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

Chapter 900 The Last Ancient Sage

Leman Russ didn't need any evidence; he only needed to rely on his incredibly sharp intuition to determine that their Thunderhawk gunboats had deviated from their original course, and there must be some unknown reason behind it.

It was all too coincidental, as if it were a pre-arranged plot from a third-rate screenwriter.

They had just escaped from the Eye of Fear and were now brought to the planet Istvan III.

Although this planet has long been dead, the Primarchs know that it has a very special symbolic meaning.

Istvan III was the starting point of the Horus Rebellion, the beginning of this shameful human civil war, and could even be seen as a turning point in the fate of the human race.

Here, the four Astartes legions—Sons of Horus, Sons of the Emperor, World Eaters, and Death Guards—completed their internal purges. Hundreds of thousands of elite Astartes did not die in external wars, but rather at the hands of their own brothers.

Lemanrus felt a strange unease; it was as if an invisible hand was controlling their fate.

This giant hand brought these clones of the original genes to this planet that symbolizes the beginning of betrayal. What is it trying to do?
"Is this the beginning of throwing us 'fakes' into the crime scene of the 'real' ones? Making us admire the ruins? Or... for some kind of evil sacrificial ritual?"

The wolf king grumbled in dissatisfaction, and as time passed, his unease grew stronger.

“Vulcan, old friend,” Ruth’s voice held a hint of hope he himself didn’t realize, “Is there really no other way? How about trying your green-skin repair method again? Maybe after a few poundings, it’ll hum a couple of times again?”

He knew he was talking nonsense, but people in dire straits always seize any opportunity.

Vulcan raised his head, his eyes filled with helplessness and a hint of weariness.

He spread out his huge palms and shook his head.

"Russ, my brother, even if the most insane Orc, the Great Techies, came here, he would only shake his head in the face of this pile of stuff, and then dismantle it to make an even bigger bang-bang gun."

It's dead, utterly dead. The engine core melted down, the main structure completely collapsed under stress. We survived the impact thanks to the Emperor's blessing, or perhaps some evil god played a cruel joke.

The wolf king twitched the corner of his mouth, realizing that he had simply let his concern cloud his judgment.

"But we crashed into a dead world where there is no human activity. There is no equipment or materials to use, only the wreckage and ashes left over from that damned war."

"What's worse is that the dead transvestite is also with his master's hunting dogs, sniffing the scent we left behind and chasing after us like crazy. Who knows when they will catch up here."

Lemanrus looked on with a worried expression at his Primarch brothers, who were searching outwards from the crash site.

"Once we are caught by the Ascended Forgrim and the Slaanesh army, we will have no choice but to continue fighting to the death on this planet."

"The Istavan system is located on the edge of the northern border of the Milky Way, not very far from the outer black domain. In addition, due to the heavy damage of the war back then, the Empire has never been able to restore its rule over this area."

"Even if we wanted to request help, by the time the Empire detects our psionic messages and sends reinforcements, we'll probably have already been captured by that damned transvestite."

Ruth cursed the damned world before her. The war had been so brutal that they could find no usable materials.

Even craftsmen like Vulcan and Peturabo could not conjure up a vehicle out of thin air that could carry them on their journey without the support of basic equipment.

"Perhaps if we dig deeper, we'll have a better chance of finding less damaged machinery."

Guilliman spoke, his usual impeccable appearance now completely gone, his short golden hair stained with grayish-white ashes, his armor covered with a thick layer of grime, only his calm cobalt blue eyes remained sharp.

He pointed to the ground: "The surface was repeatedly bombed and burned, and everything of value must have been destroyed, but underground... there must have been deep underground bunkers, fortresses and command centers back then."

Bombing and tectonic shifts may have buried and sealed them away; perhaps there are still relatively well-preserved things underneath—that's our only hope right now.

“Then let’s do as you say and dig down.” Ruth readily agreed and adopted Guilliman’s suggestion.

The order was quickly relayed, and the Primarchs immediately sprang into action, channeling their terrifying physical strength into the most primitive form of digging.

The swords and shields that Vulcan had just forged became efficient tunneling tools. They were like a group of tireless human tunnel boring machines, frantically digging into the depths of the planet.

The deeper they went, the more shocking the things they unearthed became.

