This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 430 It's now two against one (5k)

Vashtor remains a powerful warp entity that possesses a considerable number of malevolent arts.

This must be kept in mind.

Inside this warship, which could be called a city, millions of demons remain trapped, terrified, struggling to survive as human attacks assault the crumbling barriers within the Planet Killer.

Many demons, perhaps even most demons, are not warriors at all.

These demons are energy sources, intelligent security locks, and processors in a certain computing process. Their initial purpose here was to be trapped by a warp entity skilled in this field. Now, their only means of survival are steel bodies forged in a furnace, complex and varied, yet far more systematic than the equipment currently deployed by humanity.

The Demon Engine series is based on a fundamental structure and generates multiple functions by replacing some parts.

Now they have blended into the already crowded ruins and gaps, suppressed by an invisible force and unable to move, like fish suddenly thrown into dry sand. Only those demons who know the scientific principles can still move. They resist the 'invaders', endure the hunger brought by long-term oppression and the fear brought by the invisible body in the warp, living in constant fear.

Aglaia watched as the massive, interwoven buildings flashed by in the firelight, the ceiling above her resembling hell, riddled with gaps created by the concentrated bombardment of the Planet Killer.

The few remaining lights flickered, sewage flowed everywhere, and ashes covered the ground. In the open area around the Heart of Plague, apart from the troops that kept entering through teleportation, mechanical wreckage piled up like mountains.

Most of them were empty, but almost every model had thirteen deliberately left.

She leaned against the shadow of a heavy armored transport vehicle's frosted exterior, noting the features of these demonic engines while listening to the grumbling voices.

"No, please spare me, I beg you."

"I'm willing to be your slave, please don't send me into the subspace!"

"I can love humanity, and I can love the Empire!"

“Vashtor, I—”

The vast majority of the fear was that of demons struggling and screaming inside the furnace.

The Grey Knights' psionic weapons often blaze with light, banishing demons that are powerful enough, intelligent enough to manipulate machines to a certain extent.

Fortunately, most of the demons captured and used as consumables do not have much scientific knowledge. After losing the power of the warp to compensate, they lose the ability to control the demon engines. The number of demon engines that can be kept is basically up to standard.

If it weren't for Arthur's existence, these creations would be a catastrophic enemy for any imperial armed force.

With careful observation and meticulous record-keeping, these demon engines, both in terms of their techniques and the handling of demons themselves, have extremely high reference value and are valuable knowledge that can be utilized.

This is especially true for the Grey Knights and the Inquisition, who are now able to counter the demons to some extent.

After describing a series of psionic models of demonic engines, Aglaia exchanged information with her apprentice beside her. Around her were think tanks from various warbands, as well as the Grey Knights themselves, all of whom were members who had achieved excellent results under the training of Eldar prophets.

"Please review it for me again."

The Supreme Mentor's hands were visibly trembling.

"it is good."

The apprentice took the record, suppressed his disgust for these techniques, and began to review it.

Aglaia is always busy.

Her personal qualities earned her varying degrees of attention from the four adults, and due to historical reasons, Terra also trusted her immensely. Coupled with her talent in psionic abilities and a certain extremely unreasonable superior, her work seemed to have no end in sight.

Although Aglaia had always believed that demons were untrustworthy and did not want to have much contact with things like the warp, the thought of the fact that almost every member of the Holy Hammer Order of the Inquisition had a dozen demon hosts and the trust of the lords made her work with all her might.

At least the Demon Engine has a much higher level of security.

Lord Ramses did not like to play those roundabout games with demons. He often preferred to use violent means to make these emotional entities generate value. As for other things such as prophecy, knowledge retrieval, and power use, they were all based on the sacrificial mechanism that existed in the warp itself, which was a consumable material for demons.

As Lord Romulus gradually gains control of the mechanical faith, a method of dealing with demons that is further removed from the direct intervention of the four members of the Dawn Wings is also gradually being implemented. In the future, various anti-subspace forces far from the Dawn Star Sector will gradually popularize this method of dealing with demons.

