Warhammer: Empire Reboot

He had barely boarded the ship, and before he even uttered the words "blood sacrifice to the blood god," his very essence was already evident.

The Chaos Battleship was filled with subspace radiation.

If an ordinary human or a regular Space Marine were to go up there for even a few minutes, they would either go insane or have half their body swallowed up by the bulkhead that grows fangs.

What's more troublesome is that Chaos Space Marines don't just look at each other's faces.

They can detect their own kind through subspace fluctuations.

The aura of the Imperial soldiers was like a searchlight in the darkness to Chaos.

Therefore, the Empire had virtually no real behind-enemy-lines operations against Chaos.

Either confront them head-on.

Either the court discovers the signs and physically cleanses both the people and the city.

But Lawson is different.

He has a card in his hand that the empire doesn't have.

And this card is dirty.

With a slight thought, Lawson opened the system interface.

My gaze lingered on an area I hadn't visited in a long time.

[Waste Area]

Whether it's extracting life points from the green-skinned farm or extracting warp energy by killing demons, the system will generate a lot of waste.

Waaagh energy residue.

Chaotic subspace contamination and impurities.

And some system junk that Lawson has been too lazy to categorize to this day.

These items were all automatically disposed of in the waste disposal area.

Lawson sometimes wanted to curse this damn system.

Expanding the armory space requires dumping precious space-dwelling metal into it, like feeding a pig that eats gold.

As a result, the waste disposal area seemed to have no boundaries.

Stuff as much as you want.

Unfortunately, the rules are terribly rigid.

Apart from the waste extracted by the system itself, no physical objects from the physical world can be stored there.

Even a broken laser pistol won't do.

Waaagh's waste can still be used to feed fart spirits.

Thinking of farts, Lawson casually recalled the little wrench.

That little thing was casually tossed into the stasis field when he forced the warship to make an emergency landing.

Later, when the Dichao Green Skin Breeding Farm lacked a living creature that understood the habits of green skin animals, he threw the small wrench in again.

As it turned out, this little brat didn't die; in fact, he did quite well.

A small wrench has that irrational intuition for mechanical assembly, like the green-skinned man, and it also works wonders in a farm.

It can distinguish, more than ten days in advance, which spores will grow into threatening orc boys and which will only grow into Squigs, the kind that are only left with stomachs and teeth and are suitable for making canned meat.

When it first identified the spores, it even tried to climb to the edge of the culture tank and use a wrench to knock down the "crooked" spores.

Then Squig bit off half of his pants.

The little wrench screamed for seven minutes.

But it is true.

Under its guidance, the hidden spores were precisely killed by the assassins in their budding stage.

The risk of farm riots has decreased.

The efficiency of life point extraction was increased by a full three percentage points.

Three percentage points doesn't sound like much.

If you put that into tens of millions of life points, it would be a small gold mine.

Lawson once tried to cultivate several special fart spirits resembling small wrenches using Waaagh waste.

It didn't work.

That thing is probably a mutated genius among farts.

Or perhaps you're just lucky.

Even if Little Wrench ate to his heart's content, the Waaagh waste he consumed would be nothing more than a drop in the ocean compared to the mountain of garbage in the waste disposal area.

Lawson pulled his thoughts back from the green-skinned man.

His gaze fell on another, even larger mountain of garbage in the waste disposal area.

[Subspace waste].

This thing has no gentle use whatsoever.

It is a highly concentrated source of chaotic pollution.

If you threw it onto any ordinary planet, it would be enough to turn an entire nest into a living hell.

Lawson stared at it for a few seconds.

Then he waved to a Thunder Warrior-level assassin at the other end of the corridor.

"come over."

The assassin walked up to him.

Lawson pointed to a repaired Iron Warrior power armor set next to him.

"Put it on."

Two T-series mechanical assassins stepped forward to help him quickly put on the heavy Mark III power armor.

Armor closed.

The neural connection is complete.

The power furnace hummed softly.

A Thunder Warrior, disguised as a steel warrior, stood before Lawson.

Lawson's thoughts penetrated deep into the waste area.

They peeled a lump of something off that mountain of subspace debris.

That mass of waste resembled rotting light, or a nightmare forcibly shaped into a ball, exuding a nauseating stench of decay, whispers, and madness.

He threw the clump of waste away.

The scrap metal hit the power armor in the chest.

The reaction begins the next second.

The substance, like living slime, quickly spread across the armor surface.

The pristine gold armor plates were visibly deformed, with sharp bony spikes growing from the edges.

Dark red patches bulged on the metal surface, like dried flesh forcibly welded onto steel. The evil runes that had been smoothed out on the breastplate twisted and reformed, and a scarlet light shone through the goggles.

An aura of pure Chaos Space Marine, pure and unadulterated, emanated from the armor.

T-001 remained silent for two seconds.

"Appearance pollution simulation: extremely high."

T-007 added, "The scent is also intact."

Lawson sensed and drilled directly into the armor.

It's a completely different story inside.

When the T-Series repaired these power armors, they used a large amount of space-dead bio-metal in the lining, neural connection points, and reactor isolation layers.

The influence of living metal on the complete immunity of the subspace.

It acts like a cold, hard, and absolutely unreasonable physical barrier, separating the assassin's body from the chaotic waste outside.

Outside, there is chaotic pollution that can deceive even the Great Demon's senses.

Inside, the beehive nodes are as clean as an operating table.

The assassins were not corrupted.

The brain is firmly connected to swarm intelligence.

Heartbeat, neural responses, and tactical coordination are all normal.

Judging from his appearance, aura, and subspace fluctuations, the man standing before Lawson was a genuine, ruthless Chaos Space Marine.

Even the most elite inquisitors standing here would only draw their guns first and then shout for purification.

He could never have imagined that inside that terrifying body was a loyal assassin, absolutely devoted to Lawson.

Lawson finally smiled.

"interesting."

This card is too insidious.

The assassins dressed in scrap metal clothing could easily infiltrate the approaching Chaos Alliance.

Reconnoiter the enemy's firepower deployment.

Positioned as a flagship product.

It can even act as a transmission anchor point for stasis force fields at critical moments.

Imagine this—

Chaos Flagship Command Center.