Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 866, page 08.865: "A ten-thousand-year-old soul, interesting."

Black Ark bridge.

"Why?!"

The voice of the conspirator's governor echoed across the bridge, his frustration evident.

It sits atop a thorny throne at the very back of the bridge, a position that allows it to look down upon all its subordinates, who are engrossed in their respective workstations, while ensuring that no one can approach it from behind—an essential, obsessive design element of Ducati society and a symbol of absolute power.

"Why can this monkeys' wrecked boat still move! What I'm asking you for is a prey with a broken leg, not a trapped beast that can still struggle and fight back!"

Its voice, modified by the Bloodlust, sounded exceptionally inhuman and terrifying, questioning the trembling gang leaders below like the scraping of metal.

“Sir…we have lost all contact with the first strike team that stormed the engine room.” A slave trader in charge of the first attack knelt on one knee, his head bowed. “According to the last signal…they should all be…dead.”

"Useless trash!" the governor roared.

It watched as the holographic projection showed the savage monkey's light cruiser slowly turning its bow, like a reckless dagger pointing directly at its own black ark. This was an act of defiance it could not tolerate.

"Send those morbid experimental subjects over there." The governor issued a new order, his tone filled with disgust and impatience. "I've given so many slaves and losers to the Bloodwalkers as payment for cooperating with them, for them to conduct those filthy flesh experiments. Now it's time for them to show me the value of those 'works of art'!"

The engine room of the "Swift Eagle".

Chief Technician Lati's red Martian holy robes had been stained dark brown, the color of dried blood mixed with sacred oil.

Beside her, two rows of nutrient solution tanks containing whip-wielding servants were bubbling and making gurgling sounds.

She was oblivious to the horrific scene around her, her attention focused entirely on the magnificent array of thinkers before her, which resembled a temple.

Countless streams of eerie green data cascaded across the crystal screen like a waterfall. This enormous, sacred machine was the central hub that connected to and controlled the heart of the entire warship—the plasma reactor.

Once damaged, the warship would drift helplessly in the sea of ​​stars, like a whale with its heart pierced.

Behind her, the battlefield had long since transformed into a horrifying mosaic of bloody stones.

The corpses of the dead members of the Ducale Conspiracy, the various alien mercenaries, and the twisted remains of the Aether Hounds were piled up in layers with the bodies of the fallen Guardians, Rangers, and several Tech Priests.

Metal fragments from the improved tactical drone were scattered like ice crystals on the congealed pool of blood, adding a chilling desolation to this tragic and bloody battlefield.

The chest of the experimental wet-component XV-8 mech was corroded with a large hole, and deadly toxic acid was still bubbling at the edge of the breach.

Inside the armor, a wet heart, submerged in a leaking nutrient solution tank, was beating strongly with a slow and heavy rhythm.

The barrel of the rotary machine gun in its hand was red-hot from excessive firing, hissing and emitting heat, while the corpses of the aliens at its feet had piled up into a small hill.

Boom. Boom.

Heavy footsteps sounded as a Casterland mech rose from a pile of smashed corpses and severed limbs. It shook off the bits of flesh, and the joints of its mechanical arms and legs made a reassuring, steady rotating sound.

This round, ancient mech is covered with more than a dozen deep, bone-revealing cracks, but its reliable mechanical structure, originating from the dark age of technology, is far superior to the "ingenious tricks" of the Tau Empire.

It remained silent and did not bother its owner with meaningless damage reports.

A maintenance servo flew in with a buzzing sound, using a miniature cutting beam to remove the damaged ceramic steel shell.

The Casterlan mech then took a brand-new armor plate from the rack on its back and, with the assistance of the servo skull, precisely installed it onto the damaged area.

After the bolts securing a completely destroyed appendage on its back were unscrewed from the servo skull, it fell off on its own. The mech's massive metal arm grabbed a brand-new appendage, now equipped with a fragmentation cannon, and skillfully attached it to its shoulder interface.

Both were severely damaged, but the XV8 mech of the Titans was already out of commission and awaiting repair. However, this ancient war machine calmly and efficiently completed its battlefield self-repair within its capabilities.

“Confirmed.” Lati’s voice was transmitted directly to the Thinker Array via the neural link. “Execute the high-energy redirection command and release all reserve energy.”

Her orders will enable the Swifthawk to deliver the decisive blow that will decide the course of the battle at this critical moment.

The adamantite steering wheel slowly rotated under the control of the bridge crew.

