Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

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, although the power plant has been severely damaged, 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."

Chapter 8 Reclaiming it from the oppressors

The warm and comfortable upper fortress of Carax.

In his office, paved with rare and precious woods from Chemos, Herold was leisurely receiving report after report from his subordinates.

After the assassination of the old patriarch, he used his patrol team to successfully capture his brothers and sisters who also coveted the position, and became the true power holder of Carax Fortress.

The process was not easy, but fortunately the result was worthwhile.

“You can go now, Raul. If the workers protest again, bring more stun guns and guards.”

He casually gave orders to the slovenly-dressed, oddly-looking lackey in front of him.

Although this man was somewhat dim-witted and acted erratically, he was a skilled fighter and extremely loyal, and he handled everything quite well.

"Okay, master."

With his subordinates gone, the room was once again his alone.

That woman, Fugrim, is really stupid.

Leaning back in the leather chair to rest, looking at the exquisite decor around him, Herold couldn't help but sneer.

Improving mechanical production is indeed a good thing.

Unfortunately, the first thing she thought of after improving production efficiency was not the nobles, but the lowly workers.

It's one thing to give all the resources to the poor, but to spend so much time teaching them to read and to art, saying things like "Let beauty return to Chemos"?

What a sin.

I had intended to teach her a lesson after the marriage, so that she would realize that everyone is different.

Unexpectedly, she not only didn't appreciate it, but also stubbornly chose to get engaged to that good-for-nothing Casgara!

If this continues, won't all the workers become lazy and idle, spending their days studying useless dramas and philosophy instead of working?

Wouldn't that make them no different from nobles?

How then do they demonstrate their noble status, and how can they be considered nobles?

Thanks to Herod's scheme to disrupt the engagement ceremony and successfully sow discord between Vograim and the workers, those fools all believed that Vograim had betrayed them.

After gaining power, he immediately ordered that the workers' working hours be gradually restored to normal.

The lower classes should serve the upper classes indefinitely, rather than ridiculously devoting their energy to artistic creation.

This is undoubtedly a complete waste of resources.

He will reclaim the precious resources wasted on the workers and repackage them as products of the nobility.

As for the two who are still at large...

Now that they've already lost their loyalty and support, even if Fugrim is powerful, he shouldn't be able to cause any trouble.

Tsk.

It's such a waste of her perfect face.

"report!"

Just as he was still pondering what to do with the two of them, the office door suddenly opened.

Raul, who had just stepped out of the room, grinned with a set of irregular, yellow teeth and an embarrassed smile as he rushed back in and knelt down.

It startled him.

"Slow down, Raul, slow down."

"Perhaps you really should learn some normal manners, just like those workers who only know how to riot."

Herold sighed and complained.

"Tell me, what's the matter?"

"It's Fugrim! We've found her!"

"Oh?" He sat up straight, suddenly intrigued. "Finally... after such a long chase, we've finally managed to capture him."

His patrol team wasn't entirely useless.

"Tell me, Raul. Where is that woman now?"

"she"

"She's right outside your door, master."

Having a knife to your neck is a terrible feeling.

Especially since he was being supported by a demigod who was nearly 3 meters tall.

"Forgrim, what exactly do you want?"

Herold's tone was stern on the outside but weak on the inside.

The battle ended quickly.

Faced with the sudden attack, he immediately organized his most trusted police inspector squad to fight back.

These people are all skilled fighters; some can even take on an entire patrol team single-handedly without being at a disadvantage.

They swarmed forward, and even with Fugrim's towering stature and innate superhuman strength, he was unable to withstand their onslaught.

It should be like this.

But then, he watched helplessly as his elite troops fell in droves at an extremely rapid pace.

What Fugrim wielded was an extremely elegant and swift swordsmanship.

With her unparalleled precision, even the most skilled swordsman like Carax couldn't withstand a single move from her.

Many of them didn't even see their opponent's movements clearly before their weapons flew out of their hands.

Herod couldn't understand why this nearly 3-meter-tall giant possessed such fast swordsmanship.

But that's just how it is.

The vast disparity in strength between the two sides rendered all his previous plans a joke.

As for the first and last time he clearly saw that cold glint, it was when it was held against his neck.

With just a few heads, they dare to fight Fugrim in melee.

Do they really think this place is Nukelia, and this place is Angron?

"Forgrim, you...you dare to provoke a nobleman with brute force!"