Chapter 332: Malcador Boy! |
As the truth serum took effect, Tido slumped sideways toward the floor.
Before she could hit the ground, Lino caught her and held her steady.
Lino's emotions were complicated as he looked at the beautiful woman who was supposed to become his bride.
He conducted a swift, incisive examination of his own feelings.
He found that his goodwill and lingering reluctance toward Tido were driven by the masculine instincts left in his subconscious—a persistent attachment rooted in physical desire rather than logic.
Lino purged those desire-driven emotional fluctuations. His mind grew as cold as a machine executing a planned protocol under logical overrides.
"Answer me. What is your impression of Lino? How do you evaluate him?"
"Lino... Lino is a veritable research fanatic. Aside from conducting research, he seems to have no other hobbies. Especially over the past few months, he has barely left the residential area, spending all his days buried in the study or his private laboratory."
A fair assessment, void of emotional inflection.
"His Majesty? Yes. He ordered me to obey Malcador's arrangements and assist Lino in becoming the Governor."
Malcador again?
That old bastard had a long reach.
"Malcador is your superior? Are you one of his assassins?"
"No, I am not an assassin. I merely follow Malcador's directives to satisfy all of Lino's requests to the best of my ability."
After a moment's thought, Lino asked, "Who else around Lino works for Malcador? Or rather, who else answers to Malcador's orders?"
In her daze, Tido rattled off a long string of names.
From the Governor's Agents stationed in the Royal Court District to the district's waitstaff, all the way to Amy, who managed the Governor's Guard—every last one of them was Malcador's operative.
'Damn it, heh...' Lino gave a speechless, dry chuckle.
He had been living in his own Truman Show.
"There is another person who works under Malcador," Tido said, her eyelids twitching violently. "Madam Satana, Lino's private Astropath. She is a carefully trained assassin cultivated by Malcador, masquerading as an Astropath to lie low at Lino's side."
Lino's expression shifted slightly. Setting Tido down, he turned and strode toward the private laboratory.
Behind the door, Malcador—who had been lying on the floor—was gone!
Faint, lingering psionic energy rippled in the air.
Someone had seized the opportunity during his interrogation to transfer Malcador elsewhere.
Lino cranked up the output of his findin' gizmo, executing a wide-range scan for Malcador's life signs and anomalous psionic signatures.
Soon enough, he detected two targets moving at high speed along the periphery of the Royal Court District. One was Malcador; the other was none other than the "private Astropath," Satana.
Lino shifted his consciousness back to the interrogation room in the Palu Homeland. Thawing the Ork brain, he forced the consciousness of Malcador trapped inside it to awaken.
A potent truth serum was injected directly into the Ork brain.
Lino asked, "What eyes and ears did you plant around me?"
Through a hazy consciousness, Malcador answered Lino's questions honestly.
His answers were far more detailed than Tido's. The scope of his personnel extended beyond the Royal Court District into every major department across Epimet. He had even laid hidden arrangements among the current students enrolled at the academy.
It was no exaggeration to say that Malcador was the true ruler of Epimet, while Lino had merely been an oblivious puppet stripped of real power.
"Truly worthy of being the Imperium of Man's greatest loyalist. Your watertight methods did the yellow weasel a massive favor."
Lino couldn't help but sigh in acknowledgment.
Under the truth serum's influence, Malcador said, "The word 'great' does not apply to me. Across the entire Imperium, only His Majesty deserves to be called great. I am willing to serve His Majesty and the Imperium for my entire life."
'Even dosed with truth serum, you old bastard still haven't forgotten to flatter the yellow weasel. Malcador, you...'
Lino had lost count of how many times he had been left speechless today.
He switched his consciousness over to a Black Knight and walked into the bedroom of his living quarters in the Royal Court District.
From top to bottom, Epimet was crawling with Malcador's informants. There was no longer any need to linger in or care about this Hive City.
Lino stopped beside the bed, gazing down at the young man lying comfortably upon it.
That face bore zero resemblance to his true features.
At last, he could shed the days of living under another person's skin.
Crash!
A single punch slammed down. The bed frame shattered, and red and white matter sprayed across the room.
The violent destruction of his human body caused no negative backlash whatsoever—proof enough of just how much of a burden that human vessel had been.
Lino shook his fist, flinging off the blood and gore as the corners of his mouth curved upward.
Among the countless otherworldly transplants out there, he was probably the only existence who had ever managed to personally murder himself.
And truth be told, after casting off his human identity, he instantly felt a whole lot lighter.
There were six Black Knights stationed inside the Royal Court District.
Lino activated their self-destruct sequences. Then, right before the detonation, he terminated Malcador's Waaagh Simulation.
Six deafening explosions ripped through the air.
