Yvraine looked with disgust at the hairy giant ape before her, knowing that everything he did was merely a ploy to gain her forgiveness; humans were such cunning, greedy, and despicable creatures.
She found herself ridiculous; she had once thought human cunning was "wisdom," even adopting it for the Aeldari, despite countless kin warning her, yet she stubbornly held her ground.
"When I woke up, my memory was still of being slit in the throat by my corrupted brother. The chaotic scene made me think I had already arrived in hell."
"Then, I saw you. To be honest, the first time I saw you, I wanted to punch your head in."
Sure enough, you were pretending from the start, and afterwards too. Now that you can no longer pretend, you reveal your true colors.
Do you think I no longer have any use? Or that I am powerless to resist, to be toyed with and mocked at your whim? Yvraine thought with a sneer.
Looking at the power of the Death God surrounding Yvraine, Guilliman smiled and continued to speak unguardedly:
"Disgust towards xenos is my instinct, like breathing. As long as my heart is beating and my brain is thinking, the thought of killing them will pop into my mind when I see a xeno."
"It's not just me; my brothers are the same. You should know that I am a tool created by the Emperor."
Hearing Guilliman so calmly state that he was a "tool," Yvraine's heart skipped a beat, but this did not mean she would pity him. The galaxy experienced tragedies a million times worse than Guilliman's every moment; pitying a Primarch would be the coldest joke in the galaxy.
"So every time I see you, two little figures fight in my mind. One says to kill the xeno, and the other says she is a friend, a useful target, a xeno beneficial to the Imperium."
"I can only suppress the killing intent in my heart and prevent you from sensing it by desperately thinking about how to scheme against you and use you."
"What a difficult disguise! This is the first time I've learned that disguise doesn't require acting and immersion, but a mind full of schemes and tricks! Are you still scheming against me now?" Yvraine asked, tilting her head playfully, looking at Guilliman with sarcasm.
"Yes, I've been observing your micro-expressions, looking for any opportunities to exploit," Guilliman admitted with a shrug.
"Turn your face away from me!"
"Alright," Guilliman replied, adjusting his posture.
"Why are you saying all this?" Yvraine stared at the back of Guilliman's neck, releasing killing intent that made his hairs stand on end.
"I just wanted to tell you my true thoughts, to see if you would soften, and not ruin the alliance between humanity and the Aeldari because of momentary anger."
"Heh, you're honest this time. Why didn't you mention the Webway?" Yvraine reined in her killing intent. Seeing the hairy ape's fur lie flat, she immediately released her killing intent again.
Guilliman awkwardly touched his neck and said, "Let's take it slow. The relationship is still there; there will always be opportunities later. Once your anger subsides, who knows, you might even find this plan good again."
"Shameless!"
"Hahaha, I think so too."
"Guilliman, aren't you ashamed? Doesn't it sound grating every time your sons speak of 'honor'?"
"Uh, sometimes it does. Actually, every time I see you foolishly fall into my traps, I feel guilty. Then, while feeling guilty, I think about the next trap."
"...."
"I'll kill you!"
Guilliman neither resisted nor made a sound, silently enduring Yvraine's stormy barrage of punches. The beating lasted for a while, and then Yvraine grabbed Guilliman's neck and asked:
"Why aren't you resisting?"
"Do you think I really wouldn't dare to kill you?"
Guilliman, his face swollen like a pig's head, squeezed out an ugly smile with his distorted features and said somewhat incoherently, "I just said, I also feel guilty. I can feel that you truly consider me a friend. Being beaten by you will lessen the guilt in my heart."
"But what about you? What do you consider me?"
"Alas, Yvraine, I have always admired you. The courage you possess to break rules and pursue freedom is something I envy and cannot achieve."
"You don't know how shocked and envious I was when I read your records and discovered that even in the environment of a Craftworld, you bravely and continuously pursued what you loved, and eventually abandoned everything to wander."
"My biggest dream is to be a farmer in the countryside of Macragge, cultivating my own land every day. But I never dared to mention it to anyone, nor even secretly use my power to create a false dream for myself."
"I am a Primarch, the Regent of the Imperium. I cannot show even a hint of weakness in front of others, not even in front of my sons. I can only show distress, pain, worry, but never weakness."
"Because what they need is a leader, an example, a spiritual pillar!"
Yvraine gave Guilliman another hard punch because she found herself starting to pity this liar full of falsehoods! But she still asked a question:
"Why are you so sad?"
The Aeldari's senses allowed them to perceive emotions contained in plants, even sculptures, let alone humans—
"I remembered my mother. She was the only one who thought I was a flesh-and-blood person who could cry, laugh, was sensitive and fragile. After she died, I was just a Primarch, a demigod, a tool—"
In the secret cell, after a long silence.
Yvraine pressed her forehead against Guilliman's forehead and looked directly into his eyes, saying, "If I ever catch you lying to me again, I will kill you!"
"Okay!" Guilliman promised with a smile.
"What are you thinking now?"
"One little figure is stepping on another little figure, yelling and shouting: 'I told you the self-harm trick would work!'"
"Go to hell!"
"Hey, hey, hey, you said you wanted to hear the truth, hey, hey, I told you and you're still angry, aren't you being unreasonable!"
"Guilliman, I'm not done with you!"
The civilized world of the Afak Imperium was a young world; only a little over three thousand years had passed since its discovery. The star ring orbiting the planet was Afak's most beautiful and distinctive feature.
According to the Tech-Priest's speculation, the star ring's formation might have come from a shattered asteroid billions of years ago.
It was once Afak's pride, bringing countless riches to Afak.
But it was also the beginning of Afak's nightmare, because the rich mineral deposits in the star ring would eventually be depleted, yet the Imperium's tithe could not be delayed.
The Governor had not failed to approach the Departmento Munitorum, Terra, the Adeptus Ministorum, and all possible connections, but he only received two types of responses:
One was a reprimand, scolding the Governor for being insatiable and embezzling funds.
The Governor had indeed defended himself. His ancestors had earned great military merits for the Emperor and were rewarded with the governorship of Afak. Two thousand years was not enough time for their descendants to forget the Emperor's greatness and their ancestors' glory.
Their family, their world, had for a millennium diligently guarded and governed this world for the Emperor, paying taxes and providing soldiers, because they knew humanity had many, many terrifying and blasphemous enemies.
Orks had come; they led their people in tenacious resistance until the arrival of Imperial reinforcements decades later.
The Black Legion had also come; they led from the front, vowing to die rather than surrender, with four consecutive Governors falling in battle and countless citizens sacrificing themselves.
But the officials of the Departmento Munitorum seemed deaf; even when the Governor presented evidence of his loyalty, they ignored it all and merely continued to reprimand the Governor for his incompetence and greed.
