Warhammer: Empire Reboot

What exactly does an emperor do besides maintaining the starlight and astronomical beacon while sitting on the golden throne for ten thousand years?

Nobody knows.

The Four Gods didn't know, Vashtor didn't know, Abaddon didn't know.

That variable is the biggest black box in the whole game.

Slaanesh clearly didn't intend to continue the conversation.

Its image blurred again, leaving only its pair of purple eyes floating in the void.

"Remember to bring something interesting next time you come. You always make my palace boring."

Vashtor turned and left.

When they returned to the Cataclysmic Forge, Abaddon and Huron were still waiting for the results.

The two men knew the negotiations had not gone well when they saw Vashtor's condition upon his return.

"How so?" Abaddon asked.

Vashtor walked up to the furnace and threw a piece of scrap iron into the fire.

"There isn't a single person in Slaanesh's camp who's mentally sound."

"They're all perverts."

…………

When the ground battle ended, seventeen breaches remained on Saim-Han's skeletal shell.

The Chaos Landing Pod smashed through, the Necromancer Phase Assault blasted through, the Dark Eldar raider crashed through...

Every breach was surrounded by piles of corpses and remains.

The black armor plates of the Chaos Warriors, the living metal fragments of the Necromancers, the poison crystal shells of the Dark Eldar, and the purple spiritual remnants left behind by the Slaanesh Demons were mixed together and spread out in a thick layer.

The various clans of Saim-Han began repairs and cleaning.

The spirit bone craftsmen used spiritual energy to guide the spirit bones to repair themselves and seal the breaches.

The ghost guards silently carried the remains of the Eldar warriors, removing the intact soul stones one by one and sending them to the Ancestral Temple.

The young riders rummaged through the ruins, searching for their companions' belongings, scattered fragments of soul stones, and anything that could still identify them.

Lawson's foundational sequence is also helping with the cleanup, but in a slightly different direction.

The Eldar do not want Chaos equipment and weapons. The Eldar's technology system is completely different from that of humans. Chaos's power armor, chainsaw axes, and bomb guns are scrap metal to them.

But Lawson wants it.

The foundational sequence categorizes all non-Eldar remains on the battlefield.

The wreckage of warships in space is worth a huge sum of money.

The fragments were scattered across the void thousands of kilometers around the ark, like a green metallic nebula.

Lawson's Gluttonous Recycling Team and the Keystone Sequence used small shuttles to traverse the void, collecting the warship wreckage piece by piece.

Fine metal, ceramic steel, plastic steel, weapon components, and reactor fragments were all sent back to Agrippina's shipyard through the armory transfer port.

The gains from the Necromancers alone expanded Lawson's arsenal space from 1,200 cubic meters to 1,500 cubic meters.

The reserves of living metals have reached a new high.

Qianxian was also full.

After obtaining Lawson's permission, Salasian Thousand Strings spent approximately three hours wandering around various corners of the battlefield on the Ark.

The corpses of the Dark Eldar killed in the battle were scattered throughout the Ark.

Their souls do not immediately dissipate at the moment of death. The Dark Eldar of Comoros have been immersed in extreme sensory experiences for many years, accumulating a large amount of concentrated pleasure and pain residue in their souls. This allows their souls to glow briefly for a few hours after death, like a freshly baked pastry that is still cooling down.

Qianxian absorbed all these souls one by one.

Three hours, hundreds of Dark Eldar souls.

When she returned to Lawson's side, her face carried a satisfied, almost languid, look.

With her purple eyes half-open and half-closed, and her lips slightly upturned, she looked like a diner who had just finished a big meal and was leaning back in her chair digesting it.

"Master, the black bean sprouts taste so-so."

Lawson ignored her.

He was looking at a star chart.

The Necromancer Somtatech has fled.

The personal teleportation protocol allowed it to escape a fraction of a second before the flagship was crushed.

Lawson knew it would definitely come back for revenge. The necromantic overlord was just as vengeful as the dwarves. The fact that the fleet of the Vol's Tomb had been crushed and the living metal had been stolen was enough to make Somtathek put Lawson in the top three of its list of creatures to be eliminated.

Waiting for the other party to come back for revenge is not Lawson's style.

When the infiltrators disguised themselves as the Thousand Sons Legion and raided the Vol's Tomb World last time, the Swarm Intelligence had already accurately recorded the coordinates of the Tomb World and the gravitational data of the surrounding star system.

