Chapter 406: Could It Be That the Wetware Has Failed?

"My Lord, a few days ago I heard the nuns preach that you are the Primordial Force, one of the Threefold Will of the God of Machines."

Tiruien hurried beside Zhou Yun, speaking as if venting his grievances:

"Could you please speak with the Forge General and ask him to make his body smaller?"

"Even if he shrank to the size of the Great Sage Belisarius Cawl would be fine."

"His body is too large—when the High Lords meet, they have to tear off the entire ceiling, use six cranes to shove him in, then seal it back up."

"In the chamber, the other High Lords occupy half the space, while he alone takes up the other half."

"Every time he comes to a meeting, it costs a fortune."

As he spoke, Tiruien's expression grew bitter.

As Imperial Chancellor, he was the host of every High Lord assembly; though he held no vote, he personally oversaw every detail of the council's proceedings, acting as its gatekeeper.

This had made Tiruien dread the enormous, logistically nightmarish Forge General—what was his name again?

Zhou Yun pondered a moment and recalled the Martian Forge General's full name—it was long, in High Gothic, and impossible to pronounce.

In short, it was that Forge General who tormented Tiruien.

This visit to the Martian Forge General had been arranged by Tiruien as intermediary.

Upon arriving on Terra, the Martian Forge General had immediately submitted a formal condemnation to Guilliman, accusing him of ambition, using Belisarius Cawl to spread the false faith of Saint Doraemon, seeking to interfere in Martian politics and undermine the Olympean Treaty signed by Omnisiah herself.

Thus, faced with Zhou Yun, this false god, he would not show the same warmth as the Rogue Trader Kanya Danda.

In fact, his demeanor was cold—barely any reception at all.

Only a few mechanical, emotionless Adeptus Ministorum guards stood at the door, awaiting Zhou Yun and Imperial Chancellor Tiruien.

This made Tiruien's heart grow uneasy.

The Martian Forge General, owing to the Adeptus Mechanicus's unique position, had always maintained an aloof, arrogant stance.

Other High Lords might oppose the Primarchs in their hearts, but dared not show it openly.

But the Forge General was different—he held the Olympean Treaty in his hands and showed no proper respect even to the Primarchs.

Or rather, in the Forge General's eyes, the only one worthy of his reverence was Omnisiah.

A direct visit to the Martian Forge General might escalate tensions and further widen the rift between Terra and Mars.

With the two Primarchs returned, everything was in flux. Normally, Tiruien would cry out that this was political suicide.

But this was the decision of the Primarchs and Saint Doraemon.

Tiruien looked at Zhou Yun with fear, wondering: Could Saint Doraemon be about to reveal his authority as the God of Machines?

If so, may Ude Udia Laski not let pride blind him to Saint Doraemon's radiance.

The heavy sliding door, guarded by Ministorum troops, slowly opened. Zhou Yun, with Doraemon, entered the dim room behind it alongside Tiruien.

Scalding, amber steam brushed past Zhou Yun's ankles. The walls held none of the Empire's Gothic ornamentation—only pipes, valves, and gears writhed, their movements synchronized into a precise, harmonious rhythm.

Combined with the scraping of the Mechanicus priests' non-human bodies dragging across the floor, the hiss of lubricant mixed with holy oil, and the murmurs of half-mechanical servitors, they formed a low, mechanical hymn.

At the center of this mechanical hymn stood a pitifully small dwarf.

The dwarf wore a thick, blood-red Mechanicus robe adorned with twelve-toothed gears. Beneath it were two grotesque faces.

One was decayed and rotting, black flesh held together by iron wire; the other was sheathed in polished brass, its eyes made of translucent green glass.

His two withered claws were curled beneath his robe as he twisted both heads toward Zhou Yun.

"Lord of the Omnisiah's Machine, Great Sage of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Martian Forge General Ude Udia Laski."

The Mechanicus priests standing around spoke in perfect unison, announcing the dwarf's identity.

This startled Zhou Yun slightly.

According to the information Tiruien and Zhou Yun had gathered from others, the Martian Forge General had long since advanced far down the path of cybernetic augmentation—his body massive as a mechanical fortress, more monstrous than Belisarius Cawl, barely human at all.

That was why Zhou Yun had felt no fear.

Too much cybernetic augmentation? Perfect—he wielded the power of the Malevolent Art domain, with unparalleled control over machinery and machine-spirits. A mere thought could manipulate their operation and power.

To Zhou Yun, a heavily augmented being like the Martian Forge General was nothing but a laboring slave—no whip needed.

Yet before him stood not a towering machine, but a tiny, barely augmented dwarf. The Malevolent Art domain held little sway over such a body.

Just as Zhou Yun reached into his fourth-dimensional pocket to retrieve the Whip of Divine Punishment and subdue the Forge General by force, he noticed countless cables extending from behind the dwarf.