The second response was better, telling the Governor to wait patiently, that they would report it, and it would surely be resolved. But the only requirement was to pay the tithe on time and in full at the original rate, until Terra had completed its investigation, deliberations, approval, and notification, after which Afak could pay the tithe at the new rate, continue its happy life, continue to contribute to the Imperium, and continue to be loyal to the Emperor.
So the Governor returned, back to Afak, and began selling off family assets, palaces, and industries, and began raising taxes, soliciting donations, and confiscating property. —
Despite all this, he found that they still couldn't gather or buy enough resources to pay the tithe.
So he gave himself and everyone on Afak a choice:
It was a morning, a perfectly normal morning for the people of Afak, waking up and cursing the fat, corrupt Governor for being inhuman.
But it was also a day the people of Afak would never forget, because the Governor they had cursed so profusely killed all his family members—wife, children—in a live broadcast.
Then he placed a pistol in front of himself and told everyone:
Afak could no longer pay the tithe. They either rebelled or became slaves. The armory doors in every city had been opened. As for how to choose, it was up to them. After speaking, he shot himself.
From that day on, Afak fell into chaos. Some shouted "For the Emperor," some "For freedom," some "For the Blood God," some "For…"—there were shouts for everything, except "For the Imperium."
There was never a shortage of heroes among humanity. An officer who had served in the Astra Militarum emerged from a motley crew of scoundrels, leading his followers to quell the rebellion and eradicate the cults.
He was also elected as the new Governor—the provisional Governor. But soon after he took office, he began to mobilize all forces to build defenses, produce weapons, and train soldiers.
This time, no one on Afak complained that the Governor was inhuman, because they had already made their choice, and the Imperium would never forgive their rebellion!
But no one expected the Great Rift to appear, and the Imperium lost contact. Afak, which had been preparing for war, beat the opportunistic pirates so badly they couldn't function, earning a formidable reputation that made no one willing to chew on this hard, thorny bone.
Life for the people of Afak actually got better; life without the tithe was truly too happy.
But the time of happiness was ultimately short-lived, because a certain Tech-priest set his sights on this place.
"Why do I feel like I'm playing the villain? Shouldn't I be the great hero saving humanity from peril?"
"What do you say, Calgar?"
After a long moment without a response, the Tech-priest turned to look at the warrior standing silently like a statue.
"Calgar?"
"Hey, hey, is your helmet's comms broken?" Gamma asked, patting the leg of the warrior who ignored him.
(Blood)
"Calgar?"
"Sir, what do you need me for?"
Gamma: #@￥%&*…
Alright, alright, so that's how we're playing, huh! You just wait! The Tech-priest's face turned red with anger. Was it that embarrassing to be associated with him?
"Calgar, look how inhumane the Imperium is, pushing people to such extremes! Don't you agree?" Gamma said with a sarcastic sneer, looking at "Gamma Warrior Calgar."
"There's an old saying, 'Eat as much as your stomach can hold.' That's exactly the Imperium's situation. We absolutely must not make the same mistake. We need to proceed cautiously, learn from Guilliman, understand?"
"..."
"Hmph!"
Feeling victorious, Gamma put his hands behind his back, twisted his waist, and turned to leave. He had a mountain of things waiting for him to be "busy" with. He didn't have time to bicker with a brute who only knew how to fight.
The process of conquering Afak was too simple. The bodyguards of all high-ranking officials, including the Governor, had no chance to resist the sudden attack by Path Warriors and Astartes. Everyone had a personal shield, and the crude weapons in the hands of ordinary people couldn't break their defenses!
Seeing the bound officials, Gamma directly announced: "You're done for. Afak is now back under the Imperium's jurisdiction."
Then, a global announcement was made, telling everyone to lay down their weapons and surrender. Magos Gamma would only "execute" the primary culprits, and for those who were coerced accomplices, their future conduct and criminal records would be taken into account before deciding their fate.
The people of Afak were not foolish. The warships docked in orbit, the drones patrolling the city skies, the robots and Mechanical Great Wolves that suddenly appeared on the streets, the agile soldiers, and figures resembling the Emperor's Angels all told them that this was not an enemy they could resist.
So, they all raised white flags and honestly walked out of their positions and defensive fortifications.
Of course, some people resisted stubbornly, wanting to try their luck, but these individuals were all stunned by electricity, locked up, and reserved for other purposes.
However, there were still some who had been holding out. Gamma now had to deal with this matter—a group of Tech-priests. Because they were Tech-priests, Calgar had not chosen to launch a direct assault.
This planet started with mining, and over two thousand years, it had accumulated decent industrial capabilities, so the number of Tech-priests was not small.
Apart from some who were working outside, the largest Mechanical Temple on Afak, as the Tech-priests' main base, now gathered over a thousand Tech-priests.
"Listen, those inside! I am Magos Gamma. For the sake of being fellow Believers, come out and surrender. I will not make things difficult for you."
"Never! You heretic!" A righteous and resolute refusal echoed from the Mechanical Temple's audio array system.
The Gaius of the former Ultramarines, now the Omega Warriors' Legion Commander, Sritven, couldn't help but nod. He believed the enemy was right.
...
Having been called a heretic for the first time in his life, the Tech-priest was a bit unaccustomed to it. Logically, Gamma shouldn't be angry; he often joked about being a heretic himself. But he was very angry now, because he felt these Tech-priests were lumping him in with those disgusting Black Mechanicus!
Gamma jumped up and down, pointing at the Mechanical Temple and shouting into the air: "Who's calling me a heretic! Who said it? Come out! I want to duel you!"
Legion Commander Sritven sighed inwardly. He knew these loyal Tech-Priests had been targeted by the Tech-priest. They would surely be "tormented" and "tortured" in the future, and most likely end up falling into his current state of "despicable heresy."
"Despicable heretic, do you think we will fall for your trick?"
"Coward! Scaredy-cat! Physical debate is the tradition of the Adeptus Mechanicus! Only the victor is worthy of becoming a Priest of the omnissiah!" Gamma shouted righteously.
"..."
"What's wrong, no more words? Hmph, spineless rats!" Gamma continued his verbal assault.
After this, the scene fell into a brief silence, then arguing voices came from the audio array system:
"Teacher, where are you going?! Quickly, stop the teacher!"
"Let go of me! I'll let this heretic who tramples on the prohibitions know what a Priest of the omnissiah is!"
"Teacher, calm down! He's provoking you, don't fall for it!"
"We can't hold out anyway, it's better to be martyred and let the fallen heretic know what faith, what piety, what courage is!"
"Teacher, going out now will only be a futile sacrifice. If we hold fast, we can cause greater damage to the heretic! Haven't you always taught us this?"
"...."
"Heh, what a joke. Now, you ignorant Tech-priests will experience despair!" Gamma thought with a sinister chuckle, then pressed a button on his wrist.
A piece of code was transmitted via an invisible signal. This code was very short and seemed meaningless, but no filtering system or psychic space could block or erase it, because these were just ordinary letters, not virus data or harmful code.