Just as the black ark's hull began to flash phase, the main propulsion engine nozzle on the starboard side of the "Swift Eagle" suddenly erupted, and the bow shield drew an elegant yet deadly arc in the void.

Boom!Boom!
Suddenly, the tightly locked, 30-centimeter-thick fireproof and explosion-proof door behind Lati was violently slammed by an unimaginable force from the outside, producing a deafening roar.

The entire heavy-duty protective door was slammed inward, creating a clearly visible deformation. The sharp, screeching sound of metal being forcibly stretched instantly pulled Lati's attention away from the torrent of data. A cold glance flickered behind her from the corner of her eye.

Based solely on the resonant frequency of the metal, she could tell that this was a level of destructive power that no ordinary weapon could produce.

The metal deformity became increasingly twisted and grotesque with each continuous, battering ram-like heavy blow.

Finally, with a piercing tearing sound, a breach was forcibly ripped open from the center of the door.

Glug... glug glug...

A strange sound, like dry bones rubbing together or a throat being choked, came through the broken crack.

Lati slowly turned around.

The heavy mechanical axe in her hand spun deftly around on her sturdy metal prosthetic arm covered with artificial skin, and finally landed firmly in her palm with a "snap".

The eight-legged chassis, replaced for combat, emitted a dense metallic clatter as it entered combat stance, its internal machine spirit's fighting desire becoming increasingly difficult to suppress.

呷！
As the breach was torn wider, one after another, humanoid monsters covered in thick, gelatinous muscles squeezed in.

They were much larger than ordinary spirits, their muscles bulging in a rough and morbid way, full of explosive power.

They wore only symbolic, fragmented armor resembling that of gladiators, while their heads were covered by menacing triangular helmets that completely concealed their faces.

What's most terrifying is what's behind them.

Thick bone spurs grow wildly from their first vertebra, stretching upwards to form a T-shaped support like a torture rack.

Several IV bags filled with a ghostly green liquid hung from the support frame. The shimmering liquid was being injected into the bags through veins that were roughly inserted into their bodies, constantly stimulating their already inhuman flesh to generate even more violent power.

“Abusive…” Lati, who was also a geneticist, instantly provided the answer, her voice cold and calm.

These creatures are the Blood Actors' 'apprentices,' driven to madness by their willingness to serve under the Blood Actors and learn their blasphemous flesh-modification techniques in order to achieve upward social mobility or pursue more extreme sensory stimulation.

However, they themselves are often the initial and cheapest test subjects of those skills.

No one knows where she, as a technology priest, learned about these alien creatures.

Perhaps it came from information exchanges with Thei, the Inquisitor of Foreign Resistance; perhaps from the vast and forbidden books of the Mechanicus; or perhaps... from some even more unknown source.

However, Lati had a very clear understanding of the enemies he was about to face.

"This is the Holy Temple of the Machine God, the domain of the God of All Machines. You evil creatures of flesh and blood will not dare to step forward again," Lati warned in a cold tone that left no room for doubt, as if reciting technical specifications.

Buzz! —Crack!
The deep hum of the disintegrating force field and the crackling of electric arcs mingled on the blade of the Machine God Axe in her hand.

The Casterlan mech, which had just completed its self-repair, strode heavily and blocked her path, the muzzles of the two automatic cannons on its shoulders already pointed at the uninvited guest.

"Hehehe..."

A hoarse, cold laugh came from behind the muscular monsters.

The laughter carried the smugness of a successful conspiracy and the delight of discovering an unexpected surprise.

"Look... what I found!"

A bloodthirsty creature with skin so pale it was almost bloodless, used its modified claws, which had properties far exceeding those of ordinary decomposition fields, to easily tear the breach in the fire door even wider.

“An ancient… being. Hmm, this collectible is worthy of the payment owed to me by those poor bastards who were banished from the Dark City.”

The Bloodthirsty Man's disgusting eyes, a mixture of lewdness and ferocity, stared unabashedly at Lati.

That was a level beyond the perception of mortals, a scrutiny of the soul, and some intriguing secrets were already fully revealed to the Bloodthirsty Man.

This insight was like a cold electric current, instantly surging through Lati's entire body, as if an invisible probe had entered her core energy circuit, making her feel that everything about her—those more dangerous, more uncontrollable, yet full of endless mysteries—had been thoroughly exposed by the other party.

“I rarely see an ancient soul that has flickered for ten thousand years, especially not one of you short-lived savage monkeys. Hmm… how interesting. Who are you, and what are you?”

(End of this chapter)