Containment of demons, including the Great Demons, is also in the plan. The current plan is to learn from the Eldar experience and seal these demons in a section of spirit bone. These containers will be sent to the Dawn Sector for centralized processing.

Aglaia is also one of the people in charge.

"Vashtor, you fucking beast!"

"I--"

The demon's voice faintly drifted over again.

This made Aglaia chuckle, and the fatigue that surrounded her dissipated somewhat as a result.

Unlike the Imperial Truth in historical records, the Dawnwings have taken a different path, one with both risks and rewards. Fortunately, they have the ability to keep an eye on things, and with their improved mobility, they can manage those who try to mess around with them in a more streamlined way.

It's hard to imagine that these creatures were the ones who left humans helpless a hundred years ago.

"It seems they intend to stay for a long time, which is good."

The apprentice beside him suddenly spoke up, his tone quite different from his usual manner.

Aglaia was somewhat used to this tone.

My apprentices often blurt out random things, and they also exhibit strange reactions under the influence of the external environment. For example, they react when they hear someone say that the emperor is a god, like a human-machine interface that has triggered a keyword.

At first, she wondered if he was possessed by a demon or had a defect in his soul, so she went to see Lord Ramses. The advice she received was to leave it alone and just agree with him when he started babbling on and on about something else.

Aglaia vaguely guessed what was going on, and then expressed her understanding.

"Did the emperors not actually intend to rule humanity for too long from the beginning?"

she asked.

With power firmly in his grasp, Aglaia has access to more and more information from various parties. Combining this information with that of the various officials, Aglaia has come to understand to some extent the Emperor's approach to promoting imperial truth.

While the imperial truth may seem impractical from today's perspective, it was actually quite realistic in that context.

After all, the warp is, in a sense, a reflection of all living beings in the real universe. As the largest species at the time, if humanity truly believed in the truth of the Empire from the bottom of its heart, then the warp might actually have been able to pass through the above-mentioned elimination of religion, faith, and superstition, and to think through cold logic and scientific thought. At that time, the influence of the warp on humanity might have been greatly reduced.

Unfortunately, the Emperor made a slight mistake in the actual operation.

What if others don't believe in the truth of the empire?
Simple, I'll just use my psychic powers to charm them all, won't I?
Such tactics were commonplace during the Great Expedition. Even when facing his sons, with very few exceptions, he would simply use his psionic charm to seduce the rest and send them out to do the work.

During the Great Crusade, Emperor gave the impression of being in a great hurry, like a speedrunner who was in a rush to finish his get off work and go home. Whether it was the Empire itself or every part that made up the Empire, everything was done quickly and he just wanted to get it over with and go home. As long as the rulers of the galaxy or the future of humanity, they could fight however they wanted.

He wanted to speed things up, but ended up speeding up his own life, getting stuck on a golden toilet for ten thousand years.

However, it's understandable. If an emperor were to rule for a thousand years, even if he didn't have to sit on a toilet like we do now, he would still be worshipped by the imperial people to the point of being delirious.

Recalling Lord Ramses's assessment of the Emperor when he was compiling history, Aglaia tried to purse her lips.

As for the second warp tide after the birth of Slaanesh—the Empire proved that as long as it survived the Great Rebellion, it could still have a fairly long and stable period of development.

"Yes."

The apprentice's resolute expression remained unwavering; he was a model member of the court, a true embodiment of the entire conservative way of life.

"This is the Emperor's mistake. He overestimated his abilities, enjoyed the convenience brought by his extraordinary power while wanting to get rid of its negative effects. He wanted to solve all the problems once and for all in a very short time, and as a result, he was backfired."

"So he is not a god."

"Whether in terms of personal qualities or abilities, the four members of the Dawnwing are more in line with the standards of gods."

