That Time I Got Reincarnate As A Medic In The World Of Warhammer 40k

The grimdark corridors of the Orphanage of Saint Celestine's Mercy echoed with the familiar sounds of children's footsteps and hushed prayers. Years had passed since Lilith's arrival, each day a testament to the unforgiving nature of life in the Imperium of Man. The orphanage, once a maze of unfamiliar sights and smells, had become home to Lilith. A sanctuary amidst the industrial hellscape of Hive Helsreach.

Lilith's small frame leaned against the cold metal of the observation deck, her eyes fixed on the smog-choked skyline of Armageddon. The distant rumble of factories and the occasional screech of machinery provided a constant reminder of the world's purpose: to fuel the Imperium's never-ending war machine.

At eight standard Terran years, Lilith had grown in mind far more than in body. Her physical stature remained stubbornly diminutive, a stark contrast to the hulking frames of the Hive's labor force that trudged past the orphanage gates each day. Yet, behind her deep-set eyes lay a wealth of knowledge that belied her years—a mind honed through countless hours of study and quiet contemplation.

The sound of heavy boots on metal grating pulled Lilith from her reverie. She turned to see a group of children, some younger than her, some older, being led away by stern-faced recruiters from the Armageddon Steel Legion. Their faces were a mix of excitement and trepidation, each step taking them closer to a life of service in the Emperor's armies.

Lilith watched them go, a familiar ache settling in her chest. It was a scene she had witnessed many times over the years, always as an observer, never a participant. Her frail body had kept her from joining the ranks of those chosen to serve in the Imperial Guard, a fact that both relieved and frustrated her in equal measure.

"The Emperor's will manifests in mysterious ways, child," came a familiar voice from behind her.

Lilith turned to see Sister Mercy, her weathered face creased with a gentle smile. The years had been kind to the old nun, her silver hair now completely white, but her eyes still sparkled with the same warmth and wisdom that had comforted Lilith since her arrival.

"I know, Sister," Lilith replied, her voice soft but steady. "But sometimes I wonder if His will for me is simply to watch others fulfill their duty while I remain here."

Sister Mercy placed a comforting hand on Lilith's shoulder. "The Emperor has a purpose for all His children, Lilith. Some are called to wield the sword, others the quill. Your path may not be clear yet, but I have faith that it will be revealed in time."

Lilith nodded, taking comfort in the familiar words. She had heard variations of this reassurance many times over the years, but coming from Sister Mercy, they never failed to soothe her doubts.

"Come," Sister Mercy said, gently guiding Lilith away from the observation deck. "Sister Marian has requested your assistance in the medicae ward. There's much to be done before the day is through."

As they walked through the winding corridors of the orphanage, Lilith's mind wandered to the countless hours she had spent in the medicae ward. What had begun as a curiosity had blossomed into a passion, her nimble fingers and quick mind proving adept at the delicate work of tending to the sick and injured.

The medicae ward was a bustle of activity when they arrived. Sister Marian, her face lined with years of service, looked up from a data-slate as Lilith entered.

"Ah, Lilith," she said, her voice crisp and businesslike. "Good of you to join us. We've a new batch of supplies to sort and catalog. I trust you remember the proper procedures?"

Lilith nodded, her eyes already scanning the crates of medical supplies. "Yes, Sister. I'll get started right away."

As she began the meticulous process of sorting through vials of antiseptics and rolls of synth-skin, Lilith found herself slipping into a comfortable routine. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, her mind reciting the litanies of sterilization and preservation that had been drilled into her over the years.

Hours passed in a blur of activity, the constant hum of medical equipment and the occasional groan of a patient creating a familiar backdrop to her work. It wasn't until Sister Marian placed a hand on her shoulder that Lilith realized how much time had passed.

"That's enough for today, child," Sister Marian said, her tone softer than usual. "You've done well. The Emperor smiles upon those who serve with such diligence."

Lilith looked up, surprised to see a hint of pride in the older woman's eyes. "Thank you, Sister. I'm glad I could be of help."

