Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 894 Cloning the original body
"Clone?"

The word reached Ruth's ears, and suddenly those chaotic fragments of memory began to connect, bringing with them an indescribable sense of absurdity and shame.

He wasn't the original who had experienced everything? He was just a... fake created from a jar?
How can this be?

"Yes, a clone."

Fabius-Beyer observed the dramatic changes in Russ's facial expressions with great interest, as if he were watching a captivating drama.

"A miracle was born from our efforts and wisdom."

“We have gone through great lengths to collect the genetic samples of the true Primarchs. Some were recovered from the battlefield, some were ‘borrowed’ from our allies, and some were gifts from the Warp.”

He spread his hands and continued speaking, pointing to the twenty dormant amniotic fluid reservoirs around him.

"Look at you, and then look at them!"

"There are a total of twenty-one Primarchs, each containing the great power of genes."

"I have accomplished the feats that the emperor accomplished, and I will accomplish even more!"

Fabius's voice rose higher and higher with fervor, becoming somewhat distorted and hoarse.

"Shut up, you traitor!" Ruth roared, his body trembling slightly with extreme rage. "How dare you blaspheme the Father like this!"

The identity of a clone corroded his self-esteem like poison, but Bayer's admiring look at the experimental subject and the title of "traitor" engraved deep in his memory made Lemanrus furious.

“I don’t care what I am, but I know what you are… You’re nothing but a treacherous butcher, a parasite that desecrates the corpses of your brothers!”

"Do you think you've hidden your secret well? Back when the Sons of the Emperor's army was conquering the Thorns, you began using Xenomorph genes to modify the Sons of the Emperor, Astartes."

"And you, a dead bastard suffering from the withering disease, only managed to survive by desecrating the corpses of your brothers."

Lemanrus recalled some secret information about the Emperor's Son. He had a good relationship with the Sealholder, and Macardo, who controlled the Inquisition and the Assassin's Court, naturally had an unquestionable understanding of the various legions.

The Emperor's Son's withering disease, the Bloodthirst of the Holy Blood Angel, or the werewolves of the Space Wolves—these secrets are not considered secrets in the eyes of the Seal Bearer.

He took a sudden step forward, and the laboratory floor seemed to shake.

"Tell me, what did you do to my brothers?! Why am I the only one who woke up?!"

"Don't get excited, my little wolf cub." Bayer took a half step back, but his face still held that maddening composure and curiosity.

"Your brothers... don't worry, they're fine, they're still asleep. We're still fine-tuning the final parameters, fixing some of their 'defects,' and avoiding some unnecessary trouble."

He glanced meaningfully at Anglon and Coz's amniotic fluid reservoirs.

"As for why you were the first to wake up?" Bairmo stroked his chin, a hint of amusement and confusion in his eyes.

“That is indeed an interesting question. After all, in my assessment, Lemanrus… well, the original form, is only considered to be of average quality among the Primarchs.”

“Strength? It’s passable, but far inferior to Vulcan. Intelligence? Mediocre, inferior to Guilliman. Psionic abilities? Inferior to Magnus and Sanguielles.”

"Your only commendable quality is probably this beast-like intuition and... well... tenacious vitality?"

Bayer's attitude was like evaluating a product, showing absolutely no respect for the original gene.

“Theoretically speaking, Primarchs who are more skilled in psionic abilities, such as Sanguis, Magnus, or even Koz, should have awakened earlier.”

He looked Ruth up and down and said slowly, "And you, a simple-minded warrior, were the first to break free of the amniotic fluid reservoir? That's interesting, very interesting!"

"Perhaps I've made a mistake somewhere, or perhaps your animal instincts were accidentally amplified during the cloning process? Or maybe some residual projection of Fenris is at work?"

"But no matter what, please remain calm, Lemanrus. The laboratory you are in now is our most important property. Any disrespectful behavior of yours will be punished by us."

Lemanrus stared intently at the injection gun gripped tightly in the other's hand. His primal instincts reminded him that the weapon was extremely dangerous, and that he currently had no armor to protect his flesh and blood, so he should not act rashly.

The clone primed himself, recalling his memories, and quickly realized that his current physical strength was abnormally weak. He didn't know if it was because he had just escaped from the amniotic fluid chamber and hadn't recovered yet, or because Fabius's cloning was not perfect.

A bitter smile appeared on Ruth's lips; he still found it hard to accept the fact that he was a fake.

Just then, another black door deep inside the laboratory opened.