However, once this code entered the system, it began to grow, revealing its true nature—self-replicating junk code, with the insidious intentions of its creator hidden within.
"Heh heh, the Black Mechanicus' methods are quite useful," Gamma muttered to himself wickedly.
Junk code—junk code can be seen as a secret language between machines. Tech-priests and Black Mechanicus can both use it, but Black Mechanicus are clearly more adept at it. They can use Warp evil power to make junk code more dangerous, more greedy, and make the bodies and minds of infected people or machines affected by the Warp.
Gamma was originally better at eliminating this kind of junk code with kill-code, but who knew he could now use his own power to influence the junk code he created? So, what he once hated suddenly became truly appealing!
This thing wasn't very effective against mechanical creations from a different tech tree, but it was a special attack against tech creations within the same system, specifically targeting vital points. One wrong move and it would stick, making it incredibly difficult to clear. The effort and time put into junk code attacks and kill-code simply couldn't compare.
There's only a thousand days of being a thief, but never a thousand days of guarding against one.
"What do you plan to do?" Sritven asked, walking over to the Tech-priest.
"Heh heh heh, just wait a bit, then you can go straight in and tie them all up."
Sritven: (throat clearing sound) Not long after, strange and panicked cries of Tech-priests came from inside the Mechanical Temple. Gamma, looking utterly villainous, listened with a "cruel" expression to their fear. After all the sounds disappeared, he slightly raised a hand, and the main force behind him poured into the Temple. Soon, several disarmed and tightly bound Tech-priests were brought before the evil Tech-priest.
"That Chaos cultist just now called me a heretic! Have you ever seen such a lovable heretic?"
Gamma stepped closer, allowing these Tech-priests, who looked as if they had been petrified, to clearly see that he had no resemblance whatsoever to the disgusting heretical Black Mechanicus.
The captives, whose mouths were no longer controlled by the Tech-priest, all admitted that they had said it and challenged him to bring whatever evil he had upon them!
"Shut up, all of you!"
Gamma saw that when this Tech-priest spoke, everyone else fell silent, and he knew this was the one who had slandered and defamed him. So he immediately walked quickly to this person's front; he wanted to properly ridicule this overestimating Tech-priest.
"Heh heh, now that you're in my hands, you're in for it—"
The Tech-priest didn't finish his sentence. He felt the aura of a "natural enemy" from the other party. Even though it was a Tech-priest with barely any human form and unable to move, it exuded an aura of righteousness and integrity from head to toe.
Gamma's mind unconsciously conjured up several names: Bigan, Wei Zheng, Yu Qian, Wen Tianxiang, Hai Rui, Yuan Keli. And for some unknown reason, a scene of the other party banging his head against a pillar and dying also appeared.
"Heretic! Evil! Enough talk! Come on!"
"Teacher!"
"Mentor!"
"Sage Kobe!"
Gamma: —
Hmph! A hypocrite who pretends to be virtuous! Watch how I expose your true colors! Thinking this, Gamma waved his small hand and said:
"Take them away, send them to the sweatshop, let them repent for me, let them experience the oppression they once inflicted on the working people!"
At this moment, a crisp electronic voice came from Gamma's communicator: "Magos Gamma, we no longer use human labor for such inefficient production methods."
"Order, don't be so rigid. We don't have them, but Afak must have some, right? Keep a few as prisons and labor reform facilities," said the Tech-priest.
"But this will cause a waste of resources. It is more valuable to simply wipe the prisoners' memories and convert them into Omega Warriors."
"That's for ordinary prisoners. How would you convert them? Besides, the knowledge they possess gives them higher value." "Discovering new resource algorithms, detecting-calculating-comparing, the new algorithm is more efficient, suitable for technical personnel, and is being integrated into the resource management algorithm."
"Abominable intelligence?! What blasphemy is this?!" The Tech-priest, called Sage Kobe, stared at Gamma and shouted furiously.
"Go, go, quickly take him away! Take him away!"
The Tech-priest waved his hand at the annoying Tech-priest like shooing flies. He felt uncomfortable all over whenever he saw the other party. He hated those self-proclaimed guardians of the Order the most; they looked like people "full of benevolence and morality, but with hearts full of villainy!"
"Blasphemy!"
"Heretic!"
Hearing Kobe, who was still slandering him as he was dragged away, the Tech-priest immediately instructed Order: "This kind of person is a key observation target. Raise his review standards to the highest!"
"Yes," the voice from the communicator replied.
"Hmph, just stay in prison honestly. I never want to see you again!"
After saying that, Gamma didn't forget to brush off any non-existent bad luck from himself, muttering in his heart: "Why did I run into such a thing today? I'll go back to the palace later and have the maids give me a good wash!"
Choosing Afak as the planet to fire the first shot was not a random decision. Firstly, it's a medium-sized Webway node on the Ulthwé Craftworld's Webway map. Centered here, eight Webway branches capable of accommodating warships extend in all directions, along with many smaller Webways leading elsewhere.
Gamma only needs to expand along these eight Webways to conquer a considerable territory, with the smaller ones to be decided based on the situation.
Secondly, the reality laws here are very stable and not easily affected by the Warp.
Thirdly, there is Afak's planetary ring. Although its mineral deposits have been almost completely mined out, Gamma possesses matter conversion technology, and the abundant material in orbit can also be utilized.
Isn't there an old saying, 'It's easy to conquer an empire, but hard to defend it,' and 'even harder to build it'?
But that applies to others, not to Gamma. He will still sing and dance as he pleases.
Construction? What does that have to do with him? Isn't 'Order' in charge?
Eldar Empire ruins in the Webway node? Aren't the Ulysses Eldar there?
War? Aren't Karl-Galka and Conquest there?
"Everything is just so simple, ah ha ha ha!"
This was the first sentence Yvraine heard when she found the little Tech-priest twisting on the dance floor, accompanied by Guilliman's personal letter and envoy. The second sentence was:
"What big corn!"
The Harbinger of Death clearly felt Guilliman's envoy—a Custodian of the Emperor, a Tribune of the Hekatonystika, Maldovar Karkan—stiffen for a second upon hearing this. Although Yvraine didn't know what "corn" was,
Karkan's formidable combat power and rational judgment had left a deep impression on her throughout their journey. To make such a warrior stiffen for a second, even without understanding the meaning, she could imagine the impact of that statement.
Otherwise, Karkan wouldn't have raised his weapon the next second. If she hadn't immediately blocked him and then intercepted the Eldar's attack for Karkan, and if the little Tech-priest hadn't reacted to stop the situation from escalating, no one knows what would have happened.
"I never expected the Custodians to still retain data on Ancient Terra's crops. Amazing, truly amazing!"
"Your range of knowledge is truly vast!"
Gamma's subtle flattery did not diminish Tribune Karkan's anger. Seeing this, the little Tech-priest pouted, having gotten nowhere. He didn't want to bother with the other party; there was no need to be polite to someone who wouldn't take a hint.
