Chapter 406: Three People Waiting to Be Visited

"Will you, like those petty ones, submit to the Primarch and the Evil God?"

Iltho Simotrien's questioning voice echoed in the darkness.

Urd Udiya Laski responded with a cold, crisp, and dry laugh,

"Do you think I am Belisarius Cawl? No, the ridiculous Belisarius Dora Cawl?"

"Listen, he bears that ridiculous name and yet brags, claiming it is a surname granted to him by the Primordial Engine?"

The Forge General of Mars spoke with a voice clear with anger and disdain:

"And you, Iltho, you are also ridiculous, thinking I would be like Belisarius."

"Do you think I would flatter Robert Ji Li Man like Belisarius?"

"Do you think I would grovel before a false god who defiles the name of the 'Primordial Engine'?"

"Do you think I would abandon the holy 'Olympia Treaty'?"

"No, never!"

A deafening roar surged from the darkness on all sides, as if all the walls of the room were colliding together,

while at the same time the sounds of mechanical vibration, oil flow, and coil humming arose; for a few moments, Iltho even suspected Urd Udiya Laski intended to drive a Rhino troop transport and crush himself to death.

"Unless the God of All Machines descends in person, I will never grovel."

"Unless the will of the Omnissiah so decrees, I will never abandon the 'Olympia Treaty'!"

"In the name of the Triple Layer of the God of All Machines, I will never believe in that false god, Saint Dora A-Meng!"

Iltho Simotrien breathed a slight sigh of relief.

From the words of this Forge General, it seemed that the Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, who groveled before Saint Dora A-Meng, had begun proselytizing on Mars.

The reputation of that Archmagos Belisarius Cawl was great; doing so undoubtedly shook Urd Udiya Laski's position.

And on a deeper level, the doctrines of that Evil God, Saint Dora A-Meng, directly conflicted with the Adeptus Mechanicus, and his interference in Mars politics undoubtedly shook the 'Olympia Treaty'.

The Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars and Saint Dora A-Meng have a natural conflict; they cannot possibly stand on the side of Saint Dora A-Meng.

What? Could that Evil God truly be the Lord of All Machines? Able to make all machines submit? Don't joke like that.

Iltho looked again into the darkness, at the flickering points of light within it, and asked with a smile:

"If they visit you, how will you respond to them?"

The Cogitator Array beside Urd Udiya Laski hummed; his thoughts flowed through the pipelines.

He did not care about the political struggles on Terra, but he cared about his position. He would never allow the 'Olympia Treaty', signed by the Omnissiah himself, to be shaken, nor would he allow himself to lose the position of Forge General of Mars.

This was not because he coveted the power brought by this position, but because he still needed this position to provide resources for his cause.

He had a cause that must be completed; he must repair that damaged machine; he must delay the arrival of the End Times.

Urd Udiya Laski still remembered the fear he felt hundreds of years ago, when he assumed the post of Forge General and learned that that holy machine was gradually failing.

Before repairing that machine, he must not lose the position of Forge General; he must not.

"Anger."

Thus, a voice mixed with rage arose from the darkness:

"The anger of the Forge General of Mars."

"The anger of a devout follower of the Omnissiah."

The burning pain in her body still existed, but it was very light; lighter than what she was destined to deserve.

She was born in the garbage mountains of a hive city, a dark and lightless place.

She did not know who her parents were, did not know why she was abandoned, did not know where she was, and no one even taught her how to speak.

From the moment she had memory, she wandered the garbage mountains; she did not even know why her fragile self could survive in the dark and dangerous garbage mountains.

Perhaps even when her consciousness was still dim, the precognitive ability bestowed upon her by that One was already at work?

She could not explain it clearly; she did not know. She crawled blindly through the dark and cold garbage mountains like a wild beast.

Until light burned through her nerves, and the will of that One descended before her.

Her soul established a connection with that One; she knew the situation of that One with absolute clarity.

Mad, split, chaotic, wandering on the edge of self-destruction.

And she also knew the arrangement that One had made for her.

The will of that One was so magnificent that the vast majority of humans could not bear it.

It needed a vessel that was absolutely pure and absolutely empty.

She met this requirement.

No one had ever taught her anything.

She knew no knowledge, desired no change.

She possessed no impulse to kill, held no shred of courage.

She had no connection with anyone, had never loved another.

She did not even desire to live; she merely existed emptily.

She was an excellent vessel; she was Its tool.

A single burning, then turning to ash; this was Its arrangement for her.

But she agreed; after all, she had never had anything, nor did she have anything to lose.

Moreover, Its form was so bright; even if mad, grotesque, and terrifying, it was still light.

She loved light; it was very bright, completely different from the darkness and filth of the garbage mountains.

Then she became the Zealous Thief, acting according to the precognitive ability bestowed by that One.

Alone, forming no connection with anyone, drawing knowledge only from that One; desiring no change in fate, possessing no courage to change fate, feeling no emotion toward anyone, and desiring not to live.

Until fate itself changed; a streak of metallic blue slid into the prophecy, and everything changed.

Zhou Yun, Doraemon, and Ryan Luss used a great deal of her.

Following the prophecy and that One's guidance, she and he entered the Underhive.

In the original prophecy, in the original arrangement, it was she who was to burn herself out alone in the Underhive, preventing the Nurgle demons from entering reality.

She was supposed to be born with nothing, forming no bonds with anyone, and die with nothing, forming no bonds with anyone.

But he—she had formed a shallow bond with him.

For the first time, she knew that between the cold, tidal darkness and the scalding, blinding light, there existed a strange, interesting shade of metallic blue.

