I'm in Warhammer, I just want to grow mushrooms

Chapter 313 The Space Necromancer Reborn
Trazyn was the ruler of the Nihilakh dynasty and the wealthiest among the rulers.

In the era when space necromancers were active in every corner of the galaxy, tens of thousands of space necromancers would visit his collection every year.

Now, the undead in space have fallen into slumber, the conflicts between dynasties have subsided, and the dynastic tombs are utterly silent.

With no audience, no visitors, and Tarazin disliking fighting and killing, life was incredibly boring.

Unlike other overlords, he was not obsessed with expanding his empire's territory or reviving the glory of the Necromancers in space.

He prefers to collect exquisite, unique items that he would regret missing out on for the rest of his life.

For example, Star God Fragments.

For example, a terrestrial mushroom born on Catachan was ejected into outer space by a volcanic eruption and formed into a zero-degree low-pressure crystal.

At this moment, Tarachin discovered something interesting.

When I woke up this morning on my 800-square-meter solid gold bed, the space signal scanner in the DC-1-V storage tank made a strange noise.

This thing was passed down from the War of Heaven, made by the ancient Eldar, and used to search for the opening and closing signals of the Webgate within a thousand light-years.

The beeping sound told Taracin that a Webgate had been briefly opened 0.2 light-years from Solemnas.

The ship that flew out of it was well concealed, but the spatial curvature anomaly caused by its sub-light speed engine was precisely detected by Taracin.

Upon approaching Solemnas, the ship shut down its sublight-speed engines and cruised at high speed in stealth mode.

Tarachin once again captured its every move.

This time, Taracin relied not on spatial curvature anomalies, but on the magnetic field inherent in the Dyson sphere.

Even the slightest change in the magnetic field, however minute, can be detected by tarasin and used to track stealth targets.

Seeing that the stealth ships had circled Solemnas several times without finding a place to land, Tarasin simply revealed a landing spot that had been specially designed for uninvited guests.

That was a vertical passageway used for repairing the Dyson Sphere's outer shell, designed specifically for space necromancers and engineering vessels, large enough for invisible guests to pass through.

The repair fleet emerged from the vertical passageway and began routine maintenance in a seemingly professional manner, with the passageway remaining open and conspicuous throughout the process.

"Come in, little one, come in."

Tarasin murmured, his face filled with anticipation.

Soon, the good thing came true.

The stealth ships seized the opportunity and entered the vertical passage before it closed, navigating the intricate network of pipes without looking back.

After passing through the Dyson sphere shell, which is hundreds of kilometers thick, the ship successfully entered the first layer of Solemnas.

This place is known as "The Prismatic Galleries".

Although it's called an art gallery, what's actually displayed here aren't paintings, but rather historical videotapes meticulously recorded by Tarasin.

A gigantic holographic screen continuously plays important historical events of the Milky Way 24/7.

In holographic animation, key figures in historical events are spoken by the individuals themselves from those events.

Yes, that's right, it's the real person, not a fake.

These people were turned into living specimens by Tarachin using necromancy technology, trapped for eternity on the day the historical event occurred, and forced to cooperate with holographic animation to reenact the event again and again.

Others might think it's a blasphemous and perverse hobby, but Tarachin thinks, "Screw blasphemy! I just like doing it. What are you going to do about it? Try me if you dare!"

Anyone who dares to damage the holographic animation or steal the historical artifacts within it will be turned into a new living specimen by Tarachin, labeled an "idiot," and placed in an exhibition area full of "idiots."

Tarachin eagerly anticipates uninvited guests reaching out their wicked hands to the collection.

In his view, this group of people must have come to steal some kind of collectible.

But he was disappointed; the ship moved back and forth in the prismatic corridor, but showed no intention of firing its tractor beam.

Could it be that you don't find anything in the prismatic corridor appealing?
Tarasin rubbed his gleaming metal chin, his eyes flashing slightly.

He could feel his curiosity about the uninvited guest rising.

He couldn't wait to peel off their invisible cloak and see their true faces.

Tarasin stretched out his left hand and rubbed his metal fingers together.

The captain of the witch guard stepped forward and brought his head close to his master's left hand.

Tarasin placed his palm on the head of the witch guard captain.

In an instant, Tarasin's consciousness transferred to the captain of the witch guard, forcibly taking over the other's body.