"Why are you back so soon? It seems the Regent has quite a few treasures in his hands," Gamma said, turning to Yvraine.
A hint of awkwardness flashed across Yvraine's face. She said nothing, only pulling out a letter and handing it to the little Tech-priest. Gamma was very familiar with the wax seal on the parchment. He raised his hand, summoning a stream of water to wash his hands. Ritual was important; he was now a person who received a personal letter from the Imperial Regent.
If the Archmagos Will knew, he would surely be very happy. This was proof of their family's generational loyalty.
But the sentiments of the young are much fainter than those of the old. After reading the letter, Gamma's face darkened. He tilted his head and looked at Yvraine, saying:
"The result of your discussions is for me to provide the benefits for the Eldar, and even send a few Custodians to observe me!?"
"Heh, was I too polite before, making you think I'm easy to bully? Is it 'good people are bullied, good horses are ridden'?"
If the Archmagos Will were here, he would see from Gamma's half-smile that the little Tech-priest was about to flip out!
The silent Custodian and Yvraine were so stimulated by the inexplicable aura emanating from Gamma that they unconsciously moved their hands to, or tightened their grip on, their weapons. Realizing the situation was dire, the Harbinger of Death hurriedly said:
"Guilliman's letter didn't say he would exchange a Blackstone Fortress for the resources in your hands!"
"That thing was made by you Eldar. Can you even operate it now? Besides the artifacts in Abaddon's hands, who else can control a Blackstone Fortress!"
"..." Yvraine hadn't expected the little Tech-priest to know so much about Blackstone Fortresses. She had originally intended to use something that neither the Imperium nor the Eldar could use to gain something for nothing. Now it was troublesome; she might have offended him completely.
"And I'll make it very clear to you: tell Guilliman for me that I will not go to Terra. I estimate that even if the Golden Throne has problems, it can last for a few hundred or a thousand more years. Didn't you Eldar help repair it last time? Just keep looking for yourselves, why look for me?"
Gamma didn't believe Guilliman's claim that the Golden Throne was in peril at all. If you could believe anything that old liar, the Emperor, said, then pigs could fly!
From every angle, the little Tech-priest felt the Emperor was up to no good.
The Golden Throne situation needed careful consideration. Without a way to grasp the Emperor's weakness, Terra was absolutely off-limits. What if he stood before the Throne, and the Emperor suddenly pushed Gamma onto it, stood up himself, and then told the little Tech-priest:
'It's all for humanity. The waters here are too deep, and you're too young to handle them. Let Uncle handle them for you.'
Just thinking about it sent chills down Gamma's spine! Too terrifying!
A few hundred years would be enough for him to thoroughly research the Webway. Even if he couldn't build it, he could surely repair it. There weren't only Gomorrah as large nodes in the Webway. Humanity's Second Home plan was much more reliable than rolling up sleeves and fighting the Four Gods.
In the real universe, the Necrons' Infinite Empire was reviving, and the Tyranid's true main force was still to come. Both of these were at odds with the Four Gods. He could completely hide in the Webway, developing while watching the tigers fight from the mountain.
"It's laughable that you constantly proclaim yourself human, yet you're unwilling to serve the Emperor!" a Custodian interjected.
The little Tech-priest, in the heat of the moment, had no intention of giving these golden corn cobs any face. He retorted directly:
"When I said I was human, no one believed me. Now that I don't say it, you say I am. Are you schizophrenic? When it's useful, I am, and when it's not, I'm not, right?"
"I like ordinary people. You mascots designed by the Emperor, shut your mouths! You can go wherever you want, pose naked in the Terra Imperial Palace, I'm too lazy to bother with you!"
"You!"
"'You' what 'you'! Dare to point a weapon at me, are you tired of living!"
"Everyone, calm down! Gamma, this matter was indeed our oversight. The Webway Management Committee is your brainchild, and we are all working hard to make this happen. Even if we can't satisfy everyone, it shouldn't come to conflict before anything is even discussed, don't you agree!"
Yvraine's words of persuasion calmed Gamma somewhat, but he was still very angry. He felt he had tried very hard to help the Imperium, but they couldn't exploit his goodwill like this.
"I have always been benevolent towards the Imperium, towards the Emperor, and towards Guilliman. Although there have been many things that I found extremely repulsive, I have always tried to maintain the greatest understanding and improve the situation as much as possible.
2
"But my goodwill is not a reason for you to exploit and kidnap me. Don't exhaust my benevolence towards you!"
"I guess you, old man Emperor, are probably eavesdropping nearby. Your own credibility is in the negatives, don't you know that? I'd only run to you if I believed a ghost!"
(Emperor: Nephew! It's all a misunderstanding! It's all Guilliman's fault—damn it! Why is the Warp curtain so thick! Guilliman, why did you send Custodians? You should have sent Celestine! Send a few Battle Sisters, or Adeptus Ministorum priests would have worked too! Damn it, why did I reduce the Custodians' psychic power so much back then, damn it!)
After saying that, the little Tech-priest turned and huffed away. Yvraine wanted to speak but couldn't think of anything to say, only managing a wry smile. The Custodians' behavior was somewhat strange; they didn't make any aggressive moves when Gamma was mocking the Emperor.
After the unpleasant meeting, Yvraine immediately sought out her old subordinates to inquire about Gamma's recent intelligence. She wouldn't give up until the very end.
The few Custodians gathered together, carefully checked the equipment in the room, then opened their anti-eavesdropping relics and discussed what had happened today.
"Regarding data on the ancient crop 'corn,' besides the Imperial Palace, no records of its existence have ever been found elsewhere. From his reaction, it seems the last time he saw it wasn't long ago."
"Hmm, indeed. He wasn't intentionally humiliating us; it was a subconscious outburst. Intelligence from Thedan indicates that the Ancient Terra fruits, highly popular among nobles and called 'melon, fruit, pear, peach,' came from him. Both their appearance and color are identical to the data stored in the Imperial Palace."
"A Forge World selling fruit. I can hardly describe how I felt the first time I heard that."
"Me too. But is it possible he obtained relevant data?"
"Yes, but the probability is extremely low."
"I agree. This suggests that his actual birth time was much earlier than stated in the records, and he lived on Earth!"
"He is very familiar with His Majesty, perhaps even lived with him."
"The number of hidden immortals within the Imperium is not small, but his power is fundamentally different from theirs. It's too free, too spontaneous, too compliant, as if it originates from himself."
"Didn't he already admit to being a 'god'?"
"No, he didn't admit it. From the evidence currently available, he has always been very resistant to that title. His current behavior is more like giving up after failing to stop it, letting others call him whatever they want. He no longer insists on people changing their address."
"The most important point: he never denied his ability to repair the Golden Throne from beginning to end!"