Six blinding golden fireballs rose from the ground, illuminating the night sky over the Royal Court District as bright as day.
Raging shockwaves expanded outward, rushing at thousands of kilometers per second to overtake the two figures flying rapidly through the night air.
The elderly Astropath, Satana, transformed from a woman in her fifties or sixties into a beautiful young lady in her twenties or thirties.
As she shed her disguise, the psionic fluctuations radiating from her body grew markedly stronger.
She conjured a Psychic Shroud to shield herself and Malcador, maintaining a low-altitude flight trajectory toward the orbital tower.
The shockwaves from the blast failed to harm the pair, though the violent tremors and thunderous detonations succeeded in jolting the unconscious Malcador awake.
"My Lord, are you alright?" Satana set Malcador down atop the spire of a towering skyscraper.
Leaning heavily on his staff, the Imperial Regent straightened his posture. He looked back at the fire-swept Royal Court District and let out a long, sorrowful sigh.
"We failed. We have failed. The Acting Governor of Epimet has been corrupted by chaos. We failed to save him."
He said those words for his subordinate's ears.
In truth, Lino had completely cast away his human identity.
Malcador waved a hand. "Stand down for now. Return to the Royal Court District and manage Lino's aftermath. Leave me alone here for some quiet reflection."
"As you command, my Lord." Satana asked no further questions. Kneading her facial features a few times with her right hand, she reverted to the appearance of an aged woman and flew off the rooftop.
Malcador leaned against the wall of the spire and sat down. Gazing out toward the Royal Court District, his expression grew profoundly grim.
Lino's decisiveness and cunning far exceeded his imagination.
What shocked Malcador even more was that Lino had known all along that the God-Emperor was scheming for his possession ability.
With Lino completely prepared, no one short of the God-Emperor descending in person could stop him from ascending as the True Ork God.
Yet the God-Emperor had offered no response, leaving Malcador deeply restless and consumed by anxiety.
"No, I have to do something. Even sending fleets out beyond the galaxy to die is better than sitting here doing nothing. If one hundred warships aren't enough, I'll send two hundred. If two hundred aren't enough, I'll send three hundred. I will drench the Palu Orks' hands in human blood and shape Lino into the Imperium of Man's public enemy number one. If enough slaughter and blood can breed guilt within Lino and force him to return to the Imperium of Man, then we can use redemption as justification to force him to hand over his possession ability—or bind him to serve the Imperium for all eternity."
As Malcador's mind raced, he heard soft footsteps approaching.
"Malcador, the Eldar fleet reinforcements are in position. When will the Imperium of Man's fleet join us?"
The newcomer was Elina.
Malcador wore a melancholic look. "Relying solely on fleets won't stop Lino from achieving godhood. We must find a more effective solution as soon as possible. Otherwise... sigh, otherwise we can only pray His Majesty answers my pleas sooner. By the way, Elina, is there truly no way for your Eldar gods to stop Lino?"
Elina shook her head. "I'm afraid not. We can barely protect ourselves right now. Lino has stationed stealth bomber squadrons near our Craftworlds. If our gods make any moves, he will ruthlessly unleash Extermination Weapons upon our Craftworlds. To prevent him from going completely mad, our gods must remain anchored inside the Craftworlds' Infinity Circuits. They cannot leave."
Malcador furrowed his brow, his face deepening with worry. "What a meticulous, treacherous opponent. Why didn't I notice how insidious he was before?"
"Malcador, I have a question."
"Please speak, my lady."
Elina pondered before asking, "You seemed to have lost consciousness earlier, correct? Why didn't Lino take the opportunity to eliminate you? Without you, wouldn't the direct pressure he faces decrease considerably?"
"Because he cannot afford the consequences of murdering me, of course." Malcador gave a cold snort, his gaze toward the Royal Court District carrying a flicker of resentment. "Though His Majesty didn't shield me with psionic energy, I know very well that the moment I die, His Majesty will definitely sense it. Until Lino achieves godhood, he doesn't dare touch me."
"So that's how it is." Elina took a step back, her figure fading. "I will order the Eldar to launch their offensive. Let us hope the Imperium of Man's reinforcements arrive swiftly."
Malcador watched Elina depart, then stared toward the Royal Court District, agonizing over countermeasures.
After a long while, he turned his head toward the spot where Elina had vanished, muttering under his breath, "Once I die... His Majesty will sense it..."
Disgust surfaced in Malcador's eyes.
"Damned Eldar. You actually want me to die. Xenos truly harbor dark intentions!"
Even so, did he have any other choice?
With a darkened expression, Malcador channeled his psionic energy and left the spire.
A few days later, inside the Imperial Palace of Terra, beneath the Golden Throne.
