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Chapter 254: Dammit, I'll Kill You Sooner or Later!
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 10:16:54 +0000 UTCChapter 254: Dammit, I'll Kill You Sooner or Later!
Silent Vow - Joint Testing Facility
Even during the long voyage, the research into future technologies, the application of existing technologies, and the archaeology of past technologies continued unabated. After several days of boisterous activity, the wolf-pups, having exhausted their energy, finally quieted down. Led by the Dark Angels, they entered the testing facility, a place where new scientific achievements were constantly being born.
The Rune Priests had already integrated themselves. Their seemingly brutish exteriors now displayed an unimaginable patience as they began the long process of learning new things.
"Do not question the professional ability of an Archmagos Dominus, Warsmith," Archmagos Cawl said, his brow furrowed. Beside him were countless instruments for detecting mechanical activity, and researchers rushing back and forth. The addition of the Human Federation had provided the Archmagos with a considerable number of usable apprentices. These beings, whose spirit of exploration had not yet been crushed by the malice of the galaxy, had a natural stubbornness for discovery. With a little guidance, they were reliable helpers in the research process.
"No, Archmagos. Your understanding of mechanics is still flawed in my eyes," Barabas Dantioch said with his arms crossed, observing the various parameters. He glanced out of the isolation chamber. Not far away was his friend from ten thousand years ago, Captain Pollux. The first Chapter Master of the Crimson Fists, who had been known as a giant in the past, was now an ancient warrior as tall as a Primarch. Seeing his old friend was still busy with his research, he did not disturb him, but chose to wait quietly, happy that his friend could do what he loved.
What Dantioch and the others were working on was an important warp-theory related to the research of the slipstream module wormhole. In the center of the experimental chamber, an unstable energy vortex slowly rotated, sometimes expanding, sometimes contracting, as if it were breathing.
"We have more stable, older model components that can be applied. Please do not exercise your imagination on the details," Zahariel couldn't help but remind him.
"I believe mine is better. My material parameters have been—" Cawl's mechadendrite suddenly shot up, the data-stream reconfiguring under his control. A series of complex formulas appeared in the projection. His voice was filled with an unquestionable confidence, yet also a subtle hint of uncertainty.
For scientists, arguing was like lubricant and seasoning, an indispensable part of life. After all, they each had their own research in their respective fields, and they had full confidence in the glorious achievements they had made in their research. So when they were involved in the same project, if they encountered some conflict within their professional scope, they would haggle over the smallest of details. This involved their authority and dignity in their respective fields, and also a bit of the 'truth is revealed through debate' mentality.
In the past, in that era of pioneering exploration, countless novel research projects and galaxy-shaking scientific achievements had been inspired by arguments, and had then been brought to fruition through countless more arguments. It could be said that arguing from a basis of reason was a necessary quality for every accomplished scientist.
Cawl was no exception. Unfortunately, in the past ten thousand years, there had been few arguments around Cawl. The reason was simple: the Archmagos had gone too far. The tech-priests around him, including the Primaris-prime he had created, lacked certain qualities. They just saw him as an authority and executed his orders. Because this galaxy had betrayed science. After the research and development of various new technologies on various worlds had all ended in failure due to external environmental interference, humanity's desire for exploration had gradually fallen into a decline over time.
To this day, the number of scientists who still maintained caution and reverence, and constantly challenged the unknown, could be counted on one hand. Compared to using warships and technology as commodities for academic exchange, Cawl had not enjoyed such a debate in a long time.
And after the experiment was over, Cawl looked at his instrument, which had passed the theoretical parameters but had in reality been crushed into a lump by the pressure of the warp-barrier, and fell into a deep thought. Perhaps his talent in mechanical application really wasn't very good?
One could only say that the development of science is inseparable from communication and mutual verification. Now Cawl seemed to have finally realized that he was too imaginative in the application of mechanical technology.
"How's the progress?" Ramesses suddenly popped his head out of a portal. His sudden appearance made a few nearby servo-skulls spin in panic, emitting a piercing alarm.