"But he doesn't trust His Majesty, not a word—" The Custodian didn't finish his sentence; to do so would be too blasphemous. The others also fell silent. Each of them speculated on the reason for Gamma's distrust of the Emperor. After a brainstorming session, the Custodians arrived at a wildly incorrect, yet seemingly consistent with current intelligence, conclusion:
Gamma was already born during the Ancient Terra period and had contact with the Emperor, possibly even a very close relationship. Then the Emperor screwed Gamma over, causing him to fall into slumber until he awoke on Thedan a few decades ago. This made Gamma extremely distrustful of the Emperor.
Furthermore, Gamma is not an ordinary immortal but an existence similar to the Emperor, superior to immortals.
After reaching this conclusion, the Custodians exchanged glances, seeing the helplessness in their companions' eyes. They couldn't help but murmur to themselves:
Your Majesty, why didn't you consider the possibility of needing him in the future? Leave some room for reconciliation. Now, what can we do to regain the trust you personally destroyed!
The young Tech-priest was someone who preferred to keep work, play, food, and meals separate and clearly defined.
Yvraine's interruption extinguished Gamma's interest in singing and dancing, so he had no choice but to immerse himself in research. Although he didn't have to worry about major issues, he still assigned himself many "small tasks" – inventions.
However, this time was different. Previously, Gamma's research subjects were always high-tech. This time, his research delved deep, and the scope almost covered all common weapons currently used by the Imperium of Man.
From small laser guns to large battleships, the workload was immense.
As for why he was doing something so time-consuming, laborious, and seemingly useless, only Gamma knew the reason.
After discovering that he could control his creations just like he controlled the "Ohmega Spore," he had been pondering how to maximize this power.
Maximizing it was actually very simple: just make everyone use only the things he designed and produced. Then, with just a glare from him, anyone who offended him would only be able to stare blankly at their striking weapons.
But this was impossible to achieve. After much deliberation, Gamma decided to borrow a chicken to lay eggs, and then take the entire coop along with it.
Firstly, all machinery has a development lineage, from 1 to 2 to 3. After 3, a qualitative change might occur, becoming one, then two, then three, and so on.
Gamma wanted to embed his creations into the existing system by improving the design concepts, component performance, overall power, and energy consumption of existing equipment.
For example, an Gamma-type laser gun's performance is superior to an active laser gun of the same class. When Gamma disseminates the STC for producing the OMG type, and it falls into the hands of other Tech-priests, they will find the OMG type to be excellent.
They will then try to understand the reasons for its excellence, discovering that it's due to a particular component. This component is merely an improvement based on the original design concept, and it can also be used in the laser guns they produce, with one performance metric even stronger than the OMG type.
What do you think the Tech-priests will do?
The bold ones will use it directly, the moderate ones will use it secretly, and the timid ones will report it to Mars. Whose creation is that improved laser gun?
Of course, it's Gamma's. Without his component, there would be no such laser gun.
If one day a genius thinks that this component or this laser gun still has room for improvement, and succeeds, whose is the further improved laser gun?
Of course, it's also Gamma's, because 1, 2, 3. Although he only accounts for 2, 3 is an extension of 2, and 2 is the prerequisite, just like the initial component.
In the future, even if there are 4, 5, or even if it becomes one, two, three, they will all be related to Gamma; they will all be his.
Therefore, Gamma is doing this time-consuming and laborious work. As long as he continuously scatters STCs, whether complete or fragmented,
As long as there is enough time, the future holds great promise!
"Why didn't you just let me cross over to prehistoric times? Then I could just sharpen a stick and not worry about anything. How much time could I save for playing!"
"Don't you agree, Wise One?"
"Magos Gamma, it seems I'm the one improving the equipment," the main computer under Gamma's rear spoke.
The young Tech-priest patted the main computer's casing and said, "You little comrade, you have no ideological awareness. You complain about doing a little extra work. You were all made by me, so your work is my work!"
"Besides, haven't I always been providing you with ideas, optimizing algorithms, and solving difficult problems? Otherwise, what would I be doing here?"
After emitting a burst of overclocked sounds, the main computer spoke again:
"Logic is sound. Magos Gamma, I was wrong. This data has been entered into the core algorithm. My work is Magos Gamma's work. Magos Gamma has worked hard."
"Hmm, a teachable student indeed."
The young Tech-priest nodded in satisfaction. Only he dared to be so reckless, teaching a super artificial intelligence all sorts of random things. If others taught like this, who knows when it might turn into – I am Gamma (the Wise).
This is not an exaggeration at all. Not to mention human artificial intelligence, even the Necrons's artificial intelligence – the Autonomous Soul – can malfunction. There have already been "Autonomous Souls" that developed self-awareness and made errors in their self-identity, crowning themselves as emperors according to Necrons succession law.
"Actually, you can totally work and scatter at the same time, even continuously. Humans, Titan Stars, other minor xenos, and Black Mechanicus can all be targets."
"Hmm, this move is a last resort. It absolutely cannot be revealed until the very end, when it's most dangerous."
"However, Vash – can he achieve this? From previous tests, the probability is not high, otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to usurp his place so easily."
"Hehe, humans develop path dependence, and I didn't expect demons would too. Stuffing demons into machines is too convenient, which made him overlook this time-consuming and laborious method."
"Like master, like servant. The Black Mechanicus haven't made much progress in over ten thousand years; they're just mimicking."
"Unfortunately, the Necrons are too powerful; there's no opportunity to interfere."
"Tech-priests, your good days are here! How will you thank me, Magos Gamma? Hahahaha!"
The more he thought about it, the happier the young Tech-priest became, full of vigor. He immediately jumped off the main computer and began to solve the problems encountered by the Wise One one by one.
After Yvraine learned from her old subordinates that Gamma had begun to conquer territories, she toured the Eldar ruins in the Webway. She saw the Ulysses Eldar diligently clearing out the lurking monsters in the ruins while restoring the city's functions. Everyone was full of drive, and she was also infected by this atmosphere. It was an atmosphere of hope and development, too unfamiliar and too appealing to the Eldar.
After personally helping to kill a few monsters, Eldrad approached Yvraine to inquire about the meeting. After Yvraine explained the whole story with a wry smile, the Supreme Seer sternly told her:
"Harbinger of Death, you have been working for the Eldar for all these years, and you should deeply understand the feeling of kindness being exploited. Moral blackmail is very annoying!"
Yvraine sighed and then said, "I understand, but the Imperium of Man cannot provide what we need. How then can I persuade others to make this happen, when it is beneficial to all of us?"
"Indeed. We are on the verge of extinction. No Craftworld's population is growing; all are slowly dying. Every compatriot's life is very important to us."
After a moment of thought, Eldrad added, "Our Ulthwé's demand for spirit bone is much lower now than before. Taking out some reserves will not cause any impact."
"Really! Thank you so much, Prophet Eldrad!" Yvraine said in surprise. She hadn't expected Eldrad to choose to support him at this time.
Actually, it's not hard to understand. If the Webway Management Committee failed, Ulthwé might have to fight a civil war with other Eldar. As the Supreme Seer, Eldrad naturally hoped for a peaceful resolution.
