Chapter 445: Allen's Ninth Class Reaches Max Level
What is that?
The same question simultaneously surfaced in the minds of both the Space Marines and the Chaos Demons.
A death-shrouded, unknown realm exuding an overwhelming pressure that sent chills down the spine—it felt like a forbidden zone where no living being should tread.
Aooou—
A piercing dragon's roar suddenly echoed through the entire Warp.
A dragon-like creature, as massive and terrifying as a mountain, tore open the dimensional gate with its claws.
The sheer pressure emanating from its body, a natural dominance intrinsic to dragonkind, caused both factions to instinctively feel fear.
Allen called out to the Ancestral Chaos Dragon, "Azhu! Someone's bullying me!"
The Ancestral Chaos Dragon's eyes, like twin suns, fixed sharply on the Space Marines and Chaos Demons.
Oh no!
We're doomed...
The moment the Ancestral Chaos Dragon crossed dimensions and descended into this world—
The Chaos Demons reacted first. A Demon Prince sacrificed a half-mechanical, half-organic demon to trigger a time-stasis effect, attempting to buy time to escape.
In an instant, a beam of white light descended from the heavens.
The Demon Prince didn't even spare a glance at his subordinate's fate, solely focused on fleeing.
But a torrent of dragon breath smashed directly into the white-light portal.
Though the Warp Network was the Chaos Demons' home turf, absolute power rendered any such "home-field advantage" meaningless.
"Kill!"
Thousands upon thousands of undead skeletons surged forward.
Their terrifying auras made it clear they weren't just cannon fodder. At least from the Space Marines' perspective, these enemies had already far surpassed what they could possibly deal with.
And the mastermind behind it all looked… shockingly ordinary.
"Allen, you jumped universes again?"
Hela, who arrived via the dimensional gate, instantly locked on to her target.
Only Allen would so casually open a portal leading to her domain.
More importantly, he was the only one capable of commanding undead armies.
"Hey, kelp-mom!"
Allen sidled up with a smug grin. "This is my ninth universe hop. Just one more to go and I'll be complete. Anyway, I'm insanely powerful now. Aren't you proud of your good boy?"
Aooou…
Hela gave an indifferent grunt in response.
"Aooou?"
Allen's voice pitched up in disbelief. "I've worked so hard and all I get is a 'Aooou'?"
"Yup."
Hela glanced at him blandly. "Or should I add a 'Hmm'…"
"..."
Allen clutched his chest like he was heartbroken. "I hate you the most, kelp-mom."
Hela rolled her eyes like she couldn't care less.
Tch...
Seeing her completely uninterested in playing the doting-mother act, Allen curled his lips in disdain. "Kelp-sis, you've changed. You won't even play pretend with me anymore."
"Let's get serious."
Hela straightened up. "You're planning to conquer this world?"
Aah!
Allen picked his nose and responded bluntly, "This world is sick. Very sick. Doctor Allen must administer treatment."
Such noble-sounding words...
But it was clearly a conquest operation.
Were it not for the value of the undead army, Hela herself might've been tempted. Otherwise, she wouldn't even care.
Right now, Hela ruled the underworld as a dominant force.
Her undead army served as a major deterrent, attracting other death lords to ally with her. She was on the verge of ascending to top-tier power.
But with a 21st-tier Ancestral Chaos Dragon standing guard, no other faction dared to make a move.
As they chatted, Allen's Mechanist class level skyrocketed.
The endless horde of Chaos Demons served as mobile EXP packs.
"You guys, capture the Chaos Space Marines alive. If they resist, kill them."
Allen had his own considerations.
Chaos Space Marines made excellent propaganda tools.
Sending out skeletons to handle things wasn't exactly PR-friendly.
"Hela, aren't you heading home?"
Allen noticed Hela wasn't leaving and looked puzzled.
This wasn't the underworld. Staying here would cause her power to gradually weaken.
"If I go home now, you'll never see me again," Hela said with a bitter smile.
"Who?!"
Allen's brow furrowed. "Who wants to hurt kelp-mom?!"
Hela answered calmly, "The underworld is dangerous for me now. Without your undead army stationed there, I probably wouldn't survive another day."
And she wasn't exaggerating. If not for that, Hela wouldn't be lingering in some foreign realm.
Outside her domain, her power output was only slightly above Thor's.
