I'm a magnetic field madman

That place is a veritable gathering of all sorts of strange and wonderful beings, from aliens to demons, there's no shortage of anything and everything.

The only problem is how to infiltrate Terran's palace, since Angron knows he doesn't have much talent for secret infiltration.

Over the past ten thousand years, very few people have successfully invaded Terra's palace, and even fewer have been able to reach the throne room.

But these very few who succeeded made the Golden Corns even more paranoid, causing them to strengthen the defenses of Terra Palace many times over.

Furthermore, the only time he ever saw the Terran palace was when he went with Horus to invade Terra, but the problem is, he doesn't seem to have managed to break through then...

So, after thinking for five seconds about how to infiltrate Terran's palace, Angron decided to abandon his brain.

Damn it, I don't want to think about it anymore!!

Since he wasn't good at thinking, he shouldn't try to think. The more complex the plan, the more likely it was to go wrong—so, in that case, Angron's plan was quite simple!

Sneak onto a ship bound for Terra, then jump off once you're in Terra, walk to the foot of the Terra Palace, and then fucking fight your way up!

Slay through those golden corns, storm the Terra throne room, put a sword to that salted meat's neck, and make him hand over Sintira to you!

This plan—is perfect!!

To be honest, after finishing his plan, Anglong laughed at himself—he didn't know whether he had any vision or not.

You might say he lacks vision, but he dared to stage a solo rebellion.

You might say he has a grand vision, but the purpose of his massive rebellion was simply to establish his own planet and rule it!

Such a crazy plan seemed extremely ridiculous to Angron, but it was truly the only way he could do it.

Because he understood that even if he lowered his goals and kidnapped the sector governor in an attempt to exchange for peace, it would still be fruitless.

If the Terra Highlords Council, who are in charge of all this, cannot be made aware of the danger in one go, even if these guys don't take action themselves...

Their various scoundrels and shady characters would also be eager to make a move against Sintila!

Moreover, Angron couldn't think of any better way besides this. Once the plan was finalized, Angron immediately prepared to take action!

He planned to sneak directly onto one of the Redemption Cult's pilgrim ships and infiltrate Terra with these fanatical believers who intended to make a pilgrimage there.

The plan cannot be described as very rigorous; it is merely adequate.

What Angron was most worried about was what problems he would encounter when traversing the warp... He wasn't sure if his Primarch essence had been completely stripped away, otherwise he would be too conspicuous in the warp.

But why would he appear in this museum of space necromancy?

This leads to another unexpected event.

"Oh, how interesting is Matrix Technology! How did they manage to condense such complex technology into such a simple character?"

Just as Angron and Fugen were hacking and slashing their way through the chaos, a burst of incredibly joyful sounds echoed through the now-restless museum.

"Fuck you, get us out of here!!" Angron roared, pointing at the flickering arcs of electricity overhead.

"Don't be in such a hurry, follower of the God-Emperor—oh, I'd better not use that title to address you anymore."

The voice was somewhat insane, and the owner of the voice was an AI... or rather, a strange life form that had uploaded itself into a nanomachine.

His name is Grid, which comes from the gift of the "god" worshipped by Angron.

Just as Angron was about to leave, the god who had given him the seed of magnetic power and had been out of contact since suddenly contacted him.

He didn't ask him to do anything; he simply told Angron that he had a way to teleport him to Terra without going through the warp—if all went well.

Then, what he threw over was this Iron Man called Grid.

I really don't know if this thing is Iron Man Angron... This crazy guy's true form is just a bunch of nanomachines.

He calls himself Grid Skynet, and his mental state exhibits extreme madness. According to him, this is the result of him merging with the soul of another genius.

He claimed to possess a technology called "StarHyper"... which could bypass subspace and achieve faster-than-light travel through other "hyperdimensions".

It's highly unreliable; even the grid itself says so, stating that the biggest problem with this technology in the universe is the lack of clear coordinates...

Without a safe hyperspace route and by not using the primary hyperdimensional "subspace," they have a chance of jumping to the wrong dimension.

