Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Lawson hovered in mid-air, his eyes closed.

A massive flow of knowledge is pouring into the swarm network.

He extracted the prophetic interference principle of the Thousand Sons and the subspace band data, and directly gave them to T-001.

"Use this data to create an anti-wizard hunting template."

"Incorporate their spellcasting pre-casting, band characteristics, and oracle link disturbances into the fire control radar identification database."

T-001 responded: "Under construction. Full defense line expected to be deployed in 37 seconds."

"From now on."

"All defensive lines must not be forced to withstand high-level psionic energy waves or spellcasting units such as Thousand Sons Wizards once they are detected."

“Mark it directly as a harvesting target on the tactical map.”

"Wherever there is psionic energy, that's where I'll go."

The instruction has been issued.

In the weeks that followed, the wizards of the Thousand Sons experienced the most frustrating war they had ever faced in ten thousand years.

Originally, they were used to hiding behind the battle lines, using psionic powers to toy with mortal armies, and watching Imperial soldiers despair in the temporal distortion.

Not anymore.

As long as they dare to mobilize psionic energy on the battlefield of Agrippina.

Even if it's just a tiny subspace lightning bolt.

next second.

A static force field portal will suddenly open in front of you.

Lawson, carrying a battle scythe burning with imperial golden flames, will step through the portal and appear directly in their faces.

The Thousand Wizards soon realized something with great sorrow.

These noble spellcasters became high-level resource packs on the battlefield, glowing and actively revealing their coordinates.

Anyone who dares to show their hand will be forcibly harvested.

The Thousand Sons Army's offensive quickly dwindled.

The wizards were forced to shut down their psychic vision and, like ordinary infantrymen, crouched in the trenches with their explosive rifles, afraid of emitting even the slightest hint of warp energy.

One of the wizards couldn't resist lighting a small flame to light the ritual incense for his companion.

Three seconds later, Lawson's portal opened behind him.

From then on, Qianzi stopped lighting incense.

……

Under the relentless onslaught of chaotic forces across the galaxy, Agrippina grew even fatter.

Five thousand green farms, scattered across different planets, operate around the clock.

Countless Chaos Warbands, mutated slaves, and even the remains of demonic entities attempting to break through the defenses were dumped into the massive feed chute by heavy trucks.

Nourished by the chaotic flesh and blood, Squig multiplied wildly, only to be beheaded by the death squad assembly line, transforming into the ever-increasing life points in the Lawson system.

In the foundry, piles of damaged power armor dragged back from the battlefield lay in heaps.

The T-series mechanical assassins were repaired one by one using living metal.

The armor that once belonged to the World Eaters, the Word Bearers, and the Red Pirates was washed clean of its corruption, repainted with a double-headed eagle, and then put on the Thunder Death Knights.

The dark side of Agrippina.

Inside the enormous void dock.

Dozens of strike cruisers and frigates that originally belonged to the Chaos faction were boarded, seized, and towed here.

The mechanical engineering approach, which was originally a slow and maddening maintenance process, was completely overturned by swarm intelligence.

The suicide soldiers, like worker ants, dismantled, purified, and reassembled these warships, incorporating them into the Lawson Guard Fleet.

The enemy's anger.

The enemy's tactical mistake.

The enemy's curses.

Even the enemy's pitiful sense of honor and religious fastidiousness.

All of them were harvested by Lawson through network broadcasts, battlefield micro-management, and system exploitation, and were extracted into resources to restrain the main force of Chaos and enhance his own strength.

Lawson sat on the throne of the Forging Temple, watching the numbers constantly changing on the system panel.

Life Points Reserves Exceed Maximum Limit.

Subspace energy is being wildly absorbed.

The arsenal is operating at full capacity.

The total number of suicide soldiers has officially crossed the threshold of 80 million.

And it is advancing toward the 100 million mark at a faster pace than space energy harvesting.

He looked at the number and tapped the armrest of the throne.

"Almost there."

T-001 stands below.

"Based on the current battlefield consumption and farm output, the 100 million node is expected to be reached within five cycles."

Lawson looked at the star map.

New red dots are still appearing around Agrippina.

"Then keep feeding."

P.S.: Guys, 2.6 words, please vote!

Chapter 168 Using war to fuel further war, Lawson grows ever stronger with each battle.

War is certainly cruel.

Death, destruction, despair, ruin.

These words are never uncommon in the Warhammer universe.

They were the gods' favorite toys, and the background color written to death in the imperial history books.

But in Agrippina, when this galactic meat grinder had been running for one year and seven months, the brutality of war was stripped away by Lawson.

It is no longer an epic.

It is no longer a hymn.

No longer the roar of demons and the sacrifice of heroes.

It was broken down into several cold data tables.

In the central control room of the Forging Temple, the holographic projection is no longer a passionate tactical sandbox.

It's more like an outrageously huge logistics and resource management interface.

Fifty million cornerstone sequence nodes, along with countless combat soldiers scattered across the battlefield, make up the neurons of this system.

Where did the enemy come from?

What class of warship are we on?

How many troops are carried?

Is there any high-level psionic energy fluctuation?

Are there any engines and armor plates worth stealing?

The moment they tore through the subspace, they were already marked, archived, and valued by the system.

Terrorist Drop Pod:

[High-value melee experience pack.]

[Source of pig iron.]

[Can be used to train the bear guard's counter-charge rhythm.]

Red Pirate Raider:

[Recyclable mobile warehouse.]

[Suspected of carrying refined gold, slaves, promethium fuel, and stolen goods.]

[Prioritize capturing ships.]

The Altar Ship of the Word Bearers:

High risk of pollution.

The decision to capture or destroy depends on the size of the fissure.

Nurgle Plague Ship:

Login denied.

[Towing into the dock is prohibited.]

【burn.】

The swarm intelligence had already figured out which area the enemy would land in and what firepower would be most cost-effective to use to eliminate them.

If the landing party consists of a group of mutated slave soldiers, the system will use regular heavy explosive rounds in a crossfire mode, firing with the optimal trajectory to kill three people per round.

If it were a few Chaos Knight mechs that landed, the Swarm Intelligence would immediately deploy 6,000 Bear Guards to dismantle them, without wasting a single precious plasma cannonball.

Chaos Space Marines who are killed will have their power armor stripped off by Keystone Death Knights within three minutes and be sent to Maintenance Line 30 underground.

The banished demon's soul was intercepted by the system and filled into the subspace energy tank.