Chapter 158: Rob it clean!
Click—
The sound of a book hitting the floor echoed jarringly in the quiet library.
The Tech-Priest looked down and saw the book bound in human skin lying on the ground, its cover smooth, though the edges were slightly dulled by dust. There was no title on the cover, only an ancient mechanical symbol engraved upon it, emitting a faint blue light.
The Tech-Priest's optical eyepiece zoomed in and out slightly, and his prosthetic limb emitted a low mechanical hum as he slowly bent down to retrieve the book.
He examined the pale tome closely, the sensor on his fingertip scanning its cover, attempting to decipher its contents.
"This book isn't in the records," the Tech-Priest murmured in a low, robotic voice.
Just then, the surface of the book suddenly glowed faintly, as if responding to his gaze.
"To look or not to look! To look or not to look!"
The Tech-Priest trembled with excitement, feeling the call of the Machine God. This was entirely new knowledge, entirely new technology, and an entirely new future.
His breathing became more rapid, his optical sensors fixed on the book.
Just then, a cherub pierced the silence, its wings bearing the metallic scent of old bloodstains as it descended from the vaulted heights above the library.
"Do you require assistance?" the cherub asked in a cold, synthesized voice.
The Tech-Priest raised his head and stared at the cherub, as if searching for some kind of answer. However, his emotional logic subroutines suddenly took over. Instead of responding, he raised his prosthetic arm and swiftly snatched the cherub from mid-air.
"Look!"
"I won't look!"
"Look!"
"I won't look!"
The Tech-Priest muttered to himself as he used his other mechanical prosthetic arm to grab one of the cherub's wings and forcefully pluck out a mechanical feather.
"Warning! Unauthorized vandalism!" the cherub's shrill voice echoed through the library as it tried to break free from the Tech-Priest's control, but the priest's prosthetic limbs were as firm as iron clamps.
But the Tech-Priest completely ignored it and continued struggling with his dilemma.
Until the last feather was plucked.
"I won't look!"
The Tech-Priest stared at this outcome with confusion. Could this be the oracle?
He slowly closed his eyes, remained silent for a long moment, and his body trembled more and more violently.
Finally, he figured it out.
"Believe in the truth of the Imperium. There are no divine pronouncements. It's all just coincidence. Learning technology is our sacred duty!"
His prosthetic limb trembled slightly as he slowly lifted the cover of human skin.
Blue light poured from the pages like a flood, instantly filling his optical sensors. The truth was gradually revealing itself.
He saw the Emperor's sword pierce into a tall figure, a being with ten wings upon its back and holding a burning gear-staff.
"No...impossible...this is blasphemy! This is a lie! It was the Emperor who destroyed Him! It was a hypocritical Imperium that stole His power for the sake of technology!"
The Tech-Priest slammed the book shut, but it was too late.
His mind was filled with inescapable fear. The data streams began to malfunction, and system alarms blared shrilly.
"No! No!"
Just then, a black crack appeared on the white cover of the book, like an evil eye slowly opening.
A new scene appeared before his sensors: a massive coffin in the depths beneath the Terran Palace. He kept hearing incomprehensible whispers, and even though he couldn't parse their meaning, he stared intently at the coffin.
"It must be Him! It must be Him! He must be rescued! Aaaaaah!"
The Tech-Priest clutched his head, trying to sever the intrusion of the whispers, but the black mist seeping from the cracks had already entangled his prosthetic limbs and invaded his core along the connection lines.
The same scene kept repeating itself throughout the cathedral-library.
Little did they know that Fabricator General Kelbor-Hal was observing everything from a hidden corner.
Magnus lay in bed in agony, and in an attempt to alleviate the pain, his consciousness drifted into the warp.
Deep within the Immaterium, a chaotic void surged, its colors distorted and frenzied.
The Emperor's figure stood tall and majestic, His golden armor gleaming against black flames. On the opposite side, four equally enormous phantom figures confronted Him.
The first one charged at the Emperor, his battle axe trailing endless fury as he cleaved directly at the Emperor's head. The Emperor swung His sword to block, and golden light collided with scarlet flames, bursting into dazzling brilliance. The shockwave tore apart the surrounding void.
Laughing wildly, he swung his axe down again, but the Emperor forced him back with a thunderous counterattack.
Simultaneously, countless phantom arms stretched forth, each hand casting twisted spells, and psychic energy surged toward the Emperor like a tide, attempting to drag Him into eternal illusion.
However, the Emperor's conviction was as unwavering as steel, and He shouted, "Your schemes cannot succeed! Humanity will ultimately rule the galaxy!"
The golden longsword slashed through, severing the torrent of psychic energy and forcing Tzeentch to retreat.
The plague then struck, with countless rotting creatures rushing toward the Emperor, plague clouds attempting to engulf Him. However, the Emperor brandished His longsword, and golden light swept across, instantly reducing these corrupted life forms to ashes.