However, he also said that the probability was very low, unless there were other superdimensional entities that were activated at the same time within the jump distance... otherwise he could still ensure that he could accurately jump into the solar system.

Angron didn't want to take this train, but the turbulent warp storms made him abandon his original plans.

Given the frequency of this subspace storm, if their ship were to plunge into it, it's hard to say how many years it would take them to emerge.

He was willing to take the gamble for the people of Sintila!

And then, he appeared here.

"You can't blame me for this. Who knew there were so many fixed interdimensional traps in the river's channels? But at least we got out safely, right?"

"Tell me, is our FTL technology enough? How much can your mummified father ask for? If all else fails, we can jump again once I've fully collected all the energy."

The grid said, both crazy and aggrieved, and then went on to release more museum collections by invading more systems.

Countless raging nanotorrents gnawed at the green-glowing black stones like insects, while Angron was utterly speechless, only able to roar and slash off the head of a Hive Tyrant with his sword.

"Relax, Angron."

Fogrem said elegantly and calmly

"Things couldn't get any worse than they are now. I don't know why you've become like this. But to be optimistic, the worst outcome for us is just to continue being collected by the owners here."

"Shut up, you jinx!" Angron rolled his eyes and sighed.

"God knows why I ran into you here... Your good son cloned his biological father, but whether you are the lucky one or not, leaving this godforsaken place may not be a good thing for you."

“I know,” Fogrem said calmly.

“I can still feel a strange throbbing in my soul. Perhaps I am a fragment of the real Forgrim's soul, or perhaps I am just an imposter, but—”

The sword in his hand danced gracefully, and the magnetic force attached to it grew stronger with each use of it.

"Now I only hope to complete my unfinished atonement. Brother, like you said, do what you believe is right, regardless of whether I will be recognized or whether it is true."

“…” Anglong shut his mouth, because he suddenly felt that the situation of this clone of Fugen was much more tragic than his current situation.

If he really went to the outside world, neither side would welcome him.

How could the Empire accept a cloned Primarch?

On the other side of Chaos, that dead snake spirit will probably come and kill him or take him back the moment it senses him.

He himself was probably tormented by whether he was really... but in any case, the memory of killing Felus and that series of atrocities was still deeply etched in his mind.

He had nowhere to go; freedom meant only a new torment to him.

"If you really didn't go out, then you might as well join me," Anglong said bluntly.

"Anyway, my loser brothers are going to come knocking on my door sooner or later. One more or one less won't make a difference."

"Ha, Angron, you're much more likable than that drooling fool I remember."

"Fuck you, you're only slightly better than that gay snake spirit who hangs out with demons."

Angron and Fugen continued their back-and-forth banter, one supporting and the other undermining, as they moved forward...

Another area was released due to the rampage of the grid, and the two of them swept away all of Tyron's exhibits.

And soon enough, they actually encountered their "kindred spirits" in this place full of strange artifacts.

Inside the exhibition hall ahead, a static field was set up. Three nuns stood back to back, one of them unleashing a barrage of fire from her bolter at the approaching claws of the gene-stealer…

The gun barrel flashed with a blinding light, scorching the beetle's armor black.

Another loaded the last gas canister into her fusing gun, her face blackened by soot. An executioner lay at her feet, his torso blending into the crater created by her last shot.

The last one-eyed nun—or rather, an inquisitor—wielded a bomb crossbow and a power sword, efficiently eliminating these gene stealers.

The arrival of Angron and Fugen clearly startled the three of them, and the two nuns immediately pointed their guns at Angron and Fugen... But the female judge actually stopped the two nuns and stepped forward...

“I am Katharina Grefax, an inquisitor of the Exile Order, I…”

Before he could finish speaking, Angron kicked the unsuspecting judge flying.

Upon seeing this, Fugen and Anglon immediately disarmed the two nuns.

"Why did you suddenly attack?" Fugen asked, frowning.

"A judge who doesn't shoot upon seeing your face must have something wrong with him," Angron said with a snort, watching the female judge slowly stand up.

