40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 749 38. Preparations before War (Part )

Cato Sicarius had dreamed of a set of power armor of his own, and he eventually got one - the MK7 Skyhawk, which was exquisite, powerful, and reliable, and completely satisfied every fantasy he had about power armor.

When he put it on, he even felt that he was almost omnipotent.
Of course, in the subsequent battles, this budding little pride was soon completely shattered. Power armor can indeed provide solid and powerful assistance in battle, but the enemies they face always have a way to bypass this reliable protection, or simply destroy it directly.

But Sicarius understood that this did not mean that there was a problem with the power armor itself, but because their enemy was too powerful.

In a sense, this is like a silhouette of the Empire and this dark galaxy: humans can try every possible way to step into the light, but darkness always seems to be superior.

"Make a fist." A voice behind him ordered.

Sicarius did as he was told and clenched his fists. The feeling transmitted from his gauntlets made him feel both familiar and unfamiliar - his nerve reflexes were still normal, fast and powerful.

But the problem was that this reflex was so fast that he even felt that the armor had already had this desire before he clenched his fist. He wanted to clench his fist, and it had known it tens of millions of years ago.
It's urging me, Sicarius thought incredulously.

He heard a faint voice in the darkness. He couldn't make out what it was saying, but he felt terrified and froze in his place for a moment.

"Now put on your helmet, too, Sicarius. And... eh? What's wrong with you?"

"I--"

"Ah, you heard it, didn't you?"

Belisarius Cawl chuckled amusedly but offered no explanation, merely pointing to the helmet on the armor rack beside Sicarius.

It was unpainted, its surface very rough and black, seemingly without any polishing, its pits and scratches catching the light.

Sicarius tried his best to calm himself, then reached out to pick it up and put it on with one hand clasped behind his back as he did before.

A chill that was enough to completely awaken his mind suddenly rose from the connection between it and the neck guard, and spread to his whole body in an instant. The eyepiece that should have lit up was still dark, and nothing was projected in front of him. The breathing grille was normal, sending bursts of cold air to his lungs.

Sicarius frowned, not understanding what had gone wrong, but the voice came back again, and this time it was more real.

He still couldn't hear clearly, but that didn't stop him from reaching out and pulling off his helmet.

"How is it?" Kaul asked with a hint of anticipation. "Did you feel anything?"

"I don't understand, sir, I hear a sound."

"Ah, yes, of course, the sound—"

Kaul chuckled again, a laugh that seemed quite sneaky considering his size.

He lowered his head and looked down at Sicarius. His overly old and swollen face now had a strange, inhuman glow, but the pale light in the laboratory dispelled every shadow on his face, revealing his humanity.

"--Did you hear it clearly?" Kaul asked expectantly. "What did it say to you? Tell me quickly, young man, this is very important."

"I cannot hear you," Sicarius replied in a muffled voice. "And I beg you to give me an explanation, my Lord."

Kaul's expression changed visibly, revealing a strong sense of frustration, but not directed at Sicarius. He sighed, tapped his artificial eye out of habit, and actually began to explain to him, his voice full of patience.

"You know Machine Spirits, young man?"

"Of course I do, my Lord." Sicarius took a deep breath, controlling his emotions. "I have heard of its existence from the Techmarines."

"But you haven't seen it yourself, have you? In your perception, it is only a legend of the Mechanicus, the fanatical praise of the priests. However, machine spirits are real, Sicarius, and the definition is very broad."

"Of course, I'm not giving you a literacy lesson. I just want to tell you that the machine soul of this power armor was trying to communicate with you just now - and this matter is very important to us."

The tall, monster-like Forge General bent slightly beside his workbench, and the appendages behind him trembled and stretched out, accurately grasping the helmet in Sicarius's hand, then lifted it up and put it on him.

"Try to talk to it," Kaul said. "It doesn't matter what method you use, meditation, cursing, or begging. As long as you can hear what it is saying, we can move on to the next step."

As he said, Sicarius closed his eyes and began to meditate. He had done this tens of millions of times, perhaps more than that.

For him, meditation was initially just a way to relax after training, but it soon became a must-do at least three times a day. Now, whenever he has free time and can be alone with himself, meditation is the first thing he does.
Therefore, he quickly got into the state, and the high or low mechanical sounds in the laboratory were filtered out little by little. The existence of Belisarius Cawl and his huge workbench gradually disappeared from his side, like a dispelled phantom that vanished into thin air.

Slowly, Sicarius stepped into a quiet and dark place.

He knew this place well, knew where the sword was and where the bed was. He used to lie on the bed and think when he came here, but at this moment, he chose to hold the sword.

In the past, he was the only one who could come in here, but not anymore.

Sicarius turned around and looked at it. It was looking at him too, with dim eyes and a thin body. It was squatting in a corner, as awkward and embarrassed as an uninvited visitor who had mistakenly entered someone's home.

He decided to say something.

"My name is Cato Sicarius, and I am from the 4th Company of the Ultramarines Chapter. What is your name?"

It didn't answer, but just shrank and walked out of the corner. Its shape was still blurry, and Sicarius couldn't see the specific details, but he could sense its emotions: no malice, but no kindness either.

So he allowed it to approach, but it did not move forward any further. Instead, it raised its hand and grabbed the sword in Sicarius's hand - this non-existent sword could represent vigilance, violence or something else, and it held it so tightly that it could even be said that it had begun to bleed.

Then it laughed.

"Loyal." It spoke clumsily and with great effort, its voice hoarse but very innocent, like a child who has just learned to speak. "Take me to kill."

Its eyes suddenly became bright, and its speech became fluent. Its voice gradually became louder, like a roar, and finally it even turned into thunder exploding in his ears.