Also, the power source had changed. She used to draw strength from Asgard—now, it was linked to the underworld's territory. Crossing dimensions severely diluted her power.
"Oh, that's not a problem."
Allen chuckled awkwardly. "I'll expand the undead army and station more troops in your domain."
Once the reason became clear, Allen resumed commanding the undead.
Hela whistled toward the dimensional gate. A moment later, a gigantic Fenrir stuck out its tongue and panted with nervous energy.
As her personal mount, Fenrir naturally stayed close to Hela.
In the underworld, all local forces were expendable—but Fenrir had to be protected at all costs.
"Stab him in the groin with a sword."
"Grind him into the dirt, cut off the useless parts. But don't kill the Chaos Space Marine."
"As for the demons? Don't hold back. Hack them to death, but keep the body intact—I need the materials for summoning undead."
"..."
Fenrir watched Allen gleefully direct the battle and immediately shrank like a frightened child, hiding its head behind Hela and whimpering.
"I won't let him bully you. Don't be afraid," Hela soothed, stroking its chin.
---
[EXP sufficient. Class 'Mechanist' is now lv120.]
[Notice: Requirements met. Return to main timeline now available.]
---
Allen muttered listlessly, "Damn, maxed out again without even trying."
In the past, reaching max level usually required enduring some trials and tribulations. But now it was just… procedural.
There were simply too many Chaos Demons. Even if each one only gave a few hundred points, with millions of them, it added up quickly.
As for the so-called Imperial elite Space Marines—against a 14th-tier skeleton archmage, all it took was a set of weakening curses and they became collectible action figures.
The Chaos Marines were left severely wounded and placed under the watch of an 18th-tier swordmaster.
"Shitcan."
Allen shouted. A nearby defector hurried over. "Master, what are your orders?"
He was entirely loyal now.
Not only was Allen powerful, he also commanded a force capable of crushing the Chaos Demons—a beacon of hope for humanity.
In his heart, he compared Allen with the Emperor… and realized there was no contest.
The false Emperor couldn't even beat his own son without ending up paralyzed. Now he sat constipated on his golden toilet, utterly unfit to lead mankind into the future.
Due to the Horus Heresy, the Imperium had grown increasingly extreme.
Many expeditionary chapters resorted to any means necessary, treating Imperial citizens with the same cruelty they reserved for xenos.
Of course, the rebel chapters had varied motivations—but they all hated the Empire's brutality.
"I'm creating a Space Security Squad. You'll be the captain," Allen declared casually.
"Thank you for your trust, Master."
"What's your name, Shitcan?"
"Wang Bo'en."
"Master, my full name is Wang Bo'en von Heusten."
"Pick one and bring him over."
Allen began treating the wounded Chaos Marines.
This was his second time doing it, so he was much more efficient now.
There weren't that many of them—just a bit over a thousand.
Space Marines had always been rare. Many died during the gene-modification process.
Most chapters had only a few thousand members. After the Horus Heresy, their numbers halved again.
Those who survived and joined Chaos were halved once more. After centuries of war and attrition, only the Demon Princes under the Four Peddlers could field more than a thousand.
The Imperium, meanwhile, restructured the gene-mod process to cut a third of the steps, greatly improving survival—but post-Heresy Marines were only 60% as powerful as before.
Less quality, more quantity.
This mass production of Space Marines was what allowed the Empire to maintain its rule through constant warfare.
Unfortunately, only the Emperor waking from the Golden Throne could truly reverse the decline.
One by one, the Chaos Marines returned to normal—and without exception, all pledged loyalty to Allen.
After two hours of busy work, Allen, too lazy for subtlety, lined them up and repeatedly cast divine healing spells.
"I hereby declare the founding of the Space Security Squad!"
Allen announced enthusiastically, "Our slogan: Kick the False Emperor and seize the Golden Toilet!"
"..."
No one could bring themselves to repeat that.
The Space Marines stared at Allen, hoping for something… more constructive.
"Be a cosmic cop, eat bear cookies, flirt with the lady upstairs, and beat up homewreckers…"
Yep, Allen was definitely not a proper leader.
But the Space Marines were still immersed in the joy of rebirth.
"Let go of me!"
"You'll all be bones beneath the Blood God's throne!"
"I'm a Demon Prince! I will never bow!"
