Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

Aaron eagerly said:

“I can fight too. Guilliman should have told you that I am immortal at this time. Those little bugs just now were shooting at me like 'biubiubiu,' but they didn't do any damage.”

Further away, Ortaus accessed the defense matrix of this node. The lower-level undead have limited self-awareness, while these mid-level ones can access it at any time to observe the battle.

"Recording analysis, Cato Sicarius, database search in progress."

"A. Well, database query, query, query—error, warning, Protocol 17 activated."

Huh? The system reported an error? Protocol 17 hasn't been activated for a long time.

Altaus connected the camera and let me see what was going on.

Is it because the database couldn't find any information on a mere mortal?

After all, there are too many lower beings like humans, and not all of them deserve to be included.

"You live only because we allow it."

Chapter 330 Aaron Meets the Undead, One Touch and He's Stunned (3K)

Except for the fact that the supreme control agreement was torn up by the Silent King, allowing his people to awaken and find their own way to survive.

The remaining control protocols have never been shaken and have remained hidden at the deepest level of the space necromancer's data.

From the French emperor down to the lowest-ranking slaves, everyone followed the rules.

Number seventeen is somewhat special; it is usually activated when a database error occurs.

To prevent the undead from being unable to escape their mistakes like living beings, and from falling into a logical trap.

Even to the point of attacking each other.

This control protocol aims to prevent knowledge beyond the scope of necromantic logic from contaminating the current action objectives, which is one of the reasons why chaotic contamination is difficult to occur in space necromantics.

Altaus quickly dismissed Aaron's existence, and even the factor of Protocol Seventeen itself, causing him to abandon his thinking about why the name of a mortal could trigger the protocol.

This is also the purpose of the agreement; he was just a lowly tomb engineer, given the responsibility of managing this planet.

There's no need to think about knowledge beyond our comprehension; that would violate the survival rules of the undead race.

In order to survive, they have sacrificed many, with the largest number of warriors and servants having almost no will left, only able to let out a second death scream when fighting and dying.

Altaus quickly shifted his thought process to the clearly more dangerous being, Cato Sicarius.

This person's name has already been found in the data records of some awakened worlds.

Although human civilization is like dust in the eyes of the undead, even the Eldar empire, which they temporarily avoid, is nothing more than a bunch of monkeys.

(Elder Race: What goes around comes around! How come I'm being made a fool of myself one day too!)

However, the fact that these civilizations could unify the galactic realms already proves that they possess extraordinary abilities. Individuals who can make a name for themselves within such empires deserve special attention.

"Hmm, battle, maneuvering—"

"Deploying troops in formation."

"Connecting to combat regulations."

"Test your skills first, Sicarius. I won't let you get close to the obelisk."

The Ortau bodies perched atop this obelisk, and as tomb engineers, they were rarely entrusted with important tasks.

It is unknown what the lord or even the overlord to whom they belong thinks.

It is said that the Council of Three Saints and the Silent King had a falling out, and their negotiations with the human regent broke down at the same time.

Many overlords and even the Dharma Emperor are closely watching the final news; no one cares about the world that has been conquered by the Exorcised Dead Domain.

There are previous records of Astartes from a Salamander Chapter belonging to a certain human empire entering the Ghostly Dead Zone.

It didn't cause much of a stir.

Human beings, you have no clear understanding of the greatness of our race.

Controlling stars is merely a rudimentary means of energy manipulation; even time can be altered by our race.

The warp gods you fear and dread are nothing more than whispers in our ears that we can sweep away with a wave of our hand.

No holy warrior can be corrupted by an evil god.

As Altaus pondered, it came to believe it had the authority to move toward higher levels of thought.

If infighting among the higher-ups leads to the death of one's superior lord and overlord, then one might still have a chance to advance further!

No, that's not right. This is human ambition, a factor that breeds a terrible danger.

Ortaus quickly cleared its mind; it had been simulating the human scribe for too long.

While not as extreme as the skinner, it gradually learned about ambition during the simulation process.

Humans use more grandiose language to explain: "I really want to make progress!"

Several undead warriors emerged from the shadows beneath the building; they were more powerful than the lowly, mindless slaves.

It possesses a certain level of combat intelligence.