The apprentice resumed his usual muttering, spreading the message like a fanatical follower of the Wings of Dawn: "If you're going to find a god to worship, don't worship the Emperor; worship the Wings of Dawn instead!"

The current Dawnwings really need faith, or rather, they have never had it.

Romulus has always desperately needed technological capacity, Karna's expansion in the warp, and the STC and other sophisticated equipment that the four of them continuously output to various important planets through their soul materialization abilities.

"I—he is not a god."

The 'apprentice' looked at Vashtor, who was still struggling above, and wished he could go up and kill him himself and seize his power.

As long as we obtain the portion of the vicious techniques that Vashtor possesses, even just some of them would greatly enhance humanity in the real universe, allowing for the application of more security technologies. At the very least, those governors would have no excuse for the suffering of their subjects.

The surrounding gray knights remained silent, their grips on the Heavenly Punishment weapon tightening and loosening as they pondered whether they should send this person back to Terra.

However, before the Grey Knights could figure out what was going on, a sharp shriek suddenly came from Vashtor above.

This shriek, compared to before, was now mixed with pain—a pain known as the pain of being broken by experiencing death.

"so fast."

The 'apprentice' admired Dawnwing's decisiveness and clear goals, noting that he had no qualms about using Eldar.

Back in Cadia, Peturabo died without hesitation, without any personal bias.

Even He might not be able to be so cruel.

His sons, however, were too easily swayed and presumptuously guessed his bottom line.
-
Consciousness shifted rapidly, weaving in and out of the gaps in the warp storm, fleeing in a sorry state from the forge world he had managed for so long. Finally, Vashtor covered his head with his hands to muffle the nauseating crashing sounds, the flames dispelling the oncoming shadows, and felt grateful for his survival.

He touched the wounds on his body; his soaked body resembled that of a drowning wild dog, barely able to catch his breath or stop thinking about why he was there.

The memories recorded in the database were also transmitted.

Vashtoll was stunned.

Gone.

Heart of Plague, Fragment of Caliban, Engine of Tuchucha, the chance to fuse the three artifacts.
All gone.

Thinking of the loans he had taken out, the unequal treaties he had signed, and the series of costs he had paid, Vashtor lowered his head—an unprecedented sense of despair quickly enveloped him.

"Damn it!"

The gods of the warp hammered the earth, venting their inner rage.

The entire demon planet trembled beneath his feet, and the lava flowing across the surface shook with each of his hammer blows, creating giant waves thousands of meters high.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

Vashtor thought that one death would be the end.

He failed, and what awaits him is a long period of licking his wounds and an indefinite moment of ascension to godhood.

He could hardly bear to recall certain encounters, especially when facing that monster Arthur; the tearing sensation of death was unimaginable to him.

However, Ramses showed Him that this was only the beginning.

"So you're here?"

The familiar voice made Vashtor instinctively jump up and down.

A burst of fire erupted from the subspace, and his steel wings trembled, causing him to distance himself significantly from the source of the sound.

But when he saw the lone figure on the Furnace Planet, he couldn't help but slow down and begin to carefully observe the area above, wanting to see if this guy was just using someone else's power to bully others.

Ramses remained unmoved and ignored the other party's probing. The invisible light engulfed the incoming weapons, and he just smiled and kept a distance that was neither too close nor too far, staring at him.

The movement between the two was somewhat comical, like a magnet being pushed around, squeezing another magnet with the same pole back and forth.

It wasn't until Vashtor discovered through repeated probing that the other person was all alone.

Vashtor stopped in his tracks.

Ramses stopped at the right moment, his eyes beneath the golden mask smiling as he stared at the disheveled wild dog.

He is alone.

The data, the echoes from the subspace, and the reactions from the other side were all telling Vashtor one thing.

He alone scared me so much that I, who was on home turf, ran away all over the place.

A profound sense of shame overwhelmed Vashtor.

"you--"

Are you all alone?!
How dare you pursue me?

