Chapter 183: I've Been Human For A Long Time |
Asteria, ancient Eldar ruins.
In the faint light of dawn, the outlines of the ruins' spires loomed faintly in the thin mist. The severed corpses and blood of the Tyranid Hive Fleet had been entirely incinerated by Plasma Flames, leaving behind only scorched black marks.
After enduring a nightmarish latter half of the night, the humans within the ruins finally began to calm down under the soothing presence of the Sons of the Angels.
Reserve warriors patrolled everywhere, their ceramite boots treading across the smooth floors of the Eldar ruins as they scrutinized their surroundings.
Civilians assisting with the work bustled through the area, unloading crates of supplies from the transport shuttles. Servo-communication devices were distributed to the leaders of each squad, while the priests of the Church of Dawn, who were in charge of organization, grouped the crowds.
In the cleared open space, long lines formed at the temporarily erected distribution points. Compressed rations and purified water were handed out in an orderly manner.
Every recipient had to pause for a second in front of the scanners, allowing the genetic identification system to record their biometric signatures.
In the shadows, certain marked figures would suddenly vanish. These "special individuals" were escorted deep into the ruins by silent, black-armored warriors.
There were no struggles and no farewells, only the hissing sigh of hydraulic systems as the transport shuttle doors sealed shut.
After so many years, the Wings of Dawn had gradually grown into a colossal entity. They no longer needed to coerce the populace as Pierred had done, using blood to sift out true warriors for battle.
These civilians, who had never received professional military training, would receive ample supplies and then maintain order under the church's management.
Their movements were highly practiced, and their coordination with various organizations was brimming with efficiency. The entire process flowed as smoothly as running water:
Identity tabulation, temporary shelter construction, personnel separation and management, family reunification registration. Every single step demonstrated that this was an emergency protocol forged through countless trials.
Meanwhile, up on the ruins' highest observatory, several Tech-Priests clad in red robes were "debugging" the communication arrays.
Their mechanical mechadendrites danced across the control panels, forcibly grafting ancient Eldar technology with Imperium equipment.
Arcs of electricity leaped across the surface of the Crystal, as if resisting this blasphemous modification.
——
Aurell and the other surviving Exodite Eldar were assigned to an uncorrupted area within the ruins.
Out of the camaraderie forged by fighting side by side, as well as the importance of the World Soul, the Dawn fleet adopted a lenient policy toward these Exodite Eldar.
They simply dispatched a few Wraith Constructs disguised as Dreadnoughts to manage them.
This was Rameses's latest research achievement.
The Eldar had no shortage of illiterates either; expecting this bunch to conduct research was worse than just dragging them out to fight.
Coincidentally, the Eldar's own technology was perfectly suited for this operation of resurrecting the dead. With just a few minor modifications, the Wraith Constructs became plug-and-play, even more convenient than the Thunderforged Warriors.
The sheer resilience of the Eldar race's Souls was truly unreasonable. Once the influence of Slaanesh was isolated, one could easily mold a body in the material universe and yank them straight back into it.
One had to seriously suspect whether the Old Ones had installed a prefabricated system when they first modified the Eldar, allowing their resurrection to bypass a series of complex Warp Rituals.
To provide a passable explanation to those in the know, the exteriors of these Wraith Constructs were all fitted with Imperium-style shells.
Subsequently, registration documents for a new class of Dreadnought Mech called the "Soulcast" Dreadnought appeared on the desks of the High Lords, accompanied by detailed yet flawless technical parameters.
And Aurell was clearly one of those in the know.
She knew full well that beating beneath the shells of these silent guardians were presences far more kindred than any human Creation.
"I salute you, great ancestors."
Aurell bowed deeply with the most standard ancient Eldar etiquette, her slender frame tracing an elegant arc in the dim light. Her emerald eyes lowered, avoiding direct eye contact with the visual sensors of those Soulcast Dreadnoughts.
This was the most basic respect for slumbering Souls.
These ancestral Souls imprisoned within mechanical husks were sluggish and exhausted. Even in death, they had to fulfill their duty of protection, which sent ripples of bitterness through her heart.
The Souls of Wraith Constructs were simultaneously anchored in the material universe and the Infinity Circuit. This torn state made their perception of the physical world feel as if it were filtered through a thick, heavy veil.
On the battlefield, their movements were agonizingly slow. Sometimes they would suddenly freeze, as if lost in the crevices of space and time. Only when a Spiritseer guided them with ancient psychic hymns could they accurately distinguish friend from foe.
Moreover, the Eldar Souls that entered the Infinity Circuit did not achieve eternal freedom as the legends claimed.
Those proud consciousnesses would gradually sink into the depths of the soul network, like grains of sand sinking into a bottomless ocean. Past memories and distinct personalities would be slowly and irreversibly diluted, ultimately turning into just another dreamless node within the Infinity Circuit.
