From Titan Corporation to the Empire of Man

Chapter 470 "Coincidence?" "Ordinary"

"For. The Emperor!! Boots!"?

Seeing this strange username, Shirak Oren couldn't help but frown slightly.

There was a hint of doubt in his eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he found the strangeness of the name difficult to understand.

However, he took a deep breath and put aside his confusion, thinking that in the online world, such strange user names are not uncommon. Everyone is just communicating with each other through anonymous platforms, so why bother with the ridiculousness of the name?

Besides, his username is "Fresh Fruit 1155".

He hesitated for a moment, but finally clicked the "Agree" button and accepted the friend request from this stranger.

After all, just after he posted a message on the forum asking for help, the user named "For... the Emperor!! Boots!" seemed to be interested in his confusion and took the initiative to initiate a conversation.

Then, the other party's dialog box popped up on the screen, with a relaxed and slightly casual tone:

"Hey man, I saw you posted a request for help on the forum. Was it rejected by the Legion?"

Chirac felt relieved when he saw the message, and the tension in his heart was slightly relieved.

Although he had just experienced a major setback in his life, in this virtual world, he could unload many of the burdens and pressures in reality.

Moreover, this anonymous communication mode also allows him to no longer worry about feeling "embarrassed" or "losing face".

No one knew his true identity and everything behind him, which made him feel more relaxed.

Seeing the question from the other party, Chirac pondered for a moment and then decided to express his confusion directly.

So he quickly began typing, editing the response he was going to send.

Chirac's fingers jumped quickly on the hard-light keyboard with a physical touch. The words quickly formed a paragraph, and his emotions became more and more excited with each line of words.

"Yes, the pharmacist of the legion said that my physique is special and cannot withstand subsequent transformation." He felt a little angry when editing this sentence:

"I can't accept this. Why? I am obviously stronger and faster than my peers, so why can't I become an Astartes? Shouldn't these qualities help me become a greater warrior?!"

Chirac paused, staring at the lines of words on the screen, and felt that his heart was almost suffocated by the invisible pressure.

These questions lingered in his mind for a long time. Faced with the sudden blow, he did not get any practical answers, only the cold test results and the reality that could not be changed.

Thinking of this, Chirac felt irritated.

He took a deep breath, pressed the Enter key, and sent the message.

Every stroke of the keyboard seemed to vent his inner anger and helplessness, and the moment he clicked "Send", he felt a strange sense of relief.

At this moment, although he could not change the facts before him, he could at least confide his confusion and pain to others in this virtual world.

"Each legion has a different way of recruiting soldiers, and some even vary greatly."

The other party's reply quickly appeared on the screen, with a rational and calm tone, as if he was completely unaware of the emotional fluctuations and catharsis implied in Chirac's previous text.

His answer not only got straight to the point, but was also quite detailed and well-informed:

"I heard that for a legion like the Space Wolves, their recruits must not only pass the initial physical screening and the pharmacist's testing and verification of fresh blood and tissue samples, but also pass a special test -

Fight with wild beasts.

Whether it is weapons cultivated using biotechnology, or ferocious beasts such as direwolves and sharp-toothed tigers from Terrala, they are not something that ordinary people can deal with easily.

Even though the Space Wolves instructors would provide weapons to new recruits, there was still a high casualty rate.

Of course, the families that are favored by the Space Wolves are not ordinary. They are more or less a little bit... well, it should be "crazy", haha.

The War Hound Corps' screening criteria were slightly better. Although their recruits did not need to fight wild beasts, it was said that their pharmacists would conduct rigorous psychological assessments on the recruits. The outside world had no way of knowing the specific standards and requirements of the assessments.

In general, the recruitment conditions of the Imperial Legion far exceed those of ordinary armed units.

Their standards are extremely strict. Once a pharmacist of a certain legion determines that a person is not capable of transformation, it will be almost impossible for him to be accepted by other legions.

This is why joining any Astartes Legion is considered the greatest honor.

By the way, man, which legion rejected you?"

The words on the screen scrolled slowly, with a sense of rational analysis, as if the other party was simply stating the facts rather than trying to comfort Chirac.

However, it was this serious and detailed attitude that unexpectedly calmed Chirac's heart.

Although he still felt frustrated about the rejection, the other party's reply made him feel a real concern rather than perfunctory comfort.

Chirac looked at the screen, thought for a moment, and felt that he should calm down and continue the conversation.

Once again, he placed his hands on the hard-light keyboard and quickly edited his answer:

"I was rejected by the Children of Man Legion."

After hitting the enter key, Chirac leaned back in his chair and sighed slightly.

The scene of the legion base emerged in his mind, the solemnity and splendor of the hall, and the huge emblem hanging on the high wall, and it seemed that everything was getting farther and farther away from him.

Chirac's fingers unconsciously stroked the armrests of the chair, feeling helpless.

"Son of Man"

The reply on the screen did not appear for a long time. The user named "For.The Emperor!! Boots!" seemed to be lost in thought, causing Chirac to stare at the chat window intently, his fingertips tapping subconsciously on the edge of the hard-light keyboard to distract himself.

The other party's silence did not last long, and soon a new text appeared on the screen:

“The Children of Man’s request is indeed a little odd, but from another perspective, it actually fits their image.

As one of the most exemplary legions in the empire, they hope to recruit new soldiers who fully meet a certain 'perfect standard'.

This standard may not be limited to physical strength or outstanding combat capabilities, even mind, genes, and perhaps even destiny are within their consideration.

As for why you were rejected, frankly speaking, I can't tell the specific reason.

After all, for a legion like this, their selection criteria and procedures are highly confidential and outsiders have no way of knowing.

