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

Chapter 221 A Night at the Museum (Part )

Essentially, the stasis field is a device that distorts time. Regardless of the technology it is based on, its function is to "destroy the normal flow of time within a certain range" to greatly reduce the progress of causality.

If we put it in a less "academic" way, we can also understand that time is stopped within the range where the static force field is effective.

Within this range, even elementary particles cannot vibrate freely. Anyone, anything, or object trapped in a stasis field undoubtedly loses the possibility of "further development" and can only exist in the eternity of that moment in the state in which they were placed.

However, what is stagnant in the technology that can be achieved by physics is only the laws of physics. This is certainly a precise and brilliant invention that symbolizes that flexible wisdom can overcome the unconscious universe itself - but we must know that the laws that prevail in this universe do not only use "physics" as its entire principle.

Somewhere in the vast galaxy, at a certain time, or at this moment, something happened that was earth-shattering to the people involved, but as insignificant as dust in the entire universe. The fate that was mixed into a mess was shattered, and the aftermath quickly promoted the cause and effect of certain things, causing them to be transmitted like pulses in the subspace.

This was a common thing. The universe was big enough that there were countless similar events happening every moment. But a special coincidence made this thing special: among these driven causes and effects, the end of one branch flew into a stagnant field as lightly as a young swallow flying into the forest.

The "causality" that was physically stagnant began to "develop" again with the advancement of psychic energy. A sound like breaking glass, which should not have appeared in this completely silent space, was heard, and a "collection" trapped in the stasis field fell out with a painful groan.

The sensor picked up an unexpected vibration, and the relevant alarm had been sent to the data center. However, the severity and priority of the alarm were very low, and only a row of underworld scarabs responded to the command. As executors of low-level emergency protocols, they crawled out of their standby locations and prepared to perform basic inspections and repairs on possible technical problems.

——The director of the Solemn Museum will regret in the near future that he did not discover this tiny mistake in the first place.

-

"I think this is an art gallery." Akuldona, who was pointlessly alert to the movements around him in Prototype No. 1, said this to Santo, who was obviously tense and looking for a suitable route forward.

"This is not funny," the latter responded. "Just like your own artistic level, your 'humour' is probably not up to par."

"I'm not kidding," Akultuna said, sounding a little indignant. "I admit that my painting and sculpture skills are... well, in need of improvement. But I am also an Emperor's child - I know what an art gallery should be, and this one certainly fits the bill."

"What conditions?"

"Look at the lighting, the structure of the stadium, the visual guidance... Never mind. You should look at the battlefields trapped in the stasis field: although they are all aliens, don't you think the way they deploy their troops is stupid?"

"Indeed, but what's the problem?"

"From the perspective of combat effectiveness, such an arrangement is very stupid. However, if we judge it from an artistic perspective instead of a military one—"

"—Are you sure you have that kind of vision?"

"Do you believe I can throw you out of here?"

Santo made a gesture of surrender, signaling Akuldona to continue. But when the latter spoke again, he simply gave up using his artistic bacteria, which might not even amount to two taels, and simply pointed in a certain direction outside the observation window: "Look, isn't that a sign introducing the exhibits!"

But Santo did not follow Acurdona's finger and look in the direction he pointed. Instead, he turned his attention back to the overly simple screen on the console: "Something is moving."

They all knew what was going on. Akurdona naturally gave up the previous topic, took off his helmet, and put his face as close to the observation window as possible: "What? Where? I can't see it!"

"About 200 meters ahead, there's a group of very small individuals... Hmm." Santo stared at the display thoughtfully, "This is a signal pattern that was entered into the database by later generations. I think we at least know that this is most likely a facility managed by the Necrons."

"I saw them. Little green creatures." Akuldona stared at the movement of the small group of underworld scarabs. "Want to follow them and take a look?"

"It's better to be cautious. The Necrons are a species of aliens with advanced technology - far more advanced than the Empire. That's what the data shows." Santo once again reviewed the overall data on Prototype 1. "So far, we have used the virtual number diving technology to reach this place and have been operating in strict stealth mode. It seems that we have not been discovered yet, but - what is the relationship between this coordinate and Fulgrim?"

"I don't know." Akultona said confidently, "Do I look like I'm an expert in divination? I'm just a messenger!"

