How can a retired savior be considered retired if his price drops to 40,000?

Chapter 315 Why didn’t you delete the previous algorithm in your system?

The experience of virtual diving is not good. After experiencing it, Rog Dorn chose to agree with this.

Of course, as creatures of the material world, whether mortals or space warriors, they will also have adverse reactions for various reasons when entering and exiting the subspace: due to different physical constitutions, they often feel varying degrees of nausea, vomiting, dizziness, palpitations, and other somatic symptoms when passing through the subspace. But if such adverse reactions are compared to "putting a person's internal organs into a drum washing machine, turning them several times, and then putting them back all at once", this description, which sounds exaggerated enough, is still not as exaggerated as the physical sensation brought by the imaginary submersion.

As a creature in the real number domain, wanting to enter the "non-existent" imaginary number domain through calculation transformation - to be honest, this is something that cannot be thought about too carefully. If you think about it carefully, the whole process is a bug of the paradox - even if "Prototype No. 1" can rely on the hull and related equipment to at least ensure that the space inside it does not "disappear" in this process, it is really difficult for the people inside to feel comfortable.

At least Dorn felt that in this process, his soul was pulled out of his body and put into a washing machine for several turns before being stuffed back into his body in a dizzy suffocation. And this might not be a metaphor, as he was sure that at a certain moment he saw the entire cabin, as well as all four people, including himself, from a rapidly rotating perspective.

The clone retched twice, but he didn't vomit anything, whether because his patience paid off or because he had never eaten anything decent. There was nothing that needed to be done right away, so Dorn allowed himself to lie there dizzy for a while. The two Astartes who were riding with him didn't seem to have such a big reaction, or maybe they were used to it. After the cabin stabilized again, Akuldona's voice rang out almost without any abnormality: "Is there any hope of solving this body sensation problem?"

"It's hard to say. Even the Storm's Edge had its crew members occasionally experience out-of-body experiences during imaginary submersion." Santo's voice revealed a hint of fatigue. "In the next optimization design, we can at best reduce this catastrophic side effect to a tolerable level - just like subspace teleportation."

All observation windows were covered with tightly fitting visors, completely isolating the interior and exterior of Prototype 1 from each other. In addition to the indicator lights and display screens on the control console, the only lighting in the cabin was two very perfunctory lumen light strips on the ceiling. Faint cold white light fell from above their heads, and the dim light made the entire space look like an art work that was deliberately painted only to the second stage. After sneaking into the imaginary domain, the roar of the Khorne army and the roar of the engine of Prototype 1 itself disappeared at once, leaving only the hum of the internal generator and the Thinker array. This huge change in the environment made people feel a little dazed for a while.

"How long will it take before we surface again?" The clone's voice came from the other side of Dorn. "I don't mean to complain. I'm not that squeamish. I just ask that you give me some mental preparation in advance. I think I might faint from this."

Dorn didn't say anything, but he had already struggled out of his staggering state and straightened his body. Beside him, the man who looked like his most noble brother had a pale face and looked extremely haggard. Akurdona unbuckled the seat belt that secured him in place and tried to squeeze closer to the driver's seat in the narrow space.

"It's hard to say. I'm recalculating the navigation mark." Santo didn't move, but the green data on the display screen rushed up from bottom to top as fast as a waterfall flying upside down. "I can only guarantee that before we surface, everyone will know in advance what we are going to do next."

"What is our target?" Dorn finally asked. "Where will we 'surface'?"

Santo paused for 0.3 seconds before speaking - for an Iron Hand, this pause should be more appropriately understood as "awkward silence".

"In fact, we haven't decided on a destination yet." He explained, "Judging from the situation just now, our top priority is to leave our original position through imaginary navigation. We are now 'drifting' in the imaginary domain, and as for the 'destination', we currently have two and a half alternatives."

"Two and a half." Dorn repeated the number that was not quite appropriate in the current context with a hint of doubt. "Two is two, and three is three."

Akuldona twisted his body unconsciously because of the crowd and explained, "But I don't think 'an alien base camp' can be called a complete optional destination. It can only be considered half at most. Unless we really have no other choice, we definitely shouldn't choose that coordinate to float up."

This is referring to the Solomons Museum. Even though no one present knew clearly that it was called this name, no one knew that its "area" was as large as an entire planet, and it was really difficult to escape through "normal means".

