This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 183 I've been human for a long time

Esteria, the ancient ruins of the Eldar.

In the dim light of dawn, the outline of the ruins' spires was faintly visible through the thin mist. The slain insect carcasses and blood had been completely incinerated by the plasma flames, leaving only charred marks.

After a nightmarish second half of the night, the humans in the ruins gradually calmed down under the soothing cares of the angelic offspring.

Everywhere were patrolling reserve soldiers, their terracotta boots treading across the smooth ground of the Eldar ruins as they surveyed their surroundings.

People assisting with the work moved among the crowd, unloading boxes of supplies from the transport boats. Server communication devices were distributed to each group leader, and the priests of the 'Dawn Church' in charge of organizing the event were also grouping the people together.

On the cleared land, long queues formed at the makeshift distribution points, where compressed rations and purified water were distributed in an orderly manner.

Each recipient must pause for one second in front of the scanner so that the genetic identification system can record their biometrics.

In the shadows, certain marked figures always disappear suddenly, and these "special individuals" are taken deep into the ruins by silent black-armored warriors.

There was no struggle, no farewell, only the sigh of the hydraulic system as the transport boat's hatch closed.

With the publication of reports of gene stealers, they never appeared in the sight of acquaintances again.

Over the years, the Wings of Dawn have gradually grown into a behemoth, no longer needing to coerce the masses like Pierre did, using blood to select true warriors for combat.

These civilians, who have not received professional military training, will receive sufficient supplies and then maintain order under the church's management.

Their movements were very practiced, and their coordination with various organizations was highly efficient; the entire process flowed smoothly.
Identity verification, temporary shelter setup, personnel splitting and management, and family reunion registration—every step demonstrates that this is a well-prepared emergency plan.

On the highest observation platform in the ruins, several technical priests dressed in red robes were 'adjusting' the communication array.

Their mechanical tentacles danced across the control panel, forcibly grafting ancient Eldar technology onto Imperial equipment.

The electric arc jumped across the crystal surface, as if resisting this blasphemous transformation.
-
Aurel and other surviving members of the Savage Eldar race were relegated to an unpolluted area within a set of ruins.

Out of camaraderie forged in battle and out of the importance of the Soul of the World, the Dawn Fleet adopted a policy of leniency towards these barbaric Eldar.

They simply dispatched a few Netherworld constructs disguised as fearless ones to manage the situation.

This is Ramses' recent research finding.

The Eldar are not lacking in illiterate people either; it's better to use them for fighting than to rely on them for research.

The Eldar's technology is perfectly suited to this resurrection of the dead operation; the Netherworld Constructs can be plugged in and used with slight modifications, making them even more convenient than the Thunderforged Divine Weapons.

The Eldar are a race whose souls are incredibly resilient; once the influence of Slaanesh is removed, they can simply pull out any body they find in the real universe.

I strongly suspect that the Ancient Ones added a pre-built system when they modified the Eldar, allowing the Eldar to resurrect without going through a series of complex warp rituals.

To provide a plausible explanation for those in the know, these ghostly constructs were all encased in an Imperial-style shell.

Then a type of Dreadnought registration document called 'Spirit Forging' Dreadnought appeared on the Highlord's desk, accompanied by detailed but flawless technical parameters.

Aurel is clearly one of those who knows what they're doing.

She knew perfectly well that beneath the shell of these silent guardians throbbed a being far more intimate than any human creation.

"Salute to you, great ancestors."

Aurel bowed deeply with the most standard ancient Elven etiquette, her slender body tracing an elegant arc in the dim light, her emerald eyes lowered to avoid direct eye contact with the fearless visual sensors of the Forged Spirits.

This is the most basic respect for sleeping souls.

These ancestral souls, imprisoned in mechanical shells, were listless and weary, yet they still had to fulfill their duty of protection even after death, which stirred a bitter ripple in her heart.

The souls of the Netherworld constructs are simultaneously anchored between the real universe and the infinite circuits. This torn state makes their perception of the material world seem as if it were through a thick veil.

On the battlefield, their movements are frustratingly slow, sometimes suddenly coming to a standstill as if lost in the cracks of time and space. Only when guided by the Soul Guides with ancient psionic chants can they accurately distinguish friend from foe.

The Eldar souls that enter the Infinite Circuit do not gain eternal freedom as the legends suggest.

