Warhammer: Start with a dog

Chapter 422 Now give back the camera and lights to the doted Fabius Bayer

The actual size and passenger capacity of the Vesalius, which seriously exceeds the requirements of her model, have actually fallen into many huge chaos.

There are currently at least five forces inside this battleship, which is restricted to a certain extent.

Four of the forces are fighting each other, while another one is lurking in the shadows, and is very likely to hand out their strange swords, olive branches or life-saving straws in fear of chaos.

No one knows who they will belong to, who is the betrayer, and who is loyal to whom.

But one thing is for sure: when fighting and riots break out on a ship, there will never be a shortage of bastards fishing in the troubled waters inside. This is very obvious when you look at the corpses hanging from the ceiling freshly hung by chains or their own intestines. at this point.

Many crew members have locked themselves in their bedrooms or work dens and are waiting for the turmoil to pass and the ship to find its new owner so that the crew can follow orders and continue sailing - or be killed. Explosions that could come from any direction turn into a pile of debris in the universe that can be salvaged.

Fabius Bayer, holding the cane of pain in his hand, walked striding and hastily on the silently whining Vesalius.

After successfully escaping from the dispensary room, the smile on his face appeared and disappeared almost at the same time as his confidence.

An emotion that he had thought he would never be aware of in his long life of dying and waking now lingered in his heart like maggots in his tarsal bones:

It was a very unique experience for an Emperor's Son who was so proud that he had long forgotten that he was the Emperor's Son.

It was as if the attention he received as the genetic ancestor destined to become a proud new human being that would replace humans was suddenly diverted by some other existence beyond his control and knowledge.

Although this will not affect his past, present, and future undertakings and plans, it still makes the existence named Fabius Bayer feel a kind of sadness for a long time.

A sadness of not being able to examine one's own greatness from the perspective of a higher dimension.

A kind of sadness that even if you try hard to become the hand holding the knife, you still feel that you are still the piece of meat on the operating table.

But this feeling did not affect him for long. The "surgeon" behind him - the surgical backpack that had been with him for 10,000 years and was designed to learn independently, neighed softly.

Lines of readings about his body were being sent to him. His surgical backpack was awakening specific locations in Bayer's cerebral cortex through several mild electrical stimulations wrapped around his spine. Each gland has begun to increase the level of the hormones he currently needs in his body by stimulating the corresponding glands and blood vessel injections, causing him to immediately cheer up again:

"Life found a way. How ingenious and charming. The path of evolution is invisible and seems to fly from the sky."

Bayer murmured lowly, while looking at the loyal, dwarf ape-like tank dwellers gathered around him, thinking about all the creations he had made.

These lowliest small creatures have long surpassed the expectations when they were created. They developed a language and social organization structure that no one can understand without anyone knowing about it. The hounds, who are the basis of the new human race, are also Hunting packs, kennels, matriarchs, and other primitive social structures spontaneously formed before his eyes.

He learned the lessons of the past, and some of his children who looked the same as the old ones had been carefully dispersed to planets with suitable ecological environments on the borders of the empire.

Even if he were wiped out now, his children, his new race, would be able to reproduce, slowly and unobtrusively replacing the world's original inhabitants, and then follow the Imperial conscripts into space and into ever more distant places. Gao's army——

His creations can no longer be completely destroyed, and he does not disdain the title of God, which is only used by fearful people to comfort themselves, but he will become the creator of new human beings and everything about them - culture, legends, and gods. It's a sure thing.

This thought undoubtedly gave him great strength, and at the same time, it also made him feel more at ease.

His lovely new human children will eventually make the original humans their meat, and the meager reward Fabius himself will receive - the genetic ancestor is really for a humble doctor and researcher like him. It's a good enough reward.

A series of huge explosions came from a very distant deck or an unknown place, and the ship's hull trembled obviously, like a seriously ill person trembling a few times.

His thoughts immediately jumped to another more realistic direction.

Although the ship was nourished by the waves of the High Sky in the Eye of Terror, gradually becoming larger and more suitable to his needs, and has been used by him as his own ship for many years, now the Chief Apothecary is in trouble. I'm starting to get a little bored outside.

"Alas! It's always like this." Bayer chanted like a noble, tortured ascetic. The faces on his human skin surgical gowns all wailed and cried silently and miserably to harmonize with his chanting. "There are always people who don't understand my actions, and use their low-level, primitive and animalistic brains and instinctive interests to understand me. My work is crucial! My work is not yet finished!"

"Eidolon, this fool, also wants to take me back and lock me in his little cage to make more new warriors and pleasant drugs for him. It's always like this, there are always some people who don't know how important the truth and my work are to this universe and want me to go back to do some boring and unworthy work."

There are other things he didn't say: Maybe he should take this opportunity to leave the Vesalius, or simply let her overload the reactor after he left, so that Fabius can fake the news of his own death, quietly leave here, return to his base camp to resume his work, and be "dead" for a long time without additional disturbance.

As for the World Eater Apothecary and the others who considered themselves his attendants, Bayer could not help but think of the last glance he had taken at the others before he left.

They must have been in danger.

He sighed softly, oh, his poor, loyal old Igri! And her cunning, agile, and promising twin granddaughters. What a pity. He should have asked her to hand over the twins to him to escape together. Igri herself would have been enough to delay time.

As for the others who learned from him, it was fine, but now that his first apprentice, Orland, had also died, he didn't know when he would be able to get another person like Arrian who was so useful and could arrange everything for him.

But even after thinking about so many things, Bayer's brain and his surgical backpack tacitly refused to think too much about the silver figure that was shining with gold just now.