Flattened armored personnel carriers, twisted wreckage of laser cannon arrays, broken armor and bones of Space Marines, and even massive fragments of Titan machines.

Every layer of soil and rock records the brutality of that extinction war. The geological structure is chaotic and clearly has undergone unimaginable drastic changes. The boundaries between basins and mountains have long been blurred, leaving only traces of fragmentation and sedimentation.

The excavation work continued for an unknown period of time; in this dark and sunless underground, time lost its meaning.

"Stop, everyone! Don't make any noise!"

Magnus's voice, tinged with urgency and surprise, traveled through psychic energy into everyone's minds.

"I think I heard something, a... regular signal pulse?"

In an instant, all the digging sounds in the tunnels stopped.

Silence enveloped the underground space, with only the heavy breathing of the Primarchs and the occasional clicking sound of stress being released from the rock strata deep underground.

All Primarchs held their breath and heightened their senses to the extreme.

"Hiss...sizzle...tap...tap tap...hiss..."

Extremely weak, but definitely present, is a highly regular electromagnetic pulse signal that repeats at fixed intervals, clearly unnatural.

It pierced through the thick rock layers, beating tenaciously like a faint heartbeat.

“There’s a signal!” Peturabo’s voice was tinged with disbelief. “Although extremely weak, the frequency is clear… It’s definitely man-made, some kind of beacon?”

The flame of hope was instantly ignited in the hearts of all the Primarchs.

If there are still living things on this planet, then perhaps we can obtain more useful information and not wander around aimlessly like headless flies.

"Find it!" Lemanrus roared, and immediately adjusted the digging angle based on the general direction locked by Magnus and Peturabo, digging even more frantically toward the signal source.

The other Primarchs also quickly converged on him, concentrating their efforts to break through in the same direction.

The closer you get, the clearer the signal becomes.

It is no longer just a pulse; it begins to carry more detailed information.

A fragmented, heavily distorted, but still barely discernible audio message was transmitted along with the pulse.

“…Ancient…sage…is…here…waiting…for…you…”

The sound was severely distorted, filled with intense electronic noise, but the aged and weary tone, yet imbued with a steely resolve, pierced through centuries of dust and death, striking the Primarchs' ears.

"An ancient sage?" Guilliman wondered in the channel as he dug deeper. "Could there really be survivors in this godforsaken place? Surviving from the Great Rebellion all the way to the present? How is that possible?!"

However, the moment he finished speaking, the clone Forgrim froze as if struck by a high-voltage current.

"No...impossible!" he murmured, his purple eyes widening instantly, filled with extreme shock and an indescribable tremor that seemed to come from the deepest part of his soul.

"That voice, that name, could it be..."

The audio signal repeated itself, and this time, it seemed to become a little clearer because of their proximity:

"...An ancient sage...is here...waiting for you..."

"Rellano?!"

Forgrim suddenly let out a scream, as if he had completely lost his mind. He shoved aside Lemanrus, who was digging beside him, and rushed madly toward the source of the signal.

He slashed with his power sword, rammed with his shoulder armor, and even used his hands to pry open the rocks blocking his way. His movements were frantic and rapid, completely devoid of elegance and composure.

Phoenix muttered repeatedly, "Impossible, he should have died long ago, turned to ashes along with this planet, perished in that civil war, how could this be..."

The other Primarchs were stunned by Forgrim's sudden and insane action, but immediately realized that he must know the owner of the signal.

Without any hesitation, everyone immediately followed, digging at full speed towards their final destination along the mad tunnel opened up by Forgrim.

The last layer of rock was forcibly blasted open by Vulcan with tremendous force.

A huge natural underground cavity, formed by geological changes and the impact of an explosion, appeared before everyone.

Half of the cavity was filled with collapsed boulders and metal debris, and the air was filled with dust and deathly silence that had remained unchanged for centuries.

In the center of the cavity, in a crevice between a pile of massive, interlocking rocks, a figure was trapped.

That was a Defiant type Dreadnought.

It is ancient and enormous. Its original magnificent gold and purple paint has long been eroded by time, war and dust, leaving only a deep dark brown and black.

The aircraft's surface was covered in shocking wounds: huge claw marks, molten holes, dented armor plates...

