Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 148 Level III Forging World

The Garros fleet and transport ships resupplyed and rested for three days at the berths along the outer edge of the Lucis Spaceport. Cohen did not linger in the berth area. He crossed the spaceport corridor, boarded the shuttle, and flew towards the Lucis Temple.

After passing through the outer atmosphere, the shuttle did not land on any surface platform. It continued downwards along a wide track descending tunnel. The view outside the porthole made Cohen pause for a moment. The outer shell of Lucis was just a thin layer of rock; its true form lay within. The industrial layers stretched out in the field of vision, extending from above to below—factories, furnaces, casting lines, assembly platforms—stacked, extended, and intersected in the cold white glow of artificial light. Giant cranes hung from tracks in the ceiling, holding huge adamantite castings, moving slowly between the casting layers. The transport shuttles traversed the gaps between the industrial layers, their exhaust trails leaving fine streaks of light in the darkness.

Beneath all this, at the very heart of the unfathomable industrial abyss, an artificial sun burns. Its light surges up from the bottom, piercing through the magnificent industrial structure and bathing the outline of the entire hollow world in a dark golden halo.

Cohen stared at the artificial sun, his gaze fixed on it. After spending so much time in the archives and workshops of the Lucis Temple, he thought he had figured out how this forging world operated—only now did he truly understand what it meant for the Human Empire to be an interstellar civilization.

The shuttle continued its descent, passing through the colossal casting facilities that appeared as mere specks of light from above, and through the assembly platforms and smelting furnaces whose true size was revealed only upon close inspection. The audience hall was nestled deep within the industrial layer, at the very heart of a labyrinth where the world's oldest casting structures and most modern production lines intertwined.

As Cohen stepped off the shuttle, a stench of coolant, holy oil, and ancient metallic dust assaulted his nostrils. The entrance to the audience hall was a massive door forged of mithril, its surface etched with a composite relief of binary prayers and gears and skulls. The vaulted ceiling before the door was supported by dozens of thick terracotta pillars, each inlaid with glowing runes that slowly flickered in a dark golden halo. A high-ranking deacon waited beside the door, offering no pleasantries, simply gesturing for him to follow.

The audience hall itself was even more profound than the entrance passage. The dome was so high that the light couldn't reach the top. At its center stood a circular table of adamantite, its surface inlaid with data interfaces and psionic resonance runes. The smoke from the holy oil in the bronze censers at the four corners swirled and rose in the cold light, mingling with the low-frequency hum of coolant and the muffled vibrations of the distant industrial buildings. Cold white light poured down from the dome, spreading a thin, icy halo across the adamantite tabletop.

The Great Sage of Lucis Forging sat atop the high platform. As before, over 90% of his body was replaced by machinery; his face was a sophisticated array of optical sensors, and his voice transmitter was embedded in a resonant array in his chest cavity. His optical array slightly adjusted its focus as Cohen approached.

Cohen's right hand tucked slightly into the folds of his sage's robe, then released. He performed a full gear salute, pressing his right fist against the gear and skull emblem on his chest and nodding slightly.

"Great Sage."

He stood across the round table and began his report on the entire Battle of Invernus—from the orbital breach to the ground clearing, from Grom's death to the interruption of the Tzeentch ritual, from the Titan Legion's combat performance to the casualty statistics of the Garros fleet. He spoke for about twenty minutes, his tone steady, his data precise, and devoid of embellishment. The Great Sage's optical array remained locked on his direction throughout his report, its focus subtly adjusting each time he mentioned a key point—an unconscious reaction of a high-ranking member of the Cult of Mechanics during deep information processing. When he spoke of the Imperial Titans' central role in the battle, the Great Sage's amplified resonance array emitted a short electronic pulse—not an interruption, but a confirmation that the crucial information had been received.

As Cohen finished speaking, the amplified resonance array remained silent for about three seconds, then emitted a low-frequency electronic voice: "Invernus's achievements have far exceeded Lucius's initial expectations for this expedition. Has that Emperor-class component transferred by Lucius been put into use?"

"It worked," Cohen said. "The components are fully compatible with the original Ark architecture. Lucis's support played a decisive role at a critical moment."