Those proud consciousnesses will gradually sink into the depths of the soul's network, like grains of sand sinking into a bottomless ocean. Past memories and distinct personalities will be slowly and irreversibly diluted, eventually turning into another dreamless node in an infinite loop.

Therefore, each awakening of the Netherworld construct is a long torment of the ancestral soul, and must be treated with respect.

Aurel often listened to his ancestors recount the glory of the Eldar in the past, teaching them that they should learn a lesson from the Eldar's extravagance and debauchery.

Although the barbaric spirit race pursues ancient and backward production methods, their knowledge and understanding of the world are in no way inferior to those technologically advanced spirit race branches, and may even be superior.

"Just call me Thalyssa. I used to be a howling banshee."

"Formerly the Howling Banshee, now the fearless pilot of 'Spirit Forging'," Thalyssa couldn't help but say.

The Ark Eldar have considerable respect for their ancestors, and besides, she's only a little over two thousand years old; she couldn't possibly be pretending. While there are constructs capable of speech, that means their inner souls haven't fully integrated into the Infinite Circuit, and such a state accelerates the dissolution of their personalities.

Her emerald pupils trembled slightly as a terrible thought surfaced in her mind: Was the situation of this group of Ark Eldar so dire that it was necessary to send souls that had not yet completed their transition into battle?
"My compatriots."

Her voice was soft, but filled with undisguised sorrow.

"I cannot help but feel sorrow for your sacrifice."

Aurel took a half step forward, but then stopped with restraint. She knew that each of the Netherworld constructs was a moving reliquary and should not be touched lightly.

"Is your world safe and sound? Our settlement is now secure; you may return."

His words carried a cautious probing tone, yet were also filled with genuine concern.

She couldn't imagine what kind of crisis had forced these cousins ​​to prematurely throw their unfinished ritual souls into battle.

Meanwhile, a surge of warmth was welling up inside Aurel.

Even when they themselves were in dire need of protection, they still sent aid to Esteria—what a noble sacrifice that was!

In Aurel’s heart, a warm current was spreading with each heartbeat. If the sacrifice of the human warriors shocked her, then the actions of these Ark relatives who came to her aid despite knowing their own danger made her soul tremble.

This mutual support that transcends millennia of separation is more moving than any ancient epic.

"???"

Thalyssa was taken aback. After a few seconds, her soul, which had been immersed in the warp for a long time, finally realized what the other person meant.

So she immediately began to explain.

"We are part of humanity."

The voice coming from the loudspeaker suddenly became clear and articulate, even carrying a hint of Imperial Gothic intonation.

"We are determined to fight to defend the interests of humanity as a whole, and this is the place we need to protect."

"???"

Aurel’s expression froze instantly; her slender fingers hovered in mid-air, as if she had been put on pause.

This shock even surpassed the awe she felt when she first faced the Chaos God, after all, no one had told her back then that proud Eldar warriors would shout slogans at humans.

"Puch~"

A psionic energy fluctuation emanated from inside Thalyssa's body, as if it were laughing.

If it weren't for the great prophet Hector personally selecting her to board the warship of the Pioneer Lord, she would probably still be drifting in the void of the universe, enduring the pain of her destroyed homeland day after day, wandering aimlessly in despair.

Of course, to be fair, life for the Eldar on the Ark wasn't so bad—if you don't consider the ever-present dark omens, the risk of running out of Soul Stones, and their personalities being gradually devoured by the Infinite Circuit.

But joining humanity and serving the human community would open up a whole new world for her.

Her mechanical fingers unconsciously caressed the four-winged emblem hanging on her chest; this action had become her new habit.

The endless loops don't feel as comfortable as the park.

She then ignored Aurel, whose worldview had been shattered by unprecedented shock and who was now in a state of limbo, and diligently carried out her duties.

What Ark Eldar? That's all from a past life.

She has been human for a long time.

A Space Marine dressed in bright yellow armor walked towards us.

His armor was tattered, but his soul shone brightly and could not be ignored.

Thalyssa immediately manipulated her mech to perform a flawless Imperial military salute, her fingers, covered in a thin layer of refined gold, tapping a crisp sound on her breastplate.

Loyal! Sincerity!
clang!
Faced with the 'fearless elder's' sudden bow.

Froston, who had just assisted the church in disaster relief and resettlement and was preparing to communicate with the barbarian spirits under Romulus's command, was flattered.

He quickly bowed in greeting.

Snapped!
Zhu Lingwuwei knelt down and performed a grand salute.

"???"

(End of this chapter)