Santo rolled his eyes at him again and said unhappily: "Then I say, we should retreat immediately. Look at the stasis fields around us and the things locked up in them: this is definitely not an ordinary tomb world. If something unexpected really happens, the situation afterwards will not be something that you and I can easily deal with-"

"——But we are just here to scout." Akurdona interrupted him in time, "Relax, we are just looking around quietly——"

"—I don't think the Daemon Princes under the Lord of Pleasure would lurk in Necrons territory—"

"——The divination only said 'may be related', but it doesn't mean he is 100% sure!" Akurdona argued, "Maybe we can find some important clues?"

He paused for a moment, then continued, "If you wait any longer, we'll lose track of those gadgets!"

Santo angrily stared at his teammates in this operation for a while, then turned back, muttering something like "That's why I hate divination" under his breath, and resignedly drove Prototype No. 1, quietly following in the wake of those underworld scarabs.

"If we are taken to some 'bustling area' and forced into battle," the captain of the Iron Hands Company gritted his teeth and threatened the Emperor's children beside him, "I will definitely throw you out first to take the blame."

He thought he would get at least one or two sentences to fight back. Although Akurdona's literary attainments were not very high, he would always argue with others. But he waited for several seconds, and all he could hear was the buzzing sound of Prototype No. 1 when it was running.

This made him feel a little strange and he turned his head to check the other person's condition. Although Akurdona was still Akurdona at this moment, the expression on his face showed a rare...

Santo didn't want to say this, but at this moment the Second Captain of the Emperor's Children did seem a little uneasy.

Meow (peaceful)

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 222 A Night at the Museum (Part )

He wanted to vomit.

He knew very well that he had nothing to vomit. He had never eaten anything decent, and could only barely sustain himself. And since time began to flow through him again, he had no chance to do so.

The memories in his brain that didn't really belong to him contained corresponding concepts, and impressions of different types of food - color, aroma, taste, and texture, all in great detail. He could even infer his likes and dislikes from them, but these overly detailed memories could not change the fact that there was nothing in his digestive system that would make him vomit.

This reaction in his body was not really due to any physiological problem. His "innate" exquisite brain calmly analyzed the cause of this phenomenon for him. In the moment after he escaped from the stasis field, his brain itself received too much intelligence information unreasonably. He had no idea where so much intelligence information came from and why it was forced into his brain, but too much data did affect his brain function and sent wrong signals to his other organs.

Fortunately, he corrected this mistake very quickly. His body naturally had a strong ability to correct errors. Even though his brain was still too busy processing and analyzing such excessive intelligence, he was still a sharp and dangerous weapon - this was determined by the original design.

The amount of information from unknown sources that could drive a mortal crazy countless times, or simply blow up a psychic's brain, only made him vomit twice. He didn't vomit anything, because his natural warrior instinct forced his brain to forcibly separate the thread used to "pay attention to the current situation" and told him that this was natural.

Then, he realized that he was wearing a gorgeous, purple and gold armor - gorgeous, but lacking the necessary functionality, even practicality. He didn't know its structure, but he naturally realized how to "use" it: it was not convenient to wear, and even the design of the armor itself was restricting and limiting his movements. If he wanted to move without destroying the clothes themselves, it would inevitably be very uncomfortable.

He had never worn anything like this before, but he naturally knew how to move his body gracefully within such restrictions. His hands and feet were still a little weak, but it was enough for him to slowly stand up from the cold ground.

On the shiny ground, he saw the vague reflection of the golden eagle on his chest under the simple green lighting. He unconsciously smiled bitterly, and this was also vaguely reflected on the ground. He saw his silver hair falling down like silk, and his face in the mirror, which was as handsome as a god even though it was blurry. Then, the unconscious bitter smile on his face widened.

At present, he had little brainpower to think about the current situation, so he didn't understand why he made such an expression. This was a very insignificant question, and its importance ranked last among all the issues that had to be analyzed at present - and the most important thing was obviously the intelligence information that was inexplicably poured into his brain regardless of his own will.

In other words, other memories that did not belong to him.

The amount of information was too huge - it was completely unselected, filled with a lot of redundant and useless data, and was simply forced into his mind, forcing him to read all of it in detail. He already knew some of the things in it. The knowledge, skills, and stories that had happened had been naturally implanted into his mind by the genes that made up "him" before he was born. And now, other information that he had never known before that flowed into his consciousness told him that these stories that had happened had an ending.

In the short dozen seconds when he fell out of the stasis field, he read about Fulgrim's life of ten thousand years.