Nurgle emitted a low, gurgling laugh, and the stench of decay grew stronger, attempting to corrode the Emperor's armor through any microscopic cracks. But the holy radiance emanating from the Emperor's entire being was like raging flame, burning away all darkness.
Slaanesh then circled around, whispering indescribable words, even attempting to cling to the Emperor to disturb His mind. However, the Emperor's will was as firm as a mountain. He ignored the temptation and drove His blade through the figure's heart with a single thrust.
But the entity still tried to draw closer, and was directly punched away by the Emperor.
Magnus, observing from a distance, was nearly blown away by the aftershocks of their battle time and time again. In their presence, Magnus felt like a raw recruit in his use of psychic power.
The strength he was once so proud of now seemed woefully inadequate.
Suddenly, a wisp of golden flame drifted before Magnus, and his expression changed drastically when he perceived what lay within.
On Cadia, Francis crossed his arms.
"If you don't agree, I'll give that scepter to the Emperor as a birthday present. You'll probably never see it again in your lifetime!"
Trazyn said nothing.
The realization that it was the scepter of a Sotek dynasty lord meant it still held value for him. He could only grit his metaphorical teeth and accept it.
"Deal!" Finally, Trazyn sighed—a surprisingly organic gesture from a mechanical being. "I'll return soon, with blackstone to trade."
"No problem. Even if someone else asks for it, I won't give it to them. We've been through thick and thin together." Francis patted his chest confidently, looking every bit the part of a brother who would go to great lengths for his companions.
Trazyn went completely rigid. He had never encountered anyone quite like this before.
Ultimately, after two months of "friendly communication" between the two parties, the matter was resolved.
Francis completed the transaction amicably with a scepter, an Emperor-limited edition psychic bomb (number 9999), a Hrud, a Hrud-specific torture device, and a Hrud cookbook.
Then Trazyn turned around, his figure shrouded in starlight's shadow. He walked slowly but resolutely toward the gangway of his warship.
Just as he was about to step into the warship's cabin, he stopped and turned his head slightly.
"And another thing! I'm not ugly! I was a handsome young man back in my day!"
Before he finished speaking, his figure disappeared into the warship.
Francis stared in confusion.
He never imagined that one day even a sentient construct would care about its appearance. Aren't they all supposed to be pragmatists?
Just then, he heard a series of hurried and unsteady footsteps.
Looking back, he saw Magnus limping toward him, shouting frantically, "Something's happened! Father has fallen into deep stasis! The Navigator families, along with knightly nobility, have rebelled on Terra!"
Francis frowned, his gaze fixed on Magnus's eye, his tone skeptical. "How is this possible? Everything was perfectly fine when I left! Why the sudden crisis now? What exactly happened?"
Magnus roared with immense agitation. "I saw it! I saw everything! I witnessed it in the warp. Several entities are entangled with Father, and He can't break free yet. Father said that more blackstone would help Him better anchor Himself in reality!"
Upon hearing this, Francis's heart skipped a beat, and he muttered to himself. "They actually raided our home base at this critical moment? What a vicious plot! Absolutely despicable!"
Magnus stared at him with bloodshot eye and continued speaking furiously. "Let's go! We have to return! Everyone else is on expeditions, and there are hardly any defenders left on Terra! It'll be too late if we don't leave now!"
Francis clenched his fists. He never expected that someone as upright as himself would encounter such a group of treacherous and cunning adversaries.
He took a deep breath and said with utmost seriousness, "Let's go! We must leave immediately!"
Magnus nodded frantically. "Let's go!"
"Let's go! Let's raid their base too!"
Magnus stared in shock.
Shouldn't they be heading to Terra to eliminate the rebels? Whose stronghold was he planning to raid? Had he gone mad?
What was he trying to accomplish? Was he going to stand by and watch his father perish? Was he even the Emperor's son?
Countless questions swirled in Magnus's mind, and finally, he managed to utter a single word. "Why?"
Upon hearing this question, Francis sighed and then patted Magnus on the shoulder. "Warfare is based on deception! Haven't you heard the story of besieging Wei to rescue Zhao?"
Magnus stared blankly.
He looked at what Francis had given him—Sun Tzu's Art of War—and fell into deep contemplation. He had always thought Francis was like him, the same kind of person.
"Here! This will prevent you from being corrupted when we enter the warp." After Francis finished speaking, he tossed a small metal cylinder to Magnus. It was the enhanced version of the emotion regulator he had given to Angron.
Magnus caught it in confusion.
On the bridge of the Abyss's Roar, Francis decisively drank the blood and transformed into an ork.
"Waaaaaaaagh! You lot!"
Francis swung his arm violently, the sound echoing across the bridge. He bellowed in his distinctive ork voice, "Let's raid da Crystal Labyrinth! Let's grab all da shinies! Let's take everyfing!"
"Waaaaaaaaagh!"
Magnus stared in stunned disbelief.
[End of Chapter]
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