The Great Sage's optical array expanded and contracted slightly: "The great Lucius deeply admires and respects the arduous journey of the Great Sage Enp. Please give him my regards, Sage Cohen Severus. Lucius has recorded the merits of Garros."

Cohen performed the gear salute again: "Gallos will share the yoke with Lucius."

"The performance of the Garros Legion—including the Titan Legion's first combat experience—has proven the validity of the legacy you have inherited. Lucius, as the overlord of the Garros Forging World, acknowledges this." The Great Sage's optical array paused again. "The paperwork for the Ascension to Forging World has been completed within the internal procedures of the Lucius Temple. Wangshu Forging Facility—"

As an industrial core within the Galos system, it will be officially registered as a vassal forging world of Lucis. The paperwork will be submitted to Mars through Lucis's channels.

"Thank you, great Lucius, thank you, the great sage himself."

"The process on Mars is measured in years. But Garros is a special case. Lucius's verification report, the testimonies of the three founding chapters, and Invernus's achievements—these documents are enough to make the Martian Council of Sages prioritize the application upon receipt. It could take a few months to a year or two. In fact, Garros is already a Class I Foundry World, it just needs the Martian seal. You need to hold Garros to the standards of a Foundry World."

Cohen nodded. The Great Sage's optical array paused on his face for a moment, then moved away.

As Cohen left the audience hall, the corridor lights had switched from midday mode to dusk mode. Vitellius stood at the side entrance, an unlit cigarette dangling from the knuckles of his right mechanical arm, the blue halo of his right mechanical eye glowing steadily in the dim light. He glanced in the direction Cohen had come from, didn't ask what had happened, and simply tilted his head: "Come on, let's drink."

Cohen's servant waited outside the Lucis surface temple, carrying a sealed adamantite box. Cohen took out a bottle of Amigidoton vintage from the box. Vitellius glanced at the label, and the blue halo of his right mechanical eye shrank slightly. The vintage of that bottle was earlier than any he had ever seen before.

"Where did you get this?"

"Invernus. Excavated from the cellar of a nobleman that was bombed."

Vitellius didn't ask any more questions, took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and poured two glasses. The two sat at a metal table in a small reception room on the outskirts of the temple. There were no servants, no recorders, only two glasses of wine and the twilight of Lucis's haunt outside the window. Cohen recounted Invernus's situation again, but this time it wasn't a report but a chat. The scale of the Greenskins, the spaceships of the Orc fleet, the surprise attack in the warp, and the casualty figures of the Garros Legion. Vitellius listened, occasionally taking a sip of wine, the halo of his right mechanical eye glowing steadily without interruption.

Cohen put down his cup: "In short, my judgment is that the Greenskins will return. On a larger scale than this time."

Vitellius's fingers paused on the rim of his glass. He looked at Cohen, the focus of his right mechanical eye narrowing slightly. Having spent so many years in the archives of the Lucis Temple, he had seen far too many sages make flawed strategic judgments based on wishful optimism, the inertia of Imperial propaganda, and an underestimation of the enemy's strength. But Cohen's judgment was different. Before the Battle of Invernus, Cohen had assessed the situation at Amegiddon, and all those assessments had later proven correct. He didn't ask, "How did you know?" He simply picked up his glass and took a sip.

"You always say that. The empire is getting worse and worse."

"I'm right every time. We need to hurry."

Vitellius didn't refute. He placed his glass back on the table: "So you think Lucius will get involved sooner or later?"

Cohen didn't answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair, looking out the window at the twilight—a world uniquely bustling and noisy scene, filled with the smell of metallic dust, a hazy, toxic smog, and magnificent industrial megastructures.

"Lucis has its own Titan Legion, its own Guardians of the Faith, its own orbital defense system—and most importantly, a powerful industrial machine. It won't be easy for the Orks to reach Lucis. But war doesn't take one form. Chaos won't only appear under the banner of the Orcs." He paused. "But who knows—maybe one day Lucis will need Garros to come to its rescue?"

Vitellius stared at him for a few seconds, then finished the rest of his drink and put down his glass. "You brought the Amighidton vintage just to say something like that?"

“I brought the alcohol because you like to drink,” Cohen said. “I said those things because I saw it. Gene thieves—”

Traces were found in almost every nesting city in the Solar System during quarantine. I don't believe Lucis was an exception.