However, Santo refuted him: "No, that is the whole one, and it is still the better one. At least I am sure that we can definitely reach there in our current state and we can definitely float there."

“Wait a minute, you’re not going to say that the Astronomican is the half?” Akurdona’s voice became nervous, “Even I can recite the coordinates of Holy Terra.”

"Although the distance between us and the Astronomican is a bit long, and it is questionable whether the built-in generator set in the vehicle can support us for the entire journey, I am also inclined to calculate the coordinates of the Astronomican as 'entire'." Santo replied.

"So where is the last half?" Akurdona slammed the back of Santo's chair unhappily. "Brother, you are the Iron Hand, you shouldn't beat around the bush with what you want to say!"

"...Storm Edge." Santo's mechanical voice whispered.

"……what?"

"The last half is Storm's Edge!" Iron Hand suddenly showed unusual exasperation, "I know this is my problem, so stop hitting my chair!"

Akuldona was stunned by the other party's sudden roar and reflexively retracted his hand. Then, Dorn's calm but majestic voice rang out again: "Explain."

Faced with another real loyal Primarch, Santo had to stop and control his temper: "My Lord, this is it. At the beginning of this project, I referred to the ideas of the technology provider and wrote a navigation algorithm for Paper Moon that can capture moving targets. But after actually running it, I found that the results output by this algorithm always contain some noise that cannot be ignored."

He switched the content projected on the display screen, entered the code, and visualized the pure data calculation on a coordinate system. Now, everyone could clearly see that three points that met the conditions appeared simultaneously in the corresponding frequency band.

——The phrase "reference ideas" is just a nice way of saying it. In fact, this algorithm is just a copy of the "Midnight Lord Positioning System" written by Santo before she left the Star Torch, which was based on the base contract between Conrad Curz and his descendants, after obtaining the consent of Fujimaru Ritsuka himself. Then, it was modified to change the selection criteria to "Storm Boundary". At the beginning, this thing worked well, so Santo naturally thought that his modification was very successful. But when he was captured by Akuldona and put on Prototype No. 1, and began to input a coordinate that the latter got from Fujimaru Ritsuka into the Thinker, he began to find that the previously copied algorithm would give two conclusions after calculation. Even if the distance between the two conclusions was very close at that time, they were still two conclusions.

After a series of troubleshooting, Santo had to admit that there was a problem with his algorithm modification: relying on the Paper Moon, the Thinker Array would indeed prioritize the position of the Storm Boundary in the real number domain as coordinates, but if the number of Midnight Lords gathered in the same place was large enough, some redundant data that had not been deleted by Santo would reappear and try to complete the work assigned by their original owners.

His boss reluctantly admitted his failure to the other three people trapped in the car, and finally concluded: "At present, these three clearest points are all suitable for the voyage, but I am afraid that only around the real Storm Edge can our safety be completely guaranteed." During this period of time, they have been lost in the imaginary domain and the subspace, and have been somewhat out of touch with what is happening in the real universe. Neither Santo nor Akurdona are sure why the Night Lords are divided into two halves - the latter did hear about Conrad Curze's successful leadership of his "legion" again, but to be honest, he... um... doesn't trust what good things this mentally ill Primarch and his cubs can do after getting together.

"Look at it from a bright side. The Night Lords sound like a mob." Akuldona tried to speak from an optimistic perspective. "In this case, even if we really come across a group of traitors who are doing evil, it will be easy to escape."

Santo tilted his head to look at him. The half of Iron Hand's face that was almost completely filled with mechanized implants could not make any expression, but Akurdona just felt that the other party rolled his eyes for no reason.

Before the Emperor's Son could get annoyed, Dorn's calm voice spoke again, "Turn on the backend. I'll see if I can optimize the algorithm to remove the noise."

If anyone else had said this, Santo would have undoubtedly been furious. But the one who said this was a Primarch. Just as the thinking speed of the Astartes was far superior to that of mortals, the thinking speed of the Primarch was also the same compared to the Astartes. The Captain of the Iron Hands said nothing, and with a hint of frustration, he handed a data interface to the Primarch of the Imperial Fists in a dejected manner.
-
"We have been looking for a long time." The dissatisfaction in Corax's voice seemed to grow every second. "Where is the 'meaning' you are talking about?"