As she made her way back to the dormitories, Lilith's mind buzzed with the day's events. The familiar ache of watching others leave for the Guard had been tempered by the satisfaction of her work in the medicae ward. It was a conflicting set of emotions that she had grown accustomed to over the years.

The dormitory was quiet when she arrived, most of the other children already asleep in their bunks. Lilith made her way to her own bed, a small, hard cot that had been her place of rest for a decade. As she lay down, her eyes fell upon the small shrine to the Emperor that adorned the wall above her bed.

In the flickering light of the glow-globes, the golden aquila seemed to watch her with an inscrutable gaze. Lilith closed her eyes, her lips moving in the silent prayer that had become as natural as breathing:

"Emperor of Mankind, guide my path. Grant me the strength to serve, the wisdom to understand, and the faith to endure. In Your light, I find purpose. In Your will, I find direction. May my actions bring glory to the Imperium and strike fear into the hearts of Your enemies."

Despite questioning the Emperor as a God, Lilith has started to find comfort in praying to Him. As sleep began to claim her, Lilith's mind drifted to the future that lay ahead. She knew that soon, very soon, decisions would have to be made about her place in the Imperium. The thought both excited and terrified her, but as consciousness faded, she took comfort in the knowledge that whatever came, she would face it with the strength and determination that life in the grim darkness of the far future had instilled in her.

---

The following weeks passed in a blur of activity. Lilith's days were filled with a mixture of study, prayer, and work in the medicae ward. Her nights, however, were dedicated to a secret routine that she had maintained for years.

In the quiet hours when the other children slept, Lilith would slip from her bunk and make her way to a secluded corner of the orphanage. There, in the shadows cast by flickering glow-globes, she would push her frail body to its limits.

Push-ups, sit-ups, and carefully practiced forms of unarmed combat filled these clandestine sessions. Lilith knew that her physical limitations were a barrier to many paths in the Imperium, and while she couldn't change her stature, she was determined to make her body as strong and capable as possible.

On one such night, as Lilith moved through a series of exercises she had gleaned from observing the training of other orphans, she became aware of a presence watching her. She froze mid-motion, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Your form is improving," came the familiar voice of Sister Prudence, stepping out of the shadows. "Though I suspect Sister Mercy would not approve of these midnight exertions."

Lilith straightened, her face flushed with a mixture of exertion and embarrassment. "Sister Prudence, I... I can explain."

The older woman held up a hand, silencing Lilith's stammered excuses. "There is no need, child. Your dedication is admirable, if somewhat misguided. The Emperor values the strength of one's spirit far more than the strength of one's body."

Lilith nodded, her eyes downcast. "I know, Sister. But I can't help feeling that I'm not doing enough. Everyone else gets chosen for the Guard, or for other services to the Imperium. I just... I want to be useful."

Sister Prudence's augmetic eyes whirred softly as she studied Lilith. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Come with me, child. There's something you should see."

Curious and slightly apprehensive, Lilith followed Sister Prudence through the darkened corridors of the orphanage. They made their way to a part of the building that Lilith had never visited before, a section that seemed older and more worn than the rest.

Sister Prudence stopped before a heavy metal door, its surface etched with prayers and symbols of the Adeptus Ministorum. She placed her hand on a worn panel, and with a groan of ancient mechanisms, the door slid open.

"This," Sister Prudence said as they entered, "is the Hall of Records. Here, we keep the histories of every child who has passed through these halls."

Lilith's eyes widened as she took in the sight. The room was vast, its walls lined with data-stacks and ancient tomes. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and the faint ozone smell of active cogitators.

Sister Prudence led her to a particular section, pulling out a data-slate and activating it with a practiced motion. "Tell me, Lilith, do you know how many children have called this orphanage home over the millennia?"

Lilith shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "No, Sister."

"Millions," Sister Prudence said, her augmetic eyes glowing in the dim light. "Millions of souls, each with their own story, their own path to serve the Emperor. Some became great generals, others humble scribes. Some gave their lives on distant battlefields, others in the depths of forge worlds."