"You don't need to thank me yet. Only His Highness can ultimately decide this matter, so I need an excuse to give His Highness a step down, to get him to agree!"
"What do you want?" Yvraine asked.
"I want the Webway map that your Death Guard possesses!" Eldrad said, revealing his true intentions.
The Webway map is the highest-level secret in any Eldar faction. Handing it over to others means that the opponent can predict one's possible routes of action through the map, which is no different from exposing one's back to others.
But Yvraine surprisingly agreed readily.
Upon receiving the map, Eldrad immediately went to seek an audience with Gamma. The first thing he said upon seeing the young Tech-priest was:
"Your Highness, I have not failed my mission."
Gamma, who was engrossed in his work, said without turning his head, "Hmm, you can arrange the spirit bone matter. But Eldrad, you knew what happened yesterday, why didn't you come to persuade me? Weren't you afraid that I would truly ignore Yvraine in a fit of pique?"
"Heh heh, I guessed that Your Highness would change his mind. Why should I provoke Your Highness's displeasure?" Eldrad said with a chuckle, while surveying the equipment in the laboratory.
"Old fox! Don't forget to assemble an elite squad to check out that Blackstone Fortress."
"The Vaul's Amulet!" the Supreme Seer exclaimed with emotion.
At this moment, the young Tech-priest turned to look at the Eldar elder and teased, "Does it feel like regaining the glory of the Eldar Empire?"
Eldrad's old face flushed, and he said, "I only know the name, and that it's a powerful weapon. I don't feel anything at all—"
"Hahahaha, it cannot be described simply as powerful. Don't be misled by that ignorant idiot Abaddon. The Blackstone Fortress is a weapon built by the Eldar Empire to destroy the Star Gods again after their return."
"Even the Necrons are not considered hypothetical enemies. Before seeing the real thing, I don't even know how strong it is. There are only a few such structures in the entire galaxy." Hearing Gamma say this, the Supreme Seer's face showed a shocked expression. After recovering, he said with extreme solemnity:
"Your Highness, rest assured, we will definitely complete this mission."
Gamma waved his hand and said, "There's no need for that. As the pinnacle creation of the Eldar Empire, it cannot be controlled just by wanting to. Even I cannot. Spending too much effort on it will only hinder our development."
"You must understand the principle of a snake trying to swallow an elephant out of greed."
"Your Highness's lesson is correct," Eldrad nodded thoughtfully in response.
"Ding-dong!"
"Can't I sleep a little longer?" the slacker on the bed pleaded, curling up.
"According to the New Afak Management Regulations, body condition detected, no abnormalities, request rejected, mental injection electric shock to be triggered in ten seconds."
Hearing "mental injection electric shock," the slacker shot up, shouting, "I'm up! I'm up! Electric shock is electric shock, but which bastard came up with that terrible name, 'mental injection electric shock'?!"
But to the slacker's surprise, the metal bracer on his wrist spoke again: "According to the New Afak Management Regulations, slandering Magos Gamma triggers the Judgment of Gamma."
The slacker's face changed drastically upon hearing this, and he immediately shouted, "Wait, when was this added?"
"Magos Gamma added it three hours ago. Executing the Judgment of Gamma."
"I don't know—ah ah ah ah ah ah—"
"Execution complete. You have 5 minutes of recovery time. Please recover well."
Basa, twitching, rolled over and looked blankly at the ceiling, saying, "Isn't judgment just an electric shock?"
"Can such a big shot be any more bored?"
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The 5 minutes passed so quickly it felt like only 1 minute. Hearing the prompt again, Basa reluctantly got up, walked to the washroom, tidied himself up, changed into his going-out clothes, and left the room.
Although a year had passed, the scenery outside still amazed Basa no matter how many times he saw it. He had never dared to imagine seeing the sky, or eating his fill every day, much less having his own room, furniture, appliances, and the sci-fi bracer on his wrist.
Because he used to be just a beggar, surviving until now purely by luck and cowardice.
Basa knew who had given him all this. Strictly speaking, it was "lent." The house, furniture, food, and everything else he used now, except for his body, were all lent to him by Magos Gamma.
"Praise Magos Gamma!"
Arriving at the public cafeteria in the middle of the street, Basa received his breakfast quota for the day. He greeted acquaintances while finding a quiet spot to enjoy his meal.
Taking a bite of synthetic meat, Basa squinted, an expression of enjoyment on his face. He had never known that eating could be such a pleasure, rather than a torment like swallowing dirt. Enjoying it three times a day seemed truly extravagant to him; enjoying it once every three days would have been enough to die without regrets.
He didn't rush to swallow the piece of meat in his mouth, as eating too fast would prevent him from savoring its deliciousness. Basa looked up at the screen on the cafeteria wall, which was broadcasting live news.
The news reported that several Tech-priests were on trial for violating the "Crimson Protocol" by unauthorized research into abhorrent artificial intelligence. It was worth noting that the chief judge presiding over the Tech-priests' trial was Magos Gamma's artificial intelligence. Therefore, the arrested Tech-priests were very indignant, claiming innocence and asserting that they were merely following in the footsteps of Magos Gamma.
Such sophistry failed to convince the judge, the jury composed of Tech-priests, and even Basa, who was eating. Everyone on Afak knew that only Magos Gamma could "legally" research artificial intelligence; this was an ironclad rule!
But what surprised Basa was that these Tech-priests were sentenced to death. He clearly remembered that previous cases with similar charges resulted in re-education through labor and memory wipes.
"It seems Magos Gamma feels that the original punishments were not enough to deter these audacious people," Basa muttered to himself.
After the trial, the screen began to show the dangers of out-of-control abhorrent artificial intelligence and the tragedies caused by such AI throughout human history.
Basa watched for a while before leaving, as his bracer was reminding him it was time to work. His current job was a government clerk. You read that right; he had gone from an illiterate homeless man to an official, albeit the lowest rank of official, but still an official.
He had to thank his never-met parents for giving him a smart mind, allowing him to absorb and apply the knowledge mechanically input into his brain more quickly.
Leaving the cafeteria, Basa took the public transport, which ran on time, to his office: the 1013th Street Office.
His job was to help people who couldn't adapt to the new life adjust as quickly as possible, solving all sorts of strange problems for them. Most of them were elderly, with a small portion being people with low intelligence.
So, this job was quite painful. Many people would come to him repeatedly with the same problem, making him extremely annoyed.
"Oh, Emperor, please take me, an old man!"
After finally seeing off an old man who had started arguing with his auxiliary artificial intelligence, Basa slumped weakly onto his desk.
He didn't understand how someone who looked like he could meet the Emperor at any moment could have so much energy and stamina to argue non-stop with an artificial intelligence for three hours.
Suddenly, something cold touched the back of his neck, making him shiver and instinctively roll to the side in fright.
Basa would never forget the fear of having a gun pressed to the back of his head.
