I'm a magnetic field madman

A hurried sound echoed in the silent tomb, and a rising shadow, Tarasin, disregarding everything, teleported over in his true form!

His wildly flashing light revealed the turbulent inner world of this galactic, fatally mentally ill man...

"As you can see, I have restored the 'soul' to the eternal being."

The Grid Skynet fiddled with a burning ember in its hand, chuckling softly...

"You can take it back and examine it carefully. If you think it's a special case, I can make it a second time for you. As for the figurine king, I just want to make a trivial deal with him, hehehe."

The grid-like network paused, then continued...

"Release us, and of course I can stay here, because I was planning to establish some special working relationship with you anyway. I don't think that's an unacceptable deal, is it?"

Tarasin quickly regained his composure, or rather, he calmed himself down. He looked at the wailing lich guards on the ground and said softly…

"Why don't I just be more direct and lock you up here?"

"Because you wouldn't get the AllSpark that way either," Grid Skynet shrugged.

"Admittedly, I am indeed trapped in this time loop. But each time I 'retrace' my steps, I can still leave irreparable marks on my nanomachine storage array. If things get too tough, we'll just have to part ways."

"You can bet on whether your universe's best technology can drain my knowledge before then, but if you dare to bet, do others dare to bet?"

Tarachin was silent for a moment. Grid Skynet was right; Tarachin was willing to gamble and even quite happy to do so…

After all, he wasn't someone who cared much about the survival of his race.

His concern for collecting even surpassed his yearning for the soul.

However, the other space necromancers wouldn't think that way; he himself was already infamous within the entire space necromancer community...

If other space undead find out that they dare to put racial revival and their own collection on the scales...

Tarachin dared not gamble on whether the Silent King, who had destroyed the master control agreement, had left a backdoor on them. After much deliberation, Tarachin said helplessly...

"You have touched me, visitor from another world."

He slowly retreated, the scepter of annihilation in his hand striking the ground with a crisp sound.

Soon, a large number of Netherworld Scarabs and Necromancers surged in, surrounding them completely...

“But we want to test your interesting technique,” ​​Tarasin said politely, watching the lich guard being carried away groaning in pain.

"Then please stay here as guests for a while. It's a pity we don't have any hospitality prepared for the living, but I'm sure you won't mind."

Without a word, Angron silently sheathed his black sword. Although he didn't want to use his brain, he wasn't brainless; to try to fight his way out now would be a foolish act.

These space necromancers possess technology capable of suppressing magnetic field forces, and even 700,000 horsepower isn't exactly invincible here.

A fully-fledged Necromancer's Kingdom could not possibly be broken out by two weak Primarchs unless a necromancer were to perform a deus ex machina.

The army of the undead receded like the tide, leaving only them in the cold Prism Museum.

Among the countless black stones radiating a faint green light and the artifacts confined in a static position, the three remained silent for a long while before speaking.

"Where exactly are you from?" Fugen asked cautiously, looking at the grid-like sky net in front of him.

“I already said, it’s just another world,” Grid Skynet shrugged.

"It's not a difficult concept to understand, is it? And who I am is not important; what I do is the most important thing."

Fugen looked at Angron beside him; clearly, his transformed brother knew a lot.

But he didn't care. He casually found a spot to lie down, using his black sword as a pillow behind his head, and said casually...

"What are you worrying about? The empire is already in such a state, can it get any worse?"

Fugen's expression remained worried, unlike Angron, who had completely given up. Although he was just a "copy," he was still the phoenix who cared for humanity during the Great Crusade.

He knew how powerful the Necromancers were... Compared to them, humans and Eldar didn't even deserve to be called a Fallen Empire.

Their weakness stems from the dispersion of their power and the mental disruption caused by their long slumber, but if they unite as one…

Without a doubt, the technology of the AllSpark has the potential to unite all the undead under one banner...

And when that time comes, and the former overlords want to reclaim their place in the universe, what should humanity do?

Also, what are that AI life form that claims to be from the eternal divine kingdom of outer universe, and what is the so-called "God Emperor" behind him?

What kind of magnetic field force do they bring...?

“Angron…”

Fugen looked at his brother, wanting to ask more questions...

However, all he saw was Anglang's ugly face, lying on his back, fast asleep.