Time and again, she immersed herself in the prophecy; in the prophecy, perhaps she had eaten the melon seeds he offered her hundreds of times, perhaps she had eaten roasted mushrooms and worm-meat jelly hundreds of times, and listened to his jokes hundreds of times.

Yet when she truly ate the melon seeds, the roasted mushrooms, and the worm-meat jelly, she still found them delicious; when she truly heard him tell jokes, she still nearly couldn't hold back her laughter.

When she truly stood at the fated moment, at the moment of impending self-immolation, only then did she discover with astonishment,

that for the first time she had gained a bit of novel and strange knowledge, and began to crave a slight change in fate.

For the first time, she mustered a bit of emotion called courage, and with that courage walked toward her destined sacrifice.

For the first time, she developed a bit of emotion and attachment toward others, and gained a bit of joy from companionship with others.

For the first time, she felt an attachment to life, and longed to live just a little bit longer.

She had been corrupted by him.

She could not help but pray to that One, pray to him, praying that someone would save her.

In the end, he answered her prayer, allowing her not to walk toward her fated end.

"My Lady Jeanne." A voice with an Asford Low Gothic accent sounded beside her.

The girl beside Jeanne was named Ye Ruite; she had been found by the Sisters in the Underhive, possessed certain psychic talents, and was skilled in using the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang's Tarot.

High Sister Magda had tasked her with caring for Jeanne, who was often in a coma or asleep, and she also served as Jeanne's substitute in daily matters.

"You have been waking up more and more often recently," Ye Ruite said to Jeanne with delight.

Jeanne merely nodded lightly; she was not very good at speaking.

In fact, in her life, apart from that One and Zhou Yun, she had hardly spoken many words to any human.

As for waking, that One's power was transforming Jeanne's body, enabling Jeanne to bear more of His power and will; however, this transformation had gradually stalled since it began some time ago.

Perhaps around the time the Lion's Gate erupted in battle, that One no longer needed a physical body to house His will?

Yet Jeanne could indeed no longer be called the perfect vessel she once was; corrupted by Zhou Yun, she was no longer a pure vessel, but possessed additional thoughts.

"Him." Jeanne moved her unused throat and spoke dryly, asking Ye Ruite beside her.

Ye Ruite had grown accustomed to Jeanne's awkward way of speaking: "My Lord Mo Wen Varr has already submitted various forms to My Lord Ji Li Man; My Lord Saint Doraemon should visit very soon."

"Mm." Jeanne nodded lightly and blinked her eyes.

For safety, she almost never left this room of the convent; sometimes Jeanne felt she had returned to that dark mountain of garbage in the Underhive.

But fortunately, the Battle Sisters were always willing to satisfy Jeanne's childish, simple, ordinary little hobby.

Jeanne climbed out of bed, felt her way in the dark, picked up a welding mask, and handed it to Ye Ruite; Ye Ruite, familiar with the routine, strapped it onto her face.

Jeanne herself held up a welding mask, strapped it onto her face, and walked to the workbench in the corner of her room.

On the workbench lay a thick steel plate; beside the steel plate was a promethium flame cutter specially made for Jeanne by the Battle Sisters.

Jeanne lifted the promethium flame cutter with her arm, covered in shallow burn scars; the scorching fire roared in the dark room.

The fire column collided with the thick steel plate, sending forth blindingly bright sparks.

Jeanne loved light; the brighter the light, the more she loved it.

This was also why she loved the heat; the sparks that flew forth during the heat were so blinding.

Especially when she saw the steel plate melting, and a flash of metallic blue appeared in the fire, Jeanne's mood would be exceptionally good.

Deep within the Inquisition's dungeons, in the darkest, coldest, most sealed cage,

Iskandar Karyn, whose limbs had been broken, whose eyes had been gouged out, whose psychic power had been drained, and who was tightly bound by shackles, stirred slightly.

He had been Abaddon's second-in-command, one of the Black Legion's top leaders, a powerful Thousand Sons sorcerer.

But he had voluntarily surrendered to the Inquisition and been confined in this black prison.

And the purpose of all this was merely to pronounce their fated end to the Inquisition, to the Imperium, and to the Master of Mankind.

Warmaster Abaddon of the Black Legion would come riding the Crimson Path, slaughter his way to Terra, slay the False Hua Hua Hua Di Huang, and destroy the Imperium.

This was the destined end, the end the Imperium could not change, and he would be Abaddon's messenger and the harbinger of the Crimson Path.

Pronouncing this fate upon the Imperium was precisely the task Abaddon had given Karyn.

The End Times were unchangeable, and he was the harbinger sent to pronounce this fate upon the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang.

So Karyn did not feel despair over his current situation; he knew Abaddon would soon come to save him.

They could together mock the False Hua Hua Hua Di Huang atop the ruins of the Imperial Palace on Terra, celebrate their great deeds, and toast to their brotherhood.

Hiss, ha... my butt is so itchy...

Karyn shifted his butt.

When would Abaddon slaughter his way to Terra? It should be very soon, right? Perhaps the Revenge Spirit was already bombarding the Imperial Palace.

After all, Abaddon would not lie to his brother! The era of the Primarchs had ended, and nothing could stop Abaddon's steps.

Thinking of these things, even Karyn, whose limbs had been shattered, whose eyes had been gouged out, whose psychic power had been drained, and who was confined in darkness, could not help but straighten his chest.

A silent, passing Inquisitor, currently patrolling the cells, noticed Karyn's movement.

He said nothing, snatched a heavy iron hammer from the nearby wall, walked to Karyn's side, and smashed it down fiercely upon his straightened chest.

Crack——————

(End of this chapter)