Emperor, the one who protects the empire; The god of machines, the god of dominating machines

The spirit of the machine, the secret of technology, are better than the mortal body;

It is your duty to praise the wit, to take care of the wit is to rely on your happiness, and to appease the wit is the foundation of your survival.

Without dogma, the spirit of the machine is not helped.

Ring the bell once!

Push the lever to start the piston and pump!

Ring the bell twice!

Press the button to start the engine, ignite the turbine and breathe life!

Ring the bell three times!

Sing in unison and praise the God of Machines!

At the heart of the Mechanic loyalist, the hearts of the people stabilized, and in the expressions of the poor refugees, the sage saw fear and loneliness.

There has never been a battle of this magnitude since the light and bounty of Ommisia spilled into the world, and the invasion of the Red Pirates and Orcs suffered little loss due to the bravery of the Skadi soldiers, but the irony is that the Governor's own order to purge has caused the flames to burn in many parts of the world.

It's ridiculous, it's sad, it's never rained on Pan Lan, and it never will. Once, in a time when it was far away and it was just known to man, while Pan Lan was still alive, a powerful storm tore at its surface, cutting out channels in the rocks and shaping the coastline from sheer cliffs to towering mountains.

Then, the world experienced its first death, and the entire planet turned into an empty red wasteland of scorching deserts filled with dust basins and potholes.

Then, the red-red planet was revived once again.

In the earliest years of humanity's golden age, the geomorphosis project ostensibly brought new life and hope to Pan Lan. But in the end, this proved to be only a palliative rather than a cure. In just a few centuries, Pan Lan died a second time after being suffocated by the exhaust fumes of countless combines, continental-scale factories, and millions of weapon-making plants.

"It's never rained on Pan Lan." This is what any living person living in this casting world would say about her dryness.

But today, compatriots slaughtered each other, blood splattered, those bright red liquids splashed over the city of the nest, the weapons of the heavy servants shattered the heads of mortals, blood spilled under the statues of the gods and emperors in the streets, the casting world that had never rained had a rain of blood at this moment, the statues of the emperors, those terrible things were sprinkled in front of him, bright red tears slipped down his cheeks, because the imperial humans foolishly slaughtered each other.

The mechanical sage mobilized his database, holding many supplies in his hands, mostly food, and his eyes flowed with the tastes, nutrients, and other miscellaneous indicators of those foods, and he learned a lot during this time, especially for mortals.

He began to keep track of what food humans should eat, what nutrients they needed, and what they should have to help them in their daily lives.

He is almost a half-special, almost forgotten profession of nutritionist, or something more special.

It was hard to imagine anyone caring so much about the thoughts of mortals at the end of the dark fortieth millennium, but after the meat and vegetable pairings and normal tasting reconcoctions were distributed, the poor soldiers who were exhausted finally felt the few warmths.

Although the sage's skills are far from good, and the food he cooks is far from the delicious food enjoyed by those nobles, all he can do is heat and match, but that kind of care is something that most of the Empire people have not enjoyed since they were in their wombs.

Many people have even begun to refer to this strange member of the Mechanics who does not know the male or female nature as mother or father, but the official name for his unity is still the military title of the Governor of the Ruler, or the Governor of the Governor.

Of course, he didn't care about the sage, and his job was only to give all the help he could, after all, he was definitely not a professional when it came to commanding.

However, the war is sometimes seen not as the command but as the morale of the soldiers, and within three days of the Great Purge, a large number of data craftsmen, sages and even the director of the Fourth Macro Branch have joined the ranks of resistance, and the "official" power of the Mechinates has gradually begun to fall below that of their "heretics".

He also commanded the Second Macrobranch Special Guardian Legion composed of a large number of mortals, and delivered the Iron Fist representing Om Messiah to those who slaughtered his compatriots.

And the departure of the Dominator Sage also means that the morale of the Mechanic Guardian Legion has decreased, and to be precise, those servants do not have much autonomy.

Generally, only some alpha-level veteran captains can still maintain a small amount of judgment for complex situations and changeable battlefields.

The Mecha rely on the control and orders of the Dominating Sages, as well as numerous war agreements that have been fought one after another, to maintain the agility and versatility of the vast corps of cathars.

The sage's betrayal will not only take away the soldiers of the cathar, but also reduce the execution of those who are still serving in the "official" legions, and the actions of the director during this time have angered many people, not only mortals and mortals who are close to the sages, but even his cronies are beginning to betray him.

Today's Mecha forces no longer have the same and powerful dispatch capabilities as before, and their tactical flexibility is much worse, compared to their so-called heretical forces, which are fine and small, occupying several factories and residential areas and making them well supplied, but the only problem...

When the sage looked up, he saw the light curtains and bursts in the sky caused by the mechanical research barges and the Imperial Navy firing at each other, as well as the automatic gun emplacements that appeared from time to time to strafe at the Imperial Navy's reconnaissance assault ships, and the Imperial Navy's military power faintly streaked across the sky.

That is now the sword of Damocles, telling everyone who remains that time is running out, the Imperial Navy will break through here, it is possible anytime and anywhere, there is no dock in this world, which is why the Imperial Navy did not hesitate to choose the extermination order.

Pan Lan is important, but for the present that Gondeva VI can provide with several commercial paths opened up now, or even just a single weapon, it is more than sacrificing the lives of the Imperial Guard loyalists and the time when the Red Pirates of the Void or a new alien threat arrives.

Not only is the First Extinction Order efficient, but it doesn't lose the minerals inside Panlan, and perhaps depending on the execution criteria they choose, the world's minerals may become easier to mine.

In contrast, trillions of servants and mortal lives are not even comparable to the value of the world's factories and cities that cover the sky and the sun, spread across the equator, and resemble a continent.