Fugen's face twitched repeatedly, and he took several deep breaths to suppress his volatile emotions.

He discovered for the first time that there was nothing that could annoy him more than the Khan's foul mouth and Lemanrus's scoundrel.

Those are the brothers who are just giving up!

That damn bastard who's just giving up is really going to keep giving up forever!

But what could the Purple Peacock do? He could only sigh, sit cross-legged, and stare silently at the arc of electricity dancing in his palm.

The origin of this power is unknown... but it is indeed extremely powerful! And perhaps, he can rely on this power to wash away his shame and atone for his mistakes...

Go kill him, kill Fugrim!

Fugen's eyes were bloodshot, and he adjusted his breathing to prevent the pain from burning his burning heart.

He felt humiliated; every moment of his life was tormented by memories that did not belong to him!

He killed Feralus, and his best brother! He fell into a hopeless monster, rebelling against his ideals and his father, committing an irreparable mistake!

Every wrong choice tormented her, even though Fugen knew he wasn't the real Purple Phoenix... but that perhaps tormented him even more.

"Don't overthink it." Angron suddenly opened his eyes, looked at Fugen, and said calmly...

"If you want to kill that snake demon, don't overthink it, and don't question whether you are the real Fugenrim."

That's just a name, a fucking code name. You don't need to think about right or wrong, or any of that bullshit atonement.

“I’m not you, I can’t live such a simple life,” Fugen shook his head, then smiled slightly…

"Angron, I never thought you'd be able to persuade me one day?"

"Perhaps, I've never been one to bother with complicated problems," Angron said impatiently and casually, turning over in his sleep.

"I only need to know that I will do what I believe is right."

"The right thing to do..." Fukugen murmured to himself, his gaze gradually unfocused...

86. Release of figurines

“After careful consideration, I have granted your permission.”

Before the throne of the Tomb World, the overlord Tarachin received the Grid Skynet with the highest honors befitting his status, and responded cautiously and seriously to its proposed transaction.

"On behalf of the Nihilak Dynasty, I hereby conclude a defensive agreement with the Eternal Kingdom represented by your side. In exchange for the use of the Fire Seed technology, your side will purchase our dynasty's technology and combat applications."

"It's an honor," said GridSky with a cheerful smile.

He stepped forward and presented a constantly spinning, unstable replica of the AllSpark with both hands, and Tarasin's living metal arms trembled slightly as he received it.

Tarasin could not afford to be careless, for this was the best way for their race to be resurrected and regain their sense of self and life.

He had examined his lich guard in great detail over the past few days, and it turned out that he had indeed gained a "soul".

Although his body remained in a state of living metal, it was sculpted to resemble his appearance when he was alive. He possessed vibrant senses, but was still vastly different from when he was a fearful of death.

He still remembered his past, but his memories as a fearful of the dead were not as clear as his memories as a space necromancer.

However, this is to be expected, as the era of the Death-fearing Ones dates back countless millions of years.

Even Tarachin's memory matrix has forgotten many things from the past...

But in any case, the very fact that they possess a "soul" is enough to drive the undead mad!

Tarasin himself was eager to use this technology on himself, but he managed to suppress the urge.

If Tarasim, who doesn't really care much about having a soul, was so out of control, one can only imagine how much more the other undead would react.

The ancient covenant of "offense and defense agreement" is essentially equivalent to classifying other races as allies rather than slaves, a covenant agreement that has been extremely rare in the long history of the world.

The fact that Tarasim dared to bypass his own patriarch and even other undead dynasties to make such a treaty with an unknown civilization and race is enough to show how important this thing is!

Of course, Taracin also had to act as a cautious scholar and gather some trusted dynasties to conduct a deeper study and mastery of the fire-making technology... Taracin was even ready to set off to find the Silent King beyond the Milky Way.

So, although he was very reluctant, Tarachin had to put aside what he originally planned to do and the collection he wanted to capture, in order to do this important thing that concerned the entire race.

He probably won't have time to make it to Cardian. He was originally planning to plunder the Empire of Man on the way and collect Abaddon...

"Actually, if Lord Tarasin wishes to collect it, he can go to the universe belonging to our Eternal God Kingdom in the future."