The God-Emperor sat withered and motionless, offering zero reaction.
Malcador stood anxiously beneath the throne, gazing up at His Majesty with eyes brimming with sorrow.
The fleets fighting beyond the edge of the galaxy were completely locked inside the Webway by the Palu Orks. Every single moment, massive numbers of human and Eldar warriors fell in battle.
Malcador had tried tactics aimed at besieging strongholds to strike at reinforcements.
He and Elina had each dispatched several fleets to raid the Palu Homeland, only to find their path blocked by irreparable Webway gates.
The situation at the Universal Hall was identical.
The Palu Orks held an iron grip on the exit of the Old One Military Fortress, mercilessly annihilating all incoming enemies.
The endless stream of defeat notices filled Malcador with despair and absolute resolve.
If his death could truly trade for His Majesty's attention toward Lino, then he would die without regret.
"Your Majesty!"
Malcador pulled a vial of specialized poison from his pocket. Holding it in his trembling hand, he brought it to his lips, gazed at the figure upon the throne with every ounce of his remaining strength, and downed the toxin in a single gulp.
A harsh, bitter taste instantly exploded across his teeth and gums. A searing, fiery pain coursed down his esophagus into his stomach, spreading to every corner of his body within mere seconds.
"Your Majesty..."
Malcador collapsed to the floor, reaching his right hand toward the figure on the throne as his vision blurred and his eyes dimmed.
"Your Majesty..."
Malcador called out with all his might, yet received no reply.
In the final moments of his fading consciousness—perhaps due to terminal lucidity, or perhaps for some other reason entirely—a thought inexplicably surfaced in Malcador's mind.
Who said that once Lino became the True Ork God, he would definitely destroy the Imperium of Man?
Lino's methods of cultivating and training the Palu Orks shared numerous parallels with human civilization, proving that in the depths of his heart, he believed Orks should be as civilized and orderly as humans.
Moreover, while his Orks slaughtered Imperium warriors in battle, they never committed acts of desecration against the corpses.
His restraints on the Orks could be viewed as a form of domestication.
He was molding the Orks into lifeforms just like humans, rather than savage, brutal killing machines!
Following this psychological line of thought to its logical conclusion, Malcador suddenly realized something: if he simply sat down and had an honest talk with Lino, endorsed his ascension to godhood, and helped His Majesty build a positive relationship with him, wouldn't the Palu Orks just as easily become a powerful asset for the Imperium?
Why, then, had he assumed from the very beginning that Lino's godhood would pose a catastrophic threat to the Imperium of Man?
Malcador's eyes went wide.
It was the Lizardmen! It was Elina!
Whenever those two bastards interacted with him, they had been constantly feeding him hypnotic suggestions that Lino would annihilate the Imperium!
He had been duped!
Malcador shoved his fingers toward his mouth, trying to induce vomiting, but he couldn't move his body an inch.
Finally, accompanied by agonizing, remorseful gasps heavy with resentment, another cold, aged corpse lay beneath the Golden Throne.
...
...
Beyond the galaxy, at the ascension site.
150 billion Paru Boyz continuously supplied their power of faith, chanting "brother li is awesome" in their sleep 24 hours a day.
Lino initiated his Warp Projection technique, harnessing the green Warp energy surging within The Warp to condense his Warp projection.
This process required roughly 20 days to complete.
During this period, Lino could only possess a Shaman Boy and stay obediently seated at the center of the ritual array.
He could speak and he could think, but he couldn't move physically, making the process mind-numbingly boring.
Before the ritual officially commenced, he hadn't forgotten to sever the backdoors inside his system, wiping out the God-Emperor's hidden hooks.
From this moment forward, the system belonged entirely to Lino himself; no one else could ever lay a finger on it.
Once he became the True Ork God, he would even be able to personally execute visual modifications on the system, manually programming its functions.
As for the exact specifics, he would have to wait until the ritual concluded to find out.
Until then, Lino needed to find something to occupy his time, or else those 20 days would be unbearable.
"Boss! The cloning experiment succeeded!"
Beast came sprinting enthusiastically into the ritual grounds, shouting with excitement from beyond the array.
Lino set down the Dataslate in his hands, turning his head to ask, "A total success? What's the Genetic Purity?"
Beast replied, "The Genetic Purity reached 91%! Aside from the clone being an Ork while the genetic template was a human, there's practically no difference between them!"
Lino raised an eyebrow. "Bring him over."
"You got it!"
Beast waved a hand.
Several Painboyz escorted a Paru Boy into the grounds.
Looking closely at the Paru Boy's features, he bore a ninety percent resemblance to Malcador in his youth.
Malcador Boy!
This was the result of the cloning experiment!