Several figures emerged like ghosts, dressed in robes made of dark leather, thin metal plates, and living tissue stitched together. Their faces were covered with bone masks carved with expressions of pain, revealing only their eyes that gleamed with an inhuman cold light.

Their arms were long and slender, and their specially modified hands held various strange tools that gleamed with a cold light, such as cutting blades, syringes, and bone-crushing drills that appeared and disappeared intermittently.

They silently gathered around Fabius Beyer, their cold gazes sweeping like probes over the soaking wet, murderous Ruth, and the sleeping Primarchs around him.

Ruth sensed the powerful malice emanating from these Bloodwalkers and immediately felt nauseous and horrified.

“My masters have arrived,” Bayer said lazily, turning to look at the Bloodwalker.

“You’ve also colluded with those Eldar bastards, the Dark Eldar from Comoros!” Lemanrus’s teeth chattered, making a chilling noise.

“This is a great collaboration, with wise men from different races coming together to climb even higher peaks,” Fabius said, offering a contrasting opinion.

"Knowledge knows no racial boundaries. If you still harbor narrow-minded racism in your mind, you will inevitably be abandoned by the times."

"Only by being enterprising, constantly seeking change, and breaking through with innovation can we maintain our vitality and prosper for a long time."

Lemanrus's facial muscles clenched, as if he had heard some foul language that instinctively disgusted him.

"By the Emperor, even the Chaos Astartes, who chose betrayal, would instinctively hate and despise the Xenomorphs. And you, the bastard of Fulgrim, you actually take pride in cooperating with the Xenomorphs!"

Faced with the wolf king's questioning, Fabius smiled noncommittally.

"That instinctive hatred is just a natural reflex planted in our genes by the emperor. He sees us as biological weapons, so naturally he needs to set limits, but I am no longer under his control."

"I am the controller of genes. I have long understood its operating rules and modified them."

"Besides, it's not just us traitors you call collaborating with the Xenomorphs; aren't the Emperor and your brothers also collaborating with the Eldar and the Necromancers?"

"You don't need to stand on your moral high ground and criticize me. I don't buy it. If you can do it, why can't I?"

"Moreover, my starting point is very pure, only for the sharing of knowledge and the advancement of science. The cooperation between the Empire and the alien race is fraught with treacherous and ugly intrigues. It is obvious which is superior."

The Emperor's son's sharp tongue exceeded Lemanrus's expectations. He had never known that the Third Legion's eccentric and taciturn chief apothecary, besides having special expertise in the field of biochemistry and genetics, was also so difficult to deal with verbally.

“Fine, very well.” Ruth laughed in exasperation.

"That bastard Fugrim, you not only cloned us, but you also cloned your own genetic father who chose to fall into chaos?"

"What, do you want a lot of fathers to 'love' you?"

"If you're so starved for love, just call me father, and I'll love you too." When it comes to sharp tongues, even a purebred Fenris barbarian like the Wolf King is no less formidable.

Ruth pointed to Forgrim, who was dormant in the amniotic fluid reservoir.

Even with his eyes closed, arms wrapped around his knees, and his entire body curled up, this Primarch of the Third Legion still exuded an amazing charm that instinctively drew people in.

The phoenix is ​​like the Sleeping Beauty in ancient legends; even a fleeting glimpse is enough to inspire feelings of loyalty and worship.

When Forgrim was mentioned, the cruel smile on Byr's face finally faded a little.

Regarding his genetic father, although he claimed that he had broken free from the constraints of genetic instincts, he still had some influence in the end.

“Forgrim…” Bayer suddenly sighed, seemingly heartbroken.

"My cloning of him is my private matter, and it has nothing to do with you." The next moment, the super pharmacist who had cloned the original sneered.

"Now you have two choices: either go back to the amniotic fluid reservoir and continue to hibernate, or I can pretend nothing happened."

Byr spoke in a chilling tone, in his eyes the so-called genetic prototype had lost its sanctity and was no different from other experimental subjects.

"Or... you could try to kill all of us guards with your bare hands and fight your way out of my lab with your clone brothers."

“I hope you can stay clear-headed. You are not the Lemanrus of your memories. You are far less powerful than he was.” Bayer issued his final ultimatum.

"I don't care who I am!" Ruth's voice boomed like thunder.

"I don't care whether I'm a clone or not."

He straightened his body, and although he was completely naked, the aura of authority and oppression at the Primal level spread out as if it were a tangible thing.

