"You… back then… never mind. I'll let you be lazy for a bit longer. Take Omega to his room, and show him around the Mechanical Temple so he can get his bearings. For now, he'll be with the apprentices."
"Yes, Father."
Adept Riya happily led Omega away, then resumed her busy work at the data hub. They twisted and turned through corridors until they arrived at a room that looked like a laboratory.
Omega comforted himself: Since I've reincarnated as a Tech-Priest, it's not like they'd give me a villa instead of a laboratory, right? I've already gnawed on two corpse starch sticks on the way here, what more could I expect?
"Come on, little brother Omega, quickly take off your clothes."
Huh?! What kind of predatory words are those?! I'm still a child! This is the warhammer world, not some hentai world. Could it be…
While Omega's brain was rebooting, Adept Riya had already pulled out a syringe.
"Hurry up! After we draw blood, we still need to go to your room."
Oh, drawing blood! You should have said… Wait, a syringe as thick as my wrist? How much do you plan to draw?! Are you sure you're not bleeding me dry?!
"Adept Riya, may I ask the purpose of this blood draw? I just arrived after a journey, and I haven't replenished my energy. My blood sugar is low right now, which might affect the data."
All personnel of the Adeptus Mechanicus can be called "Tech-Priest." "Tech-Priest" is a general term, while "Mechanical Sage" is an honorific. You can address any Tech-Priest whose status or knowledge is higher than yours as "Sage." A "Great Sage" must at least possess a Forge Ark to bear the title.
Hearing Omega's words, Adept Riya's eyes lit up, and she said cheerfully:
"It's fine, we'll draw one sample now, and then another after you've eaten your fill. It'll be perfect for comparison."
"Uh…"
"I want to experiment and see why Father said your body can withstand high radiation."
As expected, she's still an "Oil Girl." I can't rely on her; I got happy too soon!
The process need not be detailed; suffice it to say, it took half a month for Omega's pale face to regain some color.
During this half-month, Omega gradually became familiar with the people and things in the Mechanical Temple.
There's not much to say about his relationship with the Tech-priest; they were busy all day, including Sage Lauster and Adept Riya. Omega currently only knew which Priest was responsible for what work and what their specialized skills were.
His relationship with the apprentices was much better. Omega clearly remembered that on the second morning after arriving at the Mechanical Temple, when he appeared in red robes in the apprentices' reading room, the eyes of both adult and underage apprentices showed fear, reverence, and envy. (His Mechanical Axe and multi-functional bionic arm were left in his room; they were too heavy and affected his height.)
On the third day, after he donned all his gear and allowed the apprentices to touch and venerate his Mechanical Axe, their relationship immediately became much more harmonious.
The omnissiah loves every human who seeks knowledge.
The Adeptus Mechanicus never refuses those who seek learning. Of course, don't expect anyone to teach you like a teacher.
The library doors of the Mechanical Temple are open to everyone; anyone can feel the wisdom and greatness of the Omnissiah from the religious texts of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
To this, Omega replied: This is pure nonsense.
Why?
This goes back to the Adeptus Mechanicus's texts, then to the apprentice training mechanism, then to the content of the Tech-Priest assessment, and finally, and most importantly, the average daily working hours of living beings on a Forge World.
In a word: If you're not a genius among geniuses, don't appear before the omnissiah.
Here's an example of someone born on a Forge World:
You were born. Your parents are slave laborers on a Forge World. The grace of the omnissiah ensured you didn't have an extra finger or other organs like other children in the district.
After the Priests in the Mechanical Temple performed a genetic test and found no mutations, they told your parents: "This is a child blessed by the omnissiah."
Your parents were very happy about this, and as soon as you understood things, they began to communicate with you only in the limited High Gothic they knew, and voluntarily applied for extended working hours in exchange for the foreman teaching you High Gothic for one hour each week.
More than 16 hours of work a day ravaged your parents; in just a few short years, they aged as if twenty years had passed.
Compared to children your age in the district, you felt your childhood was unfortunate. Your parents didn't love their child like the parents outside your window.
They were always busy, and their speech was always just one word at a time, needing gestures to express what they wanted to do. They would just sleep when they came home and go to work when they woke up.
They also didn't let you go out and play with peers, and the gifts they brought you were always tattered parchments inscribed with things like "omnissiah" or "omnissiah."
Of course, you knew what the omnissiah was; you were old enough to understand, not just a clueless child.
