Warhammer: My buddy has too many secrets!

Chapter 142 The Fear of Death (5/5) - Please continue reading!

"Senior citizens----"

Malakin had never seen Lancelot so enraged. Even when facing the green-skinned orcs who had slaughtered their own kind, he had never seen the elder Lancelot waver in the slightest.

Even if he were to storm into the Greenskins' fortress single-handedly, the elder would not show much emotional reaction.

But now, facing these secretive members of the Cult of Machines, Lancelot is truly angry. However, after his outburst, the elder seems to feel somewhat frustrated and hesitant.

Malakin felt a slight shock to his soul, because Lancelot had always seemed to have everything under control in the eyes of the weeping crowd.

But now, Lancelot is really feeling a bit tricky. The main reason is that he is not sure what level of necromancer dynasty is sleeping on this planet. At the same time, if a war really breaks out, then everything that the Lamenters and the people of this planet have built will be in vain.

"Elder, please tell us what lies hidden beneath this planet."

Seeing this, the weeping man couldn't help but speak up, while Lancelot sighed.

What should we tell them?

Beneath their feet lay an alien dynasty that existed millions of years ago at the end of the physical universe, but the entire race was trapped by short lifespans and an endless fear of death. When the ancient star god extended a tempting hand to them, promising immortality, they embraced this cursed gift.

Living metal shells replaced fragile flesh, and immortality arrived. The price was their most precious souls and bodies. What emerged from the biochemical transformation furnace was no longer the fear of death, but merely a string of code sealed within a mechanical structure.

From then on, the Fear of Death was wiped out, leaving only cold, undead spirits in space.

But they also truly gained immortal bodies. Their data is stored in the central core, and even if their metal bodies are completely destroyed, they can be copied and uploaded to a new metal shell.

Since then, the galaxy has witnessed a truly brutal war. Their weapons defy logic, being terrifying tools specifically designed to strip away life.

Gauss weapons decompose molecular structures, stripping those struck alive into elementary particles, their souls shattered at the atomic level.

Their technology is unfathomable. They have mastered phase shifting, allowing them to launch attacks outside of reality, create dimensional labyrinths that leave enemies lost in folded geometric spaces, and even command stars to extinguish as easily as blowing out a candle.

This war is also known as the War of Heaven.

It was this war that directly shattered the warp, and negative emotions permeated everything within it.

But later, the space necromancers discovered that they had been deceived by those star gods. They took advantage of the star gods' weakness to let them shatter, and after defeating these material universe's rule-making gods with the power of technology, they fell into a deep sleep.

After completing these tasks, the Ancient Saints' forces also included the Spirit Race, who received the Ancient Saints' legacy. Now their power has expanded, and they are about to dominate the galaxy once again.

Faced with this enemy, the undead chose to fall into slumber.

In the celestial world of tombs scattered across the galaxy, they sealed themselves in stagnant fields, waiting for those fleeting, mayfly-like young races to exhaust their brief life force.

Sixty million years is enough time for stone tools to turn to dust, for lifeless planets to be revitalized, for the powerful Eldar to fall into depravity, and for the foundations of subsequent empires to be laid upon their slumbering heads.

For an Empire, the awakening of a tomb world is often the last event that can be recorded on a planet.

It is usually described over generations and ends in hours.

The only mercy is that most people, until they turn to ashes, never understand what has befallen them, and they don't feel much pain when hit by the necromancy's disintegrating weapons.

Lancelot spoke softly, looking at the weeping crowd around him. He wanted to tell them that the countdown to the cleansing of this planet had already begun.

Who knows when, but the mechanical horde that can be reassembled even after being broken up will engulf this planet? Should we really tell them such cruel news?

Let's put it another way: the planet itself isn't the key; the people on it are. We need to tell the Lamenters about the threat posed by the Necropolis world so they can find a chance to escape if things get out of hand.

Lancelot's thought was a succinct explanation of the danger posed by the space undead, and the veterans who heard Lancelot's explanation looked bewildered.

Because they never imagined that an alien with the most advanced technology in the material universe, all its units were fully mechanized, could be resurrected after death, and ordinary weapons were completely ineffective, would only be rated as level three in the Empire's threat assessment!

"Those damn Mechanicus cultists are fucking bastards!"

"Those caterpillar-like creatures! Killing them wouldn't be an exaggeration!"

Upon hearing Lancelot's account, the Weepers were also unable to hold back their emotions. This planet was originally occupied by the Mechanicus and was originally mined. Who knows what kind of trouble the Mechanicus had caused here before!

In other words, the planet they are standing on right now is a dud that has been ignited!

"Don't rush, Malakin. Take note of this. I'm going to make the following arrangements."

Lancelot forced himself to calm down. Having witnessed Guilliman's ways over the past few days, Lancelot had also learned some of the Primarch's manners: "First, don't tell the general public yet. Start with drills so that people can evacuate the planet in an orderly manner should something happen."

"Second, give the stun gun a good charge and make the mechanical priest confess what they have discovered in this world!"

"Third, and give me another electric forging world, make those iron roosters spit out a large transport ship for me! You don't need to worry about the rest, leave it to me! These grooved mechanical cultists!"

Lancelot finished giving his orders, grumbling and cursing, then personally interrogated the mechanical priests. He compiled what he'd learned, along with other information he knew, into a booklet, and then returned to Terra. He slammed all the information about the Necromancers and the Mechanicus onto Guilliman's table.

After reading these materials, Guilliman's handsome face turned as red as a pressure cooker.

Lancelot, on the other hand, quickly made his retreat. He couldn't let his high blood pressure affect only him; if he could find Ryan and prove himself, he'd show that guy a thing or two too.

Lancelot had been thinking about it, but in the end he restrained himself from the impulse. If he were to see it, the situation might really get out of control.

Now all we can do is try to fix things after the fact; let's go to another world and get some reinforcements first!