"Even if she's alright, she'll definitely make a move when she finds out who we are, so it's best to strike first."

"That's quite a brutal action. I would be heartbroken if this precious artifact were damaged."

"Greyfax" rose to his feet like a clumsy puppet, dragging his severed arm and left leg, his eyes gleaming with an eerie dark green, and smiled slightly at Angron and Fugen...

"Hello, two Primarchs of the Imperium of Man. My name is Talazin, the Endless Talazin."

83. Hypercube Maze

"Tarasin? You're that mentally unstable space necromancer who's been searching the entire galaxy for someone to collect?"

Upon hearing the other person introduce himself, Anglong paused for a moment but still recognized him—after all, he was quite famous in a certain sense.

Even during the time he was Khorne's demon prince, he had heard of Tal Rashin...

This audacious bastard controlled a Chaos Space Marine from the Black Legion using the Heartlock Beetle, intending to seize the Claw of Horus from Abaddon.

This incident became a huge joke within the Eye of Fear—because Tarachin almost succeeded.

Even though he failed, he still thoughtfully left a letter praising Abaddon for taking good care of the hair bouncing on his head.

And supposedly, this audacious necromancer's collection list also includes the following ridiculous items—

Signed photos of the four Chaos Gods, a lock of the Emperor's hair, signed photos of all Primarchs (including the two missing Primarchs), and so on...

As a notorious psychopath in the galaxy, basically anyone who lives long enough will have heard of the name Tarachin.

Because there's a high probability he'll come over and try to take something from you to keep as a souvenir...

"You know me? That saves a lot of trouble with self-introductions."

Tarasin shrugged, then slowly said...

“I do not know how you have come to me, but you have landed in a less than pleasant place—in fact, the damage you have caused here is something I cannot tolerate.”

“I need to seek compensation from you, and of course I need to reiterate to you all that you should stop damaging my precious collection.”

"Then let us go," Angron sneered.

"Leave? It's not that simple. If two robbers broke into your house and ransacked your valuables, would you just let them leave like that?" Tarasin chuckled knowingly.

"However, I am indeed very interested in you, that magnetic field power, and that special... abomination intelligence?"

"Please call me Grid or Skynet."

A polite voice emanated from the countless nanomachines that coalesced into a silver-white humanoid form before Tarasin.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, and I'm also very happy to be able to study so many interesting technologies."

“Hmm, technology, research. How many years has it been since I’ve seen such pure and intellectual words?” Tarachin bent his severed left arm into an incredible arc, stroking his chin as he spoke…

"An Iron Man from the dark age of human technology? Something feels off, but you do have a collection value no less than that of the Primarch."

“I think we can do a business deal,” said the grid-like man politely.

"We can compensate you for your losses. In fact, we can offer many valuable collectibles to make up for your losses, and... run!!"

Suddenly, the grid shouted, and a burst of eerie blue light erupted from his body, instantly tearing open a path to hyperspace in front of him!

Most FTL technology actually involves stuffing you into a non-material spatial dimension and then creating a path, shortening the distance between paths into the two sides of a door.

The Grid's hyperspace engine is based on the Star Wars universe...

The FTL technology and subspace travel technology in that world were not much different; in essence, they both required passing through a higher-level space independent of the physical universe.

However, the human invention of the hyperspace engine in Star Wars relied on a special creature called the Pulpy Whale...

They learned a way to access multiple dimensions from these life forms that traverse cosmic phases, and since there's no disgusting chaos here... their technological advancements in FTL far surpass those of this universe.

Meanwhile, the FTL technology in the Warhammer Universe was hampered by the fact that the largest dimension, the subspace, was too foul...

The only technology that could have evolved into more and better FTL technology along this path was the former Space Necromancer.

But as the grid says, if you can't take the main road (subspace), then you're always likely to encounter some unexpected things on those remote paths.

The instant the net shouted, Angron smashed Tarasin's body in front of him with a single punch.

However, before the heart-locking beetle was destroyed, Grefax, who was controlled by Tarasin, still wore a leisurely and complacent smile.