These cables coiled like serpents, converging and burrowing into hundreds of nodes embedded in the wall behind him. Strange, alien machines writhed on the wall—energy converters, oxygen processors, Thinker Arrays, wire coils, and steam engines—all fused into a single colossal machine hidden behind the chamber's wall.

In an instant, Zhou Yun understood: the entire room was the true Martian Forge General.

For centuries, he had continuously modified and expanded his body, accumulating until he became this vast, heavy, bizarre Thinking Box. The flesh-and-blood dwarf was merely an extension, a terminal.

But this made things simpler.

"Forge General Uwu." Zhou Yun spoke softly.

The massive machine emitted a low hum—as if the Forge General expressed displeasure.

Yet Zhou Yun's will at once seeped into the Forge General's core, entering the thousands of intricate mechanical components.

Instantly, every cable, every component, every coil lay bare before Zhou Yun.

The Forge General's will and machine-spirit were intertwined—immense, ferocious, stronger than any ship or Titan's machine-spirit Zhou Yun had ever tamed.

But Zhou Yun now had the faith of nearly all of Terra behind him. With a slight exertion, he wrapped the Forge General's will entirely in his own.

Zhou Yun perceived everything of the Forge General: his original flesh, still floating in iron tanks, trembling faintly.

Delicate cables pierced the Forge General's remaining fifth of a brain, extending his thoughts throughout the entire Thinking Box.

Zhou Yun could read these thoughts, sever them, or grant them momentum.

He read the Forge General's deepest fear.

"The Golden Throne is failing."

The Forge General had discovered this centuries ago—and feared it.

"In five hundred thirty-seven standard Terran years, I have made no progress. The Golden Throne's function continues to degrade."

"I estimate that, under the best circumstances, it will fail completely within a few centuries."

"If it fails, then it is over."

"The End of All Things."

Zhou Yun read the Martian Forge General's thoughts.

"In the name of Omnisiah, I will not let the Golden Throne fail. I will not let the End of All Things come."

"I need wisdom. I need more, more, more wisdom. I need to draw closer to Omnisiah."

For centuries, the Forge General had tried to repair the Golden Throne—sacrificing much, consuming vast resources, even resorting to alien dark wisdom—but all efforts failed.

So he concluded it was because his wisdom was insufficient, that he was not close enough to Omnisiah. He must gain more wisdom, must further augment his flesh-body with machinery and Thinker Arrays to expand his mind.

His body was discarded; unimportant parts of his brain were excised; countless machines were implanted around him, endlessly expanding his mind.

He was like a bloated, monstrous queen-worm, submerged in the cold, dark center of his nest, producing only thought.

He could not move, could not feel—he survived only through slave labor, no different from an Astartes sealed within a Dreadnought.

Yet this was not the most painful part. Augmenting oneself into machinery was unquestionably drawing closer to Omnisiah—a honor for any Mechanicus member. Even with physical agony, his spirit remained satisfied.

What truly broke the Martian Forge General was this: he had come so close to the machine-state, yet still could not grasp true wisdom.

He still knew nothing of how to repair the Golden Throne. He could not even identify the true problem.

It was not his fault. Not the Forge General's fault.

Because the Golden Throne's mechanical components had no flaw at all—Zhou Yun had confirmed this with the Emperor. If there were any, he would have repaired them long ago with his tools—it was trivial for him.

Zhou Yun continued observing the Forge General's thoughts.

He feared Belisarius Cawl would seize his power—because if he lost his position as Forge General and High Lord, he could no longer secure the resources to maintain his massive form or continue seeking a way to repair the Golden Throne.

He despised Cawl's spread of the Saint Doraemon cult—but Zhou Yun still detected, deep within him, a faint hope, a fragile fantasy: if Saint Doraemon truly was the Primordial Force, then surely he could repair the Golden Throne and prevent the End of All Things?

Zhou Yun gently seized this thought, using the power of the Malevolent Art domain to amplify it.

Soon, this thought expanded, dominating the Martian Forge General's entire mind.

"Forge General Uwu!" Zhou Yun called out loudly.

The Mechanicus priests beside him glared in fury: "How dare you call the Forge General Uwu?! How dare you—"

"I am Forge General Uwu!"

A voice of fervor rang through the chamber. The dwarf's body knelt before Zhou Yun:

"My Lord! Forge General Uwu pays homage. For ten thousand years, the Adeptus Mechanicus has lacked the will of the God of Machines—like children without a father."

"But today, you have finally appeared before us."

"Grant us the God of Machines' great authority. Repair the broken Golden Throne. Delay the coming of the End."

". h."

Zhou Yun hesitated:

"It's not your fault the Golden Throne can't be fixed."

"Have you ever considered that the problem isn't with the hardware—but with the wetware?"

(End of Chapter)