“But they are my brothers!” He pointed to Ryan, Saint Gilles, Dorn… and even to Angron and Fogrim’s amniotic fluid reservoirs.

“No matter what happened in the past, whether they are the original or clones... as long as they have the same blood as me, as long as they call me by that name, they are my brothers!”

"I, Lemanrus, will never allow traitors and alien bastards to be treated like laboratory mice!"

The wolf king suddenly stepped forward, adopting Fenris's most primitive and ferocious unarmed fighting stance, his gaze fixed on Fabius's throat like a wild wolf locking onto its prey.

"Now, traitor, I'm giving you two choices!"

"Get out of my way! Or..." He grinned, revealing a wild and bloodthirsty smile, his white teeth gleaming coldly.

"Let me use your bones and entrails to pave a red carpet for my brothers to wake up!"

The playful smile on Fabius Bayer's face vanished.

The will and momentum displayed by the clone before him far exceeded his expectations.

He originally thought that even clones, without growth experience and real-world trials, would not be as complete as their original counterparts; they should only have the appearance.

The pharmacist slowly drew the strangely shaped injection gun that shimmered with an eerie green light from his waist, while his other hand reached for a device resembling a sound wave generator on his back.

“Interesting. It seems the debugging process needs to be brought forward. Perfect, let me see how much pain this replica can withstand, and where your limits are.”

After saying that, Bayer pressed a button on the sound generator.

Om-!
An invisible yet extremely sharp high-frequency noise, seemingly capable of penetrating directly into the brain, instantly filled the entire laboratory, even causing visible distortions and ripples in the air.

Ruston felt as if his eardrums were being pierced by countless red-hot needles at the same time, and his brain felt as if it were being violently churned. A violent wave of dizziness and nausea instantly washed over him.

He groaned, his body swayed uncontrollably, and the scene before his eyes became blurry.

Fabius accomplished the great task of cloning the Primarchs, so he was naturally very clear about the unique physiological structure of each Primarch.

He even found the most effective sonic frequency to target Lemanrus, so that he could counter the Wolf King if necessary.

"Hmph, is that all you've got?" Bayer sneered, raising the syringe and pointing the eerie green needle at Russ. "Looks like a beast is still just a beast, all brute force and no substance."

He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

A thin, yet lightning-fast, emerald-green crystal needle shot out, aiming straight for Russ's bare chest. This was a powerful potion personally concocted by Bayer, combining the anesthetics of the Blood Spirits.

Byrna tested the potion's effects on a hundred Orcs. When the anesthetic, diluted into a mist, was placed around the Orcs, these ridiculously resistant aliens immediately fell into a deep coma.

Without a subsequent antidote to awaken them, these aliens might even fall into a coma and die.

Deep within Ruth's brain, which was reeling from the noise, a primal, violent power was ignited.

That was the ferocity that the Fenrisians unleashed in dire straits, a fighting instinct etched deep within their genes. They didn't need to think; their bodies reacted before their consciousness even began.

A roar even wilder than before erupted from the depths of his throat, carrying a peculiar, soul-shaking power that briefly drowned out the sharp noise.

At the same time, his superhumanly strong leg muscles suddenly burst forth with terrifying power. He no longer tried to fight against the noise, but instead lunged to the side at an unimaginable speed and angle.

The wolf king's movements were extremely swift and wild, seemingly without any rules, yet full of pragmatic efficiency.

The eerie green anesthetic crystal grazed his ribs and struck a massive biochemical organ culture tank behind him.

The sturdy reinforced glass was instantly corroded, creating a large hole. The deformed biological tissue soaking inside hissed and quickly dissolved, turning black and emitting foul-smelling smoke.

Rus lunged towards the location where the Blood Spirits were.

He grabbed the nearest Bloodlust man and ripped off a heavy bone saw, half a man's length long, that extended from his back. The gleaming teeth gleamed with a chilling sharpness under the light.

Without pausing, the Wolf King used the momentum of his charge to twist his body in mid-air, and the huge bone saw, with a terrifying whistling sound that tore through the air, cleaved down towards the Blood Elf closest to him.

The Blood Man clearly hadn't expected Ruth to unleash such terrifying speed and counterattack after being attacked by the sonic wave. He only had time to let out a short, sharp scream before raising a small tool resembling a scalpel in his hand to try and block.

The heavy bone saw, imbued with Ruth's full strength and rage, easily cleaved the small scalpel along with the Blood Man's raised arm bone, then plunged viciously into the Blood Man's skull.

puff!

