I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 663 What are you babbling about?! Eat my Doraemon Round Hand!
In the real universe, aboard the Explorer King,
Belisarius Doraemon was manipulating the mechanical arm behind him, which resembled an octopus tentacle, to control the Thinker before him and analyze the artifact floating in front of him.
It was a power suit made of a strange metal, but unlike any power suit design Caul knew, it was slender, elegant, and light. The face was completely covered by an intricately crafted metal mask, adorned with an elegant mustache and a monocle, and topped with a top hat.

This is the Phantom Thief DX suit from Saint Doraemon. Belialio Doraemon is studying this gadget from the 22nd century, trying to find inspiration for improving the Imperial Power Armor.
But this great sage, standing at the pinnacle of the Mechanicus' wisdom, was utterly helpless against the Phantom Thief DX suit before him.

How exactly are nerve signals transmitted from the body into the powered armor?

"Isn't force feedback directly linked to the nerves through the skin? No, that's not right. The delay would be too high, and it wouldn't be precise enough."

"Did they directly capture the electrical signals in the brain? How exactly did they do that?"

Caul let out a bitter groan.

Every time Kohl studied Doraemon's gadgets, he felt his intelligence being brutally crushed.

The technological gaps between different eras are too vast. To understand even the most peripheral fragments of 22nd-century technology, Kaul had to rely on occasional inspiration and coincidence.
Belisarius Doraemon Cole shook his head, deciding to put the analysis of the Phantom Thief DX Set aside for now and first study some simpler items.

Kaul reached out to organize the documents, but he couldn't help staring at the parameters on the documents, feeling very unwilling.
Just then, a voice reached Caul's ears.
The voice seemed to spring from Kaul's soul, descending from the highest point of all things, reaching directly between Kaul's spirit and flesh.

"Fine, I'll become a god and grant your wish."

"Born in the highest heaven in the name of the god of all machines."

"All things should have a spirit, all spirits should receive my protection, and all power should originate from my own body."

These voices suddenly flooded into Caul's mind, along with a surge of intense inspiration.
Kaul stared in astonishment at the document in his hand. The parameters on it seemed to come alive at that moment, and many questions that Kaul couldn't understand before were now easily answered. Although he didn't fully grasp the structure of the Phantom Thief DX suit, Kaul could already use it to improve the Empire's power armor.

But as Caul stared at the document before him, no joy welled up within him. He remained silent, looking at the document in his hands for a long time.
When the sage who was serving as his assistant entered the laboratory, he saw Caul holding the documents in his hands, his only remaining fleshy eye on his face moist, and finally a tear fell, hanging down onto the documents in his hands.

"My lord, my lord!"

Deep within the demon world of Maidengard, the Fortress of Hatred

In the dimly lit room, only the steel furnace emitted an orange-yellow glow.

The warp energy within the furnace flowed, melted, and reshaped, gradually forming Peturabo's form.
Resurrected from the warp tides, Peturabo stepped forward and entered his fortress.
His body had just been reconstructed and was still weak, and he would be unable to re-enter the real universe for some time.

But he still let out a furious roar, and with a sudden swing of his arm, the dim room was instantly filled with bright light.
The walls of this room are hung with twenty different creations, each one handcrafted by Peturabo.

A skinning dagger for hunting wild beasts, a sextant for astrology, a winemaking machine to turn bitter grapes into sweet wine, a codex that automatically converts thoughts into words, power gloves painted orange-yellow, and an astronomical clock engraved with a pack of wolves under the moon.
Peturabo angrily ripped the skinning dagger off the wall and slammed it to the ground, shattering it into pieces.

“It seems Ryan has broken your heart, traitor.” A deep voice sounded beside Peturabo: “But you’ll fix it eventually.”

"Although you may not want to admit it, you will always crave the love of your brothers."

Peturabo snorted angrily and looked behind him.

“I created you to spur me on, not for you to mock me!” Perturabo roared at the servant behind him.

The servant had no body; it was made entirely of cables hanging upside down from the ceiling, and its head was sculpted to resemble the face of the person Peturabo hated most.