Every seven days, an uncle would come to teach you some knowledge and vocabulary. You liked spending time with him; he wasn't like your parents, he spoke fluently and knew a lot. You asked him why he knew so much, and he said his ancestors were something called "nobles."
You didn't understand what a noble was, but the uncle always puffed out his chest whenever he spoke of it.
You also complained to him about your parents, saying they didn't love you, but the uncle just patted your head and said:
"You'll understand when you grow up."
Until you could fluently speak and write every sentence you wanted to express in High Gothic, the uncle never appeared again. You were sad for a long time about this, but your parents also started coming home earlier each day. They could spend a short while playing with you in your room every day. Although the time wasn't long, you could feel your parents' love for you, which made you very happy.
But they still wouldn't let you go out. You cried and made a fuss, but all you got were your parents' slaps.
When you were 12, you could finally go out. Every day, your parents would take you to the entrance of the Mechanical Temple, leave you the starch stick you needed for the day, and then go to work together.
You met many new friends here; your experiences were largely similar. You all read aloud every book in the library. Although you recognized every word, when put together, they left you bewildered.
But luckily, you had friends. You would guess together and ask those who had already become apprentices for guidance.
Yes, you weren't even an apprentice yet. Only those who performed exceptionally well and were outstanding enough had a chance to be chosen as apprentices by the Priests.
Becoming an apprentice wouldn't grant you any material rewards; it merely gave you the right to attend classes where the Priests explained the wisdom of the omnissiah in their spare time.
As you grew older, you finally understood how much your parents had sacrificed for you. You thanked the omnissiah for its grace, your parents for their love, and your luck for not having damaged books during childish play and being punished or expelled from the Mechanical Temple.
Father's nightly coughs grew longer and louder, and Mother's back became more and more hunched. All of this became your motivation to strive. You desperately memorized every text, understanding or not, you just memorized frantically, from day to night, and from night back to day.
Fortunately, your efforts were seen by the omnissiah, and the Priests of the Mechanical Temple granted you the qualification to become an apprentice.
The paper and ink required for your studies forced your parents to once again extend their working hours.
You tried desperately to save, but there was still so much knowledge to record. You hated yourself for not having a photographic memory like others, hated yourself for not having an intuitive understanding like others, but you didn't give up. You believed that if you just tried harder and harder, your effort and your piety would make the omnissiah favor you again.
Unfortunately, years of high-intensity labor broke your father's body, and your family could no longer afford your continued studies.
That night, your father, like a child, buried his head in your arms, crying and apologizing to you. All you could do was pat his twisted back, constantly reassuring him: "It's enough! He's done enough for you!"
A week after you joined the factory, your mother happily told you that you could return to the Mechanical Temple to continue your studies.
Your father voluntarily became a servitor, welded to the production line until completely broken, in exchange for the Priest giving you three more years of study time.
Upon hearing this news, you wanted to roar, to curse, to question.
In the end, you just silently packed your belongings and appeared before the gates of the Mechanical Temple once more.
You never asked your mother which factory your father was in; you didn't want to know and didn't dare to know.
Effort! All your effort!
Finally, at the end of the third year, you knelt before the Temple's Sage, begging for an opportunity.
The Sage said: "You are not yet qualified."
You had nothing to say, because many people more excellent than you had also not become Priests.
You just knelt silently in the center of the hall, for one hour, two hours, day, night, until you fainted.
You woke up in your mother's arms. She told you that the Sage had agreed. You knew the omnissiah had favored you again.
But the moment you saw the assessment content in the Great Forge Temple, despair enveloped you!
Why?!
Why were they complex geometric figures?
Why were they formulas about light, about heat, about electricity, about magnetism, about waves, about force…?
Why were they constantly changing, cold calculations?
Why! Why was it like this?
The texts clearly contained religious metaphors, philosophical thoughts, discussions of the Motive Force, discussions of the omnissiah, discussions of the omnissiah!
It was then that you finally understood what the Sage meant by "not qualified"!
You could feel that every symbol, every character, every number of these formulas and calculations was hidden within a chapter, a paragraph, or a sentence of the books you had read, memorized, and recorded.
After returning, you cried to your mother, saying: "I can't do it, I'm too foolish, I'm too ignorant."
Your mother just smiled and said: "You are the smartest child she has ever seen. It's okay, it's okay…"
Soon after, another servitor was added to the production line…