Chapter 661: Babbling on about what! Eat my Dora-hand!

In the material universe, aboard the *King of Explorers*,

Belisarius Dora Cawl was manipulating the mechanical arms behind him, which resembled octopus tentacles, while operating the cogitator before him to analyze the item floating in front of him.

It was a set of power armor crafted from a peculiar metal, yet it differed from every power armor design Cawl had ever known: slender, elegant, and lightweight. The face was entirely covered by a meticulously sculpted metal mask, adorned with an elegant mustache and a monocle, and topped with a bowler hat.

This was the "Phantom Thief DX Set," a gadget of Saint Doraemon. Belisarius Dora Cawl was studying this 22nd-century artifact, attempting to find inspiration within it to improve the Imperium's power armor.

Yet, this Archmagos, standing at the pinnacle of the Adeptus Mechanicus's wisdom, felt helpless before the Phantom Thief DX Set.

"How exactly do neural signals transmit from the body into the power armor?"

"Is it not force feedback directly linked via skin-neural connections? No, that's not right; the latency is too high, and it lacks precision."

"Is it capturing electrical signals directly from the brain? How on earth is it done?"

Cawl let out a bitter moan.

Every time he studied Saint Doraemon's gadgets, Cawl felt his intellect being crushed into oblivion.

The technological gap was too vast. To understand 22nd-century technology, even for the most marginal, scattered fragments, Cawl had to rely on sporadic inspiration and coincidence.

Belisarius Dora Cawl shook his head, intending to set aside the analysis of the Phantom Thief DX Set for a moment to study some simpler gadgets.

Cawl reached out to organize his documents, but he couldn't help but stare at the parameters on the page, feeling deeply unwilling to give up.

Just then, a voice reached Cawl's ears.

The voice seemed to sprout from Cawl's very soul, descending from the highest point of all things, reaching straight between Cawl's spirit and flesh.

"... Enough. I shall act as a god to fulfill you."

"... In the name of the Machine God, born in the Warp."

"... All machines shall have souls sprout forth, all spirits shall sense my protection, all power shall sprout from my own body."

These voices suddenly flooded into Cawl's mind, and along with them, intense inspiration surged within him.

Cawl looked at the document in his hand in astonishment; the parameters on the page seemed to come alive at this moment. Many problems Cawl had previously been unable to understand were solved instantly. Although he could not fully grasp the structure of the Phantom Thief DX Set, Cawl could already use this to perfect the Imperium's power armor.

Yet, as Cawl stared at the document before him, it was not joy that surged in his heart. He just looked at the document in his hand, unable to speak for a long time.

It was not until his assistant Magos entered the laboratory that they saw Cawl holding the document, the only flesh-and-blood eye on his face moist, until finally, a tear fell, landing on the document in his hand.

"My Lord, oh my Lord..."

On the Daemon World of Medengard, in the deepest part of the Fortress of Hate,

In the dim room, only the furnace forged of steel emitted an orange-yellow glow.

Warp sorcery flowed, melted, and reshaped within the furnace fire, gradually forming the body of Perturabo.

Perturabo, resurrected from the Warp tides, took a step forward, entering his own fortress.

His body had just been reshaped, he was still weak, and he would be unable to re-enter the material universe for some time.

Yet he still let out a roar of resentment, his arm swinging violently, and the dim room was instantly filled with bright light.

Hanging on the walls of this room were twenty different creations, each one crafted by Perturabo's own hands.

A skinning dagger for hunting beasts, a sextant for stargazing, a brewer that turned bitter grapes into sweet wine, a codex compiler that automatically converted thoughts into text, a power fist painted orange-yellow, an astronomical clock engraved with a wolf pack under the moon...

Perturabo resentfully snatched the skinning dagger from the wall and slammed it onto the ground; the sword shattered into fragments upon impact.

"It seems Lion has broken your heart, traitor." A dull voice sounded beside Perturabo: "But you will always fix it."

"Although you are unwilling to admit it, you always crave the love of your brothers."

Perturabo let out a resentful hum and looked behind him.

"I built you to spur me on, not to mock me!" Perturabo roared at the servitor behind him.

That servitor had no body; the entire thing was composed of cables hanging down from the ceiling, while the head was sculpted into the likeness of the person Perturabo hated most.

The head merely looked at Perturabo, its steadfast expression unchanged in the face of Perturabo's fury.

"Your technology is excellent, shaping me like this, almost identical to the real 'me,' so I must speak to you this way."

"If you feel mocked, that is your own doing. Of course... it is not the first time you have brought it upon yourself."

"Do you want me to tear you apart?" Perturabo roared in response.

"Then you will bring it upon yourself again." The servitor said, its face unmoved: "Vashtorr left something for you."

"That traitor, that petty thief..." Perturabo cursed Vashtorr through gritted teeth, but

"... I, Saint Doraemon, ascend as the sixth god of the Warp, opening the domain of Malicious Craft, attaining the throne of the Machine God."

A voice came from the Warp, overwhelming all of Perturabo's dissatisfaction with Vashtorr in his heart.

His expression suddenly became complex, and finally, a thousand words turned into a desolate sigh.

"In the end, didn't it still... fail?" Perturabo shook his head and looked at the servitor: "What did Vashtorr leave for me?"

A series of light screens rapidly unfolded in front of the servitor, displaying complex blueprints.

Perturabo knew at a single glance that Vashtorr had poured all his heart and soul into this; it was the crystallization of his wisdom.

But... but this blueprint did not depict some kind of weapon, only a female robot.

Perturabo looked silently at the blueprint before him; he noticed that there was also a message from Vashtorr on the blueprint. ===== CHAPTER 662 =====