Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Then order is lost again.

Only at the very end did they lose their human identity.

Lawson stared at the large, dark areas on the star map.

Representatives from those areas have lost contact.

I wonder how many worlds are still loyal to the Empire.

Countless worlds have been swallowed up by chaos.

Countless worlds have rebelled, countless worlds have gone independent, and countless worlds have regressed to tribal times amidst famine and plague.

But none of this changes one fact.

Now that he has saved the Agrippina Galaxy, he cannot just focus on building the core of the galaxy and ignore the outside world.

For Agrippina's industry to recover, it needs people, mines, food, and shipping routes.

And those disconnected worlds also need an army that can weather the storm, bring ammunition, bring order, and hang the heads of chaos on the city gates.

Rosen did not intend to act like the bureaucrats of the Ministry of the Interior, first sending three hundred clerks to verify the seals, and then discussing who had the right to levy taxes for a hundred years.

His method was simpler.

Take over first.

Let's count again.

Finally, rebuild.

He looked at an old sign next to the core galaxy of Agrippina.

It also bears the emblem of the Mechanical Church, which forges the world.

In the past, Agrippina was the territory of the Mechanicus.

The power structure consists of the Casting General, the Tech Priest, the Martian Treaty, the Holy Oil Ceremony of the God of Machines, the Machine Soul Prayer, and the Red Priest's cold attitude towards the Imperial Navy and the Astronautical Army.

But this time, Agrippina was snatched back from Chaos by Lawson.

The Mechanicus can certainly return.

They can invest more in technology, send priests to assist with maintenance, bring more ancient blueprints and holy oil, and recite their long, tedious prayers in the factory.

But do they want to regain control?

Lawson's answer was very clear.

No.

He doesn't mind collaborating with the Cult of Mechanics.

He didn't mind giving them some face.

But Agrippina is now part of the Empire's dark side warfare system, his fleet repair yard, the core of his boarding torpedo production, and the industrial base for his future recapture of the sector.

Anyone who wants to take Agrippina away from him must first explain one thing.

Where were you when chaos came?

Where were you when the warships were burning?

Where were you when 70% of the population of the mineral planet died?

Once he has saved the galaxy, he can then jump out and talk about treaties, ownership, and the sacred rights of the Myriad Machines.

Lawson didn't have that kind of patience.

As if sensing Lawson's thoughts, T-001 spoke up: "If Mars or other forging worlds send official missions, it is recommended to maintain diplomatic channels. Agrippina still requires some high-level technical priest databases, ship keel blessing certification, and Imperial Navy document recognition."

Lawson nodded.

"Cooperation is possible."

T-001 continued, "Control is not to be transferred."

"of course."

Lawson tapped his fingers on the Agrippina Galaxy.

"This heart now belongs to the Empire."

He paused for a moment.

"To be precise, it is under my custody on behalf of the Empire."

Lawson zoomed in on the star map to cover the entire dark side of the Empire.

Communication gaps, like gaping wounds, spread outwards from the vicinity of the Eye of Fear.

Countless worlds flickered in the darkness, some still emitting imperial identification codes, some with only old records from hundreds of years ago, and some already marked by red pollution.

He needs more than just orders now.

We also need sound.

The dark side of the Empire is too great, the Star Speakers die too quickly, and traditional communications are too slow.

Lawson is no longer a scavenger who just crawled out of a wrecked ship.

He has a fleet, a warband, a living saint, Dante's endorsement, the title of the Dark Side Master, and a death squad communication network capable of spanning star sectors.

More importantly, he has a habit that is already familiar to the entire galaxy.

Forced interruption.

Arrogant, unreasonable, and completely disregarding whether the other party is willing or not.

As long as you're on the dark side of the galaxy, as long as your receiving equipment is still functional, and as long as your bridge, monastery, hive broadcast tower, rebel communications station, pirate oracles, or Mechanicus data shrine still has a line connecting to the outside world, you have to listen.

"Prepare for full-band broadcasting."

At the same time, many places on the dark side of the Milky Way received the same piercing electrical sound.

The direction of Bar.

A patrol fleet of the Holy Blood Angels was adjusting its course at the edge of warp space. The communications officer on the bridge heard a static and immediately looked at the company commander. The company commander adjusted the blood droplet insignia on his chest.

"Bring them in."

On a transport ship carrying the remnants of the Red Pirates, the pirate leader is leading his crew in an escape.

Upon hearing the static, his expression changed, and he immediately yelled, "Turn it off! Turn off the channel!"

The communications slaves frantically cut off the lines.

But the sound soon emerged from the spare oracle, then from the ship's prayer broadcast, and finally even the low-frequency receivers on the slave collars began to vibrate.

The pirate leader cursed and shot the loudspeaker.

The static continued to emanate from the ship's internal alarm horn.

Near the Eye of Fear in the North.

A Death Guard squad is stationed on the plague-stricken moon. A static noise emanates from the decaying communications altar, and the plague warrior on guard looks up, exhaling foul air from his helmet's breathing vent.

He recognized the voice.

Every time that mortal, capable of completely erasing a demon's soul, speaks, it means trouble.

A hidden shipyard of the Dark Mechanicus.

The red-robed traitors were examining battle reports from Agrippina's direction. As the static interrupted the data stream, several priests instinctively disconnected the external link, only to discover that the nearby machine servant speakers had already begun playing in sync.

A priest whispered, "It's him again."

The mechanical eye of the other priest rotates.

"Records. Every time this person broadcasts publicly, it changes the flow of resources in the war zone."

Inside an underground air defense fortress in a lost-connected world.

A group of survivors dressed in tattered Imperial military uniforms gathered around an old-fashioned receiver.

For many years, that device had only received static and distress signals, but today it suddenly emitted a familiar yet unfamiliar strong electric current.

The old colonel suddenly stood up.

A few months ago, this same voice forcefully entered the entire channel, mocking Chaos and leading a group of Chaos warriors to Agrippina.

At the time, many people thought he was just crazy.

Later, they heard from the intermittent conversations of the refugee boats that Agrippina had survived.

The old colonel whispered, "Don't move it, let it play."

At the edge of the warp, inside a small ship belonging to a Thousand Wizards, a crystal array glowed blue.

The wizard's expression turned ugly after hearing the sound of electricity.

"That inferior creature is here again."

The servant beside him asked, "Master, should we mute it?"

The wizard remained silent for a moment.

No. I won't listen.

A wise person listens to what the enemy says.

Only a fool would cover his ears and pretend that war won't befall him.

There are many other places as well.

Naval bridge.

Ministry of Justice Fortress.

State monastery.

The rebel stronghold.

An abandoned outpost next to the Greenskin-occupied territory.

The Star Speaker Hall, barely functioning in the Frontier Outpost Galaxy.

All channels were torn apart by that ruthless electric current.