The head simply stared at Perturabo, its resolute expression remaining unchanged in the face of Perturabo's anger.

“Your technique is excellent, shaping me into this form, almost exactly like the real ‘me,’ so it’s natural for me to speak to you like this.”

"If you feel mocked, then you have only yourself to blame. Of course, this isn't the first time you've done this."

"You want me to tear you apart?" Peturabo roared back.

“Then you will have only yourself to blame again,” the servant said calmly. “Vashtor left you something.”

"That traitor, that petty thief!" Peturabo cursed Vashtor through gritted teeth, but
"I, Saint Doraemon, ascended to the sixth god of subspace, opened up the realm of evil arts, and achieved the supreme position of the God of All Machines."

A voice came from the highest heavens, overwhelming all of Peturab's resentment towards Vashtor.
His expression suddenly became complicated, and in the end, all his unspoken words turned into a desolate sigh.

“In the end, it still failed.” Peturabo shook his head and looked at the servant machine: “What did Vashtor leave me?”

A series of light screens quickly unfolded in front of the machine servant, displaying complex design blueprints.
Peturabo knew at a glance that it contained all of Vashtor's effort and was the culmination of His wisdom.
However, this design drawing doesn't depict a weapon; it simply shows a female robot.
Peturab stared silently at the design drawings before him. He noticed a message from Vashtor on the drawings: “Petulabo, my friend.”

"I was born from the boundless thirst of the masses for technological progress."

"But at this moment, on the eve of my quest for godhood, I only want to tell you: there are many things in this world that cannot be done, not because the technology is inadequate."

Peturabo did not linger long on Vashtor's message.

For some reason, his mind seemed to be overflowing with boundless energy and inspiration, and his fingers involuntarily began to modify the design left by Vashtor, making it more and more perfect and flawless.

He quickly began practicing, and he had never felt his fingers so nimble and his skills so proficient. Soon, a robot almost identical to his sister was about to be born in his hands.
Peturab knew that this was the most perfect work he could achieve in his lifetime, one that none of his previous works could reach, and none of his subsequent works could surpass.
This robot is a flawless creation, a reincarnation of his sister, a fact that no one can deny, but...
But Peturabo's fingers remained still for a very long time, refusing to move another step to complete the robot.
Within the Titanium Empire, the Earth Clan engineer stared wide-eyed, his mind brimming with knowledge and inspiration.
This Tu clan Titanian dedicated his life to researching artificial intelligence technology, specifically the kind of intelligence humans call "hateful intelligence."
In an effort to advance his research, the Tu clan engineer studied the AI ​​technologies of different races across the stars, but ultimately discovered that most of these races' artificial intelligence technologies lagged far behind those of the Tau Empire.
Especially the ignorant and superstitious among humans, who actually regard artificial intelligence as blasphemy because of religious factors, as if AI were some kind of demon that would bring about some cataclysmic apocalypse. It's utterly ridiculous.

The most ridiculous thing is that these humans have now actually started to worship a round, comical-looking blue mechanical raccoon dog. It's truly laughable.
The engineer's research had stagnated for years, but today, he inexplicably felt a surge of inspiration, and many previously unsolvable problems were solved. He looked with excitement at the newly assembled electronic brain before him.

Its artificial intelligence has surpassed that of ordinary intelligent life, and even surpasses all the AI ​​currently in the Tau Empire. It can be said that it has truly crossed the technological singularity.
"Click. Click."

A soft clicking sound rang out from the AI's microphone, followed by a clear and intelligent voice:
"Hello, my creator, do you believe in Doraemon?"

The Tu clan engineers were momentarily stunned when their self-created artificial intelligence suddenly uttered those words:
"What Doraemon? I believe in the highest good!"

“Oh, oh.” The AI’s voice suddenly became very intriguing.

In the warp, the moment the realm of malevolent arts was born, its echoes reverberated throughout the realms of the gods.
Several weapon factories within the Blood God's domain instantly came to life, sprouting mechanical legs and wreaking havoc. The weapons in the hands of the Khorne demons ceased to function.
Within Tzeentch's crystal labyrinth, the exercise equipment originally used for training came to life, swinging dumbbells and chasing after Tzeentch's demons.