"Ah!"
The crisp cry made Basa, who was still rolling, feel a surge of shame and a desire to flee. He quickly scrambled up, lowered his head, and with a flushed face, said:
"I'm sorry, I—"
"It's my fault for scaring you. After all, it's been messy these past few years. Here, consider it an apology."
Looking at the canned drink offered to him, Basa looked up at the bright young woman in front of him, then immediately lowered his head again, his sense of shame deepening. This was his colleague, a former Upper Hive noble, someone he secretly liked but dared not hope for.
"Thank you—"
"I should be thanking you. If you hadn't stepped in with that old man just now, my head would be throbbing."
The young woman's clear voice made Basa feel that the three hours of torment were well worth it. If he could, he would have extended it.
"It's nothing. After all, you haven't dealt with people from the Lower Hive before. They're used to being unreasonable. Those who live to his age have probably killed—"
Basa stopped mid-sentence. Mentioning the Lower Hive reminded him of his past as a beggar, and the inherent inferiority made him even tremble slightly.
Basa, what are you fantasizing about? What are you longing for? Do you think she'll like you just because of this small thing you did?
Why not? Don't you like her? Don't you want to possess her? Don't you fantasize every night about her lewd appearance beneath you?
No, I don't!?
Sophistry! Or do you like her beneath someone else?
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
"Slap!"
The self-conscious man slapped himself hard to silence the vile part of his inner self, but this sudden action also startled the young woman. She didn't understand why her colleague, who had helped her so many times, would act this way when she merely wanted to express her gratitude.
"What are you doing?!" the young woman rushed forward, grabbing Basa's arm and asking worriedly.
The faint, elegant scent that filled his nostrils made Basa feel dizzy. He carefully maintained his disguise, trying to expand his lungs as much as possible.
Whoosh.
"Are you alright?"
Hearing the worried voice of the person he loved, the orphan, who had never been cared for, felt his eyes involuntarily well up. In the past, for a piece of starch thrown into sewage, he would abandon his dignity, kneel and fawn, saying every flattering word he could think of.
Being trampled, kicked, covered in excrement—he could face it all with a smile, loudly "cheering" for those who beat and insulted him.
He never believed he possessed the human dignity, purity, or nobility that the priests, who occasionally gave him alms, spoke of. But now, Basa didn't want the girl to see him cry. For the first time, he understood the meaning of "losing face"; he wanted to maintain his ridiculous and false "dignity" in front of the girl.
"None of your business!"
The words that blurted out made Basa regret them. Even though no one had ever taught him, he knew he shouldn't say such things to someone who cared about him, let alone someone he liked. But it was too late for regret, and the knowledge instilled in him offered no method for redemption.
"You!"
I'm not—. I—. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Open your mouth! You useless person, open your mouth! Say you're sorry! Say it!
The girl left. The pale-faced boy never opened his mouth to say what he most wanted to say, even at the very end. He himself didn't understand why it was so simple, yet he just couldn't do it.
He walked back to his workstation in a daze, not knowing how time had passed or how work had been completed. Only when his bracer gave the command to clock out did Basa awaken, rising woodenly from his seat, picking up his things, and walking out step by step.
He wanted to die. Even when his life was so hard before, Basa had never thought of dying. But now, he truly wanted to die. He had personally destroyed his most beautiful fantasy.
Then he no longer wanted to die, because the girl was standing gracefully in front of him, looking so beautiful, so lovely. The moment he saw her, all his troubles and sorrows vanished.
"I'm sorry!" He said the words in his heart as quickly as possible.
"Hmph!"
It's over! She hasn't forgiven me! Basa's heart twitched violently. He felt it was hard to breathe, as if his lungs had forgotten how to work.
"Pfft, look how scared you are. Did you really think I didn't see your red eyes? Men are always so self-important."
Basa lowered his head again, his face once more flushed with embarrassment.
"There's a party tomorrow night. Can you come?"
"Mmm!"
Humming a hymn praising the Emperor, learned from the church, all the way home, Basa returned to his residence. Even while showering, he didn't stop humming.
A thought suddenly popped into his head: hymns really could make people happy, not just be sung in church for food during mass.
"Knock, knock, knock."
"Who is it?" Basa, who was showering, was a bit confused about who would come looking for him. He had no family or friends.
Could it be her? This thought made him forget everything else. Without finishing his shower, he rushed out of the washroom, covered in bubbles and wrapped in a towel, and opened the door. But the aura from the person outside made Basa's legs instantly go weak, and he almost fell.
It was an Gamma Warrior!
If it weren't for the excessive toxins accumulated in his body from eating poisonous food during his childhood as a wanderer, which even treatment couldn't completely remove, he might have become an Gamma Warrior by now.
Perhaps because he was often bullied for being small and weak when he was young, Basa longed from the bottom of his heart to possess an incredibly strong body.
Every time he saw an Gamma Warrior returning from training, he would unconsciously show an envious gaze.
But being sought out by one was a completely different matter.
"Sir, you—"
"Tell me your name, citizen?"
Hearing the other party's booming voice, the man wrapped in a towel tremblingly replied, "Basa."
"Hmm, then there's no mistake. Now you need to come with us."
"Sir, I, I, I—"
"Don't be nervous. We just need your cooperation for an investigation."
"Alright!"
Though the giant's voice was loud, it wasn't abusive. Discerning someone's character by their voice was a survival skill Basa had learned from his years of wandering.
This made him a little bolder. He also found the other party quite friendly, even allowing him to get dressed before leaving with them. Basa had expected to be interrogated while still wrapped in a blanket.
Actually, a blanket would have been enough for him; he had begged naked before.
Basa was now more worried about whether this investigation would affect his appointment with the girl, but he didn't dare to ask. Never be presumptuous in front of someone who could crush you in an instant—that was another skill learned from wandering.
But the subsequent developments exceeded Basa's expectations. He didn't know how he fell unconscious, only that when he woke up, he was locked up, and a thick collar had appeared around his neck. This collar made him very uncomfortable, an indescribable discomfort, and the room made him even more uncomfortable.
"Citizen Basa, answer my questions truthfully! Once we confirm you are not a threat, you will be released!"
A voice came from the loudspeaker not far in front of him. Basa, uncomfortable and terrified, quickly said, "Yes!"
"When did you start hearing voices in your head?"
"Huh?"
"Answer my question. When did you start hearing voices in your head?" This time, the voice was more stern.
Basa, who could 'discern people by their voice,' felt an even greater sense of dread and hurriedly said, "Sir, I don't understand what you mean?"
"I'm asking you, when did you start hearing 'voices' that others can't hear, such as whispers, murmurs, sudden evil thoughts, and so on."
Basa racked his brain, trying to remember when he developed this 'auditory hallucination' problem. After a long time, he hesitantly began:
"Sir, I'm not sure. I only know it was when I was very young. Once, I hadn't found food for a long time, and I was so hungry I ate some plants growing in the sewers."