One of its massive power claws drooped limply, and its other arm, which appeared to be a multi-barreled hot melt gun that had been welded on later, was also twisted and deformed.

Thick dust almost completely covered it, like a silent metal tomb.

However, right there in its scarred chest cavity, a faint point of light was stubbornly flashing, accompanied by the audio signal that said, "Ancient sage, we await you here."

It is the source of the signal.

Just as the Primarchs were staring in awe at this ancient war machine that seemed to have stepped straight out of the river of history, the flickering light suddenly became rapid and bright.

The Dreadnought's sensors seemed to detect something, and then its loudspeaker blared out.

"Traitor! Traitor!" A hoarse, distorted, and endlessly hateful synthesized voice suddenly burst from inside the Dreadnought, shattering the deathly silence of the underground cavern.

The drooping power claw suddenly lifted up, its joints emitting a screeching grinding sound, and the dust covering it fell in a flurry.

"Traitor! For the Emperor's sake! He must be purified!"

The fearless mech let out a deafening roar, and its massive body, stuck in the rocks, unleashed incredible power, shattering the boulders that imprisoned it.

Amidst the flying debris, its massive, gleaming, and icy claws, fueled by pent-up rage and hatred, lashed out with overwhelming force at the clone Forgrim, who had just rushed into the cave and was the closest to it.

This attack was as fast as lightning and extremely ruthless, a move clearly intended to take everyone down with it.

"Forgrim! Get out of the way!" Lemanrus roared, shoving the still-shocked phoenix away.

"clang!"

The power claw slammed into the rock wall where Fugrim had just stood, instantly tearing off a large chunk of incredibly hard rock and crushing it to powder.

"Traitor! Liar! Fallen One!!" The roar of the fearless mech was like a storm. It broke free of its restraints and took a step, shaking the entire cavern.

The multi-barreled fusion gun began charging, emitting a deadly buzzing sound, its target locked firmly on Fugrim.

"For our fallen brothers! For the Emperor! Die!" "Stop it!" Saint Gilles's power sword was the first to meet the attack, blocking the power claw that swung down again.

Magnus unleashed a psionic shockwave that slammed into the Dreadnought's torso, causing it to stagger.

Vulcan rammed into it from the side, trying to break its balance.

Other Primarchs also stepped forward, trying to control the ancient war machine that had suddenly gone berserk.

"Rellano, stop! Look carefully, we are not enemies!" Guilliman tried to shout, but his voice was completely drowned out by the frantic roar of the Dreadnoughts and the clanging of weapons.

In the midst of the chaos, Lemanrus's keen eyes noticed behind Rellano. Behind the pile of boulders that had been blocking it, there seemed to be a huge hemispherical metal structure covered in a thick layer of dust, but dangerous radiation warning signs and some blurry Gothic lettering could be vaguely seen.

"What is that? Some kind of energy core? Or a communication device?" The Wolf King's heart stirred. If they could make use of it, it might be of some help to them.

"Don't touch that thing!" Peturabo cried out in alarm.

He stared intently at the metal hemisphere, his voice filled with rare horror: "That's not equipment, that's a virus bomb! Judging from its model and structure, it's definitely the kind used during the Great Expedition."

Furthermore, its detonation state is incorrect; it appears the detonation sequence was forcibly interrupted, but its state should be extremely unstable!

This statement sent a chill down the spines of all Primarchs, from the soles of their feet to the top of their heads.

An unstable viral bomb that wasn't fully detonated has been sitting in the same cave as this insane, fearless mech for over a century?!

"Rellano, calm down! Look at us, look at who we are!"

Lemanrus roared as he dodged the barrage of fire from the molten steel gun: "You've been asleep for too long. Your neural circuits might be malfunctioning."

Perhaps it was the words that had an effect, or perhaps it was the pressure of facing so many Primarch-level opponents at the same time, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but Rellano's attack slowed down slightly.

Its massive sensor array spun back and forth, sweeping across Lemanrus, Saint-Gilles, Vulcan, and Guilliman, before abruptly freezing in the background.

There stood the pale-faced Clone Horus, the deathly calm Angron, the silent Mortarion, and the clone Forgrim, who had just gotten up from the ground with a complicated expression.

