Psionic Titan, a creation of disaster forged by forbidden science.
Odysseus still remembered the malicious devices displayed in the Emperor's science laboratory, designed to extract the will of Psykers.
Those forbidden technologies, as part of the Emperor's plan, were meant to be installed on Titan skeletons, using the power of the Warp to attack the enemies of mankind.
When the Psionic Titan driven by Krafen appeared, the Captain of the Adeptus Custodes recognized instantly that while the technology differed, their function was the same.
Utilizing the power of the Warp to ravage the Real Universe!
"Teleportation Snare activated."
The mechanical voice, devoid of emotion, began executing the command center's orders, pulling the warriors closest to the Psionic Titan back to the void warship.
The Titan, a symbol of disaster, stepped from the illusory gate into reality; to instruments, it was a garbled mess, and to the naked eye, it was a distorted, abstract mosaic, making its true form unrecognizable.
As it emerged from the portal and trod upon the flagstone street, frost ignited into flames beneath its feet, and its form shifted between illusion and reality.
Everything present was indistinct, yet only one person saw through the Psionic Titan.
The Krafen Titan, as seen through Blazkowicz's eyes, possessed a fixed, real form: fifty meters tall, with a slender, flexible tripod base, and an upper body core shaped like an elliptical boat structure.
The Titan was covered in pitch-black carapace, and around the edge of its boat-shaped core hung a ring of chained cages, imprisoning human or alien Psyker captives.
These specialized cages extracted the power of the imprisoned Psykers to drive the Psionic Titan and launch various swift psychic strikes.
What Blazkowicz saw was reality, while what others perceived was merely its manifestation.
As the Psionic Titan walked the streets, its mass decreased when its size shrank, preventing it from touching real objects; when its size expanded, its mass returned, and its colossal form toppled Hive City buildings.
Buzz~~~~
Like the siren of a waking behemoth, it released a shockwave of air; the psychic shockwave was visible to the naked eye, instantly silencing the noisy battlefield.
The horror of the psychic power was fully manifested; the color of deathly silence, symbolizing disaster, diffused from the Psionic Titan, making the Real Universe seem to lose all color.
Flames lost their heat, plasma became hollow and cold, and sound ceased its clamor, sinking into a colorless, vast, deathly silence.
In the silent, deathly gray, only two colors persisted—the golden brilliance of the Adeptus Custodes and the black silence of the Doom Slayer.
On the battlefield permeated by wicked psychic energy, the brilliant golden armor, inert to psychic reactions, stood like a silent wall, protecting the warriors from intrusion.
But the two groups reacted differently to the psychic corrosion.
The Adeptus Custodes maintained their composure, but their brilliance was suppressed within their armor, appearing dim and unable to illuminate elsewhere.
The Doom Slayer, however, were like candlelight; the closer one got to them, the more the color of deathly silence was suppressed by the psychic resistance in their genes, unable to shake the warriors' wills.
In the desolate, deathly silent psychic domain, drones everywhere lost power, missiles fell silently to the ground, as if everything had lost its meaning.
All communication channels were blocked, the Iron Men fell silent where they stood, losing connection with the core consciousness of the warship.
Various remote-controlled machines lost control, automated machines suffered judgment failures; the silent deathly stillness was strangling the robotic forces, as psychic power negated soulless machinery.
The Psionic Titan was terrifying!
It had not even launched an attack, yet merely by walking upon the earth, it established an undeniable advantage, suppressing the entire battlefield!
Inside their brilliant golden armor, the Adeptus Custodes were breathing heavily, experiencing uncontrollable dizziness, and were forced to move closer to Blazkowicz's scions.
The three-man squads of Doom Slayer immediately converged, merging their suppression fields to form a protective circle, shielding the Iron Men and the Adeptus Custodes.
This brought the frontline to a halt; they could only hold the line, unable to advance further, temporarily falling into a passive situation.
The battlefield's psychic activity was off the charts, amplifying the power of psychic spells. Krafen was exceptionally excited, using this advantage to turn the passive situation into an active one, screaming as she launched her attack.
"Soul-Shattering Bomb has been launched, arriving on the battlefield in twenty seconds!"
Amidst the universal silence, the Doom Slayer psychic link sounded; the eldest scion, Blazkowicz, sent a psychic message, dropping a stabilizing pillar of certainty.
The Doom Slayer made the warrior's gesture, informing the Adeptus Custodes of the current situation, stating that they only needed to hold the line for ten seconds.
The Adeptus Custodes immediately understood, standing within the suppression field created by Blazkowicz's scions, and relying on the bodies of the Iron Men, they quickly formed a defensive line.
Facing such a dangerous situation, a warrior from the squad pulled out a spare physical connection line from the body of a Man of Iron, plugged it into the connector on the back of his armor, and used a super intelligent chip to drive the Man of Iron, enabling it to restart heavy fire support.
Twenty seconds!
Usually brief and easily overlooked, on a rapidly changing battlefield, it felt incredibly long.
For transcendent beings, twenty seconds was enough time to accomplish many things, even reversing the entire battle or wiping out enemy forces completely.
In the war on the Gela main planet, humans and xenos had deployed their most elite warriors; there were no mortal beings present on the battlefield.
Picking any corner of the battlefield, the fighting occurring there far surpassed the imagination of ordinary people.
Krafen maneuvered swiftly, her heightened psychic activity further boosting her power; her flintlock rifle fired Warp fragments, overloading a dimensional shield with a single shot.
In the blink of a mortal eye, the Adeptus Custodes simultaneously fired accurate shots and delivered hundreds of slashes, working in concert with the Doom Slayer to fend off the assault.
In the silent, deathly battlefield, both sides seized every second, attacking the enemy with all their might to secure victory.
The two sides were locked in combat; Krafen's individual strength was formidable, hammering the defensive line repeatedly, attempting to utterly destroy her enemies.
Humanity utilized the advantage of cooperation, relying on the powerful firepower of the Iron Men to desperately hold the line, awaiting the arrival of the Soul-Shattering Bomb.
Suddenly!
Fifteen seconds before support arrived, a charging sound, rising from low to high, tore through the silent stillness, creating a suffocating pressure that made breathing impossible.
The offensive of five Psionic Titans was as swift as thunder and lightning, launching a merciless attack against the human forces.
The Titans stomped down heavily, psychic power tearing the earth; the Hive City trembled under their tread, and the localized earthquakes made it impossible to stand steadily.
The attacks continued relentlessly; an invisible force spread, throwing the stalled heavy firepower units into the air with anti-gravity, tossing them away like toys.
Their immediate target was not individual soldiers, but rather clearing out units that posed a threat to them, ensuring their own survival.
A psychic whip flipped and swept across the area, causing large numbers of automated tanks to collapse inward, twisting and deforming into solid scrap metal.
The scene was too terrifying; Krafen, piloting the Psionic Titan, was like a mobile harbinger of destruction, leaving ruins in her wake, the battlefield trembling and wailing beneath her feet.
The Psionic Titan, which had reversed the tide of battle, halted its steps. In front of its distorted image, a black, hollow sphere began to condense, simultaneously emitting black lightning.
Everyone's heart sank. How could such an attack be stopped?
"Interrupt!"
A low shout clearly entered their ears; in a corner of the battlefield, Tal Rasha seized the opportunity and recited the Words of Creation.
The psychic black hole, which was accumulating power, shook unstably; the Titan stumbled back two steps, the black hole lost cohesion, and subsequently collapsed and vanished.
Before the three-man squad could cheer, Tal Rasha groaned, blood spilling from his lips, and he also stumbled backward and fell.
He gasped violently, his chest heaving sharply, then burst open with a bang!
The brilliant golden armor exploded from the inside out, flesh and blood splattering; Tal Rasha was mangled from his throat to his lungs, and his chest was shattered into pulp due to the price of the explosive backlash.