Fulgrim landed on Chemos, like a phoenix rising from the ashes; Fulgrim was welcomed back to Terra by the Emperor, and led the Emperor's Children to join the Great Crusade; Fulgrim was gradually corrupted by the xenos' longsword, leading the entire Legion into the abyss; Fulgrim launched a rebellion with Warmaster Horus, killed his former best friend, and completely fell into the arms of Chaos and Slaanesh; Fulgrim was promoted to Daemon Prince after sacrificing his brothers, and indulged in pleasure in Slaanesh's Silver Palace; Fulgrim allowed his legion's descendants to wantonly kill the Imperium he should have been loyal to and fighting for; Fulgrim... Fulgrim...

Fulgrim ultimately became the monstrous form of the horrors told in the legends of ancient Terra, beheaded forever by the godlike warrior, his former friend, with the sword he had once been gifted, the sword his father had wielded against his greatest enemy.

Fulgrim's end was to slowly turn into ashes in the golden flames. And this time, the "Phoenix of Chemos", which abandoned the noble name of the phoenix, was unable to rise from the ashes again.

He was forced to read all of this and had no idea why, but he vaguely realized that it was this "ending" that was projected onto him for some reason, forcibly pushing forward the "development" that had been stagnant by external forces, allowing them to extend again, thus breaking the stagnation field's blockade of his "cause and effect."

He didn't know why he realized this, because there was no knowledge related to these "metaphysical" things in his genetic memory. The small part of his perception that was paying attention to the outside world told him that some "bugs" flashing green light were approaching him at a speed that was a bit too fast for a life form like "bugs", but in his eyes it was still slow, but he still felt that it was not important.

In his confused consciousness due to excessive information, another voice that obviously did not belong to him, as if hanging in the sky, asked downward: Who are you?

Fulgrim. He thought. I am Fulgrim.

You are not Fulgrim, the voice replied. The real Fulgrim betrayed the Imperium ten thousand years ago and joined Slaanesh, and was utterly slain by Ferrus Manus, who was reborn in the flames. Who are you?

During these questions, a kind of resentful anger inexplicably grew in his heart.

"I am Fulgrim!" He shouted out loud without realizing it. His voice, as magnificent as that of the Primarch, echoed in the empty and dark exhibition hall. "That corrupt man - he does not deserve this name! He is not perfect, and he is corrupted because of it!"

His anger was evident in his tone and words, but it did not cause any other phenomena. The green beetles had come to his side, trying to push him back into the stasis field with a force that "bugs" should not have. At this time, his perception, which was still in confusion, finally made him realize that those things were not real bugs, but some kind of extremely sophisticated mechanical structures. He should have realized something from this, but anger and confusion hindered his thinking. He just angrily pulled those stupid machines off his body, instinctively threw them to the ground with far more force than necessary, and finally crushed them one by one.

Another, softer voice joined his consciousness uninvited: Glad to see you're still chasing perfection. I think we'll be compatible.

"Shut up! You evil creature!" He roared into the air, "Do you still think I don't know your tricks?"

Then, a sigh and a chuckle came from his consciousness. Those thoughts that did not belong to him disappeared in an instant, as if they had never existed. Immediately, his consciousness became clearer, and his perception of the outside world became clearer. Some kind of intuitive attraction made him raise his head and look to his right side - the direction where the green mechanical beetles came from:

He saw a strange-looking... anti-gravity... vehicle? -

Sixteen standard hours later, the director of the Solemnas Museum, "The Infinite" Trazyn, fell into deep thought as he faced the empty exhibition stand.

He called the technicians and personally went to check all the operation records of the venue with his subordinates. Under the leadership of an overlord, with the speed of the Necrons' thinking, they checked the records that might have problems tens of thousands of times in a flash. After finding nothing, they began to try to expand the search range to find any clues that were wrong - but apart from a small group of underworld scarabs that were destroyed for unknown reasons, he still did not come to any reasonable conclusion.

Trazyn couldn't figure out how his exhibits disappeared out of thin air. This could have happened if one of his subordinates had tampered with the operation records.

——What a joke. Even if there was, it is impossible that he had not revealed his flaws in the tens of thousands of inspections before: before the biological transformation, Trazyn was an archivist among the Necrontyr. This part of his career made him a picky and serious person who was very particular about a piece of data and had an extremely sharp eye. Of course, there were some quirks that did not match his status as a hegemon... I am getting off topic. In short, if someone successfully tampered with the operation records of Solemnas and was able to conceal it from Trazyn himself, then this person would be as high as a pope in terms of machine performance - no disrespect, he just wanted to use some Arabian Nights metaphors to explain the truth that "this thing is impossible to happen".