"Yeah, I'm all alone, and Master Ya can't get into the subspace."

Before Vashtor could even voice his question, Ramses, quick as a flash, spread his hands, spreading false information while feigning innocence, and said:

"It wasn't me who let you run away, so why blame me?"

Click!

As the scepter in his hand shattered, and Ramses's uniquely resonant voice echoed through the warp, causing countless demons to convulse in their flight, Vashtor felt his dignity, along with everything else, crumble.

He pointed at Ramses, his voice seemingly muffled by an invisible force.

"you--"

"Oh, grandson."

"what!!!"

Ramses's exclamation of "grandson!" hit Vashtor in the gut. After exploiting his junior for so long, this was the first time Ramses had ever heard that this guy who constantly manipulated him could make such a sound. He could even apply to Slaanesh as a noise warrior.

"I want you dead! Ramses, I want you dead!"

Vashtor was truly enraged, and he unleashed his strongest attacks on Ramses, using every means he could think of.

The entire planet came alive beneath his feet, the demons howling and melting into the changing metal before lunging at the still unrestrained golden body in the void.

However, his all-out attack seemed to have missed. The energy, powerful enough to tear everything apart, engulfed the figure, but after everything dissipated, Ramses stood in the void, seemingly unaffected.

Suddenly, Vashtor tensed up.

He felt something stirring above him, in the swirling, twisting shadows against the bizarre backdrop of the subspace.

'What trick is this fraudster playing now?'

Vashtor squinted at what lay ahead.

He didn't believe that the formless and intangible lord, who was also a minor god, could be unharmed by such an attack. Perhaps the other party was just putting on an act, waiting for him to make a fool of himself and then laugh at him.

Do you think I'd fall for that again?
Vashtor stepped forward.

"Hahaha!"

Ramses laughed heartily, then turned and ran.

Thirty seconds.

The booming cannon fire never ceased, masking the invisible, twisting sounds of the shadows. He forcefully tore these shadows apart; the firepower of the mechanical god, amplified by the subspace, was virtually inexhaustible. Countless demons fled in disarray, barely daring to cast a glance at the monster on the other side.

His appearance was so distorted and terrifying at this moment, his whole body was emitting heat, and the metal on his body was glowing red, representing the high temperature.

His eyes were fixed on that golden figure. If he were a servant of the Blood God, even the Blood God, who was in charge of hatred, would probably cast his gaze upon him.

Twenty seconds.

Vashtor is going to catch him.

Vashtor will surely see him. No matter how the thief cowers, how he lies hidden in the smoke and darkness, he has unparalleled detection abilities, enough to catch heat sources and the slightest movements. This thief, robber, fraudster will have nowhere to escape, nowhere to retreat.

ten seconds.

He thought of his own furnace, becoming its energy source. This was surely Ramses's fate. He wouldn't let this fraudster die so easily. The eternally burning flames wouldn't annihilate a warp entity, but it would be accompanied by eternal torment.

Vashtor thought this so maliciously.

Vashtor is going to catch him.

Whoops!

Claws tear through the shadows.

Then, a dull thud followed, and Vashtor was sent flying backward.

Ramses, who had been fleeing in despair, turned around and slowly bowed to him, his spotless body gleaming.

!!!

Vashtor was about to have another outburst when a pair of crimson visors pierced the darkness and stared straight at him.

Quack~ Quack~
In the tides of subspace, the cawing of crows grew louder as they approached.

Wow~
As the sound of flapping wings filled his mind, a shadow larger and more prominent than Ramses loomed over him.

Vashtor stood frozen in place, his heart, which was made of a furnace, pounding wildly, and sweat mixed with molten metal and steam streamed down his forehead.

He fell silent, meeting the crimson gaze as it fixed on the gradually forming giant. He felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, as if he were an insect being targeted by a falcon.

Ramses patted Corax on the shoulder in a very familiar manner.

"There are two of us now."

(End of this chapter)