Warhammer: Empire Reboot

"Six hundred million migrant workers, thirty million debtors, and eight million two hundred thousand unregistered migrants."

"Whether you want blood sacrifices, slaves, or to make the entire planet kneel at the feet of the War General, I can help you."

She swallowed hard, a fierce determination to survive flashing in her eyes.

"Valerian only knows how to procrastinate. He's old and afraid."

"I'm different."

“I can pledge my allegiance to Abaddon.”

“I can make the Palermo family the Black Legion’s agents in Damocles.”

As she said this, she even took the initiative to tear off the Imperial Double Eagle pendant from her chest and throw it on the ground.

The metal pendant rolled twice in the pool of blood.

Madame Palermo looked up and forced a twisted smile.

“I can prove my loyalty.”

“Give me an hour, and I can get all the remaining nobles in the top district to open their refuge rooms.”

"Give me a day, and I can stop the food supply from Agricultural World Three."

"Give me three days, and I can make the civilians of more than a dozen planets tear each other apart."

"The War Command needs someone like me."

The black-armored warrior looked down at her.

A moment later, he reached out and took the general map of the grain depot.

Hope shone in Mrs. Palermo's eyes.

The next second, the black-armored warrior rolled up the general map of the granary and stuffed it into her mouth.

Her eyes widened, and a sob escaped her throat.

The black-armored warrior finally spoke, his voice sounding as if squeezed out of a broken megaphone.

"The war commander has no shortage of dogs."

The chainsaw sword roared into action.

Madame Palermo was pinned to the floor of the secret room.

The serrated edge sliced ​​through her shoulder, shredding paper rolls, teeth, flesh, and screams together.

The map of the granary she donated was soaked in blood and half of it was still stuck in her throat.

The walls of the secret room were splattered with red.

The Imperial Twin Eagles pendant on the ground was crushed by an iron boot.

The firelight in the spire area was reflected in Ilancia's eyes.

She stood on the high corridor in the distance, watching the massacre unfold from beginning to end.

Lawson looked at the fire.

"The remnants of Abaddon attacked the Governor's Spire of Damocles."

"Governor Valerian Hearst and the principal nobles died heroically."

"The Dark Side Master, Lawson, will arrive as soon as possible to stabilize the situation, take over the galaxy, and hunt down the remnants of Chaos."

After he finished speaking, he turned his head to look at Ilancia.

The firelight flickered in his eyes.

"Little bean sprout, remember one thing."

"Violence itself is not sophisticated."

"But when a group of people enshrine greed as law, bloodsucking as tradition, and stuff living people into machines and expect them to thank the emperor..."

"Violence is the quickest judgment."

Ilancia: "Wait, I don't understand..."

PS: 1.8 words updated today, please vote!

Chapter 215 Agrippina's Changes

Ilancia wanted to ask Lawson.

What exactly were those Space Marines shrouded in an aura of chaos?

But she also knew that those people were arranged by Lawson.

That's the scariest part.

That is a replication of the enemy's fighting style, language, smell, combat rhythm, and fear mechanism.

Ilancia even doubted whether Lawson truly possessed a Chaos army that would obey his commands.

This thought sent a chill down her spine.

The Eldar of the Ark feared the Slaanesh and also studied Chaos.

They know how easily humans can be contaminated by the subspace.

If a human warlord can manipulate the chaotic energy, if he can make the traitor Astartes serve him, and if he can also raise the Great Demon Keeper of Secrets, then where does he stand?

Will the empire tolerate him?

Will the emperor tolerate him?

Or is it that this human has already crossed the boundaries of imperial law and the inquisition, but because he is too strong, no one dares to speak first?

The next moment, the static force field unfolded.

A pale blue light curtain engulfed the high corridor, the firelight, the blood-red spire, the simulated starry sky, and the governor's corpse that had fallen in front of the holy statue.

Ilancia felt a lightness in her body.

When I opened my eyes again, the world had changed.

Her first reaction was to raise her hand to cover her eyes.

The sunlight was too bright.

This is real starlight.

Straightforward and clean, the rain falls from overhead, landing on a patch of green at the edge of the field of vision.

It is still night on the Governor of Damocles star.

However, it was morning in the Klein system where they were located.

This is not surprising.

Different stars, different planets, and different orbital positions mean that their time will not be synchronized.

Human empires span the stars; the so-called "same moment" is merely a figure of speech on star maps and administrative forms.

Being able to understand something rationally does not mean that one's senses can immediately accept it.

One moment she was standing on the tower's crimson summit, watching nobles being dragged to their deaths by warriors disguised as the Chaos Legion.

The next moment, she was standing under the bright sun, smelling the scents of grass, damp earth, and flowing water.

This switch is too abrupt.

It's like someone stuffing a war scroll, still stained with blood, directly into clean water.

Ilancia stood on a high slope.

She saw the blue sky.

The clouds were pure white, their edges illuminated by sunlight.

A river flows through the farmland in the distance, its surface reflecting the light.

Windbreak forests line both sides of the river. Beyond the forest belt stretches an endless expanse of fields, with vast fields of crops swaying in the wind, and in the distance, automatic irrigation towers slowly rotate.

Further out, there are white farmhouses, low warehouses, greenhouse domes, wind turbines, railcar lines, and a small school.

She even heard birds chirping.

Ilancia stood there for a long time.

"Is this a garden world?"

Looking ahead, Lawson replied, "Klein Agricultural Star, one of the first worlds in the Agrippina Sector to be fully transformed."

"impossible."

As Yilancia gazed at the clear water channels in the distance, her brows furrowed deeper and deeper.

"I have seen the agricultural world of Damocles III. The sky was stained yellow by pesticide fog, the soil looked like diseased flesh that had been repeatedly drained, the farm workers wore nearly rotten filter masks, and people lay waiting to die in sheds by the fields."

She pointed to what was in front of her: "This is not the Imperial Agricultural World."

What are you trying to say?

She paused for a moment, then rejected her own judgment.

"Many garden worlds aren't this clean. The irrigation ditches here connect to farmland, and ordinary farmers walk along the roads."

"So this is unreasonable."

Lawson chuckled.

"The most troublesome thing about your Spirit Race is that when you see something good, your first reaction is not to ask how it was made, but to think that it shouldn't exist."

Ilancia looked at him coldly.

"The agricultural worlds of human empires usually mean overexploitation. To supply hive cities, armies, forge worlds, and tithes, agricultural planets are constantly forced to mature. Pesticides, growth promoters, soil enhancers, water reuse, and generational labor ties—that's the model of your empire."

Lawson did not deny it.

"It used to be."

Why is it different here?