The Teleportation Snare instantly activated; he had halted the psychic attack at immense cost, and was thus severely wounded and removed from the battle.
Buzz~ Buzz~ Buzz!
The charging sound resumed; the slightly eased situation plunged back into crisis, as the momentary respite bought by Tal Rasha was mercilessly crushed by the Psionic Titan.
And this time, to prevent another interruption, all Psionic Titans charged their power simultaneously!
"Prepare the Words of Creation."
Within the psychic link, the Destroyer Legion coordinated, prepared to sacrifice themselves to buy time and ensure victory in the war.
The brothers of the Legion held a resolution to die!
Tal Rasha, who was the most gifted with the Words of Creation, was severely injured; others might perish trying, but death would not stop them!
With the battle at this stage, the Legion could no longer retreat; one step backward meant all previous efforts would be wasted!
"A worthy death!" A fierce war cry was transmitted through the psychic link; the warriors prepared for sacrifice, bidding farewell to their battle brothers.
Swoosh!
A bolt of red lightning streaked across the void, shattering the deathly silence; everywhere it passed, the gray color receded, and all evil forces were dispelled!
*Crack!* The red lightning struck the central Psionic Titan in the formation; the machine, which symbolized disaster, revealed its true appearance and stumbled to its knees.
Lodged in a lens on the front of the Titan's boat-shaped structure was a crimson longsword, its blade deeply embedded in the glass.
Just as confusion set in, the next sight terrified Krafen out of her wits.
The black carapace of the Titan faded in color; the machine, where death spread from the longsword, gradually petrified as if it were a living thing.
In the final moment before stepping underground, Blazkowicz turned and glimpsed the arrival of a Psionic Titan. He unhesitatingly threw the Crucible Sword, destroying it in a single strike.
In everyone's memory, the Psionic Titan became transparent and was then forgotten. Impressions of it dissipated, written records vanished, and it ultimately became a lingering doubt in their minds.
The Psionic Titan turned to ash, erased from the concept of reality.
Both the Imperial Guards and Krafen felt something was wrong. Why was the Titan attack formation left wide open in the center, exposing such an obvious weakness?
A crimson light sword fell from the ashes, its blade piercing the bluestone and embedding itself in the surface of the Gela main planet.
When it touched the ground, the domain of disaster was repelled, and physical laws returned to the battlefield.
"Attack the enemy Titan units!" A roar came, the low shout awakening the battlefield as the intelligent mechanical units came back online.
Krafen was completely bewildered, not understanding what exactly had happened.
She could not understand why her side's Titan's psionic domain had suddenly shattered.
Why was the Titan formation wide open in the center? Something seemed to have existed there, but now there was only a longsword used by humans.
Doubt truly existed, but action did not stop for a moment.
The Titans drew power from the psionic "batteries" within their bodies, aiming at densely populated human areas.
What if the psionic domain dissipated? That was merely a side effect brought by the Titans—suppressing the mind and interfering with reality, making it difficult for enemies to muster the courage to resist.
The true weapons had not yet fired. With just one volley, Warp energy would tear reality apart, and the annihilation black spheres would destroy mind and soul!
It would turn the tide of battle and destroy all enemies in the way!
"All heavy firepower, attack the enemy Titans!" Blazkowicz leaned on the command console, his hands crushing the steel edge, and bloodshot appeared in his eyes.
Blazkowicz had always been steady and calm in war command, but at this moment, his heart was filled with extreme tension.
If the enemy Psionic Titans were allowed to continue their rampage, the cost required for this war would far exceed his internal expectations.
The holographic projection showed that Krafen's Titans were hit by various attacks, yet they still stood firm on the battlefield, accumulating annihilation-grade psionic energy.
Excess psionic energy condensed into shields, resembling a dark singularity that devoured everything. Missiles were consumed by it, and energy beams were deflected and twisted, unable to cause the slightest damage.
They were an unsolvable presence, pressing forward step by step against the human line, like a tightening rope choking off the victory belonging to Argent Nur.
Ten seconds—
Blazkowicz's two hearts pounded violently.
The Soul Destroyer Missile still needed ten seconds to arrive—it had already penetrated the shield and entered the atmosphere, even completing its target lock and attack posture adjustment.
But the ground forces could not wait another second!
The psionic reaction was about to peak. The Imperial Guards' body monitoring systems showed that the heart rates of humanity's most elite warriors were continuously accelerating, and physiological reactions such as dizziness and vomiting were occurring.
"Retreat—" Blazkowicz prepared to give the order, allowing the teleportation lassos to bring back the Legion brothers and the Imperial Guards, temporarily withdrawing to prepare for the next attack.
"Launch the Atlantis Titan, prepare for lance strike!"
The communication came via psychic link, interrupting the Archon's command. The request from First Company Captain Atum was quick and urgent.
"Did you succeed?" Blazkowicz's expression changed, and he quickly responded mentally, confirming this request for aid.
The shield had not completely shut down yet, making it difficult for heavy units to penetrate. If an accident occurred and the Atlantis Titan crashed into the shield, it would result in the destruction of the machine and the death of the pilot.
"Confirming order!" Atum stated decisively, confirming the instruction without hesitation.
In the plasma reactor beneath the Hive City, the First Company Captain's shoulder cannon fired continuously. Teammates beside him vanished into light, and he himself was about to teleport away.
The Iron Men, led by HM-6657, blocked the front. Their steel bodies were battered and broken, jamming the pipes to resist Krafen's brutal counterattack.
They had breached the underground area, broken through the alien defense line, planted bombs in the plasma reactor, and detonated the shield's power engine.
"Launch the Atlantis Titan, lance targeting the ground." Blazkowicz's fingers moved like lightning, confirming the instruction on the command console.
From the belly of the Titan transport ship, the prepared Titan Thrones were launched, dropping toward the battlefield, ready to engage the enemy Titans.
Boom—
The earth rumbled and trembled. The plasma engine exploded, the confined energy rapidly expanding, and the high-temperature plasma created a violent explosion.
The center of the battlefield collapsed into a void, at the heart of which was an extremely bright plasma fireball releasing destructive energy.
One Psionic Titan was unfortunate enough to fall into the deep pit, buried by continuously falling rubble, making it difficult to escape immediately.
The night sky of the Gela main planet suddenly brightened. The rapidly depleting shield finally failed to hold up. The honeycomb energy shield was unstable, shattering under the continuous strike of lances.
"Lance strike incoming, ground units take cover!"
The communication channel was filled with mechanical warnings. The holographic map outlined the strike range, urgently instructing units to take cover as the lance strike was imminent.
The warning seemed somewhat redundant; the moment the planetary shield shattered, the warriors had already retreated to safe locations, lowering their posture to resist the impact.
The plasma lance fell straight down, the beam connecting heaven and earth. The high-energy ray enveloped the Psionic Titan, erupting with a dazzling brilliance like a supernova!
The Psionic Titan was incredibly resilient. Its shield constantly shifted and flowed, yet it stubbornly refused to break, enduring the bombardment of the anti-ship plasma lances.
In the areas surrounding the Titan, the ground began to crystallize and annihilate. The high temperature of the plasma swept across the battlefield, yet it still stood firm.
Joints groaned, the frame structure trembled, and the shield flickered between bright and dim. The Psionic Titan, like a towering giant, bore the absolute condemnation descending from the heavens.
The psionic vortex cannon dimmed, as all psionic supply was diverted to the shield to resist the lance bombardment.
The Titans were firmly suppressed by the ship cannons, and the situation instantly reversed. Krafen was forced to abandon the surface, retreating entirely into the underground fortifications.
Without shield protection, the surface was no longer safe.
Although the Titans seemed indestructible, without the planetary shield offering protection, they were nothing more than sitting targets for the fleet's artillery.
Taking advantage of the fleet's strike interval against the Titans, they entered the underground space to take cover, preserve their fighting strength, and continue the war of attrition with humanity.