Having astutely observed the reason for Tarasin's displeasure, Grid Skynet immediately seized the opportunity and said...

"Our universe also contains many interesting and vibrant civilizations and historical relics. Rather than letting them be destroyed in war, it would be better for Lord Tarachin to collect them."

"That's right. The life of a race is as insignificant as a single flash of the sun, while a civilization can be preserved until the heat death of the universe if properly maintained."

Having obtained exactly what he needed, Tarasin seemed to be in a much better mood, chuckling softly as he fiddled with the cube in his hand…

"Although I would love to invite you to visit my universe immediately—this universe, your homeland, also needs to be cleaned and tidied up."

"Grid Skynet said meaningfully," said Fugen, who spoke directly, looking at Tarasin with piercing eyes...

"We hope to take some of your museum's 'collections' with us!"

"In return, we'll bring you a substantial reward once we get there," Anglong said casually.

"You just need to give us some of the less valuable items from your collection... and we'll give you some 'limited edition' items that you can't get your hands on."

"for example?"

"Old salted meat's hair," Angron blurted out, never one to mince words.

“I know you’ve always wanted to collect that old thing. I don’t have the ability to get anything important from it… but if my plan goes smoothly, getting even a hair out of it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Of course, this is all on the premise that the old man still has a single hair left on his head... If he doesn't, I can just pluck some more from him for you."

"Hahaha." Tarasin seemed amused by Angron, his laughter causing the green light between his bones to shimmer faintly... But he was in a good mood, and he also had a new idea...

"The terms are good, but I think you might have other ideas."

As Tarasin spoke, he gently waved his hand, and a magnificent view of the Milky Way appeared before them... but within that magnificent view, there was a murky color that could not be erased.

"That's... Otlam?"

Fugen immediately recognized the area obscured by the filth in the galactic landscape, and said in a serious tone...

“Not only that,” Tarasin said solemnly, then revealed an even more terrifying scene.

It looked as if a sharp saw had ripped open the throat of the Milky Way—the star map was bleeding, and the surrounding space was red and swollen like wounded flesh.

A scarlet crack spreads beneath the surface of the Milky Way, like some kind of infection spreading along a vein.

No one could notice it, not even the creatures living within the red cloud, yet it existed as real as internal bleeding.

This crack originated from a huge wound in the Milky Way.

A wound torn open by the Old Ones during the War of Heaven, stitched together by the Necromancers of the cosmos, and later reopened by the unscrupulous Eldar.

Many ignorant humans mistakenly believe that the Great Rift was created by the Eldar massacre, but in reality, the Eldar were not capable of that. Even the birth of the Slaanesh was insufficient to tear such a veil between the galaxy and the physical universe.

The one who created this thing was actually an ancient sage from the War of Heaven who attempted to directly interfere with the material world from the non-material world...

They used their power to tear a permanent black hole through the physical universe, leading to two planes... and this rift was then stitched back together by the Necromancers using the Burners' technology... but the broken rift has always permanently weakened the connection between the two planes.

Therefore, the current disgraceful state of the Warp is not solely the responsibility of the Star Gods and the Necromancers; the Ancient Ones also did not play a particularly glorious role.

This wound is now known to humankind as the Eye of Fear, and now it seems poised to trigger the rupture line, splitting the entire galaxy in two.

"The Eye of Fear, you are all very familiar with it. That place was torn open by the Old Ones to attack the Star Gods and us, then we used the Tomb Slayer to stitch it back together, but later those Ida cut it open again." Tarachin flipped the galactic image, which resembled a dazzling star map, and said quite solemnly...

“A catastrophe is about to occur from there, and the gap between the psionic dimension and the real dimension will become narrow. Someone must stop them from doing something, and if your God-Emperor cannot rise, I was prepared to take on this responsibility.”

Would an alien thief be so kind? Fugen thought to himself, but he didn't think Tarasin was lying.

He might be an alien, or he might come from a damned race. But he does bear a responsibility—a responsibility to the entire galaxy and even the real universe.

As members of the physical universe, the space undead are absolutely unwilling to let the filth from the highest heavens cover and defile the physical universe.

“I don’t have time to do anything right now, and the changes in fate have reduced my room for maneuver,” Tarasin continued, magnifying the filth of Otralama as he went on…