She handed the data-slate to Lilith. "But do you know what they all had in common?"

Lilith looked down at the slate, her eyes scanning the endless list of names and designations. "They all served the Imperium," she said softly.

Sister Prudence nodded. "Precisely. In ways great and small, each of them found their place in the Emperor's grand design. And so will you, Lilith. Your path may not be clear yet, but I have no doubt that when the time comes, you will serve with distinction."

Lilith felt a lump form in her throat, a mixture of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "Thank you, Sister," she managed to say.

As they made their way back to the dormitories, Lilith's mind raced with the implications of what she had seen. The weight of history, of millions of lives dedicated to the service of the Imperium, settled upon her shoulders. It was a weight that both humbled and inspired her.

That night, as she lay in her bunk, Lilith's customary prayer took on a new meaning. She whispered into the darkness, her voice barely audible:

"Emperor of Mankind, I am Your servant. Guide my hands, sharpen my mind, and steel my heart. Whatever path You have chosen for me, I will walk it with unwavering faith. In Your name, I will bring light to the darkness, hope to the hopeless, and death to Your enemies. This I swear, now and always."

As sleep claimed her, Lilith felt a sense of purpose settling over her. Whatever the future held, she would face it with the determination and faith that life in the grim darkness of the 41st millennium demanded.

---

The following days saw a subtle shift in the dynamics of the orphanage. The sisters, who had always treated Lilith with a mixture of concern and curiosity, now regarded her with a new level of interest. Whispered conversations would stop abruptly when she entered a room, only to resume in hushed tones once she had passed.

Lilith noticed the change but said nothing, focusing instead on her duties and studies. She spent more time than ever in the medicae ward, absorbing every scrap of knowledge that Sister Marian was willing to impart. Her nimble fingers became even more adept at suturing wounds and administering injections, her mind a repository of medical lore that rivaled that of much older and more experienced healers.

It was during one of these sessions in the medicae ward that Sister Victorine made her unexpected return to the orphanage. The Adepta Sororitas warrior strode into the ward, her power armor gleaming under the harsh lumens, her presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone present.

"Sister Victorine," Sister Marian said, bowing her head slightly. "To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

The Battle Sister's eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on Lilith. "I've come to speak with the child," she said, her voice carrying the authority of one used to instant obedience. "Alone, if you please."

Sister Marian hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. Lilith, you may use my office for privacy."

Lilith followed Sister Victorine into the small, cluttered office, her heart pounding in her chest. The last time she had spoken with the Battle Sister, she had declined the offer to join the Adepta Sororitas. She wondered if this visit heralded a change in her future.

Once the door was closed, Sister Victorine turned to face Lilith, her expression unreadable behind her stern features. "You've grown, child," she said, her eyes taking in Lilith's still-small frame. "Though perhaps not in the ways one might expect."

Lilith straightened her posture, meeting the Battle Sister's gaze. "The Emperor's will manifests in mysterious ways, Sister," she said, echoing the words she had heard so many times.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Sister Victorine's face. "Indeed it does. Tell me, Lilith, have you given any further thought to your future in service to the Imperium?"

Lilith hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I think about it every day, Sister."

Sister Victorine nodded, as if this answer confirmed something she had already suspected. "Your sisters here speak highly of your abilities, particularly in the medicae ward. They say your knowledge and skill far exceed what one would expect of a child your age."

"I've had excellent teachers," Lilith replied, a note of pride creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to remain humble.

"No doubt," Sister Victorine said. "But there is more to it than that, isn't there? A hunger for knowledge, a desire to understand the workings of both body and machine. These are qualities that the Imperium values highly."

Lilith lets out a sigh. "Perhaps joining the Imperial Guard is almost impossible for me"

Sister Victorine's expression softened slightly. " Your talents, I believe, may be better suited to a different calling."

Lilith’s face suddenly lit bright as she thought of an idea. “Sister Victorine, maybe you can help me train?”