Lance strikes came one after another. The sensors of the Iron Men and the power armor continuously issued warnings. The battlefield temperature kept rising, and the slightly cool air gradually became scorching hot.
The attack had not stopped, indicating that the Psionic Titan had not yet fallen and was desperately holding on under the lance strikes.
The knowledgeable Imperial Guards shook their heads repeatedly. The aliens were disgusting, but the Psionic Titans they piloted were far more advanced than human Titans.
If a human Titan were directly hit by a lance from high orbit, even the most powerful Emperor-class could not withstand it; the shield would overload after a few seconds, and the Titan would be collectively dissolved by the high temperature.
The alien Titan had endured at least four lance strikes, yet it still refused to fall, maintaining its psionic shield while its chassis emitted a groan of defiance.
"Soul Destroyer Missile incoming."
A few seconds later, the announcement rang out. The missile, launched at the earliest moment, had finally arrived.
The Soul Destroyer Missile descended at four thousand times the speed of sound, taking advantage of the interval between lance strikes to smash directly into the Psionic Titan.
The "Soul Destroyer Missile," specifically designed against large psionic units, had layers of "Untouchable" ashes in its casing. The warhead passed through the psionic shield without resistance, aiming directly at the target.
The missile disintegrated inside the shield, and the ashes carried by the warhead burst out, spreading around the target and forming a "Psionic Nullification" zone.
The Psionic Titan met its natural enemy. Its unstable mass and body disintegrated, and its chassis's psionic energy retracted, revealing its true form.
A whistling sound carrying heavenly might descended. The Atlantis Titan Throne opened from the air, the machine adjusted its posture, and a heavy flying kick descended from the sky!
Bang—
Steel collided with steel. The hundred-meter-tall humanoid mecha kicked the head of the Psionic Titan, the sonic boom shattering the ground.
The Atlantis Titan, boosted by ten times the speed of sound and mass acceleration, unleashed power beyond imagination.
The Psionic Titan was slammed underground, struggling in the pit. Its chassis whined, still attempting to rise and fight again!
The four Atlantis pilots would not give it a chance. Their humanoid iron feet stomped on the Psionic Titan's chest, illuminating gigantic dimensional weapons and striking at the enemy's vital points.
The sharpness of the dimensional weapons was beyond question. The light blades swept through, cutting the Titan in two. Fluorescent machine oil sprayed from the cuts like blood.
The Psionic Titan struggled continuously. As the ash dust was shaken off, its body once again flickered with psionic light.
Seeing that it was still stubbornly resisting, the Atlantis Titan's weapons chopped down again, splitting open the Titan's cockpit, and a giant shoulder cannon fired directly at Krafen inside.
Other pilots pulled out Krafen and crushed her to death in their hands, showing no mercy for the alien.
Having successfully eliminated the enemy Titans, the Legion Warriors were greatly encouraged. As the intelligent Legion units continued to descend, they pressed on with the cleanup of Krafen.
With fleet fire support, Argent Nur's army held an absolute advantage. They only needed to root out the aliens, and there were countless ways to eliminate them.
The surface was now extending the conflict, and the underground of the Hive City was also bustling. Krafen poured into it, their roars rising and falling.
Blazkowicz and his two companions descended deeper down the stairs.
The residual effects of the plasma reactor explosion had not dissipated; smoke and dust billowed, rendering the path ahead murky.
Without power, the Hive City underground was plunged into a deathly silence, broken only by the rustling sounds of crawling creatures echoing in the darkness.
As the three were not mortals, their vision was unaffected by the dark environment, and they strode quickly down the steps.
Harlan's gaze swept over Blazkowicz's armor, and he couldn't help but ask, "Where did you get this armor?"
He noticed that the style of the armor worn by Blazkowicz was unique and different from Argent Nur's craftsmanship; both the material and forging technique were unknown, prompting his curious inquiry.
"It was forged jointly by the Old Ones and the Emperor, incorporating Shards of the C'tan," Blazkowicz replied. He raised his arm, and the retractable blade 'zzzt' popped out, its cold light slicing through the darkness.
"A fine piece of equipment," Harlan said, a flash of envy in his eyes. "Unfortunately, it is something you can only dream of obtaining."
An excellent suit of Power Armor is a warrior's second life—especially when it is sufficiently powerful.
"I also contributed to its creation." A string of text appeared on the helmet visor. The Void Dragon did not speak, but the words conveyed a hint of indignation.
Blazkowicz ignored It, continuing his conversation with Harlan as they walked toward the depths of the Hive City, searching for their objective.
The Hive City underground consisted mostly of pipes and industrial zones. The air was thick with the smell of rust and decay, and the continuous heat dissipation from various power engines made the climate hot and humid.
Typically, the height and depth of a Hive City are roughly equal, its cross-section forming a diamond shape divided into two triangles by the ground level.
The Upper Hive housed nobles and the ruling class, where they enjoyed sunlight and fresh air, while the Underhive never saw the light of day, its residents mainly commoners and gang members.
Krafen's invasion transformed the Hive City residents into "Soulless Ones." When they received no instructions, they could only wander aimlessly throughout the Hive City.
Following the collapse of the surface, Krafen entered the Underhive, and the residents, whose behavior had been zombie-like, suddenly became active.
They emerged from dark corners, their expressions sluggish and hollow, following Krafen's orders to provide support and use their lives to block the human army.
"These humans are beyond saving," the Void Dragon suddenly spoke. "Their souls are about to be extinguished, leaving behind hollow bodies."
"That's not bad either," Its tone dripping with sarcasm. The scene It described appeared synchronously on the visor: "If you cut out their prefrontal lobes, you will get a large supply of obedient ants."
"Oh, and in the Imperium of Man established by the Emperor, they are affectionately called 'Thralls,' cheap and effective labor."
The Void Dragon sneered repeatedly, viewing all life as mere ants and mercilessly disparaging the Imperium and the Emperor, clearly reveling in the act.
Blazkowicz remained silent, too lazy to refute the undeniable facts, and unwilling to acknowledge the C'tan or satisfy Its need for verbal venting.
Having been imprisoned by the Emperor for thirty thousand years, the Void Dragon despised the Imperium established by the Emperor, taking pleasure in constantly disparaging It and scorning the achievements of the Emperor.
The C'tan naturally knew that without the rise of the Emperor, the human race would have sunk into ruin across the galaxy, heading toward a future of destruction.
But It never cared about these facts; It simply wanted to mock the Emperor and, incidentally, the human race.
Seeing Blazkowicz remain silent, the Void Dragon lost interest, falling silent and ceasing Its sarcastic mockery.
It was actually keenly aware of the limits, constantly pushing the boundaries of tolerance and spouting harmless trash talk, yet ensuring It absolutely never crossed the line.
"Krafen is here." As the intelligence of the regent armor, the Void Dragon was relatively diligent, outlining the alien silhouettes within the dark smoke.
Nine Krafen were concealed in the shadows at the end of the descending staircase, preparing to ambush the humans entering the underground.
"How interesting." The Void Dragon switched to a holographic projection, connecting the nine Krafen, allowing them to clearly see a formation composed of three triangular squads.
"They are learning from you. Although still clumsy, it is certainly much better than fighting alone."
Blazkowicz signaled the squad to halt. His gaze extended to the edge of the sinkhole, where Custodes and Doom Slayer squads were descending using jump packs.
They were the advance scouts, extending the frontline into the Underhive to clear out the retreating Krafen.
Sure enough, as the scouts landed, numerous anti-gravity drones poured in from the sinkhole, scattering to scan the terrain.
Standing at the top of the staircase, Blazkowicz signaled that there were nine enemies, indicating that Harlan and Obelisk should watch their surroundings, as they were about to engage the enemy.