This is a new technology derived from the technology of transferring consciousness in living beings. It can only transfer consciousness between undead beings in space, and Tarachin calls it "possession".

"My lord?" The captain of the witch guard's consciousness had not been erased; it could still communicate with its master through electromagnetic pulse signals.

"My body has just been pampered and I don't want to get it dirty. I'm going to use your body and identity to test those uninvited guests."

Tarasin said calmly, and guided the witch guard captain toward the anti-gravity platform.

The captain of the witch guards stopped talking, lest he spoil his master's enjoyment.

The anti-gravity platform rose vertically in the shaft, and the black stone gate above opened automatically. The space necromancers, beetles, scorpions, and technicians under the command of the Witch Guard responded to the call and boarded their respective anti-gravity vehicles to follow in Tarasin's footsteps.

In the shadows, Tarachin activated three Death Seals through his consciousness network, using them as a trump card.

These elite necromancer snipers, equipped with phase teleportation capabilities, will prevent any unexpected incidents from occurring.

Minutes later, in one corner of the prismatic corridor, a confinement field rising from the ground trapped the stealth ship in place.

Tarasin, standing on an anti-gravity platform, led his undead army to a nearby location, surrounding the ships.

Under the influence of the confinement field, the ship revealed its true form.

It is square, resembling a brick, and its metal shell is made up of a large number of reinforced armor plates, unlike anything created by Eldar or humans.

Tarasin sensed the detectors in the prism corridor and was quite surprised to find that the detectors had not recognized the life forms of these creatures.

Interesting, interesting.

Could it be some kind of recently emerged species?

Tarasin became interested and decided to play with the creatures first before deciding which cage to put them in.

He cleared his throat and activated the speaker, saying:

"Who are you? Don't you know this is the tomb of the great, noble, and supreme Lord Tarachin? Quickly descend to the ground and beg for our Lord's forgiveness! Our Lord is merciful and magnanimous; if your apology is sincere enough, he will forgive your rash actions."

Tarachin thought he had disguised himself very well and praised himself without batting an eye.

To his surprise, he received an unexpected response from the direction of the ship.

"Oh, Tarasin, stop pretending. Don't think we don't recognize you just because you've put on a disguise!"

Tarasin was taken aback. He looked down at the body of the witch guard captain, not understanding where he had given himself away.

He wasn't angry; instead, he asked in surprise:
"How did you know who I was? I was disguised so well."

Hehe, want to know the answer? Go ask the God Emperor.

Li Nuo crossed his arms and grinned, with the panel for the Detection spell floating in front of him.

[Detection successful.]

【Name: Lich Guard Captain (Possessed by Talathim)】 【Description:】

The Lich Guards are the ultimate representatives of a dynasty's overlord, the most elite of all bodyguards.

In addition to the anima-metal bodies essential for Necromancers, Lich Guardians are equipped with ancient armor and phase scythes inherited from the War of Heaven. This gear allows them to withstand the bombardment of light spears and macro cannons, and can easily sever adamantite armor with minimal effort.

[Please note that this captain of the witch guard is possessed by Tarahim.]

The panel for the Detection Technique clearly stated the clues, and Li Nuo immediately recognized them.

“Tarasin, we’re here to do business.” Li Nuo gestured to the boy, who pressed a button to open the outer armor plating of the bridge, allowing his boss and the boss on the other side to communicate face to face.

Tarasin discerned the origins of these creatures from their accents and physical appearance:

"You are orcs? That doesn't make sense. Why didn't my detector detect your life form?"

Because each of us is equipped with the "Brother Mao's Quiet Force Field".

Li Nuo did not answer the other party's question, but went straight to the point:

"Do you have the corpse of an ancient orc leader in your possession? We need it. Name your price."

"The corpse of the ancient orc leader?" Tarasin subconsciously rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful.

"Oh, oh, I seem to remember that. Are you talking about that orc specimen that was over 20 meters tall, covered in chitinous armor, and whose pupils were bigger than my head?"

Li Nuo had never met the so-called leader of the ancient orcs, and could only say:

"If you don't have any other orc specimens here, then this should be it."

Taracin nodded almost imperceptibly, a troubled expression appearing on his metallic face:
“Orc, you know I always bring things back from outside, I never give anything away. But I’m curious, if I were willing to sell this ancient orc specimen, what price would you offer? I’ll give you three chances. As long as you make a offer that satisfies me, I will consider selling the ancient orc specimen.”