Because of this, every awakening of a Wraith Construct was a drawn-out torment for the ancestral Souls, and it demanded the utmost respect.
Aurell often listened to her ancestors recount the past glories of the Eldar, teaching them to draw lessons from the ancient Eldar's extreme extravagance and lust.
Although the Exodite Eldar pursued ancient and primitive modes of production, their insight and understanding of the world did not lag behind those of the technologically advanced Eldar branches in the slightest; in fact, they even surpassed them.
"...Just call me Talisa. I used to be a Howling Banshee."
Former Howling Banshee and current Soulcast Dreadnought pilot, Talisa couldn't help but speak up.
The Craftworld Eldar were quite respectful to their ancestors, and since she was only a little over two thousand years old, she couldn't really pretend to be an ancient senior.
It wasn't that speaking constructs didn't exist, but it meant that the Soul inside hadn't fully integrated into the Infinity Circuit, and such a state would accelerate the dissolution of their personality.
Aurell's emerald pupils trembled slightly as a terrifying assumption surfaced in her mind: Had the situation for these Craftworld Eldar kin become so critical that they needed to send Souls who had yet to complete their transition into battle?
"My kin."
Her voice was soft, carrying a sorrow she couldn't conceal.
"I cannot help but grieve for your sacrifice."
Aurell took a half-step forward, yet restrained herself and stopped. She knew deeply that every Wraith Construct was a mobile reliquary, not to be touched lightly.
"Is your world safe and sound? Our settlement is already secure; you are more than welcome to return."
Her words carried cautious probing, yet were full of sincere concern.
She didn't dare to imagine what kind of crisis had forced these cousins to throw Souls that hadn't finished their rituals into battle prematurely.
At the same time, a surge of warmth welled up within Aurell's heart.
To send reinforcements to Asteria even when they couldn't guarantee their own safety—what a sublime sacrifice.
A current of warmth spread through Aurell's heart with every beat. If the sacrifice of the human warriors had shocked her, then the actions of these Craftworld cousins coming to their aid despite their own peril made her very Soul tremble.
This mutual support, spanning a ten-thousand-year divide, was more moving than any ancient epic.
"???"
Talisa couldn't help but feel a burst of bewilderment. Her Soul, having been steeped in The Warp for so long, took several seconds to realize what the other party meant.
So she immediately opened her mouth to explain.
"We are a part of humanity."
The voice transmitted from the Vox-caster suddenly became perfectly articulate, even carrying a hint of the Imperial Gothic accent.
"We fight resolutely to defend the collective interests of humanity, and this place is the land we need to protect."
"???"
Aurell's expression instantly froze. Her slender fingers hung mid-air, her entire being seemingly put on pause.
This shock surpassed even the astonishment she felt when she first faced the Evil Gods of Chaos. After all, back then, no one had told her that proud Eldar warriors would be shouting slogans for humanity.
"Pfft—"
A ripple of psychic energy emanated from within Talisa's Mech, as if she were laughing.
If the great Farseer Hektor hadn't personally selected her to board the battleship of the Lord of Exploration, she would probably still be drifting through the void of the universe, chewing on the agony of her destroyed homeland day after day, wandering in the labyrinths of despair.
Of course, fairly speaking, the life of a Craftworld Eldar wasn't all bad—if one didn't mind those ever-present dark omens, the risk of depleting one's Spirit Stone, and having one's personality slowly devoured by the Infinity Circuit.
But joining humanity and serving the human collective was simply a much broader and brighter path for her.
Her mechanical fingers unconsciously rubbed the four-winged emblem hanging on her chest; this action had become her new habit.
The Infinity Circuit honestly didn't feel as comfortable as The Enclave.
Afterward, she paid no more mind to Aurell—who was completely short-circuiting after her worldview took an unprecedented beating—and earnestly carried out her own duties.
What Craftworld Eldar? That was a matter of her past life.
She had been human for a long time now.
A Space Marine clad in bright yellow armor walked toward her.
His armor was heavily battered, but his Soul shone so brilliantly that it could not be ignored.
Talisa immediately piloted her Mech into an impeccably standard Imperium military salute. Her fingers, coated in a thin layer of adamantium, rapped against her chest plate with a crisp sound.
Loyalty!
"Clang!"
Faced with the sudden salute from the Venerable Dreadnought.
Flos, who had just finished assisting the church with disaster relief and resettlement, and was preparing to communicate with the Exodite Eldar under Romulus's command, was instantly overwhelmed by the unexpected favor.
He hastily bowed in return.
"Thud!"
The Soulcast Dreadnought dropped straight to its knees, performing a grand bow.
"???"