Harlan nodded lightly, carefully drawing his Smart Pistol from his waist. Obelisk's shoulder cannon was in alert mode, pointing toward the front shrouded in dark dust, while he himself put away his spear and raised a huge customized electromagnetic sniper rifle.
This was the basic quality of a warrior: no matter how powerful Blazkowicz was, they maintained constant vigilance and faced the enemy with full effort.
"Nine Krafen, distributed in groups of three." Obelisk half-crouched on the ground, the scope projection reflecting on his crimson lens: "I have the first right to fire."
With that, he took a deep breath, held his breath, and pulled the trigger of death on the alien in his scope!
*Biu* ~
A suppressor half the length of the rifle perfectly masked the sound of the bullet firing. The bullet, electromagnetically accelerated to twenty times the speed of sound, trailed a deep blue stream of light in the air.
Within the Krafen's maximum reaction time, Obelisk fired three consecutive shots. The aiming and shooting were executed in one fluid motion, the time difference between the bullets leaving the barrel being negligible.
Harlan was equally quick. The moment the sniper rifle fired, he pulled the Smart Pistol's trigger and fired casually, launching three Blanks bullets.
The brains of three ambushing Krafen burst open!
Yellow and white matter sprayed out as the twenty-times-supersonic projectile instantly pierced the skull, the impact shattering the brain.
Three more aliens were stunned and helpless. Their bodies violently shook, and their heads suddenly exploded.
The Smart Pistol bullets followed the law of causality, appearing directly inside the targets' brains. Under the mutual impact of psychic energy and the Blanks bullets, the heads exploded in a steaming mess.
The remaining Krafen finally reacted.
The moment their companions were hit, their bat wings unfolded, and they shot into the air. Their psychic senses spread out, locating the two humans hiding at the top of the stairs.
They were slightly confused. Why was there a pitch-black void in front of the humans?
"Eliminate them." Krafen did not hesitate, raising their flintlocks and firing, attempting to eliminate the two-person squad before human reinforcements arrived.
Something even more confusing happened: the Warp fragments they shot out were bright and dazzling, yet they vanished mid-flight.
Krafen did not dwell on it, closing their fingers to deploy high-frequency vibrating blades, and rushed forward with a roar.
Two humans, without heavy firepower or soulless machines nearby. Once the ambush was exposed, they were lambs waiting to be slaughtered.
Krafen couldn't wait. They wanted to chew on the psychic energy of the human warriors, tearing it apart bit by bit, savoring it slowly, mouthful by mouthful.
Their bat wings sliced through the air, their powerful bodies breaking the sound barrier, reaching the humans almost instantly. Only then did they realize there were three humans in front of them.
One figure, unnaturally large, wore dark green Power Armor, standing there like a statue, his gaze utterly unwavering.
The high-frequency vibrating blade distorted space. The downward chop was astonishingly fast. Krafen believed She had delivered a perfect strike combining skill and power, a strike the human could not possibly dodge.
The target indeed did not dodge. To Her horrified gaze, the human raised his right arm, "gently" rested it on Her arm, and then "gently" and irresistibly broke Her arm.
Krafen could sense what was happening but could not react or move. She wanted to open Her fingers and stop the vibrating blade, but could only watch helplessly as the vibrating blade folded back, slicing toward Her terrified face.
Then She felt Her vision fade. Before She could react, everything went black, and She could no longer make any movements.
She died.
Blazkowicz killed Krafen effortlessly. The retractable blade on his left arm shot out, piercing another alien.
Holding a corpse in each hand, he spread his broad arms, then violently brought them back in a powerful smash. The two corpses crushed the last Krafen into a meat patty!
Blood mixed with minced flesh flew everywhere, staining the regent armor crimson.
"Vigor!" The Void Dragon let out a bloodthirsty growl: "Such exhilarating sharpness. It was worth my time to come out and observe; I got my money's worth."
"Continue forward." Ignoring the bloodthirsty spectator, Blazkowicz tossed the corpses in his hands aside and continued descending the stairs.
"When you meet my brothers in the future, you should fight Them like this." The C'tan seemed very lively, Its tone full of excitement and eagerness: "I can't wait!"
Blazkowicz thought It had a screw loose, constantly wanting to kill Its brothers, which was completely unreasonable.
The main force entering the sinkhole attracted Krafen's attention. Since the squad was operating on the edge of the battlefield, they encountered no other Krafen besides a few defenders.
The squad's objective was clear. Blazkowicz utilized the regent armor's power of insight to navigate the labyrinthine Underhive, descending very quickly.
"This is the place." He tossed the alien corpse in his hand aside, took a few steps forward, and his blood-stained gauntlet touched the adamantium door covered in bas-reliefs, a hint of joy appearing on his face.
Krafen had not yet been driven to desperation to destroy the Gela family's treasures.
Blazkowicz placed his hand on the adamantium gate; the Gela family's century-old treasures lay within.
The Archon's gauntlet touched the gate, and the sensor system returned an analysis: the vault was cast from solid adamantium, several meters thick, with extremely high structural strength, enough to remain intact during orbital bombardment.
"How do we open it?" Harlan knocked on the door panel; the adamantium gave no sound, a testament to its solidity.
"It requires the Gela family's genes." Obelisk slung his sniper rifle behind him and pointed to the gene lock next to the gate, powered by an independent device.
He unclipped a teleportation beacon from his belt, planted it on the ground, and activated it, explaining to the Champion Swordsman, "And we happen to have one."
Harlan slowly nodded and stepped back, moving out of the beacon's teleportation range.
The psychic beacon activated, emitting a unique psychic fluctuation. On the *Glory of Old*, a warrior pushed the teleportation target into the teleportation chamber.
Gela, clad in a prisoner's uniform, shivered uncontrollably, hugging his arms against the biting cold of the psychic chill. Then, with a flash of white light, he felt the world spin.
The environment abruptly changed; the familiar air, tinged with gunpowder, entered his nostrils. He sniffed sharply, knowing he had arrived home.
The surroundings were incredibly familiar. Alien corpses lay before the family vault, and three tall warriors stood before the adamantium gate.
"I prostrate myself before you, sirs." His mind was quick; he immediately knelt and kowtowed, knowing why the warriors before him had summoned him.
Gela had witnessed the entire battle, and the terror of the aliens left him with lingering fear. He also understood the Argent Nur Stars' war capabilities.
In his heart, the Argent Nur Stars had already become an unchallengeable ruler.
In the Segmentum Obscurus sector of the galaxy, for the next thousand or even ten thousand years, Argent Nur's authority could not be shaken; its immense power could make everything submit.
Knowing this, Gela's attitude became even more deferential. He instinctively hunched his back, daring not to make any presumptuous moves.
"Don't beat around the bush," Harlan, unable to contain his impatience and eager to know the vault's contents, pointed at the gene lock and urged, "Open the door quickly; I need to choose my spoils."
Even in the Star Era, the Sentinels still maintained tradition: whatever a warrior touched on the battlefield was his unique spoil.
The Champion Swordsman had a slight collecting habit, and naturally, he was impatient for the moment of reward at the end of a battle.
"Oh, oh." Gela quickly agreed, a shrewd glint in his eyes. He carefully pondered internally, somewhat unclear who among the three present was the true decision-maker.
The tallest warrior had not spoken a single word since he was teleported over, standing by the gate with his arms crossed over his chest.
The Black-Armored Warrior subtly deferred to him, maintaining some distance but in a protective stance, ready to enter guard mode at a moment's notice.
The white-armored warrior who spoke leaned casually against the side of the gate, holding a peculiar pistol in his right hand and a spear in the crook of his left arm, giving him orders.
"As you command." Unsure of their exact identities and with no one else objecting, Gela dared not ask and expertly walked to the vault gate.
As he put his hand into the gene scanner, a wave of bitterness welled up inside him.
The accumulation of a hundred generations of his family was first opened unwillingly by Krafen's manipulation, and now, under the pressure of authority, it was again not by his own will.