Sister Victorine's eyes whirred softly as she studied Lilith, her expression a mixture of surprise and intrigue. "Train you?" she repeated, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "And what, pray tell, would you have me train you in, child? The arts of war are not for the faint of heart, nor for those whose bodies are ill-suited to the rigors of combat."

Lilith met the Battle Sister's gaze, her small frame trembling slightly but her voice steady. "I may not have the body of a warrior, Sister, but I have a mind eager to learn and a spirit willing to serve the Emperor in whatever capacity I can. I know I can't join the Adepta Sororitas, but perhaps there's something you can teach me that would make me more useful to the Imperium."

Sister Victorine's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Your determination is admirable, Lilith. It reminds me of..." She trailed off, her eyes focusing on something distant for a moment before snapping back to the present. "Very well. I shall consider your request. The Emperor works in mysterious ways, and perhaps He has a plan for you that neither of us can yet fathom."

As Lilith opened her mouth to respond, a sudden, thunderous boom shook the very foundations of the orphanage. The sound was unlike anything Lilith had heard before; not the familiar rumble of distant factories or the screech of machinery, but something altogether more ominous.

Sister Victorine's posture changed instantly, her body tensing like a coiled spring. "Stay here," she commanded, her voice taking on the sharp edge of authority. "Warn the Sisters. I will investigate."

Before Lilith could protest, the Battle Sister was gone, moving with a speed and grace that belied the weight of her power armor. For a moment, Lilith stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, with a deep breath, she turned to run towards the Sisters' quarters.

"Sister Mercy!" Lilith called out as she burst into the common area. "Sister Marian! Something's happened! Sister Victorine went to investigate a strange noise!"

The Sisters, already alerted by the sound, were mobilizing with practiced efficiency. Sister Mercy's eyes met Lilith's, a flicker of fear quickly replaced by determination. "Gather the children in the chapel," she instructed. "We'll initiate lockdown procedures."

Lilith nodded, but even as she turned to carry out the order, a gnawing feeling in her gut told her that she couldn't simply hide away. With a silent prayer to the Emperor for forgiveness, she slipped away from the gathering crowd and followed the path Sister Victorine had taken.

The corridors of the orphanage, once so familiar, now seemed alien and threatening. Lilith moved as quietly as she could, her small size allowing her to duck behind pillars and into shadowed alcoves. As she neared the outer walls of the complex, the sounds of battle reached her ears; the distinctive crack of bolter fire, the roar of inhuman voices, and the clash of metal on metal.

Peering around a corner, Lilith's blood ran cold at the sight before her. A tide of green-skinned monstrosities was pouring through a breach in the outer wall; Orks, dozens of them, their crude weapons gleaming in the harsh light of the hive city. And there, standing alone against the horde, was Sister Victorine.

The Battle Sister was a whirlwind of destruction, her bolter spitting death with each thunderous report. Orks fell by the score, their bodies riddled with massive, explosive rounds. But for each one that fell, two more seemed to take its place.

Lilith watched in horrified fascination as Sister Victorine fought. The Battle Sister's every movement was a testament to decades of training and augmentation, her faith in the Emperor made manifest in each pull of the trigger. But even as Lilith marveled at the Sister's skill, she could see that the odds were overwhelming.

A particularly massive Ork, its body covered in crude metal plates and its eyes gleaming with malevolent intelligence, broke through the press of bodies. With a bellow that shook dust from the ceiling, it swung a enormous, sparking axe at Sister Victorine.

The Battle Sister dodged with inhuman speed, but the axe caught her bolter, sending the weapon spinning through the air. It clattered to the ground mere meters from Lilith's hiding place.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Lilith watched Sister Victorine draw her chainsword, the weapon roaring to life as she prepared to face the Ork Nob in close combat. The rest of the greenskin horde pressed in, their grotesque faces split in savage grins as they sensed victory within their grasp.

In that moment, Lilith knew she had to act. Her body moved before her mind could catch up, darting from cover towards the fallen bolter. The weapon was massive, easily as long as she was tall, but adrenaline lent her strength she didn't know she possessed.

