Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 7 From Beyond the World

The power plant technology on Chemos is of very ancient origin.

Tracing back, this Thinker, a product of technology from the "Old Night" era of humanity, symbolizes the unimaginable heights to which human civilization once rose.

The old night refers to the time when humans used their technology to explore the starry sky.

However, as the subspace storm intensified, communication and transportation between different human star regions, galaxies, and planets were severely hampered, and a large amount of technology and creations were lost.

Human civilization was thus scattered among the stars, some even regressing directly to the primordial era.

Chemos is one of the civilizations that has been in decline.

If it weren't for the Primarch Vorgrim descending upon this planet, it's highly likely that human civilization here, along with its ancient technology, would soon be buried beneath the cold yellow sand.

It is the responsibility of the Emperor, the Primarch, the Casca, and every human being to rescue these human civilizations scattered among the stars.

But, Casca.

Are you really human too?

Casca silently stared at the screen displaying even more red text than Ahriman had.

An unexpected situation has arisen.

His genes cannot be recognized by the Thinker.

What does this mean?
Either the machine itself malfunctioned, or the Casca contained too much of the same amount of human as the Primarch, with too much subspace violence mixed in.

But if that's the case, why has he never felt different from others in the past twenty years?
For the first time, Kasgar, a pure human without any mutations, began to doubt his own identity.

He might be human, but it's also somewhat unlikely that he is.

[Gene identification successful!]

The Thinker's breakdown did not last long.

For some reason, it suddenly went from frantically spewing gibberish to returning to normal in an instant.

The green light is flashing brightly, and the system is operating smoothly.

It was as if nothing had happened.

"Are you alright?"

Fugrim, who was about to start repairing again, was at a loss for what to do.

"Was the machine malfunctioning just now?"

The concept of Machine Souls does not exist in the knowledge base of the Fugrim, which has not yet returned to the Empire.

Faced with such an illogical error message and an even more illogical response, she could only do her best to explain.

"Perhaps. It's possible that this Thinker is too old, causing some poor contact at the identification interface."

Casca echoed.

"Yes."

"The reason they couldn't identify my genes before was probably the same issue."

"Exactly! We're all human beings!"

"It's all because this Thinker is too old and has this strange malfunction, making us suspicious."

The two men, being sensible and acting in unison, shifted the blame to the only person present who couldn't speak.

[Administrative privileges successfully granted]

[Attempting to access the power generation compartment management permissions.]

After activating administrator privileges, the process went very smoothly.

"It's been a long time since things have been this convenient."

"Forgrim sighed."

“When I was repairing the fortress system in Carax, the nobles were always on guard against whether I would gain control of the fortress.”

"Not only do they restrict my ability to restore various functions of the fortress, but once I successfully repair some facilities within the fortress, they frantically demand that I hand over the authority to them for management."

As he spoke, Fugrim gave a helpless shrug.

The old ruling clan system was complex and intricate, and she was forced to navigate and guide it.

What exactly turned these nobles, who should have been so dignified, into what they are today?

"That feeling is like..."

"Like a miserly hoarder, even on his deathbed he still thinks about petty gains, and even though he knows he is unworthy of his position, he is still unwilling to let go."

Casca replied, watching the columns flashing by on the Thinker.

"really."

"That's a very apt description, Casca."

Fugrim pressed the button one last time. "Alright, the power plant is severely damaged, but several units are currently in good dormant condition."

"Reactivating dormant power generation units is not difficult; as long as the appropriate amount of high-purity promethium fuel is added, they can start operating again."

"Promethium fuel? And high-purity one at that?"

Casca was taken aback: "Where would we find this?"

In the Warhammer universe, most ships and propulsion systems rely on promethium as fuel.

The same is true of this abandoned power plant.

After a long period of civilizational regression, the already scarce high-purity promethium on the planet had been exhausted thousands of years before their birth.

Even if the planet's underground veins still contain a large amount of unmined Promethium, it is simply wishful thinking for the two of them to build the corresponding detection, mining, separation and refining technologies from scratch.

Even if the Primarchs could do it with their innate abilities, they wouldn't have that much time.

"Oh right, did I forget to tell you?"

Fugrim calmly pointed into the distance.

There, under the focused beam of a searchlight, lay the wreckage of a pale purple cabin.

"This area is where I was born."

twenty years ago.

A purple comet came from the horizon and fell upon the mountains.

"Here again. The man from last time."

"Golden light. Fire."

Amidst intermittent grumbling, the footsteps of three approached, and one of them uttered a startled female voice.

“A child, Colin.”

"This time it's a baby girl."

The silence lasted for a moment, followed by the sound of a knife being drawn from its sheath.

"What are you doing, Sulac? Put the knife down!"

“She is an orphan, and according to the rules we must kill her.”

"But she clearly..."

"Get out of the way of Toreria. Unlike those noble lords, we don't have the resources to raise a bastard; he would be a burden to us."

No, give her to me!

Fighting and squabbling.

The footsteps were noisy, and the shouts were incessant.

Snapped!
A gunshot rang out, and a man fell into a pool of blood.

The sound of flowing water was indistinct; a liquid, whether blood or primordial water, was quietly flowing.

Everything returned to calm.

That concludes the recording segment.

The purple capsule that she entered the world has a built-in recording function, and everything is reproduced in the Thinker in the form of images.

Kaska knew that the purple remains were the incubation chambers for the Genesis.

“The two workers you see who were determined to adopt me are my adoptive parents, Toreria and Colin.”

"I hid this cabin wreckage shortly after I was born."

"After that, I kept studying its structure, hoping to one day find out my true identity."

"But the level of technology it contains is far beyond my comprehension."

Fugrim’s words carried a hint of frustration.

"However, it wasn't a complete loss."

As she spoke, she took out a transparent fuel canister that was still half-filled with liquid from the wreckage.

"【Holy Promethium】"

"An interesting name. But in terms of purity, it certainly deserves the title of 'sacred'."

Fugrim smiled calmly.

"Get ready, Casgar."

"It's time to take back everything that belongs to us."

(End of this chapter)