Warhammer: Empire Reboot

His black hole projection does not rely on the normal information transmission mechanism of subspace.

Black holes don't emit signals; they devour everything.

Conversely, it can also use itself as an anchor point to create an information singularity in subspace, a gravitational anomaly that is enough to attract the attention of any being.

What if Lawson "projected" the planet's devastation and the suffering of 18 billion people onto the Emperor's soul fragments from the subspace?

This is very dangerous.

Actively displaying a black hole projection in subspace is tantamount to lighting a lamp right under the noses of the four chaotic gods.

But if we don't do it, 12 to 15 billion people will die.

Lawson closed his eyes.

Before he made his decision, a thought flashed through his mind, a thought that was very unlike him:

If the emperor really heard or saw it, would he respond?

Not necessarily. The Emperor is a species-level being; he protects the entire "human" race, not a particular individual or a planet.

On the Emperor's strategic scales, the 18 billion mortals on a secondary planet might not even amount to a grain of sand.

But Lawson also thought of something else: Vera.

This 23-year-old girl's soul was as pure as a flawless diamond in the subspace.

In the dark ocean of despair and corruption on the Empire's Dark Side, pure souls of this caliber are extremely rare.

If the Emperor's psionic fragments "saw" not only the suffering of 18 billion people, but also a pure soul teetering on the brink of despair...

An emperor might not respond for the sake of 18 billion people.

But an emperor might respond for a soul worthy of being ignited.

Because that's exactly what emperors have always done: to ignite the smallest spark in the darkest of times.

Living saints are never created by emperors on their own initiative.

They are the moment when an emperor throws in a spark of fire at the purest moment of a mortal's soul, not to save it, but to ignite it.

It's a gamble.

Lawson made a decision.

Jia Shiqi and Jia Shiba stood silently on his left and right, on guard.

Lawson's consciousness descended.

The material universe faded and receded in his perception. In its place was an endless, surging expanse.

The dark side of the Empire's warp is like a deep sea forever shrouded in storms.

Black, purple, and blue psionic tides rolled like giant waves, occasionally flashing with the red eyes of demons and the blue runes of Tzeentch.

Further away, the blood-red sky of Khorne and the putrid green mist of Nurgle pressed heavily on the horizon like two continents.

At the very center of this chaos, the cold sun shines.

The Emperor's Subspace Projection.

Platinum-gold light radiated from the surface of this star, but unlike normal stars, it emitted a chilling aura.

Its light has waned considerably in the shadows of the empire, like a lighthouse struggling to stay afloat in a hurricane, but it still exists and continues to burn.

It still suppresses all beings in the subspace that attempt to devour human souls.

Meanwhile, Lawson's projection was located not far from the cold sun, where an extremely tiny black sphere floated.

It's like a companion star, an anti-star that defines itself with nothingness.

One light, one darkness.

Lawson revealed his projection.

The black hole's event horizon expanded slightly, sending a gravitational signal toward the cold sun.

no respond.

The cold sun hangs there eternally, its platinum-white light remaining completely still.

Given this, Lawson did something even more direct:

He released the real-time images stored in his swarm mind—18 billion people struggling in curses, blue flames burning in their throats, and old people and children wailing in their withered bodies—directly from the black hole projection as an information torrent.

The aggregated data from billions of physiological tests and emotional observations from every corner of the middle and lower nests of the three nests were all compressed into an extremely concentrated information pulse, which was shot directly at the cold sun.

At the heart of the information pulse is a picture:

A 23-year-old girl knelt between a withered old man and a wailing child, tears streaming down her face, praying to a god who might not even hear her.

The pulse struck the surface of the cold sun.

On the cold surface composed of countless independent fragments of souls, one fragment passively received this information.

It just happens to be on the path of the information pulse.

Just like a planet passing by a beam of light.

This fragment processed the information.

In the Emperor's consciousness, which was shattered to the point of near-collapse, this fragment perceived the dark side of the Empire: a forgotten hive planet where 18 billion people were being slowly killed by Tzeentch's curse, with all physical and medical means proving ineffective, and a novice nun with an extremely pure soul was offering prayers with unadulterated compassion and self-sacrifice.

A tiny ripple appeared on the surface of the cold sun.

In the endless darkness of the empire's shadowy side, this ripple was almost imperceptible.

It was just one of the millions of fragments of the emperor's soul, which trembled slightly after ten thousand years of silence.

A wisp of golden energy, so insignificant in the subspace as a speck of dust, was peeled away from the surface of the cold sun.

It shot towards the black hole.

Lawson sensed it.

A wisp of warmth touched his black hole projection.

The black hole instinctively accepted this wisp of energy, just as a river accepts a drop of rain.

The emperor provided the fire.

But the tinder needs a container.

A spark needs a pure soul to burn.

It wasn't Lawson; his soul was a black hole, capable of holding but unable to release.

Lawson opened his eyes.

Real space.

The air in the shelter was as heavy as lead. The cries of the civilians were like an endless dirge.

Vera remained kneeling. Her lips were cracked from years of prayer. Her tears had long since dried.

Her prayers turned from pleas to murmurs, and from murmurs to silence; she no longer knew what to say to the emperor.

Perhaps... the emperor really can't hear it.

Perhaps... the dark side of the empire has truly been abandoned.

A heavy footstep sounded behind her.

The footsteps were so heavy they made the ground tremble.

Vera did not look up.

She was too exhausted and too desperate.

A giant hand covered the top of her head.

An incredible warmth seeped from her palms through her hair into her scalp.

Then there was a sound.

"The Emperor has heard your prayers."

Vera suddenly looked up.

Lawson was looking down at her, his deep eyes containing something unfathomable, as if he had just returned from a place inaccessible to mortals.

Then golden light poured out from Lawson's palm.

That tiny wisp of energy from the Emperor's soul fragment was transmitted back to the material universe via Lawson's black hole projection, and then, through him as a conductor, was transmitted to Vera.

The light was ignited the moment it touched her soul.

Vera's entire body was enveloped in golden flames.

She suddenly stood up—no, not stood up, her feet left the ground.

Golden flames erupted from her body, and every inch of her skin radiated a soft but blinding platinum glow.

Her black hair fluttered in the flames as if floating in water.

Her eyes, those brown eyes that were usually filled with unease and timidity, were now filled with pure gold.

Behind her, two enormous wings formed from condensed light slowly unfolded.

Each feather is composed of the Emperor's spiritual energy, radiating a warm, holy light that dispels all gloom.

With a wingspan exceeding three meters, the wings resembled two open gates of heaven in the dimly lit space of the shelter.

The entire shelter was instantly illuminated by golden light.

All the wails stopped at the same instant.

Chapter 108 The Living Saint Created by Lawson

Vera hovered about three meters above the shelter, her golden wings slowly opening and closing.

Her consciousness was in a strange state; she could feel herself and everything around her, but at the same time, she also felt another being burning within her.

That being was more like a flame placed inside the glass dome of a lighthouse; her soul was that glass dome, responsible for evenly scattering the flame's light in all directions.

She looked down at the civilians struggling in pain on the ground.