Rika Fujimaru once sharply commented that the essence of Ferus Manus is a Sikaran tank. Of course, this assessment cannot be wrong, but in practical terms, it does have some one-sidedness.

The essence of Ferus Manus can certainly be a Sikaran tank, but at the same time, he is not just a Taisikaran tank.

Between the dazzling brilliance and the bursting arc of electricity, a massive presence rose from the space where the Iron Hand Primordial Body had stood. It was a gigantic machine, with an obvious intricate and intricate structure, the various parts carefully joined together by the right means, and the roaring chorus of steel germinated, ascended, and converged from the tiniest of pistons, gears, and hinges in motion, and finally became a magnificent symphony in an incomparably efficient order.

It was a design that the emperor had carefully designed for the entity "Ferus Manus" 10,000 years ago. But now, what is being revealed to the public is far more than the design made by the emperor himself 10,000 years ago by relying on his own wisdom. The linear passage of time and the history accumulated through it have polished the original body of the Iron Hand with "stories", and the knowledge contained in the truth of the universe has also fed his intellect. Ferus Manus's body may have died 10,000 years ago, but his soul and essence were still "alive" in a certain state under the protection of the emperor—and it was this "living" that gave him the opportunity to examine himself, understand himself, and reconstruct himself for the next 10,000 years:

The essence of Ferus Manus is a planetary giant machine that embodies all the ideas and inventions he conceived and invented during his lifetime and after his death, born for war, and can be used as a weapon, as a vehicle, as a maintenance equipment, as a resource recovery and mineral extraction equipment, as a factory, as a battlefield medical device—for any function imaginable in human concepts.

Limited by space, he has little chance to "completely" unfold his essence, which is why Rika Fujimaru has misconceptions about him such as "Sikaran Tank". But in terms of the "essential scale", he thinks it's the same for all primitives. At least after Fujimaru Rika successfully used the ether to make Conrad Coz's new shell, he had seen that the emperor had indeed used psionic energy to crush the black lacquer paste the size of a planet that no one could see the function of, but who could see that he was very reluctant to stuff into the shell.

After some metaphysical baptism, Ferus did wonder if the materials of the emperor when he made the original body contained some dead stars or something...... Far from it. At least for the time being, the Iron Hand Primordial Body, which is also limited by space, is impossible, and does not need to fully unfold its essence. To achieve his ultimate goal, he only unfolded a small part of what he needed in front of his heirs - but it was already a formidable, harmoniously functioning metal tower.

The light of the indicator light was reflected on everyone who witnessed this scene, and they were all dumbfounded by this unreasonable spectacle. The Iron Hand present was at least a Terminator veteran of the Avini clan with more than two hundred years of seniority, and a seniority of up to one fearless elder of the Karash clan who had served for nearly a thousand years. It stands to reason that in their combat careers, they have never had less experience fighting subspace monsters, and they must have seen this unusual and illogical psionic phenomenon many times, but they are still instinctively shocked by the sight in front of them:

The Emperor's magnificent psionic powers and the precision of the Om Messiah are so clearly manifested in the body of a Son of God at the same time that, with the right people present, the relevant teachings in an instant, whether state or mecha, can be iterated at least four or five times in this single scene.

Unfortunately, now is clearly not a good time to do this. With only eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds left in Debit's "sixteen minutes", Ferus Manus was clearly hurrying to perform the most basic tests on the "generator" he had taken out earlier, inside the tower-shaped structure that had unfolded in place. The good news is that so far, the eerie shadows have pushed the battle line a little further under Debit's control, and have not missed a single enemy or enemy; The bad news is that anyone with even a modicum of mechanical knowledge can tell that what Ferrus is doing is clearly not going to end in the normal process in just eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds, and even if he is a primordial, it is unlikely.

In other words, they now have to think about what will happen in eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds.

The Iron Hands are back to their senses as they tap on the power armor of their combat brothers, blaring loud buzzers in the communication links to alert them to the urgency of the situation, and the Iron Hands are back to working as a single body under this violent coercion. They recounted the remaining numbers, weapons, and ammunition on their side, and prepared to build a defensive line once again centered on their genetic father. It's a pity that after the previous series of "fateful coincidences", their current reserves are already a little stretched for a defensive battle in the Zero Depth Stronghold that will end normally.

In terms of logic and probability, this is not a battle to be won. In the past, the Iron Hand would never have allowed themselves to be in such a situation, allowing their colleagues to do such a reprehensible thing as "wasting resources in a battle that may not be won". But now, it was clear that they had no way back, and that their genetic father had thrust them onto a battlefield that was neither in keeping with the Band's creed, but also impossible to retreat to—but strangely, none of them complained about it, but somehow easily accepted the uncertainty.

Perhaps war is a thing that is difficult to determine victory or defeat before it is really over.

——

On a throne adorned with precious stones, gold leaf, and colorful feathers, Tezcatlipoca frowned abruptly toward the distant canopy.

Inside the Great Rift, the colorful and magnificent sky in the subspace laughed at him as always, but he didn't take his eyes off it. This is true even if he had now created a mortal-like body for himself through some kind of sacrificial ritual, and in this universe, mortal bodies are in every sense vulnerable to subspace infestation.

He, or rather, himself, had fished in troubled waters among the gods on this side, gained a small piece of territory, and had his own followers. The rate of time passing inside the Great Rift, or rather, inside the subspace, was never normal, and it may have only been a few months since the outside world, but he had been comfortably operating on this planet, which might probably be a sadomasochistic planet, for several years.

It's certainly fun to get a sadistic believer to exchange a car with other sadistic believers, but for Texcatlipoca it's a snack after dinner at best. When the things that really matter to him happen, he still has to look up:

For example, Debit made a large-scale summoning of "angelic relics".

He once admonished Debit about the problem: since he only had the memory impairment of five minutes a day, it meant that even if he died once or even changed the universe, the individual "Debit Zem Voyd" was still subject to the observable universe, and he "became like this", or simply, the malicious creature that "made him". In this case, it is certainly possible to summon an alien terminal in this universe, but if this ability is abused too much, it is difficult to guarantee that it will not attract the attention of "outsiders".

In his last regular correspondence, Tezcatlipoca believed that with his barely "standable" power in this universe, he could help him block out the gaze of extraterrestrial beings within sixteen minutes at most. He did set up a spell for Debit for this, but he didn't expect the spell to be touched so quickly.

He could feel that he was in subspace now, and Debit was now in subspace. Even if he had now stuffed himself into a human-like body out of interest (or rather for fun), and with his power as Almighty God, it should have been no problem to make a real-time observation of someone with whom he had a strong affinity in subspace—but in fact, he could only see a vague mist in roughly the corresponding position.

Tezcatlipoca narrowed his eyes a little unpleasantly.

Miwoo (serene)

(End of chapter)