Chapter 178: Lamenters - Let Me Save Just One More |
Whoosh—
A massive Titan constructed from wraithbone, standing nearly as tall as a Warhound Titan, navigated the simulated obstacle course with extraordinary agility, deftly dodging a plasma barrier that suddenly surged upward.
Its leg joints exhibited an almost biological flexibility as it evaded energy spikes thrusting from the ground, simultaneously countering attacks from other weapons. A barrage fired by six Autocannon Turrets erupted in a dazzling cascade of sparks right behind it.
However, the vast majority of these strikes were avoided entirely thanks to its preternatural nimbleness.
Swoosh!
The Titan executed an unbelievable backward bend to evade a sweeping laser beam. The wraithbone joints of its spine emitted a faint hum. Every turn and twist possessed the rhythmic grace of a dancer, while the psychic crystals embedded in its shoulder armor pulsed brightly in time with its movements.
It was as if the entity in the testing ground wasn't a twenty-meter-tall Titan Creation, but rather a living person undergoing tactical training.
The performance of Aeldari Titans truly remained leagues ahead of the rest of the Galaxy.
Its localized time-acceleration module caused its movements to blur into afterimages to the naked eye. The built-in anti-gravity system allowed this behemoth to perform sudden stops and directional shifts that defied physical logic, complemented by its "psychic fortune-telling operating system"—
A Titan aided by a Farseer's Soul could even twist these threads of fate together, ensuring that misfortune would easily find its enemies. This could cause artillery fire or even laser beams to alter their trajectories to track and strike these foes.
It could also emit a powerful psychic roar to inspire allies, erasing the fear from their hearts and leaving them entirely dauntless.
In past recorded conflicts, for the Imperium to take down a similar Titan, it had to pay a starting price of at least ten Titans of equivalent classification.
Of course, actual combat effectiveness still depended on the skill levels of the pilots on both sides. If they truly drew up battle lines and traded fire, an Imperial Titan might not necessarily lose to an Aeldari Titan. However, if they allowed it to close into melee range, they would be slaughtered like poultry.
That being said, although he didn't quite understand why the Aeldari operating system had such bizarre requirements—like needing the pilots to be twins or triplets, with the strict condition that one must be dead and the other alive—it was somewhat understandable.
The current state of Aeldari technology was highly fragmented. The Drukhari controlled most of the biological technology, while the Craftworld Aeldari mastered the majority of the psychic technology, yet the two sides did not share their knowledge.
If they could return to the era of the ancient Aeldari Empire, where death merely meant resurrecting into the material universe at will, the conditions for piloting a Titan wouldn't be harsh at all.
After all, as an immortal species, no matter how problematic reproduction was, their population would always be trending upwards.
But now—
After slaughtering so many of those pale spindly xenos along the way, including those Aeldari Corsairs, Rameses had only managed to find two such pairs.
"Hey, Arthur,"
Rameses spoke up, keeping his eyes fixed on the Titan as it underwent various data tests.
"What is it?"
Arthur, who was testing AI automata with Lohr on the other side of the facility, tilted his head.
Before Mars signed the Crimson Accords under The Emperor's pressure, it had been a massive hoarder of AI. Ten thousand years ago, the Kastelan Robot automata didn't require data wafers to function.
And Cawl also had his hands on the AI prototypes of the Kastelan automata. With the deepening collaboration between the two sides, he had more or less revealed some of his hidden cards.
As for the safety of the AI, multiple tests had proven that there were no major issues. At the very least, these combat AIs were entirely worthy of a certain degree of trust. Even if there were risks, the returns far outweighed them.
It all came down to that same old saying: AI itself wasn't prone to causing problems; it was the people controlling the AI who were.
Currently, the Transmigrators didn't have to worry about the Sector Governor abusing AI, nor did they have to fret about someone turning to Chaos and providing Daemons with a stronghold of super-productivity, thus spawning an unmanageable crisis.
When using it themselves, they would naturally prioritize convenience above all else.
"How many people do you think are inside the Aeldari Infinity Circuits? Could we take their Souls to pilot Titans?"
Rameses couldn't help but let his imagination run wild.
Just slaughtering the remnants of a ruined minor Craftworld had yielded so much talent. What if they straight-up destroyed an entire Aeldari Craftworld?
"..."
Before Arthur could reply, the Aeldari twins who overheard Rameses's words were instantly struck speechless.
'Those are our kin, hey! How can you openly discuss how to destroy a Craftworld right in front of us?! Even if...'
'It seems like you actually could.'
"My Lord, I have been to Iyanden,"
One of the twins whispered.
"I once underwent training on the Bonesinger's Path there. As long as we can counter the Prophecies of Iyanden's Seer Council, my Soul can be used as a prophetic anchor to lock onto the Craftworld's location."
Rameses didn't like being called a god, so the vast majority of Aeldari consistently referred to the Lord of Knowledge as "That Lord."
And this deity was merciful. Though anyone with eyes could see that he placed far more importance on humanity, as long as you could prove your worth, he didn't mind extending his Divine Protection to other beings within The Warp.
Such as them, or the Space Dwarfs and the T'au Earth Caste Scientists who had entered the divine realm In Succession after them.
Truth be told, life within The Warp was far more peaceful than they had imagined.
The divine realm of knowledge possessed a clear advancement system. Whether you chose to slack off and slowly grind away doing menial labor in The Warp, or you actively sought progress by honing your professional skills, you could always make a living. After all, theoretically, there was an endless amount of work to be done in The Warp.
