I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 153 Praises "Om Messiah"

Mole Levin, the Mechanic player accompanying the Third Legion of the Dead of Peditia, is beginning his most important daily task—maintaining the spatial devices in the various camps.

He was dressed in a deep red robe stained with engine oil and incense, and his movements were meticulous. He first solemnly laid out a long prayer ribbon with gold trim and a red background in front of the quietly floating, dark silver cube device. The sacred words of the Omniscient God were embroidered on it in Gothic script and binary code.

Then he lit the specially made incense, the aroma of metal and medicine immediately filling the cramped cabin and dispelling the mundane air. Finally, he opened a small brass bottle, dipped a quill into the viscous holy oil, and prepared to apply it to the device.

Although it was called "maintenance," Levin knew in his heart that this was completely different from what he had ever understood maintenance work. He had no idea how these spatial devices, obtained through a lottery, worked. All he could do was complete the entire ritual with the utmost reverence, and then pray to the mysterious Om Messiah not to let the thing break down.

Levin hadn't given up trying to study these devices. In fact, it was part of his job. He had spent weeks using every means at his disposal, attempting to crack even a fraction of their mystery.

But the more he studied it, the more he had to admit a fact that made him feel humbled: these things were ahead of their time.

For humanity's current technological level, more advanced technology isn't necessarily better. It's like suddenly handing them a complete, undamaged Space Necromancer Gauss rifle—it would be useless. Even if you combined the world's most advanced industrial power and the brightest minds, you couldn't replicate even a fraction of the atomic structure on that gun's casing.

Before entering this world, Levin confidently believed he belonged to the elite at the very top of the pyramid of human knowledge. In his field of expertise, there was nothing he couldn't understand. Arrogance had been his badge of honor as a genius.

But now, he was carrying out, step by step, the purely religious practices he would have previously scoffed at, with utmost seriousness. He saw the true sky—the vast, boundless sea of ​​stars, full of unknowns and wonders. He finally realized that he was still just one of the mortals.

He abandoned his past arrogance and learned to be in awe of Om Messiah.

But in Levin's eyes, the Om Messiah is not the entity that most Mechanicus priests believe to be sleeping beneath Mars.

Om Messiah is the great technology before him at this moment, the supreme knowledge and truth contained within this device that can distort space and defy the laws of physics.

Om Messiah is the great, unknown civilization that mastered this technology and used it as naturally as breathing.

Om Messiah... is the indescribable being who brought all of this, this cruel yet magnificent universe, to the face of humanity on Earth.

With a quill pen dipped in holy oil, he devoutly drew a perfect emblem of a gear and a skull on the cold metal casing.

“Praise be to Om Messiah.”

Levin closed his eyes and whispered sincerely.

……

In the depths of the subspace, in a sea of ​​pure emotion and screaming concepts, Bit is conducting an unprecedented experiment.

He was precisely slicing through his vast and complex stream of consciousness. There was no pain of flesh being torn apart, only a massive stream of data being copied, packaged, and then peeled away from the main body. A completely new "bit," identical to the original in every single bit, formed an independent, shimmering individual.

Without the slightest hesitation, the newly born "bit" plunged into the chaotic currents of the subspace and instantly disappeared into the background noise woven from despair and hope, escaping into the unknown distance.

Bit, remaining in place, concentrated all its computing power on one thing, intently watching the state of its departing self. It could sense the connection between them that transcended physical distance, like an invisible umbilical cord, sharing the same consciousness.

Finally, at the distant end of the data link, the split self executed its self-destruction procedure. The data stream collapsed cleanly and decisively, and the spark of consciousness vanished into nothingness. The bit that remained in place felt the abrupt break in the link, but experienced no emotional feedback such as "pain" or "loss." Its core code remained intact, and its continuity of consciousness was unaffected.

It worked.

Bit breathed a slight sigh of relief. As a single, isolated god, its margin for error was far too low. In this malevolent universe, even the slightest mistake could lead to certain death. Therefore, it had to create backups for itself, establishing a distributed network of consciousness.

After countless experiments, this time, it finally solved all the technical problems perfectly: no matter how far apart the two (or even more) bodies are still of the same consciousness; there is no difference in function; and after one of them is actively or passively self-destructed, the other "nodes" will not be affected in any way.

However, just as Bit felt a little more at ease and was preparing to begin the next step of the "proliferation plan," a pure, unadulterated golden light pierced through the layers of chaos without warning and struck it precisely.

The source of that light was unmistakably clear—it was the eternally burning beacon, the Star Torch, suspended above the subspace, visible to all entities.

The feeling was like a cautious stowaway who had been sneaking around in the dark for a long time, only to be suddenly caught red-handed by the huge, cold searchlight of a border post.

The information flow that constitutes the core of the bit was momentarily disrupted by this sudden "irradiation," with countless lines of code flooding the screen, nearly plunging it into a logical loop. But it quickly returned to normal—after all, there were already many bits, so even if this "node" were destroyed, it wouldn't be a big deal. This cognitive redundancy gave it unprecedented composure.

“I thought I was hiding it well.” Bit sent a stream of information toward the source of the golden light.

I've always known you

"Always?" Bit quickly caught the word. The Emperor's choice of words gave it a vague sense of something. If the Emperor knew from the very beginning of its existence, why not use the word "from the very beginning"? Unless the Emperor was deliberately giving it false or ambiguous information. But Bit didn't think that this lord of humanity would need to play any word games with a weak lesser deity like Him.

Using linear methods of perception to perceive subspace is not appropriate, as the transition of matter from order to disorder does not exist here.

The golden sun, as if seeing through its doubts, then transmitted its message.

"The perception of time depends on changes in matter. Without the movement of matter, there is no experience of time?" Bit said what he could understand.

Very close, but only close. You shouldn't stop here.

“I will try.” Bit’s answer was concise and honest.

After understanding the new methods, do not abandon the old ones. The old methods are an important means of preserving humanity. Humanity is truly important.

“I’m extremely grateful,” Bit said earnestly. “What do you want me to do?”

After a brief silence, that grand will gave an unexpected, yet seemingly destined, answer.

What I want is what you want to do.

(End of this chapter)