Or, someone or something has developed a way of transportation that can bypass the security system of Solemnus. For Trazyn, this is a possibility that is easier to accept. Even though he is the Overlord of the Necrons and has full confidence in the history and technology of his race, he has to admit that there are things that happen in this world that are beyond his calculation and prediction: most of these annoying things come from his own kind, and a small number come from the warp (including the one on the Golden Throne). He has experienced a lot of similar losses, but after all, there are precedents.

So the question is, who did it? Who has the ability to do it so inconspicuously? Even in the heavily guarded Solomons Museum, where there are three sensors almost every step away, there is no evidence to prove the existence of outsiders?

After three microseconds of lengthy contemplation, Trazyn decided to give up:

There is too little evidence, so why not go and beat up Orikan first.

Meow (six o'clock)

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 223 The messenger's standards are a bit high

"...This happened so quickly." Ritsuka Fujimaru sighed while holding a straw in his mouth.

By the way, although the Master of Chaldea currently has a straw in her mouth, this is not a leisurely scene of "listening to others telling stories when she has nothing to do": the straw in her mouth is connected to the sugar and salt water in the plastic bottle. This stuff is really hard to drink, but after high-intensity and strenuous exercise, she really needs it to quickly replenish the lost minerals and energy.

The "high-intensity and strenuous exercise" she had carried out not long ago actually referred to leading the Imperial Guard squad assigned by the Imperial Regent on the Stormboundary to directly cut into the Tyranid Zerg swarm on the surface of the planet Skelos and go straight for the Tyrant Zerg King who was surrounded in the center of the battle formation.

After the "Photon Ray" simulated by the Orthnaus spirit-based exoskeleton directly evaporated the largest hive node creature along with all the Zerg guards, they successfully sounded the death knell for this hive tentacle that was separated from the main force - if it weren't for the extra-dimensional shadows brought by these damn things that blocked the psychic transmission of individuals other than the Tyranids, things could have been solved in a simpler way.

Amid the stench of the piles of Tyranid corpses, Fujimaru Ritsuka sighed, "It's a good outcome, for both of them."

Sanguinius, who brought her the news that Ferrus had successfully killed Fulgrim, turned his head in the hazy golden light. The adamantine mask that looked exactly like Sanguinius himself could not express his emotions, but his slight surprise still came out in his words: "I thought your feelings would be... a little more intense."

"Technically, I don't really know Fulgrim, nor am I involved in any of the incidents involved." Fujimaru threw away the empty bottle. "This is Mr. Ferrus's own business, and in a sense it is very... 'personal'. It would be disrespectful for me to make a fuss about it."

Considering that the empty bottle was inevitably stained with the mucus that inevitably splashed out when the Tyranids were chopped up, she really didn't want to take it back - after all, it was just a bottle. But what she didn't expect was that the plastic bottle with the straw quickly shrank and melted under the golden flames and disappeared.

Fujimaru Ritsuka, who had just raised the rainbow sword in his hand, looked at Sanguino with a puzzled look. Sanguino was calm and composed as if he had done nothing just now: "Excuse me, your 'respect' is sometimes hard for me to understand."

"There's no need to understand. Just think of it as a cultural difference." Fujimaru Ritsuka finally adjusted his breathing. "Besides, do you have to mention these things to me at this time?"

She understood that this was important information, but was it really appropriate to tell her this when she had to be in the middle of a large number of insects that were running around because they had lost their node creatures?

Sanguino did not answer, or perhaps he decided to answer with his own actions. The wings behind him did not flap, but he still slowly floated up from the ground in the golden light. Seeing this, Fujimaru Ritsuka moved his wrist indifferently and said to the guards beside him: "Mr. Vasily, we have to go back. Please help us find a suitable direction to break out."

The Guards Warden Vasilian nodded silently. If he were to evaluate, being in charge of security work beside Fujimaru Ritsuka was much less stressful than being beside Robert Guilliman - although they both had the bad habit of wanting to fight in person, at least Fujimaru Ritsuka knew that he should not be too far away from them on the battlefield, and also understood the principle of returning to the court immediately after achieving the tactical goal.

More importantly, after deciding on the strategic direction, she would leave the specific tactics for implementation to the guards. This sense of participation made Vasily very satisfied.

Without the unified will of the hive, the various Tyranids could only run around according to their own instincts. From an overall perspective, this did make them easier to deal with, but from an individual perspective, the combat effectiveness of a single Zerg did not decrease, and even became more aggressive due to the Tyranids' own brutal instincts. Unfortunately, these were of no use when facing the elite team that Fujimaru Ritsuka was in.