"Destroy the evil. Destroy them, kill them all, make them defeated, and make them kneel down and beg for mercy. Let them hold their own remains in their bloody claws and repent in eternal punishment!"

Sicarius opened his eyes suddenly. The darkness dissipated, and some complex data flashed before his eyes. The eyepiece was working normally, reporting data such as power level, and the communication channel search had also begun.
The voice sounded again, and this time, it was very clear.

"I will protect you," it promised.

Panting, Sicarius reached up and took off his helmet. He was almost confused - what had just happened? Was this some kind of weird psychic ritual? Or had he really established a connection with the machine spirit of this power armor in his imaginary meditation place?

Sicarius really couldn't come up with an answer, so he turned around and looked at Belisarius Cawl, who was looking at him with interest. To be precise, he was looking at the armor on his body.

"You know what, Cato Sicarius? I thought this process would take longer, but you are a man who can talk to it, right?"

"Yes, my lord."

"What did it say to you?"

Sicarius was silent, unsure whether he should conceal part of it, but an artificial muscle fiber located in the armor on his right forearm suddenly trembled, causing his little finger to tremble slightly.

tell him.

These words reached his heart in a form that transcended language and sound.

So Sicarius told him everything, from his own feelings to the shape, performance and words of the machine spirit, without hiding anything.

General Zhutou listened very carefully and remained silent throughout the whole process. Only when the short explanation was finished did he speak with satisfaction.

"Very good, very good, you have helped me complete a very important task - now, it is my turn to help you solve your puzzles. I believe you also need some explanations, right?"

Without waiting for his answer, Belisarius Cawl chuckled with a look of pride in his face, as if he had completed some research that could change the world.

Then he began to walk. His extremely large body required the coordination of many additional limbs to accomplish this task, so the scene should have looked weird and terrifying, but he tore apart this "should".

At this moment, he looked like a high-spirited fighter who had just solved a huge problem and was already eager for more.
"Machine Spirit!" Cawl shouted the word loudly, and the sound echoed around him. "Have you heard any stories about it, Sicarius? Hmm? Gunboats with all their crews killed attacking on their own, old tanks that were neglected and neglected and appeared strangely in the middle of the battlefield at the end of the battle to launch a charge. Machine Spirit exists, my friend, and it exists in all machines!"

"An old-model laser gun has an organic soul, a transport vehicle has an organic soul, a drop pod has an organic soul, a speeder has an organic soul, and a thinker has an organic soul! Even the Titans, the embodiment of the supreme power of the Pan-Machine God and the embodiment of His wrath, also have organic souls!"

"It's just that for a long time, almost only the pilots, crew members and us, the believers of Om Messiah, who accompany them day and night, can hear their voices. But we can only hear them. In most cases, we are unable to communicate with them. We can only rely on classics and experience to try to meet the requirements of the machine spirits or soothe their anger. What did you do just now?"

Kaul rushed to him in two or three steps, lowered his head, stared at him with fanatical eyes, and repeated the same words in a soft tone.

"What did you just do, my friend?"

"I," Sicarius said hesitantly. "I spoke to it a few words?"

"No, no! It's not that simple! You've established a connection with it, don't you understand?"

Sicarius opened his mouth hesitantly, "I don't quite understand, sir, and I don't know why this matter is so important."

Call laughed a deep, happy laugh.

"Of course you don't understand. If you did, you would be the one leading this research! Now take it off and go back. I'll call you back tomorrow, young man."

He waved his hand, turned around and returned to his workbench. His enthusiasm came and went quickly, and in the blink of an eye he didn't want to say anything anymore.

Sicarius had no choice but to take off his power armor with the help of the tentacles hanging from the ceiling, and then walked out along the way he came without saying a word. However, he didn't know that Cawl didn't actually have a job, but was calling someone.

The communication was quickly connected.

"Sir!" General Zhuo waved his right fist excitedly and shouted. "I did it!"

However, facing his excitement, the man on the other end of the communication image did not show any joy, but sighed helplessly. In the sea and mountains of documents, he raised his head solemnly and looked at Kaul.

".Tell me in detail, but as soon as possible. I have ten minutes at most before I have to go to a meeting at the State Council. Do you understand?"

"Of course, of course, sir." Kaul nodded and replied. "In short, my idea has been initially proven to be feasible."

"The machine souls born from the power armor forged with blessed ceramic steel and alloys can indeed connect with the devout believers more easily, and we can try to amplify this influence until this connection becomes another kind of armor, that is, armor on the spiritual level."

"A large part of the danger of chaos comes from its pervasive nature. However, in this area, we are quite passive. We can even say that we have been passive for 10,000 years."

"Our solutions to it are nothing more than faith and will, but both of these methods are based on human beings. Although they are effective, they cannot stop the evil intentions of chaos from harming them."

Kaul paused for a few seconds, made a gesture, and straightened up expectantly: "What do you think? Is this idea feasible?"

On the other end of the communication, the man pondered for a moment, then stood up and nodded.

"Give me a moment, Call."

He said, then walked out of the picture, but his voice was still clear.

"Do me a favor, Soul. Cancel this meeting for me. Say I have other things to do. Then contact the Ecclesiarchy and ask them to send ten of their followers who have the potential to become living saints to Forge-General Belisarius Cawl's Ark of the Machines. I will meet them there."

Footsteps were heard, and he returned to the picture. He raised his hand to pick up the hat on the table and slowly put it on.

"Your idea is very interesting and quite unconventional, Caul. To be honest, I didn't expect you to come up with such a plan that is completely different from what you had previously conceived, but it is indeed quite tempting. Anyway, wait for me to come over. Oh, by the way, who just made contact with the machine spirit? Call him back, the matter is not over yet."

He smiled slightly and closed the communication.

(End of this chapter)