"It passed. The rest is just reliability testing. We don't need any external force attacks," Arthur said, reaching out a hand and pulling Ramesses out. He had been helping Cawl wave the incense burner. The burning of incense was a tradition left over from the M2 era. He didn't mind. When he was writing the code for his graduation thesis, he had burned his share of incense. Not to mention now, in this era where burning incense and kowtowing could really change the dice roll to a "take the higher of two."
After passing the professional skills assessment, the first thing the starport technicians learned was how to efficiently burn incense and kowtow under the guidance of a tech-priest.
"Alright then," Ramesses said, shaking the daemon-fragments from his cloak and continuing to observe the state of the warp. Psychic waves spread out like ripples on the surface of water, at the same time checking the soul-projections of everyone present. Still no problem. It seemed they had not entered the field of vision of Vashtorr and Tzeentch.
"The technical data hasn't been contaminated, has it?" Arthur asked again.
"No, it hasn't," Ramesses shook his head. He had tried a lot of daemons, and none had broken through the safe house's own lockdown. It was possible they couldn't perceive it.
Unlike Cawl and the others' research, what Ramesses was testing was placing the technology inside a 'safe house' and using daemons to forcibly attack it, to see if he could guarantee the data would not be contaminated. The effect was good so far, but it was still a long way from success in their eyes.
In Ramesses's vision, if they could truly guarantee the security of knowledge, then in the future, they could use a safe house as a base to create a forum similar to a 'knowledge network,' to preserve knowledge and to supply various scientific researchers for communication. The Adeptus Mechanicus would definitely be replaced, but its members were scattered all over the galaxy. It was impossible to kill them all. So after they had the opportunity to abolish the Mechanicus, the Dawnbreakers also hoped they could build a platform for these masters of technology to communicate, to further unite those 'scientific research' workers.
Although the tech-priests, bound by their doctrines, did not like to share, just as the Dawnlight Sector particularly liked to use the grassroots civil servants of the Administratum and the Adeptus Arbites, those who could make it in the environment of the Imperium and not turn to Chaos definitely had something on them. Those tech-priests, who could break through their own bottlenecks in their lonely research and not take the warp-shortcut to evolve into pointy-heads, were proof that at least their individual level was not a problem.
"But our strength on the warp level is still too weak. And superluminal networking can only go through the warp," Ramesses couldn't help but complain. "The old man on the Throne is not of sound mind, Vashtorr has the lion's share, and the last little scraps of inspiration and machinery are divided between Tzeentch and the Plankton-boss. Khorne also has a piece of the forging pie. All the technology-progress-related stuff is now monopolized by the warp."
"Karna's attempt also ended in failure. Even if you rely on the warp to worship a god, the traits just don't pop up," Ramesses said, rubbing his temples as he counted off a series of problems.
Arthur nodded in agreement. He remembered Karna's 'what the hell is this' expression when he was faced with the research data, and then he thought that this was the promotional material for the Church of the Dawn's scientific thought, and he couldn't help but keep a straight face.
With the promotion of the Church of the Dawn, a usable warp-entity had naturally been worshipped out for Karna. Aside from emotions being converted into points and fed back to the believers as food, the rest were various conceptual traits, such as tolerance, burning, devouring darkness and anger, and so on, which also gave Karna extremely high combat stats.
Don't think such an operation is absurd. If not for the Dawnbreakers having preemptively blown up the T'au Empire's homeworld, then in the future, in the Damocles Gulf alone, the humans who had been united under the T'au Empire would have, in two hundred years, worshipped out a warp-entity for the 'Greater Good' called 'T'au'va,' which represented 'altruism, tolerance, and gentleness.' This is the power of humanity!
No wonder the Four Gods all liked to leech off of human faith. The numbers were truly huge. Ramesses, as he continued to capture daemons, had also strengthened the 'Lord of Formless Chaos' component in the warp. Now, with this power, it was much easier for him to visit the homes of those lesser, undivided Chaos gods. The security of the safe house was certain, but how to build the firewall was a problem. Tzeentch and Vashtorr were two very difficult problems. If one of them got into the network, it would be a direct explosion.
