Jacob didn't know why this feeling surprised him, perhaps it was just because he was used to seeing all the Space Marines as the same, although they certainly looked very similar.
They were all taller and stronger than mortals, all wearing silver-gray armor, which sometimes made them look more like machines than humans.
However, Jacob began to realize that they were all the same people as him, knowing that each of them had passed through everything he had experienced, or something worse, and lived through years of terrible warfare.
"Try again, Jacob."
Bahram gave encouragement, his tone was not harsh.
"Don't think too much about what you are doing this time. Just relax. Practice a thousand times if you need it, but keep practicing, because one day your life and your comrades will depend on your accuracy."
Jacob nodded and raised his pistol again.
Suddenly, he turned to see if Herbert was looking at him, but saw Company Commander Arming whispering to the other party. Obviously, the other party had no time to pay attention to him.
Jacob closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger as he exhale.
Once again, the bomb flew past the target and hit the wall.
Jacob sighed a long sigh, he needed a lot of practice.
But just in the intervals of training, an accident happened.
"Oh my God—"
Jacob looked down at the corpse in front of him. He didn't know the man, but knew his name, Melen Hassan.
They were brothers in principle, so Jacob felt sad, Meren's entire back of his head disappeared, blood and brains adorning the wall behind the recruits.
Just five minutes ago, they temporarily ended their shooting training, on the one hand, on the one hand, on the other hand, let them practice how to clean up guns.
Meren was sitting twenty meters away from Jacob, and he was chatting and laughing with the people next to him to clean up his explosive pistol.
Then, with a loud bang, his head disappeared.
This happened so quickly that the young man didn't even have a chance to scream.
Everyone surrounded him immediately and was shocked by this scene. Then the instructors arrived.
Armin walked over and looked at the body, picked up the pistol and checked it.
"This idiot!"
He frowned and murmured:
"The magazine is still installed inside! I repeatedly asked that the magazine must be removed!"
Bahram, who was beside him, took a closer look and said:
"He didn't even press the safety bolt."
"How could you make such a low-level mistake?"
"Sir, I think this may-"
Bahram stopped halfway, and then the two looked at each other, their expressions that made Jacob guess both of them were thinking about the same thing.
Then, the clever one realized that this might be related to the way knowledge enters their minds.
All recruits know this knowledge, but they have not become completely part of them. They all know the steps to clean up weapons, but have not learned the respect required by weapons, and most of the knowledge they have learned is.
There has always been a big difference between knowing theory and being able to put it into practice.
"I'll go and report this to the commander of the battle."
Armin shook his head and then asked the servant to take the body away.
Afterwards, they continued to train, but everyone became much more careful because of the accident and began to take the regulations and warnings seriously.
In addition, the instructors also strengthened their training on existing knowledge and emphasized their personal experience, not only to allow recruits to get everything from the top of the knowledge.
But death did not leave them. Just as lunch was about to die, a recruit suddenly fell to his knees and died, and then his body was taken away by the servant.
No one really knew what was going on, but there were rumors that the people around him suddenly felt unusual cold when he fell down, and the dead man covered his skin with a layer of frost.
Jacob couldn't quite understand why, but the new knowledge in his mind told him that sometimes the human body just couldn't accept all kinds of transformations, would oppose all changes and let the object die, and that person seemed to be "special" like him.
This was not news for Jacob, but he could do nothing but lie in bed thinking about whether this would happen to him.
A few days later, Jacob stopped worrying because he was not dead yet, and thinking about such things felt like a waste of energy.
Moreover, there are too many things to learn to do, and his entire spirit and will have no time to do.
Every day he woke up at dawn and entered a large meditation room where he recited the prayers that had been put into his mind yesterday.
After three hours of contemplation, having a hearty breakfast, connecting to the engine as the body digests food, more knowledge pours into his mind, and there is no doubt about the worship of the Legion and the Emperor.
At noon, he got off the machine but was not tired and went to the weapon room.
For the rest of the time, according to the schedule, he either does physical training, practices empty-handed fighting, or trains to use his new weapons endlessly.
Every few days, they will go to an environment room and simulate some alien environments that Nassen IV does not have, where they practice combat discipline and survival methods in special environments.
After that they will go to the recruits' restaurant for supper and listen to the story of the legendary Uncle Rozim - it is said that he is also an ancient warrior, who only stopped at the last few stages of the modification surgery, but this did not affect his status in the battle group.
And what he made was really delicious, and it allowed the recruits to quickly get rid of the burnout of the day.
".....what did you say last time? Oh! By the way, that big demon, a terror-torture demon with a dog head and a blood-colored scarf, angrily came out of the portal, holding a black sword in his hand, and stood up as high as a mountain!"
Rozim, wearing a chef's hat and a dirty apron tied around his waist, was dancing with all the recruits' eyes.
Jacob, who was sitting on the third row of chairs, smiled and spooned a spoonful of soup into his mouth.
The brothers around him listened with relish and exclaimed from time to time.
"As soon as it came out, it stared at its sun-like eyes and made a strange scream, but I was not afraid at all. I took the magic pan with the statue of the Emperor at that moment, and at the speed of a rocket, what was that? The crazy thing was torture its unscrupulous butt, which was like a stinky butt."
At this time, a new recruit laughed:
"Uncle Rozim is just your big belly, I'm afraid it won't be faster!"
"Are you stubborn? Are you stubborn? I'm a champion of the Black Legion... I've been racing! It didn't catch up with me!"
It has to be admitted that Rozim's story is very dramatic, but Jacob never took it seriously.