The ten-man squad of the Imperial Guards quickly rearranged their formation under the temporary command of Watcher Vasilian, placing the target they needed to protect in the front and middle of the team. When they were ready to fight their way out, the golden light brought by Sanguinor had already explained his actions: in just a few breaths, he had successfully killed three nearby brain worms that were trying to gather their forces again in the chaos.

"I have one more thing to say." After throwing the enemy into confusion again, the living saint of the Empire once again ran back to the marching team and spoke to Fujimaru Ritsuka: "Garebo Santo of the Iron Hands and Akuldona of the Emperor's Children disappeared not long ago. Considering the problem that just happened and was considered "very personal" by you, my father felt that you needed to know about this matter."

"You sound like Saint Guinness when you're being sarcastic. Aren't you really the one who's doing a backdoor listing here?" Fujimaru Ritsuka replied with both anger and amusement.

"I didn't mean that—"

"——I remember that Captain Santo has been conducting research on imaginary submersion, and he has a good relationship with Akuldona." Ignoring Sanguino's defense, Fujimaru Ritsuka obviously didn't take what he said before seriously. "These two people disappeared together, perhaps just conducting some kind of technical test. Considering that the Storm Boundary is also difficult to detect during the imaginary submersion, I think this is a more reasonable inference than 'they were affected to some extent by the struggle between their genetic fathers'."

"But recently, some of the Emperor's Children in the Damned Army have appeared to be a little... Lord Sanguinius's words: sneaky."

"They may know something, but I suggest you question Elder Rilano directly. All you have to do is threaten him with painting something ugly on his hull paint, and convince him that you are capable of doing it. Then, as long as it doesn't involve issues of principle, he will answer all your questions."

"That's what I'm worried about: What if, in their opinion, what I need them to answer is really some kind of 'question of principle'?"

"You've stumped me." Fujimaru Ritsuka was stunned for a moment, "What did Sanguinius say? Did he try it?"

"My gene father may have some ideas about this, but that is not something I can speculate on." Sanguino replied, "In any case, it is too unbelievable that the Cursed Astartes would disappear. At least when I came here, the Lord meant that we must find out the reason."

"I understand. I will think about this issue as soon as possible and investigate it in my own way." Fujimaru Ritsuka replied.

This was not an excuse. Unlike some political animals common in the imperial leadership, the "as soon as possible" in the mouth of this little girl only meant "as soon as possible." Although they had not had much contact with each other, Sanguino knew this and therefore thought that this answer was satisfactory enough.

"Thank you very much. Excuse me," said the living saint with golden light. "My brothers are in dire straits on the battlefield. I have to go and show my face."

Fujimaru Ritsuka raised his eyebrows: "'Show your face' - I ask again, are you really not Sanguinius himself?"

Sanguino did not give a direct answer to this, but simply made his figure melt and disappear in the golden light.

A few minutes later, at the other end of the endless sea of ​​insects far away from where Fujimaru Ritsuka was, another pillar of golden light shot up into the sky. At the same time, another blazing white sun suddenly appeared in the blue-purple sky of Skelos.

It seems that Somni's battle in the void is going well as well. This is what Fujimaru Ritsuka judged.

Meow (peaceful)

Skelos: The planet mentioned in the short story "Sanguinor: Company Model". This short story is about the Blood Angels fighting the Zerg on this planet for seven years until they ran out of ammunition and food and were almost dead (only about ten people were left). When they were at their wits' end, Sanguinor appeared and led them to kill the Zerg. The author focused on the issue of whether to believe it or not, so, except that Sanguinor did appear and killed the Zerg, and the names of the remaining Angel cubs, everything else was made up by me, including the ownership and size of this Zerg, and the actual time when this happened.

By the way, I will write a lot about Sanguino in the future. Who told GW not to give him a logical and believable origin story...

Vasilian: In "The Plague of Gods", he and Kirken were behind the Regent (in the physical sense), muttering about him charging into battle and abandoning his guards. I didn't see the original text, so I don't know if he was really the Watcher (the translation of B station was "Warden"), but the text said that he "had just completed 500 years of service and was awarded an honorary robe" (roughly speaking), and he did use an axe, so I just thought he was the Watcher...

The part where Guda fights the bugs is something that can be written about, but there is really nothing to write about. To put it simply, I just rushed in and broke through. Although if the war scenes can be written well, there will be nothing to write about, but everyone already knows that I write badly when it comes to wars. It is completely a cyber impotence with good intentions but no need to torture each other... So I just fast forward to the end of the war.

(End of this chapter)