This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 232 The Lingering Charm of an Old Artist

"???"

Am I that famous?
"Oh~ it's me, it's me."

Seeing that the Dark Angels' weapons were already in a state of preheating due to their alien identities, Tarasin quickly removed his disguise.

The machinery beneath the red robe twisted and evaporated the flesh and blood within into scattered particles, revealing an even taller metal giant before everyone's eyes.

"Please calm down. This is a wonderful misunderstanding. I can explain. The current state of this planet has nothing to do with me. I'm just... sigh—"

Seeing the gazes of the Space Marines around him, and as his words grew sharper, Tarasin suddenly lost interest in explaining.

"It was only because you wanted to reclaim the collection that was about to belong to you that you stopped because of the brilliance of a civilization that was about to disappear."

Ramses circled Tarasin, resisting the urge to snatch the other's scepter.

I've gotten into a habit of buying things in the Subspace now; I want to touch anything that looks good.

"Right?"

"Oh."

Tarashin's metallic face showed a human-like surprise, then he looked at the Primarch, whom he had never seen before, with great respect.

"Yes, I find it hard to resist the urge to gaze at a firefly that flashes by and to capture it as it fades away; after all—one should pluck a flower while it blooms."

Taracin paused, he always liked to look back at the history of those civilizations that had long been forgotten.

"Don't wait until there are no flowers to break the branches," a line from Du Qiuniang's poem "Golden Thread Robe" from the Tang Dynasty, expresses the idea that one should fully appreciate and pick flowers when they are in full bloom, rather than lamenting their loss after they have withered.

Ramses rolled his eyes at him, and the junior judge who had followed him by smelled the scent quickly began to write down his notes.

Tarachin liked to interact with the descendants of other civilizations in this way, especially those who had forgotten them.

It seems that doing so is darkly humorous.

"When I was little, my mom made me carry it every day."

It wasn't that he was being manipulated into seizing the opportunity, or that his father got rich because he seized the opportunity.

I simply wanted to teach him to seize the moment and not have regrets.

"Then your mother must have been an excellent historian."

Tarasin sighed, then bowed awkwardly in the ancient ritual.

"The Milky Way stretches far and wide. I never expected to meet a fellow enthusiast here who can discover the beauty of civilization. Please allow me, as a collector, to express my respect to you."

“My mother is not a historian, and she doesn’t even know many words. She made me memorize these poems, even though she herself doesn’t understand much of them.”

Ramses replied:

"However, my mother is a wonderful mother, which allows me to remain confident when facing many people."

Okay, so where's your mom?

Tarasin rubbed his hands together, swallowing the words that were about to come out of his mouth, which were meant to preserve the precious item, to prevent the plasma from flying onto his face later.

He asked:

"By the way, do you know me?"

"Of course, the name of the Galactic Thief Saint is known to everyone."

Ramses nodded with a smile.

"To think that they could take away the perfectly preserved head of the Imperial Saint Bishop Sebastian Thor right under the nose of the Throne World."

Now it was the Black Sanctuary's plasma that couldn't hold back any longer.

The 292nd Pope, Sebastian Thor, led the established church to a period of reform during the Apostasy era, overthrowing the one led by Van Dijk. He then devoted himself to reform, shaping the established church into a relatively stable state. He can be considered the greatest pope in the history of the established church.

In his later years, the pope traveled throughout the galaxy, spreading his teachings, and finally returned to Terra at the age of 112, where he died six months later.

And then something happened that brought great shame to all members of the National Church.

The saint's head is missing!
"Uh"

Is this how you open the box?
Tarasin, who usually looked down on others, never imagined that he would one day be looked down upon himself.

"I did this to better preserve historical artifacts."

He replied confidently.

"Rather than letting things become history, I hope they can play a role in the present."

Ramses gestured for his soldiers to lower their guns as a gesture of goodwill, and then asked:
"So there are fragments of the Star God here?"

In the novels involving Tarachin, the plot always revolves around the fragments of the Star God. Unless it concerns a crucial historical moment in the galaxy, it's safe to assume that this is the direction to take.

"Yes."

Knowing that the other party seemed to have an unusual understanding of space necromancy, Tarachin spoke up:

“I overheard by chance that my dear compatriots had failed to safeguard the lifeline of their dynasty, so I felt it was my responsibility to preserve it for my compatriots for a time.”

"Of course, I have no intention of competing with you."

Tarasin reiterated.

To be honest, he's starting to regret not just taking the Star God fragment directly.

As a necromancer overlord, although he has always been proud of the technology his race possesses, he would instinctively choose to avoid any real confrontation with the mainstream human powers.

Especially since he didn't bring enough guards.