Lilith's hands closed around the grip of the bolter, the weight of it nearly dragging her to the ground. She knew, in some distant part of her mind, that what she was about to do was monumentally stupid. The recoil alone from such a weapon could shatter every bone in her arms. But as she looked up and saw Sister Victorine surrounded by the pressing mass of Orks, she knew she had no choice.

With a prayer to the Emperor on her lips, Lilith raised the bolter. The targeting reticle in the weapon's sight glowed an angry red, and she instinctively aligned it with the head of the nearest Ork. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed the trigger.

The world exploded into noise and pain. The bolter bucked in Lilith's hands with the force of an angry Grox, the recoil sending shockwaves through her entire body. She felt something snap in her right shoulder, a white-hot lance of agony that nearly caused her to black out. But through the haze of pain, she saw the bolt round find its mark.

The Ork's head exploded in a shower of green gore, its body toppling backward into its comrades. For a split second, the entire horde seemed to freeze, their tiny minds struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

That moment of confusion was all Sister Victorine needed. With a cry of "For the Emperor!" she launched herself into the stunned Orks, her chainsword carving bloody furrows through green flesh.

Lilith collapsed to the ground, the bolter slipping from her nerveless fingers. Every breath sent waves of agony through her body, and she could taste blood in her mouth. But even through the pain, a small part of her felt a surge of fierce pride. She had made a difference, however small, in the face of overwhelming odds.

The sound of reinforcements arriving barely registered in Lilith's pain-addled mind. The distinctive whine of Chimera engines mixed with the staccato bark of hellguns as the Steel Legion arrived, supported by more Sisters of Battle in their gleaming power armor.

As consciousness began to fade, Lilith saw Sister Victorine standing over her, the Battle Sister's armor splattered with Ork blood. "Foolish, brave child," she heard the Sister say, her voice a mixture of anger and admiration. "The Emperor truly does work in mysterious ways."

Then, mercifully, unconsciousness claimed her.

---

The first thing Lilith became aware of was pain. It radiated from her right shoulder, a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. The second thing she noticed was the familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft beep of monitoring equipment. She was in the medicae ward.

Slowly, painfully, Lilith opened her eyes. The harsh white light of the ward's lumens made her wince, and she blinked rapidly, trying to bring the world into focus. As her vision cleared, she saw two figures standing at the foot of her bed, deep in conversation. One was Sister Mercy, her weathered face creased with worry. The other, to Lilith's surprise, was Sister Victorine, still clad in her blood-spattered power armor.

"...reckless beyond measure," Sister Victorine was saying, her voice tight with barely contained anger. "She could have been killed. Emperor's mercy, she nearly was killed."

Sister Mercy sighed, her eyes never leaving Lilith's prone form. "And yet, she wasn't. Some might call that the Emperor's protection."

Sister Victorine made a sound that might have been a snort. "The Emperor protects, Sister, but He also grants us the wisdom to know our limits. That child had no business wielding a bolter. It's a miracle she wasn't torn apart by the recoil alone."

"And yet," Sister Mercy repeated softly, "she wasn't. Lilith has always been... different. Perhaps this is simply another manifestation of her uniqueness."

Before Sister Victorine could respond, Lilith let out a small groan. Both Sisters turned to her immediately, their argument forgotten in the face of her awakening.

"Lilith, child," Sister Mercy said, moving to her bedside and taking her left hand gently. "How do you feel?"

Lilith tried to speak, but her throat was dry and raw. Sister Mercy quickly brought a glass of water to her lips, and Lilith drank gratefully.

"I... It hurts," Lilith finally managed to rasp out. "What happened?"

Sister Victorine stepped forward, her stern face softening slightly. "You fired my bolter, child. It was an act of extreme foolishness, but also of extreme bravery. You likely saved my life, and the lives of many others."

Memories began to flood back - the Ork attack, the fallen bolter, the moment of desperate decision. Lilith winced, not just from the physical pain but from the realization of how close she had come to death.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think... I just acted."