"Don't worry. Tzeentch is uncertain, but we have a great chance with Vashtorr," Arthur comforted him. Vashtorr had been actively seeking the position of the fifth Chaos God, so his activities were the most frequent. In the future, he would also go and snatch the Tuchulcha Engine from the Dark Angels. They had plenty of time to set a trap.
"I know," Ramesses nodded helplessly. He began to plan in his mind how to build the firewall, but he had no clue. He then thought of the recent intellectual battles with various daemons, the increasing intensity of the warp-phishing scams, the ever-growing demand from the material universe, and the declining quality of the daemons in his park. A nameless fire rose within him.
Romulus's demands are one thing, but the warp is also ratcheting up the intensity!
'Dammit, I'll kill you all sooner or later.'
"Lord of Formless Chaos, I will kill you!!!"
In the warp, Vashtorr looked at his Soul Forge, which had once again become a mess with the absence of key daemons. The ever-burning forge-flames and the great mouth filled with sharp machinery let out a roar.
"Master..." a daemon, who had been timidly operating the various levers under his command to allocate production resources, was startled.
Sensing a further decline in efficiency, Vashtorr couldn't help but whip the daemon's back with his mechanical staff. The daemon's back immediately exploded, and countless metal parts began to multiply, giving him endless pain. It let out a mournful cry, but did not stop working. In fact, with the help of its new mechanical body, it moved faster and faster, at the same time correcting the mistakes it was constantly making in its panic.
This kind of defective product, in the past, was only fit to be fuel in a daemon engine! Vashtorr thought, turning away his gaze in anger. But what could he do besides be angry? He had not yet truly ascended to godhood. He did not have the right to be feared like the Lord of Change. Those daemons were never a part of him. His methods could not stop their actions at all. In fact, with each failure, they grew more and more audacious. He couldn't even catch their shadow.
Formless... formless... Aside from knowing that the other party was addicted to playing human and could catch a few traces of him in the material universe through the followers of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Vashtorr had never once caught that guy. This made him, every time he suffered a huge loss, only be able to be angry... and then continue to be angry. Anyone who didn't know would think he was a follower of the Blood God.
BOOM!!!
Another violent explosion came. Vashtorr's eyes focused. It was a group of Tyranid vanguard organisms. They were hiding in the ships that were under construction in the Soul Forge, including the Arks of Omen. These ships, because they were going to the material universe, needed to be protected from being completely corrupted by the warp, and were naturally equipped with Gellar Fields. And for this very reason, these areas where reality was slightly more stable had become the habitat of the swarm that had invaded his forge.
Vashtorr had not managed to kill them all. Now they had become a major problem. Every time Vashtorr dragged a space hulk from the Sea of Souls to be used as raw material, these specially evolved vanguard organisms of the swarm would enter it. Even Vashtorr himself did not know how many of his ships these damned bugs had invaded.
And all of this... He lifted his foot and crushed a proliferating bug that was gnawing on the metal. A string in Vashtorr's mind finally snapped.
'Lord of Iron, you can have them!'
He agreed to the deal with the Lord of Iron and decided to hand over his followers. A cold response came from the tides of the Empyrean. A transfer of power in the material universe was thus completed. Those followers would obey the Lord of Iron's command and achieve his desired goals. In the warp, the Lord of Iron would give him technical and production support. Those Iron Warriors who had not yet been tainted by daemons were usable.
And he... Vashtorr! The Arkifane! The true Omnissiah!
I will endure.
I am the one closest to godhood. I cannot waste my power before the right moment comes. My plan is still in preparation. The location of The Rock has not yet been determined. That ancient A.I. from the prophecy has not yet been found and bought over. I still have many things to do. I cannot act on impulse.
The throne of the God of Artifice will be mine. As long as I do not make a major mistake.
After a series of mental preparations, Vashtorr began to patiently clean up his messy Soul Forge. Beside him was an empty set of mechanical lever interfaces, its gears spinning idly. The power that had driven it had, at some point, been lost. Its operation was getting slower and slower.
"Dammit, I'll kill you sooner or later!"