The sickening sound of bones shattering and liquid splattering rang out simultaneously, and the Blood Demon's head, covered by a bone mask, exploded instantly like a smashed egg.

The Dark Eldar's brains and blood splattered all over Russ, whose headless body swayed, convulsed, and collapsed.

Ruth showed no disgust, sticking out her tongue to roll up all the brain matter on her face, and then immediately began to decipher the Blood Spirit's memory code.

A look of surprise flashed across Fabius's face; he realized that he had underestimated these clones.

While the clone is not as good as the original, it is still a weakened version of the original.

A squad of elite Imperial Sons swordsmen immediately rushed in. Some of them held sonic weapons, while others carried torture instruments unique to the Dark Eldar. But what they all had in common was that they carried long, narrow swords without any disintegrating force field.

Ruth knew the danger of being outnumbered, but he showed no fear on his face, and even wore a wild smile.

"Don't act all high and mighty. I thought you guys were something special."

"A guy who'd die if he were killed, yet he dares to act tough in front of me?"

Riemann Russ's voice was full of disdain.

Before the words were even finished, the clone was already launched again like an arrow released from a bow.

But this time, his target was not Fabiusbeil, nor the bloodthirsty men who were eyeing him covetously, but the amniotic fluid reservoirs that stood like giant tombstones.

Regardless of whether he is the original or a clone, and regardless of what he will face after waking up, these sleeping brothers are his only hope and the people he must protect.

There was absolutely no way he could possibly fight his way out of the siege by the Chaos Space Marines, the sons of the Emperor, and the unpredictable Bloodlings, let alone take them with him.

"Stop him! Stop him immediately!" Bayer's sharp command rang out, and he began to retreat without hesitation.

In terms of combat power, Bayer, who is obsessed with researching biological genetic modification, is not actually that powerful. His greatest reliance is still the endless stream of multi-functional drugs and special tools he has.

He created some distance, letting the swordsmen, the sons of emperors, block his way, while simultaneously aiming his eerie green tranquilizer gun at Russ's rapidly moving figure.

Ruth's animal instincts saved him once again; as if he had a premonition, he constantly dodged the enemy's tranquilizer guns and high-voltage electric nets.

As he rolled, he grabbed a heavy metal toolbox from the ground and, like throwing a hammer, slammed it with all his might into the nearest amniotic fluid reservoir.

This is the amniotic fluid reservoir of Roguedorn. Ruth's choice was extremely rational. Even among the many Primarch brothers, Dorne is one of the most determined, logical, and powerful in battle. Once awakened, he will be of great help to the Wolf King.

The heavy toolbox slammed into the reinforced glass of the Dorne amniotic sac, cracks spreading instantly but not yet shattering. Then, Ruth recklessly threw herself into it.

The amniotic fluid reservoir finally shattered completely, and a large amount of light green amniotic fluid mixed with glass shards gushed out.

The Rogdorn clones, immersed in the water, were swept along by the current and slammed heavily onto the cold, slippery ground.

His rock-hard face twitched, and his tightly closed eyelids trembled violently, as if he were struggling in a nightmare, but he did not wake up immediately.

The Emperor's Son's elite swordsmen had already rushed forward. They were well-trained, moved with lightning speed, and coordinated perfectly.

Unlike their comrades who had become intoxicated with pleasure and completely lost their discipline and will, they at least retained a trace of the once powerful legion.

There was no roar of explosive guns; in this precious laboratory, they used more controllable melee weapons.

These sons of emperors did not like to use traditional power swords, and Lemanrus recognized the weapons in their hands.

It is a special weapon called the Shanabar saber. It does not require the disintegration of a force field; it relies entirely on its extreme sharpness to injure the enemy, and it requires a very high level of skill from the user.

Two swordsmen, one on the left and one on the right, lunged at Russ's exposed ribs like venomous snakes.

Heavy armor is the best defense against this weapon. Due to the lack of disintegration field or chainsaw armor-piercing effect, they will be particularly passive when facing enemies such as those wearing Terminator armor.

The problem now is that Ruth doesn't even have a loincloth and can only rely on his own flesh and blood to tough it out.

Their swordsmanship was exquisite, their angles were tricky and ruthless, sealing off all of Russ's room to dodge. The interference from the sound waves continued, and Russ felt that his reaction was half a beat slower.

A sharp pain shot through him as Shanabar's saber easily sliced ​​through his tough skin and muscle, leaving two deep, bone-revealing wounds on his left ribs.

The weapon on the other side grazed his outer thigh, tearing off a piece of flesh, and blood instantly stained his body red.

