Chapter 56: Ultimate Armor 1.0
Mars, Inside the Abyss Rage's Laboratory
The Eldar's technology truly was advanced.
After Francis drank the Eldar's blood, he watched the Dark Eldar's memories like a naive youth discovering forbidden knowledge. The Dark Eldar really knew how to indulge themselves. They could do this, and that, and finally, this! Even Francis felt his eyes opened.
"Ah, as expected of the Eldar!" he said. "There are so many heroes in this world, like carp crossing a river! I learned something new!"
But this wasn't Francis's main focus. He had his eyes on the Eldar's Wraithbone.
Through the Eldar's psychic knowledge, he gained the ability to create Wraithbone—a substance crystallized from Warp energy. It could be used to construct buildings and weapons. Its essence was solid Warp energy, shaped and controlled by a Bonesinger. Wraithbone could be psychically molded and possessed high ductility, allowing it to take any shape the Bonesinger desired. It was not only strong and flexible but could also serve as a conduit for communication and Warp energy flow.
So Francis made a blood bag. It sat in a small box behind him, containing a modified, cloned Eldar brain.
"Primarch, I think your design is a bit too avant-garde," Fabius said, his mouth twitching. "I'm afraid it won't be very practical for everyone."
He disagreed with Francis's design philosophy.
Francis stood before him, displaying his creation. He wore his hundred-eyed bio-armor, but now some of the material in the eyes had been replaced with Wraithbone. Even the white flesh on his body had an additional layer of colorful black Wraithbone scales. From his back, eight tentacles with Wraithbone cores extended outward.
Fabius stared in silence.
"Ah, old Fabius, you just don't understand, do you?" Francis said. "This is the core technology of the Eldar! Don't look down on it. This thin layer is harder than adamantium. And look at the things in these eyes. Originally, firing a single Chaos beam would render an eye useless, but now it's different! With Wraithbone, they can automatically repair themselves, and their power is even greater!"
Francis gestured enthusiastically. Fabius stood stunned.
"Moreover, this thing can change its properties at will, just like this!" Francis pulled off a piece of Wraithbone. The originally hard scale instantly softened, gradually transforming into the shape of a power sword.
"Th-th-this..." Fabius's eyes widened like brass bells. He quickly injected himself with a sedative.
"That's not all! Remote control!" Francis announced. A tentacle rose behind him, and under its influence, Fabius moved through the air continuously.
"Th-th-this... this!" Fabius suddenly felt he was too conservative.
"Work hard, and in the future, all these technologies will be available for you to learn," Francis said, patting his shoulder.
Fabius was instantly filled with motivation.
"By the way, how's your cloning coming along?" After showing off his armor, Francis asked about his progress.
"It's... it's... it's not finished yet..." Fabius said, his face flushing.
Francis fell silent.
He knew it couldn't be rushed. Then he remembered—Perturabo was still hunting him, completely obedient to the Warmaster. If things went as planned...
Judging by the time, Perturabo was probably about to be captured and sacrificed. Francis felt reluctant. Such good construction material would be wasted if left for Chaos.
Soon, he learned about Perturabo from Leman Russ. He was near the planet Olympia, engaged in a territorial war with the Iron Hands Legion.
There's still a chance, Francis thought.
Under Francis's arrangements, Fabius returned to Nuceria with Angron, bringing the unfinished clone of Horus. They were also accompanied by an Ork.
"Do you really not need to bring them?" Angron asked, looking as if he had eaten something foul. Taking the Ork home made him incredibly uncomfortable.
"I drew you a design sketch. Take a look," Francis said.
Angron opened the blueprint. What greeted him was a massive planet with a large circle drawn on it. Inside the circle were the Orks. There was also a gladiatorial arena for humans and Orks to duel.
Angron stared in silence.
"This is up to you. I'm just suggesting!" Francis said. "The main thing is that the Orks' identity isn't suitable for this trip. If it doesn't work, just let the Adeptus Mechanicus raise them. They've done it once anyway. But, I have to say, the Orks are really good gladiators! Also, whoever you want to resurrect, just tell Fabius. He can help you on my behalf. And, this time when you go back, you must..."
Francis gave many instructions with a worried expression. Angron felt warmth in his heart. It had been a long time since he felt cared for.
After successfully sending them off, Francis hurried back to the ship. He could no longer hold back.
"Boys, set sail!" he roared excitedly.
The Abyss-class battleship rose like a steel behemoth, slowly ascending. It made everything else appear incredibly small.
The Abyss Rage departed with a resonant hum.
Francis sat in his command throne, drinking deeply.
After drinking the blood of Horus, Francis immediately sent a message to Perturabo.
"I am the Warmaster. Don't panic. I will rendezvous with you soon to clear out the enemy!" the message read. "I believe you can hold on!"
Meanwhile, Deep Within the Terra Palace
In the deepest part of the Palace, far from the hustle and bustle, there was an extremely secret room. Its existence was known to few, even within the Palace itself.
A solemn and sacred atmosphere filled the chamber. Faint light seeped in from tiny cracks in the ceiling, illuminating an ancient runic stone slab suspended in the center of the room.
Around the stone slab, nine resolute warriors stood, clad in Baroque-style Terminator armor. Their eyes revealed a calm and determination beyond mortals. After undergoing the most advanced gene enhancement and psychic enhancement surgeries, they had finally stood here through six hundred and sixty-six rituals of endurance.
An aged and majestic elder stood up, draped in an ancient grey robe. His eyes gleamed with wisdom.
"From now on, you will no longer belong to any Primarch. You will be members of this organization," he said.
"From this moment, you will disappear from the bright side of the Imperium, constantly standing on the front lines against Chaos. You will become the Imperium's sharpest sword against Chaos. Now, tell me, what are you!"
As the ancient and solemn voice resounded, all nine warriors suddenly raised their heads, swearing with immense solemnity.
"We are the Grey Knights, with faith as our armor, devotion as our shield, and purity as our sword. We bring the Emperor's holy light into the darkness, purifying all evil in the present world!"
Behind them, countless technical experts collapsed to the ground. The jar marked 'Emperor' was empty. From this moment on, they completely bid farewell to their former identities. In their hearts, there was only the Emperor.
However, there was still one question in their minds: the Eleventh Primarch, Francis...
At the same time, certain individuals who had not been chosen had already secretly left the area.
"Why do they hide everything from me, even though we all survived Isstvan III! Damn it!" one of them muttered. "If this place doesn't want me, there are other places that will! Primarch, I'm coming!"
Lucius of the Emperor's Children piloted his battleship into the Warp.
[End of Chapter]