The restrained Demon Prince broke Allen's speech with a roar.
Allen blinked. "Who's the Blood God?"
He only knew the Chaos Four Peddlers—Khorne, Tzeentch, Slaanesh, and Nurgle—so who the hell was the Blood God?
Come to think of it, he had fought someone called the Blood God before… back in Gotham. With his current power, he could crush that guy with one finger.
"Master, the Blood God is Khorne. He represents hatred and war, thrives on violence and destruction, craves blood and slaughter. His demons form the largest army among the Chaos forces," Wang Bo'en explained.
"Meh, I only care about Slaanesh."
Allen smirked shamelessly. "I hear Slaanesh can turn into any shape you like."
"..."
Master, please stop entertaining impossible fantasies.
The Demon Prince served no further purpose—one swipe from the Ancestral Chaos Dragon finished him off.
Finding the lairs of the Four Peddlers wasn't hard. They were all hiding in the Warp. There was no rush to deal with them just yet.
Right now, Allen was focused on expanding his undead army.
To be honest, Warhammer was a world overflowing with corpses.
And Allen? He needed those corpses.
"Turning each skeleton one by one is way too slow. I need a faster method."
He pulled up his class interface.
---
[Name]: Allen (9/10)
[Class]: lv120 Mechanist
[Skills]:
Heart of the Machine: +300% talent boost for mechanical constructs.
Artisan's Insight lv0: Instantly grasp all knowledge in the field of physical sciences.
Mechanical Repair lv0: Understand and fix any machine within your knowledge base.
Mechanical Fabrication lv0: Can build constructs from existing blueprints.
Mechanical Innovation lv0: Gain new mechanical blueprints from sudden inspiration.
Intelligent Programming lv0: Quickly master programming through study.
Mechadomain lv0: Smart AI-infused machines become your mechanical constructs.
[World]: Warhammer 40K
[Requirement]: Current class at lv120. Return to original timeline now available.
---
The skill list looked simple—but in truth, it concealed terrifying potential.
As long as the conditions were sufficient, Allen could create an entire intelligent machine civilization.
Something akin to the Cybertronian race from Transformers, and possibly even surpass them with ease.
One thing needed to be clear—Allen was not only an alchemist, but also combined his abilities with those of a mechanic. Naturally, this meant what he aimed to build was a magical intelligent machine civilization.
"Now this has potential."
Allen couldn't help but look up at the mothership frozen in the warp space.
No doubt about it—it was a ready-made materials warehouse. All he had to do was break it down and use it to grind skills.
"Unita Sun Sun, wake up. Pour that knowledge straight into my brain—don't hold back."
"Understood, Commander."
It's worth mentioning that after resolving the manifestation crisis, the AI Unita never returned to Arkham Fortress. Instead, it continued simulating a hospital gown and wrapped itself around Allen.
Also, without the Mind Stone, Unita was no longer as lively as before—more like a soulless copy of its former self.
Of course, Allen had kept it in mind: when the time came, he would make a trip to find the Mystics and retrieve the Mind Stone, so he could fully bring Unita Sun Sun back.
In the next moment, the liquid metal morphed into a pair of glasses and began feeding all of humanity's existing scientific knowledge directly into Allen's irises.
For a moment, Allen absorbed it all greedily.
Machinery was just the outer shell. No matter how much it changed, its essence remained the same—intelligence was the key.
Naturally, with Unita as the template, there was no need to worry about programming knowledge either.
"The knowledge has been successfully injected into my dumbass brain."
Once preparations were complete, Allen got to work dismantling the mothership, intending to construct a hybrid device that combined alchemy and mechanics—a Whitebone Transmutation Amplifier—to facilitate large-scale summoning of undead skeletons in the future.
Rip! Rip! Rip!
Under the bewildered gazes of the starship security officers, Allen violently tore apart the very tool they needed to escape the warp corridor.
Then, in a truly bizarre fashion, he began assembling one strange device after another.
The designs were an eyesore, completely outside the realm of human aesthetics—not even resembling the rugged style of the Warhammer world. They looked like random piles of parts jammed together, utterly unrecognizable in function.
But he was the boss, so the others had no choice but to stand around helplessly and watch.
Clang, clang, clang…
"The Whitebone Transmutation Amplifier has arrived!"