Tarasin's green eyes scrutinized Ramses, and he still couldn't figure out what these things disguised as Primarchs were.

Especially after witnessing Arthur's ability to directly annihilate souls, Tarachin was reminded of some rather unpleasant memories.

I glanced at the massive fleet in the sky, the Astral Army stretching across the land, and at least several thousand Astartes.
The disparity between us and the enemy seems rather significant. "Alright, it seems we have it then."

Ramses' eyes flashed, and then he casually put his arm around Tarasin's shoulder and led him into the group.

"Elbow, come into the house with me."

"Uh, don't you need technical support?"

It was rare to encounter someone with even less sense of boundaries than himself, and Tarasin felt somewhat uneasy.

“My previous identity was that tomb raider’s apprentice. I think you also need tactical guidance.”

"?"

You, the master thief, are now talking about others?
Tarasin remained calm in the face of Ramses's surprised gaze.

How can you call that stealing?

That's honesty and integrity!

"Need not."

Ramses shook his head.

If these Dark Angels, with ample supplies and several thousand men from various warbands, still can't take down a crippled forging city, they might as well just find a place to bury themselves.

The most urgent task is to keep the notorious bandit Tarahim under control. It's better to keep him under our noses than to let him continue to lurk in the shadows.

"So what do we do now?"

After adjusting his position and confirming that the other party had no intention of eliminating his clone in the short term, Tarasin simply put his hand on Ramses's shoulder, and the two stood together with their arms around each other.

"Wait someone."

Ramses remained vigilant, keeping an eye on the relaxed Tarasin beside him.

Although from a third-party perspective based on past data, Tarachin was one of the few 'good people' in the galaxy, and his petty theft would probably have been terrible for him, it undoubtedly represented hope for survival in this desperate universe.

But dealing with people in real life is different. You can't just rely on stereotypes to judge them, and there's no need to consider someone you've just met as a friend.

However, Ramses has yet to figure out how to control Tarasin.

Therefore, it is necessary to maintain a relatively stable relationship with Tarahim before you are sure you can control her.

As the two chatted idly about the contents of the Tarachin collection, a large transport plane slowly landed on the ground airport controlled by the Wings of Dawn.

Clad in force-feedback power armor and red holy robes, the guards disembarked and lined up neatly on both sides of the shuttle.

Then, the figure of the Great Sage Kaul appeared before everyone.

"."

Kaul observed the state of the foundry city.

What might be insignificant details to outsiders are very obvious clues to insiders like him.

The outer and middle layers have been breached, the defense facilities are largely inoperable, and the energy pipelines have been cut off.
As a series of speculative reports entered his mind, even Kaul couldn't help but feel surprised.

It's only been less than thirty minutes since the entire domain went silent, right?
"Great Sage, I've been waiting for you for a long time."

Ramses immediately stepped forward to greet him.

Kaul was one of the few who got along well with Ramses.

At least Ramses always showed the necessary respect when facing Caul.

Do you need further technical support?

A mechanical tentacle was inserted into the thinker's neural interface, and Caul continued to gather information and ask questions.

He observed the current structure of the entire foundry city, then looked up at the gaps, distinguishing the internal and external buildings.

"Need not."

Ramses gave the same reply.

“Follow me along the safe passage. Arthur has discovered an ancient artificial intelligence underground and needs your help. Karna and the Human Union representative are still on their way; they’re going the other way.”

"Where is Creek?"

His gaze lingered on Tarachin for a fraction of a second before he took off his mechanical leg to catch up with Ramses and asked.

He was quite surprised by this, and at the same time, a rather ominous thought arose in his mind.

"Yes, it's been resolved."

Dang~
The Great Sage's staff struck a broken servant on the ground. Because the neural disarmament protocol had been activated, the servant twitched twice on the ground.

The mortal members, as well as other battle groups that did not participate in the direct combat, all showed surprise.

Facing the surprised gazes of those around them, the Dark Angels remained calm, taking it all for granted.

Under the leadership of the Lion, they used 8,000 ground troops to seize control of a world-forging city within ten hours, thwarting the Warmaster's plot.

With His Highness and ample supplies, if they can't even take down a crippled forging city with several thousand men from various warbands, they might as well just find a place to bury themselves.

"It's really——"

After calming himself down, Kaul felt an unprecedented sense of relief wash over him.

Yes, that's the feeling—the feeling that one person only needs to do the necessary things, and under the leadership of a unified will, the task can be completed perfectly.

He doesn't need to take care of everything himself, he doesn't need to be wary of his colleagues, and he doesn't need to bear the pressure that shouldn't belong to him.

Just do your job well.

"Extraordinary".

(End of this chapter)