"Impossible..." For the first time, Rellano's electronic voice showed doubt and violent fluctuations, even a hint of confusion.

"Primarchs, so many Primarchs, Horus? Angron? Mortharian? And you, Forgrim! Traitor! Fallen!"
But why are there still loyal Primarchs? Robert Guilliman? Saint Gilles? Lane Johnson?

Is this an illusion? Has my soul finally collapsed completely?! Or have you all betrayed me, even the Emperor…?

The fearless mech's voice was filled with pain and confusion. It completely stopped attacking, its massive body frozen in place, as if it had crashed.

Just then, the clone Angron, who had been silent all along, suddenly took a step forward.

He didn't speak, but instead projected his innate special ability onto the fearless mech that was caught in a state of spiritual chaos.

For Angron, being a clone might not actually be a bad thing.

The other Primarchs were all weakened to varying degrees due to cloning, but he was the only one who was freed from the curse of the Butcher's Nail, the deadly implant.

Without the Butcher's Nail, Angron felt an extraordinary calm, a feeling he had only experienced before when he had just fallen into Nukelia and before the riot in the arena.

In this state, his empathic psychic abilities, which had been suppressed by the Butcher's Nail, were successfully unearthed, allowing him to empathize with others' emotions and share their pain.

The Dreadnought in front of him was clearly in a state of extreme pain, confusion, and self-contradiction. Angron almost instinctively formed a connection with it, which gradually calmed the Dreadnought down.

The mangled body inside the Dreadnought was instantly immersed in a peculiar feeling. He sensed Angron's simple message, "I understand your anger, but stop," and a soothing reassurance devoid of hostility.

This method of appeasement surprised everyone, but it worked remarkably well.

The tremors of the fearless mech gradually subsided, and the lights of the sensor array stopped flashing wildly and became slightly more stable.

The rage that had accumulated for a century, almost burning everything, was partially absorbed by Angron's mind.

A brief silence fell over the cave, broken only by the low hum of the Dreadnought's internal servo systems and the sound of coolant flowing.

Clone Forgrim took a deep breath and slowly walked forward, his face filled with complex emotions.

Shock, guilt, sadness, and a touch of disbelief.

He gestured for his other brothers to step back slightly, then faced the silent, ancient, fearless machine and said in as calm a voice as possible:
“Rellano… Ancient Sage, is it really you?” Fugrim’s voice trembled slightly.

The Dreadnought's massive sensors turned towards him, but instead of attacking immediately, it silently "stared" at the Primarch before it, seemingly confirming the Primarch's identity.

Forgrim continued speaking, fearlessly pouring out his heart to the emperor's son before him.

"Rellano, pride of the Sons of the Emperor's Legion, you fought alongside the Emperor himself in the War for the Unification of Terra."

And during the Great Crusade, because of your unparalleled courage and loyalty, you were the first Space Marine of the Third Legion to be permitted to wear the Imperial double-headed eagle insignia on your armor.

His words seemed to unlock the floodgates of long-sealed memories.

The other loyalist Primarchs also showed expressions of astonishment and awe.

To fight alongside an emperor? What an ancient honor that is.

“I remember…” Fugrim’s voice lowered, “In a fierce battle against the Adarin Arkworld, you covered the retreat of an important team of Tech-Priests, and were severely injured… your body was almost completely destroyed.”

"Our pharmacists and technical priests did everything they could to save you, which gave you the opportunity to be brought back and finally placed in this sacred, fearless mech sarcophagus, so that you can continue to serve the Empire and the Emperor."

Therefore, you earned the title of 'Ancient Sage' and are revered by the entire legion.

He raised his head, looking at the battered and weathered fearless mech before him, his eyes filled with pain.

"You, you should have been reduced to ashes along with this city and all the loyal soldiers in the bombing of Istvan III, so why are you here? Deep underground? And what about this viral bomb?"

The ancient sage Rellano remained silent for a long time, so long that one might have thought it had fallen into slumber once more.

Finally, the aged and calm electronic voice sounded again, but the previous madness and hatred had been replaced by a deep, bone-deep weariness and sorrow.

“I understand, you are not the Fugrim I know.”

"I am waiting here because of a promise and an unfinished mission..."