"Damn it, is this all the Primarch's physical abilities are?"

"Or is it that even my clone's physical attributes are a weakened version? Does that make sense?!"

Russ roared in pain, but the pain only fueled the ferocity in his bones.

Ignoring his wounds, he advanced instead of retreating, crashing into the swordsman on his left like a raging beast, while simultaneously slashing down with his bone saw at an unavoidable angle.

The emperor's son swordsman reacted much slower than the wolf king, and was caught off guard, stumbling from the impact.

Ruth practically used the bone saw in his hand as a crowbar, smashing it directly onto the Emperor's Son's sword blade.

A piercing metallic scraping and cracking sound rang out as the meticulously crafted Shanabal saber was smashed in two by the heavy bone saw. The broken blade tip spun out and embedded itself in an instrument in the distance.

"You think you're Akulduna? Fool!" Rus suddenly blurted out a name. He remembered the famous swordsman of the Third Legion, the former leader of the two hundred swordsmen.

Russ spun around, and the heavy bone saw swept across with a whooshing sound, forcing another swordsman who was trying to sneak up from behind to retreat in a sorry state.

Ruth's fighting instincts awakened rapidly. He no longer relied solely on brute force, but began to utilize the environment, the enemy's weapons, and even his own injured body as bait to launch a counterattack.

Every dodge, every block, every counterattack becomes more efficient and deadly.

Like a young wolf growing rapidly in bloody battles, he is regaining his combat skills at an astonishing speed.

Just as he forced back two swordsmen and gained a brief respite, his gaze locked onto three other nearby targets.

One was the amniotic fluid reservoir belonging to Felus Manus, and the other two were marked with [II] and [XI], but the Wolf King couldn't remember their names.

"Brothers, wake up!" Rus roared, exerting force once more.

Ignoring the swarming Imperial Sons swordsmen, he charged like a cannonball toward Feralus's amniotic fluid reservoir, risking several more deep, bone-revealing wounds.

"Stop him! Don't let him open that!" Bayer's voice carried a rare hint of panic.

Feralus Manus, one of the Primarchs he least wanted to awaken now.
The entanglement between this Primarch and the Emperor's son is far too deep, and his awakening now could very well cause even greater changes.

But it's too late.

boom!
The reinforced glass shattered instantly, and Ferrus's amniotic fluid reservoir was broken.

Almost simultaneously, Ruth threw the bone saw out of his hand. The heavy bone saw spun and slammed into the two vaguely marked amniotic fluid reservoirs with terrifying force.

The clone of Ferrus Manus crashed heavily to the ground, the cold ground and air instantly providing a powerful shock, causing his tightly closed eyes to snap open.

Similar to Felus's experience, after Felus opened his eyes, his brain uncontrollably began to recall past memories.

However, compared to the Wolf King, Felus's memories are much more fragmented.

All he could remember was Istvan V, that he led 10,000 Terminators of the Avini clan to shatter the rebels' defenses, and that the reinforcements that arrived turned out to be traitors.

His last memories were of Forgrim's twisted, maniacal laughter and the cold, darkness of his own severed head.

Feralus experienced the feeling of death once again, and immediately clutched his head in a state of rage.

This Primarch, known as the Iron Hand, did not have his hands encased in special living metal like the original; he still retained his flesh and blood.

After the pain subsided, Felus instantly locked onto all the figures in purple armor in the laboratory.

"Son of the Emperor! Traitor! Fulgrim's lackey!"

The situation was quite different in the other two ruptured amniotic fluid reservoirs.

The moment the two clones were removed from the amniotic fluid, their bodies began to convulse violently and unnaturally.

Their faces were contorted, and countless worms seemed to wriggle beneath their skin, with bulging blood vessels displaying an eerie purplish-black color.

They tried to struggle, tried to breathe, but only a hissing sound like a broken bellows could be heard coming from their throats.

In just a few seconds, their bodies withered and charred at a visible speed, as if they had been burned to ashes from the inside by invisible flames.

The Emperor's punishment of erasure is absolute; even clones of the Primarch cannot escape the fate of being erased.

This terrifying and bizarre scene brought a brief moment of deathly silence to the laboratory. Even the cold-blooded Bloodwalkers had a flicker of surprise in their eyes behind their masks.

Why is this? Why do some Primarchs awaken unharmed, while others die tragically?

Looking at the two charred clones, Bayer's face showed an unexpected fear for the first time.

(End of this chapter)