone out of her forehead and burn the rest. And tell everyone: three days off, a full month's pay. Because today your boss is in a very good mood."
He tucked his intestines back into approximate position and limped toward the Sanctum while his soldiers watched in stunned silence.
Back on the cot, he applied Sacred Coolant Oil and worked through his dical supplies thodically. Within minutes the missing arm had regenerated, the abdominal wound had sealed, and he was standing in one piece.
He threw his head back and laughed.
Four months. Four months of grinding, dying daily, training until his body failed and then training through the reset. It had bordered on psychological damage. But it was done, and it had been worth every second.
The Aeldari warrior was a benchmark. She sat roughly at Astartes level, and senior Aspect Warriors could exceed an ordinary Space Marine in close combat. Which ant that in a straight lee, unarmoured, Kian could now go toe to toe with a Space Marine.
In the brutal arithtic of the galaxy, that earned him a seat at the table. A low seat, perhaps. At the far end. But a seat.
He changed into his dress clothes, left the Underhive, and rode up to the Spire. Back to the baronial estate. He had Cavendish draw a bath, scattered so flowers in it, and soaked.
Lying in the hot water, he worked through his personal terminal, calling contacts one by one to catch up on what he'd missed during four months of isolation.
First call: Cavendish, who had been running Garden Isle under the House Chastener cover identity.
Cavendish reported that over the past four months he had mobilised every able-bodied person on the island, cleared the entire native forest, and converted the land to agricultural use, primarily soy and maize as feedstock for the guana-beast operation. A large-scale feed processing plant was complete. Three large temperature-controlled hatchery facilities were producing guana-beast chicks. Ten large-scale ranches were operational, each capable of housing ten thousand birds simultaneously. One canning production line was running.
Guana-beasts reached slaughter weight in approximately three months. At current capacity, the island could deliver one million canned units per quarter to the Captain. Against a contract target of four hundred million, that was still far short, but Cavendish was clear that the current infrastructure was just the foundation. Give him another six months and he would have a hundred ranches running.
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