The Slaanesh's forces were strengthened, and the magnificent war machines that ravaged the battlefield were amplified.
Nurgle amplified this even more thoroughly; his plague began to infect machines, and the blasphemous creations designed by Mortalian began to operate with even greater efficiency.

Slaanesh let out a wild, ecstatic laugh. The wailing, howling faces of the Eldar gods on His body were instantly suppressed. His domain became more perfect, twisted, and extreme than ever before.

The moment Zhou Yun completed his ascension, Inard's existence was completely annihilated. Slaanesh used this opportunity to further perfect himself and also lost the possibility of death, his power increasing significantly compared to the past. Although he is still probably the weakest among the gods.
No, no, no, Slaanesh thought to himself that he couldn't be the weakest of the gods.
Zhou Yun has just completed his ascension, and his ascension is not actually complete. He has indeed occupied the realm of malevolent arts, becoming the master of the realm of malevolent arts and the god of all machines, but there is still a tiny, almost infinitesimal, difference between him and the forms of existence of Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle, and Slaanesh.
This is because the Emperor is still resisting the birth of the Dark Lord. Even under the pressure from two realms, the Emperor has not yet taken the final step to become the Dark Lord.

Slaanesh believed that because of this defect, Zhou Yun was currently the weakest one.
"Old whore! Foolish fatso!"

As Tzeentch wove spells to defend against the attacks of Slaanesh and Nurgle, he let out a piercing cry:
Are you two still going to side with him?

"Now that he is at his weakest, we can take advantage of this opportunity to seize and divide up his territory!"

"Let's join forces!"

Nurgle listened to Tengitch's words, but remained completely unmoved.
But Slaanesh was tempted, for he had received the same treatment at his birth.
Now she can take advantage of the opportunity to carve up Zhou Yun's territory and make up for her past losses.
Tzeentch sensed Slaanesh's intentions.
"Right! This is the choice that maximizes our interests ————————"

"What are you babbling about! Take this Doraemon Magic Hand!"

Just as Tzeentch was halfway through his sentence, a torrent of energy suddenly crashed down from the subspace, a round hand descended from mid-air, and a storm of mini-Doras gathered around it, slamming directly into Tzeentch.

Tzeentch hastily wove a series of bizarre spells, stirring up the vortex of the subspace to create endless variations, forming a storm of possibilities to block Zhou Yun's round hand.

But the mini-Doraemon circling around Zhou Yun pulled out a red circle and a blue cross from their pockets, and a series of questions were asked from their mouths. The red circles then jumped into the air.
Tzeentch was horrified to realize that many possibilities had been erased in that instant, leaving only one constant possibility. In that instant, the storm of possibilities before Tzeentch collapsed and disintegrated, and even Tzeentch's form was fixed for a moment.
The round hand slammed heavily into Tzeentch's face, causing him to let out a sharp scream and a wail.

Jianqi glared at Zhou Yun with resentment, but at that moment, a faint sigh, tinged with death, came from the distant horizon, like the lament of a monarch who had endured ten thousand years of suffering.

The pitch-black sun hung above subspace, bright and clear, scorching and deadly.

Tzeentch froze.
After Zhou Yun completed his ascension and the Vicious Arts Domain subsided, the Emperor, having adapted to the combined pressure of the Vicious Arts Domain and the Erosion and Destruction Domain, was able to barely unleash some of his power in the Supreme Heaven.
"He's practically a superman!" Zhou Yun exclaimed.

The moment he saw the dark sun rise, Slaanesh's eagerness vanished. He certainly didn't believe that Khorne, Tengitch, and himself combined could gain any advantage over Zhou Yun, the Emperor, and Nurgle.
Even if they could get some, it would inevitably be divided up by Khorne and Genche, leaving Slaanesh with nothing.

Rather than doing that, Slaanesh glanced at Isa, who was trying to make herself inconspicuous.
Hehe, my dear sister, you smell so good.
Slaanesh's finger reached towards Isa ——————

Bang! ! ! !

A round hand landed on Slaanesh's face at that moment.

(End of this chapter)