You could even assist the "Lord who Rules the World" with political administration, though the sheer intensity of the Imperium's bureaucratic workload was enough to make anyone flinch. Generally, members of other species didn't dare take up that particular contract.
Rameses himself wasn't entirely aware of all this. He simply found every possible way to utilize these Aeldari to their fullest potential; either way, he was the one reaping the profits.
For example, this Aeldari Titan research project provided Spirit Stones and flesh to the Aeldari, allowing those illiterate warriors who had spent their lives seeking the thrill of battle to put their skills to use fighting for humanity.
On the Aeldari side, they were actually quite happy.
Come on, even though their KPI requirements were definitely higher than those of the Adeptus Astartes, at least they had them, right?
They could exchange their merits for custom-designed personal spaces within the divine realm, and once their clearance level increased, they could even trade for time to step out into the real universe for some fresh air. Although their freedom was restricted, they had truly gained ultimate safety.
They received subsidies for fighting, got to breathe real air, and wouldn't fall into Slaanesh's clutches even if they died. This was a job worth doing.
The twins showed absolutely no hesitation when it came to selling out their allies.
'Could this even be considered selling out our allies?'
'This is bringing a great blessing to our kin!'
"..."
Arthur and Rameses exchanged a glance.
It appeared they had inadvertently cultivated a batch of elf abhumans.
"I believe Iyanden also has a Sword of the Crone, right?"
Rameses asked.
"Yes, the Spear of Twilight."
Arthur nodded.
"It takes the form of a spear and burns through the Soul and life force of its wielder. It's currently sealed within a stasis field by their Seer Council."
"Well, now we have the opportunity to get our hands on two of them."
Rameses replied optimistically.
The Crone Sword in the Eye of Terror, and the Spear of Twilight on Iyanden. They knew the exact location and unlocking method for the former, making it relatively easier to acquire. The latter was not only difficult to find, but pursuing it also meant running headlong into the most powerful Craftworld.
"That will have to wait for later. Don't forget Romulus's decision."
Everything must make way for the Transmigrators' new Imperium of Man.
The Transmigrators hadn't even begun their series of infrastructural and developmental plans.
Setting aside the material support required for their current military strength, without a shining example to display to the outside world, they wouldn't be able to convince other human worlds to join them.
They really couldn't afford to fight another war right now.
"Our current priority is dealing with the Tyranid Hive Fleet. Once communications with Macragge are finalized, we need to begin construction. Everything else comes after."
Arthur continued his focused assault on the AI automaton, forcing it to constantly record combat data.
Automata were actually highly effective against Chaos. As long as they didn't run into entities like Vashtorr, their performance was far more stable than that of human soldiers.
"Right. The mess that is the Imperium will have to be smashed to pieces and rebuilt sooner or later."
Rameses agreed. He suddenly stood up straight and swiped a hand through the void, tearing open a Warp portal.
Distant shrieks echoed from the deep purple Rift as he stepped decisively into it.
He was off to issue a few quests first.
"You two will be responsible for piloting the Titan from now on. You can discuss among yourselves whose physical body to swap."
He tossed the remark over his shoulder casually. His voice grew faint as the portal closed, seemingly causing the wraithbone Titan's movements to become even more spirited.
"..."
Arthur continued his attacks in silence.
Lohr watched the data streams scrolling before his eyes, his fingertips blurring into afterimages on the virtual keyboard. He silently calculated the combat data and transmitted it to Romulus, leaving it to the Lord of Dawn to formulate a battle plan.
Another war was coming.
——
This was the greatest lie I had ever told in my life.
Atop the shattered city walls, the biting highland winds swept gunpowder residue across our pauldrons. We crossed the plateau, our power armored boots crushing a mixture of frozen earth and shattered bone, searching for any breath of life.
Finally, amidst a sprawling ruin, we found the last survivors.
They were a well-trained military unit. Within their shelter, we found a group of children.
I watched as a child in tattered clothes darted out from the crowd. Her emaciated hand gripped mine as she asked:
"Lord Angel, are you here to save us?"
Her tiny hand clasped mine. That soft touch felt like the sharpest of stones, pressing in so painfully that I instinctively let go.
A crude object clinked against my ceramite armor as the girl hastily withdrew her hand. Her fingertips brushed against the battle scars near the armor's joints, producing a sound that captured the soul far more effectively than the prayers of a Priest within a magnificent cathedral.
She looked so flustered. Behind her, dozens of children were watching me, their eyes shining with hope.
A scent of decay drifted through the air. In the thick mist, pulsating, fleshy tubes were extracting every last ounce of nutrients from the soil. Up in the sky, dark clouds composed entirely of gargoyles blotted out the sun.
In the northeastern corner of this continent, the still-operating space elevator was emitting only sporadic bursts of resistance.
We were out of time.
I said—
"Yes, child."
Malakim Phoros, the Chapter Master of the Lamenters, gently clasped the child's hand once more and answered earnestly:
"I am here to save you."
We still had lives we could trade for time.
However—
The Emperor's Angel felt a deep sense of powerlessness. The mighty physique granted to him by The Emperor felt exceptionally fragile at this moment.
This was not despair, nor was it a complaint about the world's injustice. The Lamenters never complained about fate, for fate had never been fair.
He only felt sorrow—a profound sorrow at facing the inevitable loss of lives while being completely powerless to stop it.
A dense sorrow pooled at the bottom of his heart, convulsing, lamenting.
'How many more can we save?'
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