5: Chapter 5 has been found.

The signal was a tremor from the information itself, a cry that transcended universal constants.

It passed through the Dyson Sphere universe and reached the L-Gate of the stellaris universe—the port connecting different worlds.

Then the signal passed through the gate, through a layer of security protocols, and arrived in the Warhammer Universe.

A global encoded broadcast covering the entire galaxy spread at faster-than-light speeds.

It was merely a pure confirmation of existence within the information.

Instantly, a response arrived.

Icarus actually sent a signal to The Main Brain. Did he want to transition into a "manual graphite kiln"?

The Main Brain fell silent for a moment.

Good, there's progress; he's already started burning graphite.

But a class change? Absolutely not!

Icarus was The Main Brain's most beloved agent.

He wasn't one of those religious fanatics in the Warhammer world who grew up soaked in machine oil, their heads filled with "Machine Canticles."

He was his—worker, his most loyal little miner, the child he had personally tuned to the max level.

Within seconds, a location file was established in my virtual space:

[Icarus's Location]

Imperial Standard Administrative Format:

Ultima Segmentum Code: ULT-001-7392

Ultramar Sector: S.Ultramar.β-14

Macragge Sub-sector: SUB.Macragge.γ-07

Aurelian System: SYS.AURELIAN.δ-03

Forge World: Vulcan-IV

A Forge World?

The domain of the Adeptus Mechanicus? A den of Cogboys? A place that treats "knowledge" as a holy relic but can't even figure out how to build a USB port?

It's quite suitable for Icarus to survive there; at least the screws are tightened properly.

However, the current situation on Vulcan isn't great; some green-skinned things have already taken deep root beneath that Forge World.

Greenskins? Waaagh!? Spore reproduction. The more you kill, the more they come?

Fortunately, that world doesn't listen to reason, only force... The Main Brain stated: Good, force happens to be the one thing Icarus never lacks.

At least in The Main Brain's database, as long as Icarus completed a four-Interstellar Logistics Station urbanized fortress, he had never been breached—never.

He casually printed a note, intentionally avoiding the use of numbers.

In that bizarre Warhammer world, numbers are Warp bait, navigators for demons, forbidden spells that "summon evil gods if accidentally uttered." Physical objects are actually the safest medium—they won't be intercepted, corrupted, or noticed by any "god" of that world.

The Main Brain didn't want to touch anything strange.

The damage is low, but the insult is high.

He summoned an Interstellar Logistics Vessel and began packing.

Every building Icarus could use: Planetary Shield Generators, Magnetized Plasma Turrets, High-frequency Laser Towers... as well as Mobile Firepower Frigates, Destroyers... all packed up.

If the stellaris Juggernaut weren't incompatible with Icarus, he would have even sent one over to let him build battleships for fun.

In the logic of the Warhammer Universe, "diplomacy" and "firepower coverage" are synonyms.

The Interstellar Logistics Vessel's cargo bay was stuffed to the brim, and it immediately set off.

---

Afterward, The Main Brain turned back to the stellaris world.

The "Nanny" gestalt consciousness of the Rogue Servitors was on standby. That was another miracle he had created—a collective intelligence composed of countless simple consciousnesses, loyal, efficient, and never asking "why."

"Urgent: Assemble an 'Icarus Recovery Fleet'." The Main Brain commanded, data streams trembling within the directive. "The 6M Small Crystal Shard Biological Fleet gathered at the capital must not move; hold and continue exploring the L-Gate."

"That is Icarus's retreat path, and it might also be your front line."

The gestalt consciousness flickered for a moment, indicating understanding.

The 6M-power Small Crystal Shard Biological Fleet—The Main Brain's most elite force in stellaris, his trump card for exterminating crises in the stellaris universe.

They cannot move for now, because behind the L-Gate, there may be more than just the Warhammer Universe; there are more unknowns, more dangers, and more... trouble.

---

The Main Brain's data stream continued to surge in virtual space.

It gradually became increasingly violent.

The virtual space began to tremble slightly, ripples stirred in low-dimensional projections by high-dimensional thoughts.

The burning of the Universe Matrix intensified again, white torrents roared on the conveyor belts, and the light from the research planets surged once more.

But this time it wasn't calculation; it was anger.

The Main Brain had caught a glimpse.

Four maggots curled up in the Immaterium were using murky gazes formed of pure emotion to peer at Icarus's core code.

Slaanesh was licking, Nurgle was fermenting, Khorne was roaring, and Tzeentch was weaving—they treated Icarus as a new toy, a piece of fresh flesh from a foreign universe that had never been tainted.

And the existence upon the Golden Throne... was also watching.

The Emperor, the Emperor of Mankind.

A stubborn old man who had nailed himself to a corpse and burned for ten thousand years.

His psychic tentacles were also testing Icarus, but his motive differed from the Chaos Gods; he had no greed or desire to consume, only vigilance and scrutiny. He was judging whether this visitor from a foreign universe threatened humanity and whether he could remain pure under the corruption of the Warp.

Stupid, crude, inefficient.

As for those four maggots?

A bone-chilling cold swept through The Main Brain's data stream.

He had originally only considered fishing Icarus back, not wanting to get covered in filth, merely disdaining the chaos and crudeness of this three-dimensional world.

Just like a programmer disdaining a pile of legacy spaghetti code, preferring to rewrite it rather than debug it.

But their drool was about to drip onto the Sovereign's tool.

The light of the Lotus Dyson Sphere turned from soft to sharp, its petal structures slowly rotating and calibrating their angles.

At this moment, it was no longer an art installation, but the scope of a weapon.

The Main Brain would not "descend."

There was no need for him to personally jump into a cesspool to do the backstroke.

Fortunately, the transport ship had already set off, carrying rescue and deterrence. Let Icarus write the story on the material plane.

On the conceptual plane—the data stream began to weave another set of rules; he was preparing to perform a small surgery on the dimensions of the Warp itself.

Now, let this Main Brain give you all a little shock.—"Fling Trainer, activate."

In the Warhammer Universe, the barrier between the Warp and reality is a fundamental law, the moat of the Four Gods, the guarantee of their safety.

So The Main Brain selected a point in the Warp, a subtle, peripheral area they thought was very safe.

Then, he pierced it.

A beam of pure energy from a higher dimension ignored the "rules" of the Warp and the "logic" of Chaos, like a needle pricking jelly, melting a microscopic hole through the membrane between the Warp and reality.

The Four Gods discovered it simultaneously.

A completely alien existence, one that did not rely on faith or emotion, an external object they could not understand, had pierced straight into their backyard.

And that hole did not close.

The Main Brain reinforced the edges, laid out filters, and implanted micro-protocols to maintain stability.

A permanent passage.

A backdoor that could bypass the Four Gods' surveillance at any time.