Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

I can only say that I was just unlucky.

He was assigned the role of a rare perfectionist genius among the Primarchs.

If it were a different, slightly less intelligent Primarch, he might have been able to use the opportunity to become the other party's strategist or think tank, thereby gaining their favor.

For example, Angron, Angron.

And there's Angron.

Even Ruth!

"What do we do now?"

"Casca asked helplessly."

We can't possibly fight our way back with just this equipment.

While it is feasible given the Primarch's combat capabilities, large-scale armed conflict could very well cause irreversible damage to the already fragile vault ecosystem.

If the enemy chooses to destroy the entire fortress in a suicidal attack, all survivors will be exposed to a severe radiation storm, with unimaginable consequences.

"We need to fix this first."

"Forgrim answered."

"You might not believe it, but currently only about 10% of the systems in Fort Carax are functioning normally."

“I have studied the system’s operating pipeline before.”

"In ancient times, this was the power station of Carax. Most of the functions inside the fortress depended on the energy supply from here."

After changing into his protective suit, Fugrim approached the machine and explained to Kasgar while repairing it.

"Repairing this place is equivalent to mastering all the functions of the fortress."

Fugrim took some parts from the equipment next to him and examined them closely.

"Give me the mechanical parts from the α-24."

“Previously, the fortress operated using internal emergency energy production equipment. If we can repair the power plant and restore power, then most of the fortress's system functions will be back under our control.”

"Including fire control, riot control and surveillance systems."

As he was speaking, several discordant alarm red lights suddenly emanated from the instrument in front of him.

"Another error occurred."

"Casca, give me the mechanical clamps on the Σ-3."

Click.

As the final green light signaling the connection appeared, Fugrim wiped away the fine beads of sweat from his fair forehead.

Repairing the equipment takes a considerable amount of time, but fortunately, they have plenty of time right now.

"Phew. Alright, now all that's left is to activate it and grant it permissions."

Their gazes fell upon an old computer—or, in this world's parlance, the "Thinker"—connected by countless mechanical cables.

[Starting up.1%]

[Starting up.2%]

She went to great lengths to reactivate the old Thinker.

Judging from the countless newly erected machines and supplies nearby, she had tried to sneak here a long time ago to repair the Thinker.

"I originally planned to restore the power supply after the marriage was over, but Herod ruined the plan, so I had to resort to this method to forcibly gain control of the fortress."

As he spoke, Fugrim's hands flew across the buttons on the Thinker.

It was so fast that even Casca could only see a partial afterimage.

"You did all of this by yourself?"

"of course!"

“Actually, it wasn’t that complicated,” she replied with a hint of pride to Casca’s question. “The main problem was that Chemos was missing a lot of key materials, otherwise it could have been repaired much earlier.”

"You would never guess how I used extremely low-quality materials."

"Casca."

Fugrim, who had been talking non-stop, suddenly stopped.

She glanced around, making sure they were alone, then leaned close to Casca's ear and whispered:

Praise me, quickly.

"what?"

"Praise me, right now. Say whatever you want."

In people's minds, Forgrim is often a composed, elegant, powerful, and wise human demigod.

Only Casca was fortunate enough to glimpse her true form hidden beneath her perfect exterior when they were alone.

Kaska smiled knowingly upon seeing this.

"Ah, very well, great Fugrim, the most brilliant engineer in all of Chemos!"

Baby, baby, you are a baby who is very good at building machines.

[Starting up.99%]

".Eh?"

Everything was going smoothly according to Fugrim's plan.

However, it seems that the Thinker is currently experiencing problems.

[Gene recognition error!]

Please enter the correct human genes in the administrator privilege activation section.

Looking at the prompt on the Thinker's display screen, Fugrim's expression was full of embarrassment.

"There must be something wrong with it, preventing it from recognizing me."

"Um... I'll borrow your genes for a bit."

As if to cover up his embarrassment, Fugrim lowered his head, quickly drew some blood from Kasga's outstretched arm, put it into a sample bottle, and placed it into the corresponding groove.

After a moment's hesitation, the thinker resumed the reading phase.

"Phew, this should be fine now."

It's actually normal that it couldn't be recognized before.

After all, the Primarch is a product of the Emperor's subspace experiments, and it is still a long way from being accessible to humanity.

Those who pondered the old night era might not even be able to identify their genes.

But a normal human like Casca is different—

"drop!"

The screen flashed a crazy red light.

[Gene recognition error!]

Please enter the correct information in the administrator privilege activation field.

Countless garbled characters instantly filled the entire screen.

The signing process is currently underway.

However, there was a slight problem with the real-name authentication, so the formal signing may be delayed by a few days.

Chapter 7 From Beyond the World

The power plant technology on Chemos is of very ancient origin.

Tracing back, this Thinker, a product of technology from the "Old Night" era of humanity, symbolizes the unimaginable heights to which human civilization once rose.

The old night refers to the time when humans used their technology to explore the starry sky.

However, as the subspace storm intensified, communication and transportation between different human star regions, galaxies, and planets were severely hampered, and a large amount of technology and creations were lost.

Human civilization was thus scattered among the stars, some even regressing directly to the primordial era.

Chemos is one of the civilizations that has been in decline.

If it weren't for the Primarch Vorgrim descending upon this planet, it's highly likely that human civilization here, along with its ancient technology, would soon be buried beneath the cold yellow sand.

It is the responsibility of the Emperor, the Primarch, the Casca, and every human being to rescue these human civilizations scattered among the stars.

But, Casca.

Are you really human too?

Casca silently stared at the screen displaying even more red text than Ahriman had.

An unexpected situation has arisen.

His genes cannot be recognized by the Thinker.

What does this mean?

Either the machine itself malfunctioned, or the Casca contained too much of the same amount of human as the Primarch, with too much subspace violence mixed in.

But if that's the case, why has he never felt different from others in the past twenty years?

For the first time, Kasgar, a pure human without any mutations, began to doubt his own identity.

He might be human, but it's also somewhat unlikely that he is.

[Gene identification successful!]

The Thinker's breakdown did not last long.

For some reason, it suddenly went from frantically spewing gibberish to returning to normal in an instant.

The green light is flashing brightly, and the system is operating smoothly.

It was as if nothing had happened.

"Are you alright?"

Fugrim, who was about to start repairing again, was at a loss for what to do.

"Was the machine malfunctioning just now?"

The concept of Machine Souls does not exist in the knowledge base of the Fugrim, which has not yet returned to the Empire.

Faced with such an illogical error message and an even more illogical response, she could only do her best to explain.

"Perhaps. It's possible that this Thinker is too old, causing some poor contact at the identification interface."

Casca echoed.

"Yes."

"The reason they couldn't identify my genes before was probably the same issue."

"Exactly! We're all human beings!"

"It's all because this Thinker is too old and has this strange malfunction, making us suspicious."

The two men, being sensible and acting in unison, shifted the blame to the only person present who couldn't speak.

[Administrative privileges successfully granted]

[Attempting to access the power generation compartment management permissions.]

After activating administrator privileges, the process went very smoothly.

"It's been a long time since things have been this convenient."

"Forgrim sighed."

“When I was repairing the fortress system in Carax, the nobles were always on guard against whether I would gain control of the fortress.”

"Not only do they restrict my ability to restore various functions of the fortress, but once I successfully repair some facilities within the fortress, they frantically demand that I hand over the authority to them for management."

As he spoke, Fugrim gave a helpless shrug.