Fulgrim was definitely in that machine.

Whether it was the touch of the soul, the details of wielding weapons, or the little habits in the movements, Fabius, as the Astartes who had actually known the Phoenix Lord the longest and was currently alive, could be completely sure.

But the Chief Pharmacist was also very familiar with that face. He even had all the records of that face and the body owner splitting from a single cell. He had cloned that face and his owner many, many times for the Phoenix Lord's urgent and endless demand orders.

And the most important thing was.

If the soul of this intruder was actually Fulgrim, then who was the four-armed snake-tailed man living in the Demon Palace?

Not only had he confirmed it before, but his daughter, his most beloved daughter, Melusine, also confirmed to him many times later that it was Fulgrim's!

Fabius' mind was racing.

Could it be that the willful Warp entity and his crown prince had some new tricks?

If so, his loyal daughter would surely come to inform him soon.

And that...

When Fabius thought of the secret he had hidden deep in the secret room, he frowned. He had too many secrets, and this secret was too tricky in the current situation.

So he should leave the hangar quickly, take the noise fighters there, and let Vesalius overload the reactor.

He thought about it and began to contact his loyal pilot servant, Supervisor Vol. His brain was now preserved in a transparent glass container, and his face was made of polished brass. People could see the working state of the brain connected to the visual nerves and life support system through the transparent head. This was one of the few ship officers that Fabius thought was worthy of being enhanced by him.

Soon, Vol responded to his master's orders and began to issue orders to the mutant tribes on the lower deck who worshiped machines and reactors in an orderly manner.

Vol's service always made Bayer feel reliable. Then when he left this ship, all the Iron Hands, Eidolon's messengers, or any Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus would no longer be a problem for Fabius.

In the face of the star-level heat of the battleship reactor overload and the absolute cold of the void, all life will be equal.

————————

The side hangar of the Vesalius has become a "nest" mixed with human machinery, Eldar spirit bones and chaotic tissues in the growth catalyzed by different experiments for centuries.

He discovered very early that compared with the psykers of the Eldar who are specifically used to guide the spirit bones to grow into the structure and size they need, the chorus and noise of the noise warriors can also accelerate and catalyze the growth of spirit bones due to the influence of the same mixed subspace energy.

Therefore, this place was originally given by Fabius to his guests, the Bull of the Eighth Company and his noise warriors, and he was also going to take them as his new escort team to take the aircraft to leave the battleship that entered the self-destruction program.

But it is obvious that there are a little more Supreme Heavenly Powers who have the upper hand on the Vesalius today.

Fabius stared at the ruins in front of him in amazement.

In front of him, the complex and deep forest of corrupted bones that was once home to the Noise Warriors of the 8th Company and their ape slaves had turned into a scattered wilderness of yellow and white branches and fragments, like the fragmented tree stumps of a primitive jungle that had been ruthlessly and efficiently cut down by excavators, logging machines and other heavy machinery.

"What happened?!" he shouted, "What happened here?! Where are Ramos and his singers?!"

"There are no singers here, traitor. There are only the remains and ashes of pathetic broken things."

Several very heavy footsteps came from the depths of the ruins of the Bone Forest, and Fabius' eyelids trembled.

The black figures of the Iron Hand Heirs emerged from the ruins, and some bright red blood and other liquids splashed on their masks and arms, which had not yet dried.

The leader, Malkan Ferros, stated calmly in his booming electronic voice, "Because the traitors here are too noisy, and the forest itself is too crowded, so for the sake of convenience and speed, we slightly increased the firepower and threw some radiation grenades and other gadgets to entertain them. Obviously, their bodies are not strong enough to enjoy it."

One of the metal appendages of the Iron Father bent over and pointed to a pile of inconspicuous dark ash on the ground. Under the radiation and high heat, the pink armor coating of the noise fighters was almost all smoked black, which was why Fabius did not notice the traces of the battle at first.

He eagerly searched in the remaining part of the Bone Garden, and he saw the central base. The base looked almost intact and there was no sign of burning, but the contents of the base bone cage were missing. Losing "that" is not good.

"That" is the key to Fabius's relatively safe subspace travel without the use of a navigator, and it is also one of the masterpieces that he relies on to quickly leave and reach his lair, so he had to ask for it.

"Wait a minute! Where is my key?! Was my 'key' also destroyed? My God, it is a work of art that is difficult to replicate! A real treasure! You are a bunch of vulgar people who don't understand the greatness of genetic skills and flesh and blood art!"

"Key?" Malkan Ferros repeated thoughtfully, "There is nothing here..."

Then his servoskull calibrator made him notice the direction in which Fabius's eyes followed.

"You mean the blasphemous creation inside."

The Iron Father pointed to the pool of yellow-white broken bones and mucus on the ground next to the base, which was almost unrecognizable. The mixture was dried up and there was little left, just like a broken bird egg with eggshells, egg whites and egg yolks scattered all over the ground, and then dried up and left a thin layer of protein scab.

"If that's what you mean, the holy Ferrus had already brought justice and purifying fire to this filth when we arrived."

"Ferrus?!!" Fabius Bile's eyes were full of stars, and the emotions that had been suppressed all the way finally began to burst out.

His surgical backpack's spider-like slender limbs danced wildly, and the physiological readings suddenly became very high. The chief pharmacist had never shouted so sincerely.

"Ferrus?! That's not him at all! You stupid pieces of iron! That's not Ferrus Manus at all! That's Fulgrim! Blind idiots! Your Ferrus has been dead for a long time! He has been dead for more than 9,000 years! I saw Fulgrim chop off his head with my own eyes!"

"Oh?"