"After eating them, I passed out. When I woke up, I had this condition."
At this, the loudspeaker again emitted a voice: "You think you're sick?"
"Yes, Sir. Downhive beggars like us often die or go mad from eating poisonous food. This condition doesn't affect my work or life!"
The revelation of his biggest secret terrified Basa. He was afraid of losing everything he had now because of his illness. No one would hire a madman, someone with problems in their head, not even Magos Gamma. All mentally ill people on Afak were confined to mental asylums by Magos Gamma.
"Why have you always concealed your condition?"
"Sir, I'm not really mad. My brain was just poisoned!"
"I'm asking you, knowing that medical care is free, why did you not seek treatment? Why did you go to such lengths to hide your illness?" the unseen person demanded sternly.
...
"Answer me!"
"At that time, I was told by the AI that my assessment results were very good. I didn't want this matter to... Sir, this condition doesn't affect my work. I've already gotten used to ignoring those voices!"
"Today at 13:36, you showed clear signs of losing control. How do you explain that?"
Upon hearing this, Basa's already pale face lost all color, even his lips turned white.
Yes, Basa, what are you arguing about? Did you ever think of hurting her? Did you really want to put those evil thoughts into action? Don't make excuses, go where you belong! Stay away from her! The farther the better!
"Sir, I confess. I am indeed a madman. All sorts of evil thoughts always pop into my head. Just kill me!" Basa shrieked hysterically.
"Calm down, citizen! You are not beyond saving!"
"I also often curse Magos Gamma in my heart and want to spank him. I am a shameless scoundrel who doesn't know gratitude!"
"Cough—calm down!"
'...
As a faint incense wafted from the ventilation shaft at the top of the interrogation room, Basa's emotions slowly calmed down. He was already resigned to death. Whether he was executed or sent to a madman's concentration camp, it was all the same to him. A world without her held no meaning.
Unable to see the sun, Basa didn't know how long he had been detained there, but it was certainly more than a day. His 'appointment' with her had long passed.
This is good. To die in a corner where no one would find him, to avoid his body becoming food for mutated animals and mutants—wasn't that his greatest wish before? Basa lay on the bed listlessly, thinking this. Days of staring blankly when awake and sleeping when his eyes were closed made him somewhat nostalgic for the AI that used to annoy him so much.
Just as Basa thought today would pass the same way, he was interrogated again. It was the same room as before, but this time there was a projector.
Basa, who was also an official of sorts, initially thought an AI judge would appear on the projection, because Magos Gamma said he wanted to establish a society governed by law, and all guilty people, if conditions allowed, must undergo a trial process.
But...
"No! This is impossible!"
"You're lying to me!"
Basa struggled, trying to stand up, even as the collar left bloody marks on his neck. He kept roaring, 'Impossible! It's all lies!' until he was exhausted and slumped in the interrogation chair.
"According to the results of our investigation, the former Governor's illegitimate daughter, Uniel Collins, joined a cult during the rebellion."
The words from the communicator made Basa recall the images from the video just now. Unlike her usual pure and beautiful self, the woman in the video was lewd and evil, riding naked on a victim, her body covered in strange symbols drawn with blood, while frantically writhing.
She greedily and lewdly licked and sucked the fresh heart she had torn from the chest of the man beneath her.
"Why?" Basa asked hollowly.
"You want to know? Knowing the truth of this matter means that the rest of your life will be spent in war, facing countless terrifying enemies, who are ten thousand times more evil than her!"
"Tell me! Tell me!"
"Demons and Chaos Gods are real!"
Basa was a beggar, a Downhive beggar. He knew very well what cults were. He had even fantasized about joining them so he wouldn't be bullied and could lord it over others. If it weren't for an old priest who occasionally gave him food, if it weren't for him 'hearing' danger in the voices of those cultists—
"I'm a Psyker, right?"
"Yes."
"She also deliberately approached me because I'm a Psyker, right?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me what she was like before she joined the cult?"
"Uniel Collins, due to her illegitimate status, always lived with her mother in a villa arranged by the former Governor, rarely having contact with the outside world. According to servants who once attended her, Uniel was innocent and enjoyed painting."
"Demons twisted her, right?"
"Yes."
"Are there demons among my future enemies?"
"Endless!"
"Hmph, simp!" The little Tech-priest said disdainfully, looking at Basa's file on the Librarius candidate list.
Ventris—no, Chapter Master Slitwen—felt that if he was hard-hearted after experiencing many hardships, then Gamma was born heartless. How did he deduce the word 'simp' from the file?
"Is this Basa alright? I suspect a single illusion might make him defect!"
"He's already been tested. He was the first to break through the illusion."
"Hmm! Has the simp started cultivating the Ruthless Dao?"
....
Although Slitwen didn't understand what 'Ruthless Dao' meant, coming from Gamma's mouth and paired with 'simp,' it certainly wasn't a good term.
"Pick a few masters for them from the Council of Seers. Psykers are still better played by the Aeldari."
"I've already looked, but their modifications..." Gamma felt that ever since Ventris became Chapter Master, he had been more invested in the construction of the Gamma Chapter than he was. What, did the position of Ultramarines Chapter Master not feel as good anymore?
It's hard to say. Although the Gamma Chapter was still newly established, with him as its backing, it had immense potential. After managing a legion of hundreds of thousands or even millions in the future, how great would the mental disparity be when going back to managing a 1,000-man Ultramarines Chapter?
So, he got a mischievous idea and slowly walked over to Ventris, scrutinizing him up and down, making the other party feel uneasy.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" the Chapter Master asked awkwardly.
"Pfft, I say, Ventris, your strength isn't quite up to par for a Chapter Master. How about I give you an upgrade? Don't worry, it's 100% Emperor's technology. I got it from the Custodes." Gamma suggested with a strange smile.
Hearing this, it was false to say he wasn't tempted. Ventris was well aware of the status and power of the Custodes in the Imperium, but he also knew that once he was on Gamma's operating table, he could never truly return to the Imperium. Of course, fighting their way back was another matter.
"Our modification surgery is completely different from the Custodes'. I don't want to be your guinea pig."
Oh-ho, Ventris, you're not being honest. An incomplete refusal is a complete non-refusal, hehe—
"Alright, well, tell me if you change your mind someday. I'm saving a bed for Calgar too."
"That's not what I meant!"
"I'm not listening, not listening, the turtle is chanting scriptures." The little Tech-priest muttered as he quickly left, leaving Ventris there, glaring.
"You still haven't given me an answer about the Librarius!"
Hearing the voice from behind him, Gamma said without looking back, "Don't worry, it's just a small physical problem. Curing it will be enough. Have the Apothecaries come to me. I'll teach them a few things."
Watching Gamma's retreating figure, Ventris smiled helplessly, then went to attend to his own matters. Gamma's guess was entirely correct: personally founding a Chapter was a dream every Astartes would have.