The moment Robert spoke, Commissar Walter's weathered eyes sharpened like an eagle's. He gave the other man a deep look, and the air seemed to solidify for a moment. Finally, he slowly nodded.
"If you are truly determined to fight, then I will not stop you—after all, you just created a miracle."
Walter's voice remained low, but there seemed to be a subtle hint of expectation within it. He continued, "According to the rules of the Perditia Astra Militarum, every company has a formal Name. Have you thought of yours?"
As soon as Walter finished speaking, a clear system prompt box popped up on Robert's retina.
Promotion: Temporary Company Commander of the 13th Company → Permanent Company Commander of the 13th Company
Seeing this prompt, Robert was first happy, but this joy was fleeting, and he quickly calmed down.
From "temporary" to "formal" sounded like a great thing, but on this Perditia, forgotten by the Empire, there was no difference between the two. He knew very well that Commissar Walter was now the highest military officer in this control area.
If he could promote him to Company Commander with a single word, he could naturally demote him to a common soldier with a single word. Perditia could not contact the distant Astra Militarum of the Empire. With the war in such a mess, promotions or demotions in rank were all decided by Commissar Walter alone.
Understanding this, he shifted his gaze from the illusory title and refocused on reality.
As for the company Name Walter mentioned, Robert did not immediately give an answer but cautiously said, "Commissar, regarding this, I still need to discuss it with my brothers in arms."
He dared not run a one-man show in such a critical matter. Commissar Walter's appointment only gave him a Name, but what truly supported his position as Company Commander was, in the end, the nearly hundred unruly players below him.
If the Name they chose displeased them, at best, it would affect morale, leading to superficial obedience in battle; at worst, if someone was unhappy with him, they might secretly give him a "friendly fire" shot on the battlefield, and he would have nowhere to cry.
After all, there was no way to turn off friendly fire in this game. When he revived, no one would help Robert keep his exp and position.
Robert, holding this "hot potato" of an appointment, returned to the temporary resting place of the players. He cleared his throat, attracting everyone's attention.
"Guys, the Commissar has new orders." He paused, then continued, "The Commissar has officially recognized our company's establishment, and according to the tradition of the Perditia Astra Militarum, we need to choose a name for our company."
This news was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly stirring up a thousand waves.
"Holy cow! Naming? Like creating a guild!"
"Awesome! This really gives a sense of immersion!"
A small number of relatively "mature" players immediately expressed concern: "Don't make the Name too chuunibyou. Calling ourselves something like 'Dragon Overlord' or 'God Slayers' would be embarrassing to shout out." T
hey preferred a plain designation, such as "13th Attack Company" or "Hammer Company," a simple and unadorned style.
However, their faint voices were quickly drowned out by the majority of ecstatic players. These guys, who feared no chaos, became thoroughly excited and began their brainstorming.
For a time, all sorts of bizarre designations were proposed.
Some were meme-based: "How about 'Chaos Slayer Company'?"
"Why not 'Loyal Bellievers!"
"Inglorious bastards'!"
"I propose, 'Stardust Crusaders!"
Some had unclear meanings: "'Operation: Get Paid!"
"'Slackers' Company!"
"LEEEEEEERRROOY JENKIIIIIINS!"
And some were purely disruptive: "Requisition for Doughnuts' Company!"
Amidst the chaotic discussion, some players still proposed serious designations.
"I think we could be called 'The Immortals,'" one player said seriously. "This name best fits our identity; we are unkillable, we respawn after death."
This suggestion was approved by some, but others felt it wasn't cool enough.
"'The Immortals' is too blunt, it lacks gravitas," another player retorted. "And it sounds like undead. I propose, 'The Helldivers.'"
When this word came out, the noisy discussions quieted down a little. It didn't directly flaunt their cheat-like abilities like "The Immortals" but instead carried a tragic and resolute sense of knowing the danger yet charging forward. Every charge, every death, was a journey actively rushing towards death.
This Name, both dark and cool, perfectly hit the aesthetic of most players.
Finally, under Robert's guidance, a small-scale democratic vote began. After intense lobbying and debate, "The Helldivers" won against "The Immortals" by a narrow margin, becoming their final choice.
Robert informed Commissar Walter of the result. The latter's eyes flickered slightly when he heard the Name, but he made no comment, only nodding.
"In that case, rest well today. I've already had them send over the grenades in stock. Prepare for tomorrow's operation."
As his voice fell, new system prompts simultaneously appeared on all players' retinas.
System Prompt: Your affiliated company has been officially renamed '13th Company · The Helldivers.'
System Prompt: You have received a new mission — 'Assault: Chemical Refinery.'
Mission Objective: Capture Chemical Refinery No. 9.
In the position, the players looked at the new mission, and instead of the tension before a major battle, there were wails everywhere.
"Ugh, why do we only start fighting tomorrow? My greatsword is already thirsty! Can we start today?"
"Starting today isn't so good either, my stats are dropping badly... Is there a buddy who can stab me so I can revive at full health?"
"You should've said so earlier, I'm on it!" A player enthusiastically raised his entrenching tool.
"Hey, damn it! Wait for me to take off this bulletproof vest before you do anything!"
"So what do we do next? Just wait all night?" A player sat bored on an ammo box.
Just then, a player's gaze was drawn to the person next to him. The person was sitting upright, hands moving rapidly in the air, seemingly manipulating a game panel to write something. He curiously leaned over and asked, "What are you doing, buddy?"
The other person replied without looking up, "Doesn't this game have triple thought acceleration? Anyway, I have nothing to do right now, and I'm a designer in real life, so I'm just rushing out the client's commision.
After I finish it, I'll post it on the game forum, set it to private, and then copy and paste it to hand in after I log off."
At this, the surrounding players who heard him were stunned.
"Do you have to work even in the game? You, you..."
"Genius!"
"Wait wait...GUYZ he's drawing hentai!"