Rellano is older than all the Primarchs. He witnessed the beginning and end of the War of Unification, the beginning and end of the Great Crusade, and the outbreak of the Great Rebellion.

You could say he is a living history book, having experienced countless trials and tribulations.

Although he lost most of his physical body and could only "see" and "hear" the world through the sensors of his Dreadnought, it did not prevent him from seeing through the truth.

He saw neither the familiar arrogance and capriciousness in the man before him, nor the haughty pursuit of perfection.

Instead, he sensed in the man before him a kind of self-doubt he hadn't seen in a long time... or perhaps introspection.

This greatly shocked Relano and plunged him into an extremely complex dilemma.

"What promise? What mission?" Guilliman broke the awkward silence by asking.

Fogrem glared at his brother but said nothing. He also wanted to know what Rellano was insisting on.

"When you ordered the orbital drop to World Istvan III, you appointed Thor Taviz as commander instead of your favorite, Edoron. Taviz sensed something was wrong, so he entrusted me to take over his responsibilities."

The voice of the fearless mechs echoed in the deep underground, giving these people another perspective on that betrayal.

All the Primarchs, including Horus, Mortarion, Angron, and Forgrim—the three main perpetrators of the Istvan III atrocities—listened with exceptional seriousness.

They were eager to know what these loyalists thought and did when they realized they had been betrayed by the Primarch.

"Although I don't know where Taviz's premonition came from, I still agreed to his request. I parachuted to the surface with the Emperor's Son, but we did not find the 'enemy' that the Warmaster mentioned."

“Taviz realized something was wrong, so he preemptively sent a warning to his comrades on the planet’s surface, allowing most of the loyalists to survive the orbital bombing and the damage from the viral bombs.”

"We fought the rebels in the ruins of the planet, thanks to Angron, who brought 50,000 World Eaters to the surface, forcing Horus to stop using orbital bombardment to eliminate us without taking any damage, thus prolonging the war to three months."

When this situation was mentioned, Horus and the others immediately turned their attention to Angron.

Although these clones remain loyal to the Emperor and humanity, from a purely strategic perspective, Angron is a terrible ally.

Those Astartes that needed to be purged were all on the surface of Istvan III. They landed using drop pods and had no organized air vehicles to retaliate.

In this scenario, if they cut off all air vehicles and then slowly bombard the entire planet with orbital bombardment, they can essentially declare victory in the war.

Even if Astartes is incredibly powerful, it's impossible for it to shoot down a spaceship with its own explosive gun.

With just a handful of warships and enough ammunition, they could slowly gnaw away at these Astartes.

Angron's recklessness wasted a great deal of time for the rebels and gave the Empire precious time to warn and react.

However, Angron no longer cared about any of that. He had sensed Rellano's consciousness and witnessed those horrific scenes.

He saw his sons bravely rush towards him, only to fall to his weapons.

Tears welled up in Angron's eyes. When he looked at his past self from another perspective, endless pain and regret surged into his heart, breaking down his inner defenses.

"We held out in Holy Song City until we ran out of ammunition and food. We proudly faced death hand in hand. I promised Taviz, I promised Company Commander Erlen, I promised Loken that I would hold on until the day of victory."

"I promised Taviz, I promised all my brothers in the Third Legion, I will avenge myself on Fugrim and make that beast taste our wrath!"

The ancient sage roared, this obsession having sustained him through that war to the present day.

If the Primarch clones had not reached Istvan III, perhaps he would have continued to persevere in solitude until he saw the light of day again a thousand or ten thousand years later.

Rellano was lucky; he was one of the very few Astartes survivors of the Istvan III atrocities.

But he was also unfortunate. Compared to his combat brothers who died cleanly and decisively, he, an old man with only a broken body who needed to rely on the Dreadnought to prolong his life, had to struggle on, enduring endless pain and loneliness, until he could no longer see a hopeful future.

Having been cut off from all communication channels, Rellano, in his few moments of lucidity, was tormented by the ever-changing battle situation outside.

He didn't know whether Horus's rebellion was successful or not, or whether the emperor had won or was cruelly killed by Horus.

The unknown is the greatest fear, but Relano overcame these difficulties.

"Now, I have answered your questions, and you should answer mine..."

"Have we... won?"

(End of this chapter)