No matter how much the Necromancers boasted to Guilliman about their eternal existence, humanity's so-called millennia-old empire was nothing more than a grain of sand in the sand of time they had endured.

It's like an hourglass; once it's turned upside down, no one remembers when a single grain of sand passed by.

The undead pride themselves on being aloof from the world, standing out from the masses in the galaxy.

But this still cannot conceal the weakness and suffering of their civilizational structure at this time.

Besides high-ranking undead, are those space undead who steadfastly carry out orders also considered to be of the same kind?

Sicarius simply rushed forward, his chainsword swings more concise than Marum's.

If Marum's movements have a strange, first-person perspective, as if someone is watching him from a first-person point of view, then these movements are specifically included.

So Sicarius's actions were so simple that they were solely aimed at eliminating the enemy in front of him.

The difference in strength between necromancers and warriors was irrelevant to him. With his specially crafted hot-melt sword, he could cut enemy metal in half before it cooled down during the melting process.

Although the empire was on the verge of collapse, it never stopped learning and struggling.

The exploration of experience and weapons for dealing with space necromancy has never stopped, and the Astartes have summarized the most efficient methods of handling it.

Although Aaron felt he didn't need to hide, he still obediently stood symbolically behind a vehicle.

My father once said, "A wise man does not stand under a dangerous wall." In other words, only an idiot would run to a dangerous place.

"Perfect fighting stance. How long have they been fighting these enemies? Father struggles to kill even a fish, and you—"

"When I get back, I'll tell Marum that you Ultra Warriors are really great."

Thump! Thump—

Something bumped into Aaron's feet, and he turned to look.

Several space beetles twisted their suspended bodies, retreating to gather momentum before charging forward.

Their feeble self-intelligence realized that they could not use the beams of light that could break down minerals to deal with the "enemy" in front of them, so they decisively adopted a completely new method: physical impact.

"They're so disobedient. I wonder if I can find an obedient one to take back to Angron as a pet."

Aaron squatted down and reached in to scoop up another one.

Because Altaus triggered Protocol Seventeen, if there were no undead lords or overlords with sufficient authority present, the low-level space undead would be unable to take any further action against Aaron.

In other words, a more terrifying behavior than sharks being touched on the nose is that when Aaron actively watches them, they begin to trigger a protocol and enter a state of stagnation.

The space beetles, which were originally quite aggressive, were all rendered dumb by Aaron's touch and entered a state of stagnation.

All that remained were some metal shells, and even their limbs, which they probably wouldn't actually need, hung limply.

"Out of power? Or are you guys just that weak?"

Aaron found it incredible; he was genuinely interested in these things.

I wonder if the Empire of Man has created something similar.

(Servo Skull: What, someone's thinking about me?)

"My warriors, rise again!"

Altaus, hiding behind the monitor, shouted, trying to summon the space beetles to repair their warriors' bodies.

These units can accumulate the minerals they decompose to repair the bodies of warriors.

But after it roared, no space beetle responded.

"Hehe, simulating humans has given me some human habits."

"I almost forgot about our race's way of communicating. Humans actually still have to use such a backward method as language and acoustics to transmit information."

Altaus didn't realize something was wrong; it was also hypocritical.

The undead use language to express themselves, to reminisce about the beauty of the past, the era of flesh and blood, and to serve as a warning against the past.

When it comes to humans, they're just a bunch of backward species.

It reconnected to the obelisk and sank into the battle network.

"Scarabs, repair our warriors!"

There was no response; the messages Altaus sent through the battle network went unanswered, and the world remained empty and desolate for a long time.

It's as if their consciousness was initially torn apart and replaced by the "data" born in the metal at its very beginning.

That most fundamental fear, the terror long forgotten, the unparalleled stillness and deathly silence, piercingly observes this pitiful data "consciousness".

It was like that final, resounding laugh that echoed through the consciousness of the fearful horde, the laugh of the star god.

Ortaus broke out in a cold sweat, snapping out of his daze and regaining his senses from the deathly emptiness.

The fear he experienced just now made his actions more like those of a living person than any of his previous attempts to recall being "alive."

An indescribable joy even began to emerge, exceeding its own data operation rules.

In that instant, he seemed to regain his soul.

Although it was the emotion of fear that was used to help.

After all data logic is restored, Protocol 17 is further triggered.