Sister Mercy squeezed her hand gently. "There will be time for apologies and explanations later, child. For now, you need to rest and heal."

As if summoned by her words, Sister Marian entered the room, her face a mask of professional concern. "Ah, our young patient is awake. Good. How are you feeling, Lilith?"

Lilith tried to shrug, then hissed in pain as the movement sent a spike of agony through her shoulder. "It hurts," she admitted. "But... not as much as I thought it would. How long was I unconscious?"

The three Sisters exchanged glances. It was Sister Marian who answered. "Just over a week, child. And that, in itself, is something of a miracle."

Lilith's eyes widened in surprise. "A week? But... shouldn't it be longer? I remember the pain... I thought..."

Sister Marian nodded, her expression thoughtful. "By all rights, yes. The damage to your shoulder was extensive. The recoil from the bolter shattered your collarbone and dislocated your shoulder. There was significant soft tissue damage as well. We feared you might lose the use of your arm entirely."

Lilith felt a chill run down her spine at the Sister's words. She tentatively tried to move her right arm, and was surprised to find that, while painful, she could indeed move it.

Sister Marian continued, her voice taking on a tone of wonder. "But your recovery has been... unprecedented. Your bones have knit at an extraordinary rate. The soft tissue damage is healing faster than anything I've ever seen outside of Astartes physiology."

Sister Victorine's eyes narrowed at this. "What are you saying, Sister Marian? That this child possesses some manner of enhanced healing?"

Sister Marian shook her head. "Not enhanced, precisely. But accelerated, certainly. I've been monitoring Lilith's recovery closely, and I've made some... interesting discoveries."

She moved to a nearby data-slate, tapping a few commands to bring up a series of complex medical readouts. "Lilith's cellular regeneration rate is approximately three times that of a normal human. Her bone density is also significantly higher than average, which likely contributed to her surviving the bolter's recoil in the first place."

Sister Mercy leaned in, studying the readouts with a furrowed brow. "Is this... natural? Some quirk of genetics, perhaps?"

Sister Marian nodded slowly. "That's my belief, yes. It's not unheard of for humans to develop unique genetic traits, especially on worlds with harsh environments or high radiation levels. Armageddon certainly qualifies on both counts."

She turned back to Lilith, her expression a mixture of fascination and concern. "Lilith, have you ever noticed that you heal quickly from injuries? Or that you rarely get sick?"

Lilith blinked, caught off guard by the question. She thought back over her years in the orphanage, trying to recall any incidents that might support Sister Marian's theory. "I... I'm not sure," she said slowly. "I've never been seriously hurt before. But... I do remember getting over colds faster than the other children. And cuts and bruises always seemed to heal quickly."

Sister Victorine stepped forward, her face grave. "Sister Marian, what exactly are you suggesting? That this child possesses some manner of mutation?"

The word hung in the air like a thundercloud, heavy with implications. In the Imperium of Man, mutation was often seen as a sign of corruption, a taint that could lead to heresy or worse.

Sister Marian shook her head emphatically. "No, not mutation. A genetic quirk, yes, but one that falls well within the bounds of acceptable human variation. It's similar to the increased lung capacity seen in some void-born humans, or the enhanced night vision found in certain feral world populations. Unusual, certainly, but not unnatural."

Sister Mercy let out a small sigh of relief. "Then this is a blessing from the Emperor, surely. A gift that allowed Lilith to survive what should have been a fatal injury."

Sister Victorine remained skeptical. "A gift, perhaps. But one that must be carefully monitored. The line between blessing and curse can be perilously thin."

Lilith, listening to this exchange with growing unease, finally spoke up. "What... what does this mean for me? Will I be able to leave the medicae ward soon?"

Sister Marian turned back to her, her expression softening. "Yes, child. At the rate you're healing, I expect you'll be fit to return to your dormitory within a day or two. But you'll need to be careful with that arm for at least another week. No strenuous activity, understood?"