The main tomb of Somtathek is not too far from the Vol's Tomb world. The territories of the Necromancers are usually distributed in the form of clusters of tomb worlds, and the distance between the core world and the outer outposts follows a pattern.

Lawson has already issued orders to the fleet via swarm intelligence: conduct a fan-shaped search along the coordinates of the Vol's Tomb world and lock onto the main tomb world of Somtathek.

Find it, then kill it.

The strength of the Vol Tomb Complex is only considered average among the undead forces.

Somtatech's fleet and samurai were limited in number, and most of them were crushed by the Battle Moon, so they could not recover in a short time.

We must act before it forms an alliance with other tomb worlds, otherwise, once the undead overlords start communicating with each other, things will get much more complicated.

Vashtor and Abaddon are hidden in the warp and are temporarily out of reach.

But the undead exist in the real universe.

Eliminate the enemies you can reach first.

Inside the Saim-Han Ark, in the Hall of Bones.

The twelve clan chiefs and the group of prophets sat around the star map.

The final version of the battle report has been compiled, and the data stream in the Spirit Bone Vein presents all the loss figures.

Nine million seven hundred and thirty thousand of their people perished in battle.

Of these, approximately 1.2 million were combat personnel killed. The remainder were civilians, including those injured or killed when the Chaos Landing Pod crashed into residential areas, wounded who were abducted by the Dark Eldar and whose whereabouts are unknown, and innocent members of their race whose Soulstones were shattered after being affected by the Slaanesh's song.

Seven Eldar Titans lost.

The loss of Qitai is equivalent to losing seven mobile ancestral temples and seven strategic weapons in one fell swoop.

Ship losses included eleven light cruisers, twenty-seven frigates, and a large number of jet motorcycles.

The Antarctic skeleton structure is damaged, with seventeen breaches in the hull, three living domes severely damaged, the third mooring ring nearly destroyed, and the Antarctic skeleton ridge requiring complete reconstruction.

Salosin sat in the chief seat, leaning on his staff.

He read the report from beginning to end, and after he finished reading it, he looked at the prophet Ilanther.

"Ilanser".

The Prophet stood in the shadow of the projection of the Bone Dome, the tip of his staff still connected to the Bone Veins of the Ark's core.

Is our future still unclear?

Ilanser remained silent for a few seconds.

"It's different now."

Salosin sat up slightly.

"This observation has revealed a glimmer of hope ahead of the fate line."

"The gray fog that had been obscuring the future was still there, but a crack had appeared at the edge of the fog, and light was shining through that crack."

"What light?"

“It’s like the guidance of our ancestors.” Ilanser hesitated for a moment. “But the direction is strange.”

She raised her hand and brought up an image on the projection screen of the Spirit Bone Dome.

The image shows an open area inside the Ark, a motorcycle training base for the Eldar.

Three hundred Eldar jet motorcycles hovered above the training ground.

Several Eldar riders stood on the sidelines, wearing training uniforms with instructor markings.

In the training field, one figure stood out, wearing Imperial-style tactical armor, followed by two Terminator Guards.

Lawson.

The eyes of several clan leaders fell on that scene at the same time.

"Could he be the dawn of our Spirit Race?"

No one answered.

Three hundred Eldar jet motorcycles were neatly hovering on the training field.

One of the cornerstones sits in the seat of each motorcycle.

They wore light riding armor in the Eldar style.

The stands around the training ground were filled with Saim Han's riders.

They came to watch the spectacle on their own initiative.

The news spread quickly: humans were to learn to ride Elven motorcycles.

To the riders of Saim-Han, the news was as absurd as "orcs are going to learn Eldar poetry."

A young rider leaned against the grandstand railing and said to his companion, "Do you think they can learn to start on the first day?"

"You should be able to learn how to start it."

The companion replied, "The psionic resonance of the spirit bone core requires the rider's mental concentration. Human mental strength... well... let's hope they don't drive the motorcycle into the wall."

An old rider nearby scoffed, "Humans even want to ride our jet motorcycles. Their Flying Bears are ridiculous enough, calling a sixty-ton armored brick a motorcycle."

The Eldar riders in the stands sat with a sense of superior anticipation, ready to watch the humans make a fool of themselves.