Alas, circumstances were, in the end, stronger than personal will.
"Boy," Harlan growled, walking beside Gela. His tall figure was extremely imposing, and the dim yellow light from the vault door cast a shadow over Gela. "Are you very unwilling?"
The Champion Swordsman, seemingly relaxed and casual, was in fact extremely perceptive, noticing the look of regret on Gela's face.
"No... it's not that, sir," Gela's Adam's apple bobbed, and he swallowed with difficulty, a fawning smile appearing on his face. "The family accepts the rule of the Argent Nur Stars; everything belongs to King Nowick."
"I'm just very regretful..." He suppressed his inner fear, shaking his head with feigned regret.
"Regretful about what?" Harlan looked down at the man before him, who was both extremely dishonest and constantly making small gestures, his mind clearly calculating.
"Regretful that the treasures in the vault are not complete," Gela exerted all his effort, controlling his facial expression under immense pressure, displaying a look of heartbroken hatred. "That despicable Krafen took away a portion of the glory belonging to King Nowick."
His face was filled with hatred, and that look of sorrowful indignation seemed genuine.
Harlan remained noncommittal, silently looking down at Gela, whose expression gradually stiffened, fine beads of sweat seeping onto his forehead.
Gela no longer dared to speak and focused on unlocking the vault door.
The noble vault was designed with great complexity, various steps interlocking with no grand purpose, simply to delay time.
Because delaying time was the greatest insurance.
The vault's opening procedure was extremely lengthy; even with correct steps, it required a very long time, thus delaying plunderers and awaiting the arrival of reinforcements.
Time passed minute by minute; the door-opening procedure was extremely complex, making Harlan pace anxiously. Finally, he could only sit cross-legged on the ground, closing his eyes to rest, waiting for the vault to finally open.
Blazkowicz also leaned against the wall, meditating quietly with his arms crossed, listening to communications within the psychic link to predict the battlefield's direction.
Obelisk was diligent and responsible, cutting steel with a dimensional light blade to build a position in front of the vault door, setting up his sniper rifle to guard the approach.
Only one person remained busy: Gela continuously operated at the gate, his face pale from exhaustion.
A door that originally required dozens of people to open now had him alone, naturally making him flustered, running back and forth, breathless with fatigue.
Three days passed in a blink of an eye, and the opening procedure was only halfway complete.
During this time, Harlan, unable to resist, hunted several Krafen, piling their corpses in front of the vault door. He took out a small knife to skin and debone the aliens, carving skull souvenirs to hang from his belt.
The external battle intensified. After the shields failed, the Argent Nur AI army was fully deployed, clearing scattered Krafen in the planetary wilderness and confining the battlefield to the capital circle.
The Krafen were extremely troublesome, entrenched in the Hive City's underground, beginning guerrilla warfare with Argent Nur.
In many hidden rooms, Krafen even sacrificed large numbers of humans, performing summoning rituals, hoping to summon Warp entities to assist, but received no response.
Facing the Krafen's guerrilla tactics, Blazkowicz was not anxious. He first blockaded the Hive City's surface to prevent the Krafen from making a desperate breakout.
Then, he established factories on the planet, using local resources to build expendable AI, steadily and surely clearing each layer of underground structures and sealing every breach.
Both sides entered a war of attrition. Perhaps around a corner, they would clash fiercely in a brutal struggle.
The Krafen's psychic abilities manifested in myriad ways but were countered by the Doom Slayer, greatly reducing their power.
The Nur Legion used every means, injecting chemical gas into pipes, releasing widespread corrosive viruses, and filling every inch of space with AI-controlled machinery.
Despite deploying all means, the Krafen still resisted tenaciously. Both sides were locked in a stalemate, a true match of equals.
Although the battle was sticky, the Krafen's defeat was foreseeable.
Argent Nur's teleportation technology was too advanced; injured warriors immediately left the battlefield and rejoined after treatment.
So far, the Legion had suffered no casualties, but almost all participating personnel were injured, going in and out of the treatment room multiple times.
The Imperial Guard was also in the same situation but not as fortunate as the Doom Slayer.
Some Imperial Guard warriors were struck by psychic blasts, and regenerative treatment could not repair their damage, forcing them into Dreadnought sarcophagi to continue fighting.
Their forces were constantly being worn down, and the Krafen's control zones dwindled. The battle had reached a critical point.
They had considered escaping via psychic teleportation, but found it difficult to cast spells.
In the center of the Hive City's sinkhole, Argent Nur had deployed a giant device, with a Null as its core, its null field amplified by energy recirculation. While it couldn't completely suppress psychic abilities, it could interfere with their stability.
And psychic teleportation precisely required stability; unstable psychic fluctuations would be a terrifying disaster.
They couldn't win, and they couldn't escape. The Krafen were in a life-or-death crisis.
They whispered in the dark corners of the Underhive, planning attack after attack, attempting to escape Gela's world... "It's open!"
The exclamation was extremely weary, revealing a sense of relief.
Gela's face was very pale, his eye sockets a sickly blue. He heavily collapsed onto the ground, breathing deeply the air filled with gunpowder.
After a week without sleep, he was utterly exhausted, and as his mind relaxed, he actually fell asleep.
The adamantium gate slowly opened. Blazkowicz gave Obelisk a look, signaling him to keep an eye on Gela and ensure the gate's security.
"It's finally open..." Harlan groaned, stood up from the ground, stretched briefly, armed himself, and followed Blazkowicz.
The two shut down the vault's security systems and entered one after another. Before them was the accumulated wealth of a distant noble family, gathered over centuries.
The Noble Treasury.
Just from the name, it's easy to misunderstand; "Treasury" is merely a designation.
The Gela family's treasury had an outer layer of incredibly sturdy adamantium, with the interior decorated in marble, and the lighting was soft and not dazzling.
This was a colossal palace built from collections, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the dome, and epic paintings slowly unfolding, showcasing the Gela family's history.
The collections within were countless, with various rare items displayed, each with detailed descriptions and historical context.
There were few actual riches in the Noble Treasury; money was worthless in the Lost Age. What was truly valuable were things that could bring power.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Harlan shook his head and clicked his tongue, the shimmering light from various treasures interweaving and reflecting dazzlingly on his white battle armor.
"So much stuff," he looked up at the countless display cases of all sizes, stretching as far as the eye could see, "The Gela family certainly did a lot of plundering."
As he marveled, the Champion Swordsman's gaze swept around, searching for suitable items to claim as his spoils from this trip.
Blazkowicz's tall stature gave him a wide field of vision. A glance over the treasury allowed him to commit all the collections to memory.
The Gela family's collections were mostly relic weapons, with a portion of artifacts and historical relics. The most precious items had yet to be seen.
He walked to a display case and immediately found something of interest, quickly calling Harlan over: "Come look at this."
"Coming!"
Harlan, who was searching for spoils, immediately trotted over, thinking Blazkowicz had found some great treasure.
"What is this?" He saw that the item in the display case was just a ceramic jar with a blue landscape painting on it.
"A precious ancient relic." Blazkowicz lowered his finger, pointing to the description on the display case: "A blue and white porcelain from Ancient Terra, a treasure historians dream of."
He raised his hand and opened his palm: "There are no more than five such complete antiques in the Milky Way."
Upon learning its origin, Harlan's eyes lit up. He carefully examined the porcelain in the stasis field and exclaimed, "You really know me!"
Blazkowicz curved his lips, a slight smile appearing.
The Ogilvie family, apart from Harlan, had no other outstanding individuals. In Argent Nur, where stars shone brightly, they were barely considered a medium-small family.
Harlan's current high status naturally made his mind more active.
He wanted to enhance his family's cultural heritage and pursue diversified development. Even if there were no powerful warriors in later generations, they could still continue their glory in other fields.