Lilith nodded, relief washing over her. Then a thought struck her, and she turned to Sister Victorine. "Sister, what happened with the Ork attack? Is everyone alright?"

Sister Victorine's stern face broke into a small, approving smile. "Thanks in no small part to your actions, child, we were able to hold the line until reinforcements arrived. The breach has been sealed, and the Ork incursion was repelled with minimal casualties."

She paused, then added, "Your... comrades in the orphanage have been asking after you. They've taken to calling you 'The Little Lion' for your bravery in the face of the greenskin horde."

Lilith felt her face flush at this. "I... I didn't do it to be brave," she mumbled. "I just couldn't stand by and do nothing."

Sister Mercy squeezed her hand gently. "And that, my child, is the very definition of bravery. To act in the face of fear, to do what must be done despite the danger - that is what sets heroes apart."

Sister Victorine nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Though I still maintain it was an act of extreme foolishness, I cannot deny the courage it took. You have the makings of a true servant of the Emperor, Lilith."

As the Sisters continued to discuss her condition and the implications of her unique healing ability, Lilith found her mind wandering. She thought back to her decision to join the Imperial Guard rather than the Adepta Sororitas. Had that been the right choice? With this new revelation about her physiology, would she be better suited for a different role in service to the Imperium?

More than that, she wondered about the source of her accelerated healing. Was it truly just a quirk of genetics, or was there something more to it? In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, even blessings could have sinister origins.

As if sensing her troubled thoughts, Sister Mercy leaned in close. "Do not let this discovery weigh too heavily on you, child," she said softly. "The Emperor works in mysterious ways, and His gifts come in many forms. What matters is how we use those gifts in His service."

Lilith nodded, trying to take comfort in the Sister's words. Yet as she lay there, surrounded by the beep of medical equipment and the whispered conversations of the Sisters, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life had just become infinitely more complicated.

The next few days passed in a blur of medical examinations, hushed conversations, and visits from curious orphans eager to hear the tale of 'The Little Lion' firsthand. Lilith found herself torn between pride at her actions and embarrassment at the attention. She answered questions as best she could, but always steered the conversation away from her surprisingly quick recovery.

On the third day after regaining consciousness, Sister Marian declared Lilith fit to return to her dormitory, albeit with strict instructions to avoid any strenuous activity. As Lilith prepared to leave the medicae ward, she was surprised to find Sister Victorine waiting for her.

"Walk with me, child," the Battle Sister said, her tone brooking no argument.

They made their way through the winding corridors of the orphanage in silence, Lilith having to take two steps for every one of Sister Victorine's long strides. Finally, they arrived at a small chapel, one Lilith had never seen before. Unlike the grand, imposing architecture of the main chapel, this one was intimate, almost cozy.

Sister Victorine gestured for Lilith to sit on one of the simple wooden pews, then took a seat beside her. For a long moment, the Battle Sister said nothing, her augmetic eyes whirring softly as she studied Lilith.

"You are an enigma, Lilith," she finally said. "A child with the mind of a scholar, the heart of a warrior, and now, it seems, the constitution of an Astartes. The Emperor must have great plans for you."

Lilith shifted uncomfortably under the Sister's intense gaze. "I... I don't know about that, Sister. I'm just trying to do what's right."

Sister Victorine nodded slowly. "A noble goal, but one that can lead down many paths. Some of those paths are fraught with danger, both to the body and to the soul."

She paused, seeming to choose her next words carefully. "Your... unique abilities present both opportunity and risk. In the wrong hands, such gifts could be twisted to serve dark purposes. But properly guided, they could make you an invaluable servant of the Emperor."

Lilith felt a chill run down her spine at the Sister's words. "What are you saying, Sister? Do you think I'm in danger?"

Sister Victorine's expression softened slightly. "We are all in danger, child. Every day, the enemies of mankind seek to corrupt and destroy us. But you... you may face unique temptations and challenges."

Sister Victorine then thinks of the possible things that may happen if the word gets out that Lilith had a rare genetic quirk, one that could get the attention of the wrong people.