Coates still maintained his usual nonchalant and playful smile, but when he answered the question, his tone unconsciously contained a little uncertainty that was easily overlooked: "Don't be so impatient. I told you, your consistent preference for practicality and efficiency won't solve the problem here."

The Nightfall was in good condition, but this was "in good condition" for a large ship that had long fallen into the hands of the Chaos enemy. In the process of going deeper and deeper from the hangar, Corax still saw countless miserable dismembered bodies - both mortals and Astartes. He didn't really want to think about where the missing parts of these incomplete bodies went, but the various blasphemous symbols painted with ominous "paint" on the destroyed or simply damaged sculptures and murals on the surrounding walls were obviously an overly clear hint of "what they had experienced".

Of course, having to use one's life as a tool for artistic creation is obviously a relatively merciful ending on this ship. Some people even use their lives to become "artworks" themselves. Most of these people are still alive while being fixed in place in a twisted posture. The creators of these artworks have ingeniously hollowed out the walls or the ground near them, and buried pipelines for transporting life-sustaining drugs and glucose. When Coze noticed them, he even let the expression of "good taste" flash across his face for a moment. It's hard to say whether Corax noticed this, because at the same time, he was spending his energy on finding a quick and decisive way to ensure that these poor people would get a neat end.

Of course, while his brother ended the lives of these victims in anger and silence, Coates also rarely made any statement, whether positive or negative.

They had spent about three hours on the Nightfall, sometimes walking in the space that their descendants had cleared, and sometimes silently going deep into corridors that had not yet been explored or were still under fire. Apart from a few anomalies caused by Chaos pollution and some "landscape facilities" that challenged Corax's cognitive bottom line (but not as much as Curze himself had played with), they had not achieved any meaningful results in these three hours.

"We are just wasting our time in vain." The Raven Lord sounded eager to return to his offspring's ship, which was obviously not a very hospitable place for his current mental state. His wings rubbed anxiously, and amid the slight rustling sound between feathers, Corax took a moment to realize that Curze had not responded in an unusual way.

He turned around and saw his brother, who also had a pale face, showing an anxious and nervous expression again, and muttered in confusion: "Something is wrong."

Before Corax could ask further questions, Koz spoke hurriedly: "I want to go back. I have to talk to Fujimaru Ritsuka immediately."

This once again made the Lord of the Ravens feel angry about being fooled: "What do you mean?"

"My prophecy has been changed!" Koz shouted, his expression complex but natural with almost equal amounts of fear and joy, "The scenes I saw in my unconsciousness did not come true! None of them! Do you understand what this means?!"

Corax wanted to say he didn't understand, but he didn't get to say it, because Conrad Curze, caught up in his excitement, had turned into a black storm, and literally flew away under the light of the broken lumen that could only be described as lingering.

Corvos Corax flapped his wings in anger and chased after him.
-
The three people squeezed in the cockpit of prototype No. 1 climbed out stumblingly and finally got space to fully stretch their limbs.

They were in the real number domain, which was very good; the subspace energy reading was very low, which basically confirmed that they had landed in the real universe, which was very good; based on the feelings of the three people present, the temperature was suitable for human survival, which was quite right; the radar in the cockpit showed that this was a large enough room, and there was no life activity around except for them, which was certain.

...Is it really stable?

The three people who got out of the car looked around blankly, not knowing why they were here.

"Let me confirm." Dorn's voice was as calm and authoritative as ever. "Is there such a facility on the Storm's Edge?"

"If we just talk about cold storage, there must be one." Akurdona tried his best to liven up the atmosphere. But even he quickly realized that in this situation, any attempt to "live up the atmosphere" was not worth promoting. Therefore, he decided to swallow the second half of his unspoken sentence back into his stomach forever.

"If I were more pessimistic, I would definitely say 'we are done'." The clone's tone sounded very calm, "But I have not decided to sit and wait for death yet, so, Captain Santo, do you have any insights into the defense measures that are generally set up in such facilities that we can use now?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the flashing red alarm buzzer sounded deafeningly:

In the Ultramar sector of the Ultima Star Region, a forge satellite belonging to the Mechanicum that orbits Macragge Prime has reported a silent and serious invasion to the central control through the auspicious instrument installed in its internal gene seed library.

This gene seed bank contains more than 14,000 gene seeds that were collected from the rebel legion Night Lords.

(End of this chapter)