Taking out a small knife to carve a mark on the display case, Harlan nodded with satisfaction and looked at the other display cases, hoping to find a similarly precious collection.
"Some things are once-in-a-lifetime opportunities," Blazkowicz said leisurely, seeing his expression, "Don't be too greedy, lest you lose sight of the bigger picture."
With that, he strode forward, heading deeper into the treasury to find the true treasures.
Harlan gave up his search and quickly followed. His martial prowess was exceptional, but his cultural knowledge was quite ordinary; he didn't recognize many things.
Rather than searching aimlessly, it was better to follow the knowledgeable Blazkowicz; he was sure to gain a lot.
The two continued forward, and Blazkowicz pointed out many unique items, all of which he gave to Harlan, who grinned from ear to ear.
When they reached the deepest part of the treasury, what they saw made them unable to look away, their eyes filled with joy.
At the end of the wide hall, on the wall, several hundred-meter spherical objects stood on pedestals. Their surfaces were bright white porcelain, and within their open chrome cavities were many silver-white pipelines, clearly a precise artificial machine.
"STC." Blazkowicz sighed leisurely, reaching out to caress the white porcelain sphere, as if seeing the glory of humanity through the spherical machine.
An STC is a vast database and artificial intelligence design program containing all of humanity's scientific and engineering knowledge.
Its original intention was very noble: to allow any human colony, even without professional engineers and scientists, to survive and thrive on an unfamiliar planet.
Users only needed to input local available resources, environmental conditions, and requirements, and the STC would automatically generate the most optimized, suitable design plans, construction processes, and complete user manuals.
This incredible technology laid the foundation for humanity's glory and propelled humanity's footsteps across the Milky Way.
It constantly reminded people how great humanity once was, and how fallen it is now. What is now considered "high technology" was once commonplace basic colonial tools.
"What a pity," Harlan inspected it, his low voice carrying a rare, seldom-seen hint of regret: "It's not a complete STC system, just some kind of individual template."
Blazkowicz glanced at him, snorted, and said, "A complete STC system? That's an unattainable legend."
"If it still existed in the Milky Way, it would drive anyone mad, sparking a war that would shatter the Milky Way."
A complete STC system contains all human knowledge and can even replicate itself, allowing its user to recreate the Golden Age.
Perhaps it still exists in the world, but it won't let itself be found.
Most STCs in the Milky Way now are templates, a construction template for a single item; or STC fragments, blueprints containing scientific knowledge.
"The gains here far exceed my expectations," Blazkowicz's words barely concealed his joy as he pointed to four STC templates: "Four relatively complete STC templates; one is a shield template, and whatever the rest are, they are unimaginable treasures."
"And those," Harlan raised his hand, pointing to a corner of the treasury, where small display cases held rings, earrings, brooches, and other ornaments, "miniature weapons crafted by the Space Monkeys."
Blazkowicz counted carefully. After these miniature weapons supported the Gela family's glory for a hundred generations, over a thousand still remained.
He was secretly astonished. The Space Monkeys who crashed back then were indeed grateful for the Gela ancestor's life-saving kindness, crafting many miniature weapons.
Next to the miniature weapons lay a capsule-shaped single-person escape pod, a testament to that time.
"What a pity," Blazkowicz muttered softly. It was a pity the Space Monkeys' whereabouts were unknown; they were the true "treasure."
The Space Monkeys were created by the Old Ones and endowed with "inspiration."
They could analyze scientific tools and craft miraculous creations with rudimentary technology; miniature weapons were just one of them.
"My Lord, have you found what you needed?" A humble greeting came as Gela trotted up, his face flushed with weakness.
"We will take these STCs," Harlan said bluntly, pointing at the ceramic spheres, then randomly pointed at a few other things in the treasury: "And some collectibles."
"As it should be." Gela forced a smile, his eyes slightly red, enduring the heartache as he nodded and spoke humbly: "Everything is yours to choose."
Even though he was mentally prepared, when truly facing the plunder, Gela's heart ached as if bleeding. He felt like he was drowning in sorrow.
The family's accumulated wealth was gone in an instant; Gela almost fainted.
Harlan saw his face full of grief and despair, and, uncharacteristically, offered comfort: "After all, we are not pirates or bandits. We left you most of your things; you can certainly rely on those to rise again."
"Thank you for your generosity, My Lord." Gela's expression was stiff. He tried his best to maintain his composure. Not cursing at them was a testament to his excellent self-control.
The most valuable things in the treasury had been swept away, and they still claimed not to be bandits? That generous tone was truly infuriating.
However, Gela secretly breathed a sigh of relief. The family could indeed rise again; he had no doubt about that, because that one thing hadn't been discovered.
"Boy," the Void Dragon suddenly spoke from within the regent armor, and Gela's body immediately projected a pop-up: "This boy is very dishonest."
"When he came before you, his gaze shifted slightly to the left, his pupils dilated by 0.2 millimeters due to relaxation, and blood flowed from his core muscle groups to his skin and internal organs."
"It's obvious he's hiding something from you, and he's relieved he got away with it."
As the Void Dragon spoke, it displayed various data about Gela's body, and conveniently highlighted the direction of his gaze.
"I know." Blazkowicz's voice was confined within the armor. Although he lacked the detailed data, he clearly sensed Gela's relief.
"But I don't understand," he asked the Void Dragon, "Exposing him brings you no benefit. Why warn me?"
Blazkowicz wasn't too concerned about the hidden matter, but the Void Dragon's behavior raised many questions for him.
For a C'tan, this regent armor was a prison for its free will.
It had not committed evil, deterred by Blazkowicz's authority; active assistance, however, was absolutely impossible.
"..."
The Void Dragon fell silent, then let out a sinister laugh: "I have no other meaning; I simply want to see how frustrated this mortal will be after being exposed."
The C'tan's voice was full of malicious amusement, anticipating the suffering of others, as if licking its lips in the shadows of the data stream.
The Void Dragon viewed all life as playthings, was extremely treacherous, and enjoyed watching the suffering of others.
Blazkowicz believed this explanation.
When it came to good deeds, the C'tan might have been lacking; but when it came to toying with sentient life, they were quite experienced and even enjoyed it tirelessly.
"Descendant of the Gela family," Blazkowicz called out in a deep voice, his authoritative tone exploding like thunder next to Gela's ear.
The giant who had never spoken had opened his mouth!
Gela felt his spirit waver, his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the ground, his legs trembling, instinctively prostrating himself on the marble floor.
His recently relaxed mind was utterly terrified; his body had involuntarily knelt just from hearing the words. What level of authority did the speaker possess?
"Raise your head."
The authoritative voice came again. Gela, like a puppet manipulated by psychic energy, involuntarily straightened his back and looked up at the armored giant.
Although he could not see his face, Gela could feel the gaze from inside the helmet fixed upon him.
"My Lord," his body trembled slightly. A strange mix of subtle pleasure from being observed and the terror of a guilty conscience made his teeth chatter and his throat raspy: "Do you have any questions?"
Gela was drenched in cold sweat. He heard the friction of steel against stone behind him. The white-armored warrior was behind him, perhaps already positioned for execution.
Harlan was indeed standing behind him, but he made no movement, simply standing still, exerting an invisible pressure.
How keen was the Champion Swordsman?
He had caught the intimidating aura in his master's tone and immediately cooperated, interrogating the noble who had been scheming since the beginning.
Blazkowicz strolled towards the marble wall, looking up at the painting hanging there.
The painting depicted the bloodline progenitor of the Gela family—wearing a captain's uniform, riding a white horse, whipping it forward, full of youthful spirit.
"You seem to be hiding something from me?" His tone was calm, as if he were only asking about a trivial matter.
Gela looked at the position where the tall figure stood, his nostrils flared, and his breathing became slightly ragged. For a moment, he did not know how to answer.
"May I ask who you are?" He did not rush to answer, instead asking cautiously after careful consideration.