When you're in the same boat as heretics, the only way to prove your loyalty is to sacrifice and die, and to use war and victory to clear the folly of your former compatriots until the Empire recognizes your sacrifice and praises your actions.

The loyalists of this world today have no choice but to return to the unwarm, crumbling and cruel collective of humanity, and they must pave the way on it with blood and death, even if it is not their choice.

In the camp, the sage's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his own lieutenant, a former Astral Army, a merchant's merchant, and a bounty hunter, but he was not in the service of the big guys like the Ronin Traders, but an ordinary planetary governor.

The Sage had never heard of his world before, after all, the empire was so vast that even if his head was broken, it would not be able to store all the information of thousands of imperial worlds.

But the man in the homemade military uniform and body armor that impressed the Sage the most was that he refused to use the normal Uranium flintlock or Railflintlock Pistol, which could pierce through the outer armor of the Space Marines, and instead paranoid demanded the use of the Imperial Guard's laser guns.

The kind of thing that can be produced in millions a day in the factory, the sage often finds it strange, the nest world and the casting world he knows can produce laser guns, and almost a steady stream of output, but the Imperial Guard infantry regiment is only about 50,000 people, or even less than the establishment.

And even if a conscription world has a long history, it is difficult to have more than a thousand infantry regiments born on it, not to mention that most of the nest worlds only have about a hundred regiment-level Imperial Guard outputs.

But just through the laser gun in his hand, the sage can directly say that if not tens of millions, there are millions, which is completely enough to arm a star system, not to mention that this is only the output of his supervised factory for about decades, and such a large factory is hundreds of the casting world.

But the Imperial Guard is still undersupplied with weapons, and it can even be said that it is almost forever undersupplied...

The sage shook his head, he already knew about the current bad situation of the Empire, but he still needed the Empire's forgiveness, unless the Imperial Navy would cancel the extermination order for no reason.

He said to his lieutenant in the peculiar voice of the adjusted grille. "I can feel the restlessness of the mechanical spirit, the war is coming..."

The adjutant replied. "That's right, the brothers have already polished their weapons and applied holy oil, and now we need to conquer about 30% of the city area to take the inner streets."

He seemed optimistic, but the sage was worried about someone. "Can it be any faster? The Extinction Order is going to fall, and I don't think those pig-like things can protect this world for too long, and the Imperial Navy will soon leave the punishment of Ommisia behind. ”

The adjutant instantly became a little depressed when he heard those three words, it is better to say that every person in the empire knows the meaning of the extermination order, no matter how much or little you have contributed to the emperor, no matter how great or humble you have been, after the anger of the empire falls, there is only the elimination of heretics and a few "tributes" to the martyrs.

But the adjutant said. "It's okay, Lord Director, I've been through a war worse than today, and the Inquisition Court applied for an extermination order, but it was denied."

In fact, the Empire's extermination order is not as easy to obtain as imagined, but the extermination order needs to mobilize the Imperial Navy, that is, it requires the compromise of the Star Sector Commander and the Ministry of War, depending on the implementation area, as well as the permission of the local Astral Army War Lord and the Astarte Order, and it can even be said that as long as you are not really branded as a heretic, and you have a part of the right to speak, and there are interests involved in this world, the extinction order can be postponed because of your concerns.

Because for the Empire, each world is unique, the treasure obtained by the smelting of human blood and war, the most precious thing of the Empire is more urgent, unless it is really necessary to use the extermination order to hinder the worst situation, the Empire will never use those extreme things.

But for the sage, what he was worried about at first was not actually the extermination order, when he looked down at the blaster in his hand, which was engraved with the name of his most important thing at the moment.

The mentality of the sage has gradually changed from a scholar to a warrior, there is no doubt that the people who can become the sages of the mechanical sect are all talented and intelligent, and in the mechanical sect where the class is strict and the assessment standards are extremely difficult, even if there are people above, it will take a long time to accumulate the recognition of others and their own merits.

Anyone who can become a sage is not stupid, and even from a mortal perspective, it is an absolute genius.

He was not at all, he was arrogant even before he met the Skadians, but what he had not done for decades was done by mortals, and then he was quagmire into war and was saved by mortals, and he realized that arrogance was only what corrupted and degraded him.

He said mildly to his lieutenant at the moment. "Yes, the Extinction Order won't come soon, but I have a personal side to it... I have a daughter who lost contact with me three days ago in the deep area of the residential area, and now her life and death are unknown. ”

"As foolish as my request is, I will still say it, I need to use your precious lives to help me confirm this matter, so that I have become your commander..."

He spoke apologetically, but the adjutant scratched his head. "Well, our goal isn't for you, we just need to contact the Imperial Guard, give them information on traitors and ask if they can pick up survivors."

"My lord, our goal was the same from the beginning, but you thought too much, and you helped us enough to make up for your so-called "selfishness", who made delicious food when soldiers were in pain and wounded, and who sang the praises of the god of all machines when people were confused? ”

The adjutant said. "At this moment we are at the heart of this world, which is a watchtower, and if you look around from here, you can see that the world is burning right now."

"Dryness is painful, but it will not let the flames burn, it is those heretical traitors who draw their swords against their fellow citizens, and the blood is like promethium because of the war, and it ignites the world."

"Neither the Xenomorphs nor the Space Marine traitors have done this, and we know very well that the war is over

It's inevitable. ”

"My lord, command us, shoot at the enemy, do not hesitate, our fate has come..."

The sage's emotions fluctuated strongly at the moment, and he did see that he was on a high, low-end slender watchtower, in a flame that would never be extinguished, while his own people, mortals and mechists, were wailing in pain, drained of blood by the war.

After a moment, the sage's eyes were clear and cold beyond the sackcloth robes.

"Go to war, for the sake of Omemessiah..."

(End of chapter)