"And didn't you notice what he said?"
"What he said?" Mua'dib was stunned for a moment, recalling, "Uh, was he talking about the route he just mentioned? Main maintenance tunnel, three-way intersection, gear-alpha symbol... I remember it."
"No," Robert shook his head, a hint of gravity in his voice, "It was that line—'Most of the security systems along the way I've shut down; you only need to watch out for the genestealer cult.'"
"What's wrong with that line?" Mua'dib was a bit confused; he thought it was a pretty normal NPC mission hint.
"That line at least indicates two things," Robert held up two fingers and began his analysis, "First, it's highly probable that we won't get any response from the Trinity Foundry Workshop along the way.
They'll just stay inside the workshop and hold out, even though a pincer attack from both inside and out would be the most likely way to defeat the enemy and evacuate quickly."
He then held up a second finger: "Second, the enemies we encounter next probably won't be those fanatical but chaotic cultists anymore, but the 'genestealers'—genestealers. Their organization, tactical proficiency, and individual combat skills are more than a few notches above the cultists."
"It feels pretty normal," Mua'dib said, his mindset still heavily influenced by a player's perspective. "Aren't all rescue missions like this? You reach the destination, and then the people to be rescued start acting, even if in many games the people protecting the target have much more firepower than the players... As for the second point, changing maps and having monsters upgrade is also normal."
"Perhaps in a normal game, it could be explained by 'game design,' but I firmly believe this game isn't normal," Robert's eyes sharpened.
"This guard force isn't using more efficient tactics, which doesn't align with the Adeptus Mechanicus' usual style. There must be a logical explanation behind it that fits this world's lore. I think there are two possibilities."
"The first possibility is that they've suffered heavy losses, and their remaining forces are too few to attempt to cooperate with our offensive from the inside."
Mua'dib thought for a moment and countered, "I feel like the priest's attitude just now didn't really suggest that. If the situation were truly that critical, would he be so flippant? And still have the leisure to worry about whether the production line would 'hurt'?"
"I also don't think so," Robert nodded, agreeing with Mua'dib's judgment. "Then it's the second possibility: there's something extremely important in the Trinity Foundry Workshop, so important that it can't tolerate the slightest risk.
Even with rescue close at hand, they must defend strictly from within, not diverting a single soldier to provide external support, to ensure that absolutely no genestealers can infiltrate."
He paused, then added, "I deduce that this 'something' is very likely what he referred to as, 'We are protecting a holy relic,' when we first accidentally connected to their channel."
"What could that be?" Mua'dib had clearly abandoned his own thoughts, fully choosing to follow Robert's line of reasoning. "Classic Adeptus Mechanicus plot, STC Standard Template Construct?"
"Very likely," Robert said, "And there's one more thing that concerns me: he said he shut down 'most' of the security systems along the way. What about the remaining small portion? Will they still be operational and treat us as intruders?"
"There's also a trap segment... why does this game suddenly feel normal?" Mua'dib mumbled.
Joker, who had been silently following along, suddenly interjected, "That's because when you first entered, you weren't familiar with the rules of this world. While it is indeed incredibly real, players can bypass some difficulties by reasonably utilizing 'game mechanics'—for example, if you're hungry, you don't necessarily have to eat human flesh; you can also reset your status by committing suicide."
"After all, in this incredibly real world, the existence of us immortal players is a bug in itself."
Just as Joker's concluding remark fell, in the passage where the team was moving, the air rippled with subtle data waves out of nowhere.
Immediately after, under the wary gaze of the veteran players, twenty slightly blurry figures appeared out of thin air behind their formation, like projections with poor signal. They rapidly solidified within one or two seconds, turning into players wearing ordinary Astra Militarum uniforms, without even bulletproof vests.
This sudden reinforcement drew everyone's attention. Robert almost immediately turned and walked quickly towards them.
Sure enough, just as he expected,
After these newcomers adapted to the Mid-Hive air, one of the new players excitedly asked, "Are you veteran players? I've been waiting on the forum for qualifications to be distributed, and as soon as I saw a red dot, I activated the qualification and came in!"
Robert's reaction to this was, of course, genuine happiness.
Against the cultists in the Lower Hive, who knew nothing about war, the players' immortality was already enough to achieve an overwhelming victory. The Helldivers Company could easily defeat them even with just large blades and entrenching tools.
But against genestealers, the situation was completely different. According to the Warhammer lore, the enemy possessed strict organization and cunning intelligence. Simple immortality was clearly not enough; once the defenses were breached, they would be in extreme danger.
They needed sufficient firepower density and a resilient defensive line to curb the enemy's well-organized attacks. And now, the arrival of these twenty new players, for the Helldivers Company, which numbered no more than a hundred, instantly increased their firepower by one-fifth out of thin air!
Robert displayed a gentle and convincing smile. In a tone that sought opinions rather than issued commands, he said to these twenty new players, "Comrades, welcome to the Helldivers Company. I am Company Commander Robert. The situation is urgent, and I have an arrangement I'd like to hear your thoughts on."
He cleared his throat and laid out his plan: "I will break you up and assign you to our existing squads. The veterans in the squads will help you familiarize yourselves with the game's controls and rhythm, and in the upcoming battles, they will prioritize killing enemies for you. You only need to search the enemies' bodies for usable weapons and equipment. If you really can't find any..."
He patted his chest, his tone resolute: "I'll use my exp to buy you new gear from the store!"
The effect of these words was immediate. For the newcomers, having veteran players lead and teach them for free, and even having a big shot promise to provide equipment, where could they find such a windfall? They were naturally more than willing, nodding in agreement, their faces full of the joy of "clinging to a big leg."
As for the veterans, having more people in their squads to help fill the front lines and share the damage, there was naturally no reason to refuse. They immediately enthusiastically greeted the newcomers assigned to their groups and began to impart some basic tactical positioning and weapon usage tips.
Robert looked at the harmonious scene before him, new and old players quickly integrating without any estrangement or rejection, and he couldn't help but feel secretly pleased. The worst-case scenario he had envisioned—new players forming cliques and refusing to integrate, while old players put on airs and resisted newbies—had not happened at all.
He felt that this unity alone was enough for him to open a bottle of champagne to celebrate. The only pity was that he didn't have any at hand right now.