The moment the question left his mouth, Gela felt a gust of wind behind his head. The shaft of a spear stopped suddenly right next to his cheek. Only when the coldness crawled along his skin and shot straight to his brain did he realize he had almost been struck!
He still dared not move, his chest and abdomen rising and falling rapidly, his fists clenched tight to suppress the fear surging within him.
Blazkowicz stopped Harlan's warning attack. Without turning around, his magnetic, drawn-out voice was soft yet weighed a thousand pounds: "Blazkowicz Novick."
Boom—
Gela's mind exploded instantly. His thoughts were scrambled into a mess; he felt dizzy and his ears rang.
A legend had descended!
"I should have known," Gela muttered unconsciously, recalling the past—the imposing figure on the bridge, the casual demeanor on the battlefield—all flashing before his eyes. "I should have known..."
"I bow before the Lord of the Stars!" He prostrated himself completely, offering a humble salute to that figure with the elegant cadence of a noble: "The nul subjects send their blessings to you."
At this moment, sweat poured out as if he were dehydrated, soaking his mottled prison uniform. It felt as though his bones were trembling and groaning.
"nul subjects?" The authoritative voice sounded slightly confused, utterly devoid of fluctuation: "Are you a nul subject?"
Lying motionless on the ground, Gela dared not answer, breathing heavily, unsure how to respond.
Any statement now would be evidence presented in court. Whether his life continued depended entirely on a single word from the King before him.
No! It wasn't that complicated.
Gela felt that the Lord of the Stars didn't even need to speak; just a careless glance would be enough for him to be separated from his head.
Because the blade of the spear held by the person behind him was already resting on his neck, tendrils of coldness licked his skin, raising goosebumps.
Hearing that Gela had no intention of responding, and not wanting to waste time persuading him, Blazkowicz spoke directly: "You now have two choices."
"You die, and I search for the hidden item myself. Or you hand it over willingly, and after I see the item, I will consider what to do with you."
Gela trembled all over upon hearing this, knowing that the so-called "choice" was merely a pretense. He never had a real choice; cooperation was his only chance.
"I obey the command of the Lord of the Stars." He sighed deeply, his heart filled with resentment and anger, yet unable to offer any resistance to the overwhelming power.
A great force grabbed the back of his uniform. Harlan pulled Gela up from the ground and escorted him to Blazkowicz's side, knowing the secret room was located behind the painting.
"Please release me," Gela's voice was defeated, full of helplessness and a hint of pleading: "Allow me to maintain my dignity before my ancestors."
Blazkowicz waved his hand, signaling Harlan to release him, granting respect to the family descendant. After all, he was not a mere bandit or robber; he always preferred to convince people through reason.
Gela smoothed the wrinkles on his prison uniform, fixed his appearance, thrust out his chest, raised his head, and strode proudly to the painting, placing his hand on the white horse's hoof in the ancestor's portrait.
He pressed down slightly on the horseshoe. A delicate probe, only a few micrometers in size and hard for ordinary people to notice, extended from the center of the painting frame.
Moving a few steps closer, Gela held open his right eyelid and aligned his pupil with the probe.
Perhaps knowing what he was about to do, Harlan subtly took a step back, preparing himself for the subconscious phantom pain.
Gela leaned gently forward. The probe penetrated his pupil and reached his eyeball, beginning to read specific genetic data to open the hidden vault.
A green light illuminated on the white horse in the painting, and the probe automatically retracted from his eye. Gela gently massaged his covered eye, showing no sign of pain on his face.
Compared to the physical pain, his heart was already bleeding rivers. The precious inheritance left by his ancestors was gone in a single day.
The scroll slowly retracted, and the tightly sealed marble wall silently split open, revealing an isolated secret room containing only three displayed artifacts.
Harlan was quick. He immediately clamped down on Gela's shoulder, ready to restrain him at any moment, preventing him from activating any dangerous switch.
Blazkowicz strode inside and approached the first display case.
A head-sized STC template floated in a stasis field. This template was different from the common ones; fist-sized spheres were welded onto its spherical shell, looking exactly like miniature planets and moons.
"The miniature weapons STC. Before the Ape left Gela, he ensured the family had a continuous supply of miniature weapons by modifying the production line for miniaturized items."
Hearing this explanation, Blazkowicz understood why the Gela family could always produce miniature weapons whenever they borrowed troops or supplies—they possessed a production line.
Yet, in their public declarations, they only revealed that the miniature weapons were dwindling and about to run out.
That made sense. Revealing possession of a miniature weapons STC template would be akin to a three-year-old carrying a gold brick through a busy market; the world was full of devils.
Blazkowicz merely nodded. Although miniature weapons were precious, their value was slightly lower for him. Legion warfare relied on hard power; while they had clever uses, they could not shoulder the burden alone.
Seeing that King Nowick was uninterested in the miniature weapons, a sharp glint flashed in Gela's eyes. Did this mean the STC could be saved?
"Lord of the Stars, please look at this." Ignoring the pressure on his shoulder, he quickly stepped forward and introduced the second item to Blazkowicz: "This is a precious relic."
Following his guidance, Blazkowicz focused his attention on the middle of the three display cases.
The display case was not a stasis field but a pale blue containment cube used for imprisonment, preventing the contents from escaping.
"Are these nanomachines?" Blazkowicz's eyes lit up. His valiant face finally showed emotion, revealing a hint of satisfaction.
Floating inside the containment cube was a mass of lead-sand-like polymer, constantly shifting shape, drifting erratically, and appearing harmless.
"Yes," Gela confirmed with a nod. "Nanomachines left over from the ancient era, which accompanied the family ancestors in exploring the Void, used to deal with powerful enemies they might encounter."
"The Nano-Plague. Once an attack target is confirmed, it is released. It can self-replicate, growing exponentially in number, capable of consuming a world in just a few days or wiping out native species to clear the world for human colonization."
"As long as the controller exists, it can be freely recalled or released."
"However, the family has never released it. The lessons of the Machine Rebellion are vivid, and the consequences of even a single nanomachine losing control would be catastrophic."
As he spoke, he walked under Harlan's suppression to the Nano-Plague display case, carefully retrieving a cubic controller and presenting it to Blazkowicz.
Gela knelt down, saying humbly and elegantly: "This strange and unfathomable extinction weapon is worthy of your great wisdom."
Raising his hand and placing it on the controller, scanning light continuously swept over it. After confirming there was no danger, Blazkowicz took it into his hand.
Only now did he feel that the reward was commensurate with this battle. Although war could not be measured by value, there needed to be a balance between gain and expenditure.
The appearance of the Nano-Plague was unexpected. A tool used during the Golden Age to cleanse xeno species was undoubtedly a great weapon in this current lost era.
It was perfect for dealing with xenos like Rangdan or Krafen!
The two creations each had their merits, enough to support the rise and fall of a world.
"Why didn't you use the nano-weapon to resist Krafen?" Harlan pressed down on Gela's shoulder, voicing his doubt: "This extremely lethal Old Night weapon, if used against the alien invasion, could surely purify the contamination entirely, and even if defeated, it would be enough to destroy the enemies along with you."
"Because of this."
Gela walked to the third item.
Confusion crept onto his face, and his brows furrowed; he seemed puzzled by the current situation: "Before entering here, I didn't even know this thing existed."
Inside the display case, a miraculous object floated in the air, slowly rotating.
Eight three-dimensional triangles were constrained into a ring by a mysterious force.
Each face of the triangles was inscribed with an unknown language, and the center was hollow.
The triangular bodies rotated inward, and the whole structure tumbled, resembling a boundless Möbius strip.
"After Father realized Krafen had invaded, he gathered all the family members and suddenly killed everyone who had ever entered this place."
Gela stared at the ring, trying hard to recall the situation at the time: "I didn't know the secret room existed then, and I fortunately escaped death."