He continued, "There must be a Throne of Terra as well. The Genestealers are just the vanguard; the Hive Fleet will follow their guidance and devour the biomass of every world."

Vitellius didn't speak again. He pushed the empty glass towards him, and Cohen poured another. The two drank in silence for a while, the light outside the window changing from dark gold to deep gray, and the lights between the industrial buildings gradually came on. After a long time, Vitellius finally said, "You've described the Empire as a walking corpse that's already dead."

"I'm just stating the facts."

"The documents for Garros's promotion to a Foundry World have been sent to Mars," Cohen said. "The Lucis Foundry Grand Sage told me that Garros, a Class III Foundry World, will be registered as a vassal Foundry World of Lucis."

Vitellius nodded: "Like Anquaris against Griffin No. 4."

"You know Anquaris?"

"I've been working in the Temple Archives for so many years." Vitellius's right mechanical eye's blue halo shrank slightly. "Anquaris is a vassal of Griffin IV. Garros will be the same—nominally subordinate to Lucius, but in reality, you'll be in charge of yourself. You know the price you'll have to pay. Overall, as long as Lucius doesn't fall, Garros won't need to be in the limelight. This is more beneficial than harmful to Garros."

Cohen didn't speak. He knew Vitellius was right. The two sat for a while longer, until the bottle was empty.

Cohen stood up, but Vitellius didn't see him off. He simply sat down at the table, the blue halo of his right mechanical eye glowing in the dim light.

"When are you leaving?"

"The fleet will rest for three days. We will set sail the day after tomorrow."

Vitellius nodded: "As for the advancement to the Forging World, we can just wait for the Martian inspection team to come and go through the motions."

When Cohen walked out of the meeting room, the lighting panels in the corridor had already been switched to night mode.

The next day, Cohen went to see old Mr. Nazari. In old Mr. Nazari's study, the fire in the fireplace burned in the adamantite hearth, a data board lay on the long table, and the portrait on the wall gleamed dimly in the firelight. Vera sat to one side of the long table, twirling an empty teacup in her hand. The hood of her deep red robe was not pulled up, and her light brown ponytail was neatly tied.

Old Mr. Nazari sat in the main seat, the blue halo of his mechanical eye slowly expanding and contracting in the firelight. After listening to Cohen's explanation of the advancement to a forge world, he put down the data panel in his hand and placed his hands crossed on the table: "Lucis has submitted the paperwork, and Mars will send someone to Garros to verify it. The Garros forge world will be registered as a vassal forge world of Lucis."

The underground industrial facilities of Galos will be integrated into the same system as the supporting projects of Wangshu. Therefore, the complete Galos system was only then called the Forging World.

Vera chimed in, "Supporting infrastructure? With such massive underground production capacity, Garros is just providing supporting infrastructure?"

Cohen didn't respond. Old Mr. Nazari glanced at his daughter, then turned to Cohen: "In the Mechanicus process, the Foundry World's ascension must be a global, massive factory complex. The surface is covered with giant furnaces, factories, bottomless mines, and enormous workshop fortresses. Therefore, Garros must evaluate the Foundry World as a whole, not as a single component."

"right."

Old Mr. Nazari tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table. Having spent his entire life in the Imperial administrative system, he knew these kinds of matters better than anyone else: "And it requires a large population, so the surface of Garros also needs to be taken into consideration."

Your move to transfer population from Invernus was correct; at least the population alone meets the minimum requirements. However, you still need to increase the number of Mechanicus monks. Pronoris has already compensated for the technological capabilities—everything else is secondary; it's just a matter of going through the motions.

Cohen didn't refute. Vera put down her teacup: "So we're now in the Trough I Forging World?"

"The Forging World is just the beginning," said Mr. Nazari. "Now you can see things from the Forging World's perspective. Get everything done before the Mars inspection team arrives." He glanced at Cohen. "How many capital ships is Wangshu launching each year now?"

"Two cruisers and three to five frigates."

"That's enough. We can apply for upgrades later when production capacity increases." Old Mr. Nazari leaned back in his chair. "However, I said that things need to be done before the inspection team arrives, including the formation of the Guardians of the Faith and the Mechanicus Temple. You must immediately push forward the integration of the Mechanicus faith into the existing administrative system."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "There is one more very important thing."