You mentioned that you have excellent physical fitness and excellent grades, so maybe it’s not a matter of ability, but some more complicated reasons that are difficult for ordinary people to understand. "

This seemingly rational analysis made Chirac feel a little doubtful, but he was unable to completely refute it.

He frowned slightly, and when he was about to continue typing, the other party's next reply came:

"To be honest, I was once rejected by the Children of Mankind."

This?

This sentence made Chirac stop his finger suddenly.

He took a deep breath, hesitated on the keyboard for a while, and then quickly clicked on the other person's personal homepage.

The other party’s account information was simple and straightforward, with the address shown as “Feng Rao Xing” and the age marked as “17”.

This information made Chirac realize instantly that the other party had most likely experienced the same setback as himself.

As for falsified information?

Chirac quickly dismissed the possibility.

In today's era, smart AI, stupid AI and synthetic humans have been fully integrated into all aspects of human society.

Whether it is administrative management, transportation operations, or personal life, AI technology and synthetic humans play an indispensable role.

At the same time, this has also greatly improved network security and identity authentication technology.

Nowadays, all humans must register their accounts using biometric identification information.

In this way, similar situations of information forgery, identity impersonation, and even so-called "fraud" have long been eliminated.

In this case, the age and address displayed on the other party’s homepage must be true and there is no possibility of falsification.

Chirac tapped his fingers lightly on the table. After thinking for a while, he felt a little doubtful and curious. He then tentatively tapped the keyboard and edited a message:

"Hey man, you should be a sophomore or a junior in high school now, right?"

The latest chapter of this novel was first released on 6@9shu#bar. Please go to shu#bar to read it!

"I'm in my third year of high school, and I'm about to graduate."

The other party's reply came almost immediately, and the speed surprised Chirac a little.

And then, the other party did not seem to stop and continued to add:

"I just checked your address and it's also on Harvest. I'm from New Argo City. Which city are you in? The capital city? Or Odgate, the original capital of Harvest?"

New Argo?!

After seeing the other party's reply, Chirac was stunned and his fingers stopped on the hard-light keyboard.

Because their family is in New Argo City.

Originally, Argo was just an agricultural town developed by the UEG (United Earth Government). It was unknown on the land of the Fertility Planet and its total population was only a few thousand.

However, since Harvest became Atlas's "asset", the small town has experienced unprecedented rapid development and eventually became a large city with tens of millions of residents.

Chirac moved here with his parents when he was young and grew up here. He is familiar with most of the streets and alleys and can even name every main road.

But at this moment, something seems to be wrong.

Chirac's body trembled involuntarily, and an inexplicable sense of alertness surged in his heart.

He stared at the screen, his eyes becoming serious.

Is it really such a coincidence?

Yes, every year there are indeed thousands of young people on the Planet of Harvest who, for various reasons, fail to pass the screening of the Astartes and cannot become Space Marines.

In the entire Universe 08 (Halo), there are even more young people who cannot become Astartes due to various restrictions, and the number is almost impossible to count.

However, on the day he was eliminated, he met a "buddy" from the same city on the Internet, and their experiences were almost exactly the same.

This coincidence was hard to ignore, and Chirac couldn't help feeling a little uneasy.

Perhaps it was just a chance encounter, and perhaps the other person's story had little to do with his, but this sudden coincidence made him alert.

Could it be that the other party used some kind of stupid AI to accurately lock onto me?

Or is it a “big data” match?

Either way, it's unusual.

He quickly typed out his response, his tone calm but somewhat cautious:

"I'm in Odgate."

After saying that, he immediately left the forum.

The uneasy feeling in his heart seemed to dissipate after he turned off the hard-light screen. Then he took a deep breath and calmed the waves in his heart.

He got up and walked out of the bedroom, heading towards the living room, his eyes falling on his father who was watching the news on the sofa, and his mother who was busy in the kitchen.

His steps gradually slowed down and a long-lost smile appeared on his face.

"Dad, Mom, I've made up my mind." He cleared his throat and tried to make his tone sound steady and firm:

"Even if I don't become a Son of Man, I can still continue to work hard and attack the auxiliary army of the Son of Man. No matter what, I can always find a path that belongs to me."

"Haha, it's good to communicate, son." The mother said gently, with a trace of concern in her eyes:

"It just so happens that mom has taken a day off today. I plan to make you your favorite Chinese delicacy - elbow rolls. How about that?"

"Ok!"

These words made Chirac feel warm in his heart, and he couldn't help but smile sincerely.

"That's more like it." My father nodded, his tone lightening, "If you become depressed when you encounter a little setback, how can you become a qualified soldier?"

The Oren family then spent an ordinary and warm afternoon together.

Wait until the next morning.

After being woken up by the alarm, Chirac went to the toilet with sleepy eyes as usual.

Then he washed, ate, changed into school uniform, and took the skytrain alone to the school which was only three kilometers away from his home.

The moment Chirac appeared at the door of the classroom, just as he expected, the originally noisy classroom suddenly became quiet.

Almost everyone's eyes turned to him, and low whispers began to echo in the classroom. Some people showed disbelief, while others showed a hint of gloating.

Sirak frowned slightly but ignored the looks.

He continued to walk into the classroom, keeping a calm expression on his face.

Several classmates who were on good terms with him came to ask him after he sat down, but he just said casually, "I just wasn't selected."

Anyway, the facts are set, and it is impossible for Chirac to go to the original body and ask the other party to "open a back door" for him, an ordinary child.

There weren't any major twists and turns in the next few days. At most there were some ridicules and sarcasms, but he had made up his mind and naturally would not be affected by those words.

It was not until Friday afternoon, when he was about to take the train home, that a senior from another school took the initiative to talk to him:

"Hey, you must be Fresh Fruit 1155."