"I thought Father had gone mad,"
he said, still showing lingering fear—the blood of his kin had dyed the carpet red, and no one was spared: "It wasn't until he injected himself with the serum, turning himself into an imbecile, that I realized he was protecting a secret."
"Subsequently, Krafen's psychic presence descended, controlling me and reading my mind for information.
Knowing she couldn't alarm Argent Nur, she reluctantly left me alive as a puppet."
"During moments of occasional clarity, I used various hints and clues to learn about the family's secret treasures, and I began to harbor thoughts of escaping her control."
"Are you saying,"
Blazkowicz observed Gela carefully, knowing he wasn't lying, yet analyzing crucial information from his description: "that your father, the previous head of the Gela family, intended to conceal the existence of this object through death?"
Gela nodded silently, scrutinizing the item in the display case: "I don't understand why Father had to use his life to hide it."
Blazkowicz circled the display case a few times, examining it from multiple angles, but found nothing unusual.
The octagonal ring floated in the air, with no visible anomalies.
"Is there a possibility?" Harlan whispered softly, boldly proposing a hypothesis: "Did Krafen come here because she was looking for it?"
"It's not impossible."
Blazkowicz's eyes flickered, his gaze sweeping over Harlan; the warrior's intuition was exceptionally sharp.
The eight three-dimensional triangles occupied eight directions; no matter how the ring rotated, they always flipped within their fixed orientations.
East, West, South, North, Northeast, Northwest, Southeast, Southwest.
The triangles always pointed toward these eight directions, and with every rotation, the runes of the unknown language flashed once.
Undoubtedly, although there were no Warp power fluctuations, the ring was definitely related to Chaos, and perhaps Krafen's objective was precisely this item.
"How long has your family possessed it?" Blazkowicz asked Gela, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the question was redundant.
Before entering the secret room, Gela had no knowledge of this object's existence, let alone the years it had been present.
"My Lord."
Gela cautiously responded to the inquiry, pointing to the bottom of the display case: "Could you please examine the display case?"
"I believe that the reason Father resolutely chose death was certainly because he knew the secrets behind this object and left clues for his descendants to trace."
Blazkowicz found this reasonable.
He squatted down and placed his hand on the base of the display case, using his armor's authority to scan the internal structure.
Suddenly, surprise flashed in his eyes.
The base of the cabinet truly contained hidden depths, concealing another object.
He took the Dimensional Lightsaber from his waist and activated it, gently cutting the outer shell of the display case under the bewildered gaze of the two men.
When they saw the contents inside clearly, both men were equally astonished, momentarily feeling lost and helpless.
"This—this—"
Gela was too shocked to speak.
He looked back at Harlan, then fixed his gaze on Blazkowicz, hoping the wisdom of King Nowick could tell him why.
Inside the base of the display case was a shielding field, suspending an object identical to the ring above it.
"Both are real."
Blazkowicz projected scanning beams from his palm, sweeping over the two rings: "Their atomic arrangement and atomic count are exactly the same; there is absolutely no difference."
"In the physical realm, such a thing virtually cannot exist."
He glanced at Harlan, who immediately understood what it meant, and his grip tightened slightly.
Does not exist in the physical universe?
Looking again at its eight symbols, Harlan could only arrive at one conclusion—a Chaos artifact.
The Champion Swordsman was ready.
If the man under his control made the slightest movement, he would snap his neck to prevent the Chaos bloodline from causing disaster.
Gela also sensed the change in atmosphere.
King Nowick and his warrior had clearly realized something and knew the origin of his ancestral artifact.
He straightened his back, not daring to make any movement, lest he invite deadly retribution!
"So that's it."
Blazkowicz lowered his head and eyes, finding written records beneath the base, learning about the vague history of the Chaos artifact.
Even the ancestors of the Gela family did not know its specific origin.
The former pioneers discovered the ruins of an alien species called the "Giant Ape Tribe" in the western part of The Galaxy, which is now the Pacific Star Zone.
The alien species had established a powerful civilization with vast territories, but for unknown reasons, they left, leaving behind silent ruins and broken walls.
The pioneer fleet descended to the planetary surface and discovered two leftover alien artifacts in the palace where the alien species offered worship.
Both alien artifacts had names: the ring was called the "Ring of Chaos," and the other dagger was called the "Nemesis Blade."
The bloodline ancestors of the Gela family chose the Ring of Chaos, while another group chose the Nemesis Blade.
The true practical use of the Ring of Chaos was unknown; its known use was that the user only needed to grip it and visualize the destination in their mind, and it could point the way through the Warp.
As for the Nemesis Blade, if the holder spoke the name of the assassination target to it, establishing a causal link, the weapon would use the target's genes to create an absolutely lethal virus.
Because the two artifacts had different functions, the exploration fleet parted ways, departing with their respective artifacts.
The Gela family continued their voyage, using the Ring of Chaos to explore the boundaries of The Galaxy, but during one trip, they were attacked by a strange species and ultimately stopped at Gela main planet.
The other group went to parts unknown; they only left behind one name—Interes.
Having finished reading the remaining text, Blazkowicz's thoughts raced, constructing a model of the truth in his mind space.
The Gela family, having obtained the Ring of Chaos, wanted to use the artifact's guidance to travel to the void outside the river of stars, but their excessive use of its power attracted the attention of a Chaos Great Power, which materialized from the void and attacked the fleet.
Knowing the attack was caused by the alien artifact, the Gela family dared not use it again.
They settled on the edge of The Galaxy and permanently sealed the Ring of Chaos.
"Release him."
The whole story was now clear.
Blazkowicz told Harlan to let go of Gela, stating that he should be respected.
"Your father was a good man."
He said to Gela: "He was a great man, wise and brave, who saw through Krafen's malicious plan and chose to seal the secret with his life."
"I have confirmed that Krafen came here for this.
If the artifact were to fall into the hands of the aliens, it would lead to extremely terrifying consequences."
Krafen is naturally proficient in psychic abilities.
Combined with an artifact that points direction, the universe would henceforth be her playground, allowing her to rampage through the dining hall known as "The Galaxy."
Feeling the large hand leave his shoulder, Gela's eyes were bloodshot, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes as he nodded heavily.
With his inner confusion dispelled, he finally understood his father's greatness.
"I beg the Great King to avenge my family!" He wailed and knelt, his voice sounding like weeping blood, the hatred in his heart impossible to quell.
Harlan grabbed the back of his neck, preventing Gela from kneeling, thereby giving the descendant of a meritorious subject the respect he deserved.
"Rest assured, Krafen will pay the price."
Blazkowicz nodded to him, his majestic voice profoundly solemn, making a king's promise.
"I will deal with this first."
He turned his attention to the Chaos artifact, contemplating how to handle it.
Having received the promise, Gela said nothing more and was led by Harlan to the secret room entrance to prevent contamination from the Chaos artifact.
Seeing them move away, Blazkowicz pierced the restraining force field with his hands and reached for the two Rings of Chaos.
The written records explicitly stated that the ring was originally one piece, radiating a powerful force.
After the attack, Gela's ancestor decided to destroy it, but instead accidentally split it apart, after which it fell silent.
Taking the rings out of the display case and letting them hover over his palms, Blazkowicz speculated that they weren't silent, but had merely stalled, lacking the next command.
His eyes narrowed.
He raised the rings opposite each other in his hands, slowly pressing them inward to restore the artifact to its original appearance.
As they drew closer, a repulsive force emanated from his palms.
Blazkowicz clearly saw purple lightning sparking from the surface of the rings.
The rings attracted each other, and the triangles aligned and flipped, yet they consistently resisted merging, and the repulsive force grew stronger.
He exerted force with both arms, pressing the rings toward the center.
In that instant, purple lightning burst forth, the repulsive force surged, and the triangles flipped violently as they aligned, yet they continuously resisted the final fusion.