Consideration is not the same as agreement, and agreement during the event does not mean agreement afterward. This is a universal formula applicable to all realms.

Li Nuo understood Tarasin's intentions; the other party simply wanted to probe his background and see how much collectible value his orcs had.

Tarasin had no intention of making a deal!

But it's okay.

Li Nuo prepared a deal that Tarachin could not refuse.

"Tarasin, I've heard that you space necromancers dream of experiencing what it's like to have a physical body again, is that right?"

“Hmm, that’s true.” Tarasin’s interest was slightly piqued, his eyes darting around rapidly:
"Are you trying to show off some kind of sensory simulation device of the orcs? Useless. Over the past tens of millions of years, I have created no less than a hundred simulation devices that you cannot even imagine, and I have personally experienced them. However, the sensations brought by the simulation devices have never satisfied me. No matter how high your orcish mechanical sorcery level is, it can never surpass ours."

Unmoved by Tarasin's disparaging remarks, Li Nuo shrugged and said:

"Okay, talk is cheap. I'll show you how it's amazing, and you'll see how great it is."

“Okay.” Tarasin readily agreed, pointing to the necromancer in front of him:
"You, go and experience the green-skinned sensory simulation device."

"Yes, sir." The necromancer floated toward the ship on his anti-gravity skateboard.

Li Nuo told the other party to stop outside the bridge, relax, and open up.

After confirming that the other party was relaxed enough, Li Nuo pretended to take out a handheld device, pointed it at the necromancer, and pressed the switch.

"Clap."

After a crisp mechanical sound, the necromancer suddenly swayed and fell onto the anti-gravity skateboard. Luckily, it had magnetic locks on its feet, otherwise it would have definitely fallen from the sky.

A commotion broke out in the ranks of the space necromancers. The necromancers raised their Gauss rifles, pointing the muzzles intentionally or unintentionally at the portholes.

The Witch Guard piloted the Doomsday Scythe fighter jet, rapidly circling the ship to find an angle to attack.

It is clear.

The space dead are under threat.

But what happened next terrified them.

A figure emerged from the bridge.

It was a short, thin man who was less than 1.5 meters tall and wore iron pants and iron armor.

It walked in through the side door of the bridge, looked at its hands in confusion, and then looked up at the space ghosts outside the porthole in bewilderment.

After standing there stunned for a full five seconds, it screamed in an extremely high-pitched voice:

Oh my god!
Oh my god!
“Big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big!!!!

"I have a physical body now! I have senses!"

The farting spirit's voice came through the loudspeaker, and the space undead all stopped what they were doing.

When the fart spirit shouted, he subconsciously used the Katan language of the space necromancers. Although the orc's pronunciation structure made his intonation a little distorted, the group of space necromancers could still understand what he meant.

The little brat rushed toward the porthole, yelling and shouting, and clung to it, staring incredulously at the view of the prismatic corridor.

“Wuwuwuwu——”

The little brat clutched his head and wept bitterly, tears streaming down his face. He knelt down against the glass, sobbing uncontrollably.

Its every move, expression, voice, and micro-expression is something that a mere fart could not fake.

It's so real, so shocking.

For a moment, apart from a few naturally suspicious space necromancers, everyone else at the scene believed that the necromancer's consciousness had transferred to the fart spirit.

Li Nuo pressed the button again.

"Clap."

The necromancer's consciousness returns.

It abruptly awoke from its animated metallic body, first experiencing a period of bewilderment, then rushing towards the porthole without hesitation:
"Orc! I beg you! Let me go back to that body! Let me go back!"

The necromancer screamed until his voice was hoarse, and there was a clear sob in his voice.

It pounded on the porthole, pleading desperately.

The impact of this scene far surpasses that of the one just now.

Many space undead were eager to try out the orcs' consciousness transfer device themselves.

Even Tarasin couldn't help but crawl into the Phase Scythe, looking hesitant.

He was a dynastic overlord and a great inventor among the space necromancers.

He was well aware that shifting his focus carried enormous risks.

If one is not careful, one's consciousness will be imprisoned in a special container.

That's why he hesitated.

Li Nuo looked at the restless space necromancers and chuckled inwardly.

The consciousness transfer device in his hand was fake; the sixth reward simulated by Waaagh was real.

It was this reward option that helped me achieve the effect of shifting my consciousness.

(End of this chapter)