"What?"

"The Intelligent Control Legion. Lucis initially received eleven Starfortresses from you, but you offered 1,500 in Invernus. Fortunately, I managed to suppress the matter. 500 was the minimum number Lucis could accept. Any less than that, even I couldn't suppress it. 1,000 are for you, and 500 are for Lucis—that's the best outcome I could achieve. Even those Data Artisans are given to you. Young people act unethically, but thankfully this old fellow is here to protect them, and the Great Sage won't interfere."

He paused, then continued: "Another aspect is the Guardians of the Faith's standing armed force for forging the world. If you don't establish the Guardians of the Faith, Garros will forever remain, legally, just an 'autonomous dominion with industrial capacity,' not a 'world forger.'"

Cohen was silent for a moment: "The Starfortress mechs were a last resort. We had to have some trump cards up our sleeves for this trip to Armageddon."

"So the reason I was able to suppress this matter is because I overcame all opposition," Mr. Nazari said, sitting up straight and staring at Cohen.

"Thank you for speaking up for Garros." Cohen nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then continued, "As for the Guardians of the Faith, the current Garros Legion can be converted into the Guardians of the Faith on the spot, as it already requires reorganization. The ritual and doctrinal training for the Cult of Mechanics can be completed once the technical priests arrive."

Old Mr. Nazari nodded slowly: "That's fine then. What about the Mechanicus's beliefs and administrative system?"

Cohen replied, "Currently, the civil administration of Garros is mainly managed by Ellis's team. We'll bring them into the Garros Temple system later."

Vera chimed in, "Then how will the Forging Temple be constructed? What about the Mechanicus monks?"

Cohen looked at Vera's father and said, "Recruit a core group from Lucis. Lucis has millions of trainee technical priests, I think that shouldn't be a problem."

Old Mr. Nazari picked up his teacup and took a sip. "Giving you five hundred Starfortress mechs, Lucis has to show some concern for the world below. No problem." After a slight pause, he continued, "I'll arrange the recruitment. One hundred thousand in total, and they'll be sent directly to Garros once recruitment is complete."

"it is good."

"That's settled then," Mr. Nazari said, putting down his teacup.

Vera stood up and stretched. "Alright, goodbye, Father. We're setting sail tomorrow." She turned to Cohen. "Let's go back to the spaceport."

The two walked out of the old house. Vera walked beside Cohen, her pace neither fast nor slow, her ponytail swaying gently behind her. She remained silent the entire way until the shuttle's parking spot came into view at the edge of the horizon before speaking: "So we really are forging a world now?"

"Sichuan Class I Casting World".

"A world of advanced forging." She repeated, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Faster than I expected."

The two arrived at the spaceport berth in their shuttle, descended the gangway one after the other, and stood on the berth platform. Cohen turned to Vera and said, "You will be fully responsible for the establishment of the Garros Mechanicate. I will promote you to a full-fledged fourth-level technical priest in Garros. Civil affairs will remain the responsibility of Ellis and his administrative team; you and he will report directly to me."

"Alright. When will you be promoted to Great Sage? I'll become a Sage as soon as possible—one Tech Priest isn't enough to suppress an entire Forging Temple," Vera said, half-jokingly.

Cohen's lips twitched slightly: "Soon."

Vera smiled slightly, then turned and walked towards the berth of the Truth, her ponytail swaying in the twilight. Cohen walked towards the Black Pearl.

The following morning, on the bridge, the course map on the main display screen had been marked, the navigation parameters were locked, and the fleet spacing was confirmed.

Marcus stood behind the tactical console, the blue halo of his right mechanical eye glowing steadily: "The entire ship is ready."

Cohen sat down in the commander's seat, glanced out the porthole at the fleet departing from the Lucis Space Port—the Garros fleet and the transport convoy were leaving together. In the beam of the guide lights, the ship slowly turned—then he looked away: "Set sail."

The thrusters ignited. The Black Pearl slid out of its berth first, followed by the rest of the formation. Over a hundred transport ships spread out in the middle of the formation, forming a slowly moving band of light in the starry sky. Cohen stood at the porthole, watching the dark yellow star of Lucis gradually shrink. Behind him, the entire formation's exhaust plumes merged into a sea of ​​light in space, heading towards Garros.