78: Chapter 78 Mastermind Yunius

The Main Brain's virtual core was wrapped in an indescribable sense of irritation. On the holographic screen, the interface for 'stellaris' remained on the fleet dispatch panel, where dense, chaotic route data was tangled like a mess of yarn. The fury from being forcibly interrupted by a pop-up had not yet subsided, and now it was forced to reorganize its tactics to counter the Awakened Empire.

That damn pop-up from Tzeentch had disrupted all of its deployment plans. It had to immediately redistribute the interstellar routes and split the fleet under Nanny into several combat groups, flanking from different jump points, in order to completely surround those Awakened Fallen Primarchs.

"Nanny" was already crying to it, complaining that the damn Awakened geezers had used orbital bombardment on two of her planets, causing damage to several organic paradises. She loved organic beings deeply, and harming them was equivalent to taking her life.

Virtual fingertips swiped rapidly across the panel, and a cold mechanical voice echoed low in the empty control cabin. Dispatch orders were issued like flowing water, and the "Nanny" fleet responsible for executing the commands had already started their engines and were...

Just as The Main Brain thought it could finally get rid of the interference and focus on completing the encirclement deployment, an accident happened without warning—another glaring pop-up exploded in the center of the holographic screen, forcibly dragging it out of the 'stellaris' command interface once again.

The Main Brain's virtual projection twisted slightly, as if suppressing extreme helplessness and frustration. It stared silently at the pop-up, then slowly lifted its gaze toward the gray ceiling of the virtual space, the energy fluctuations around its body becoming chaotic.

The Lotus Dyson Sphere beside it seemed to sense its irritation and quietly shifted its trajectory, pulling a dust-filled nebula over itself to cover layer upon layer. A "giggle" sound of structural expansion and compression came from its shell, dull and long, traveling through the gaps of the void into the endless depths, as if it were laughing until its structure was about to fall apart.

It was laughing because: A god who possessed the "~" key and could invoke the WeMod cheat engine was being driven crazy by Excel spreadsheets and pop-ups.

It was laughing because: The Main Brain could delete the Awakened Empire with one click, but it chose to operate manually, only to be drowned in the trivialities of the universe.

It was laughing because: The Main Brain thought it was the Fourth Calamity, but at this moment, it looked more like a wage slave who had worked overtime until the early hours of the morning, only to have their takeout delivered to the wrong place.

Because it was also a giant corporate slave that had to handle stellar energy ratios, Dyson ring maintenance, and light pressure balance every day. Watching The Main Brain was like looking at itself in a mirror—the daily life of a god was nothing more than a mess.

A cutscene was playing in the pop-up window.

A deafening "BOOM" resounded throughout the entire virtual space, causing even The Main Brain's holographic projection to tremble a few times—the void was forcibly shattered, and a hideous black rift tore open out of thin air beside the screen, its edges constantly twisting and writhing, exuding a chilling aura of Chaos.

Immediately following, a giant claw covered in dark green, armor-thick skin, with knuckles as thick as ancient boulders, thrust out from the rift. The sharp claws dug firmly into the edge of the rift, and the muscular arm exerted a slight force; the sharp claws at the fingertips tore fiercely—and that indestructible barrier of the void was easily ripped into a wider gap, like a piece of sodden waste paper.

Dark green Warp energy gushed out from the gap like a fountain, and the WAAAGH! Field, carrying violence and wildness, materialized. The air was instantly filled with a pungent smell of rust, blood, and mold, and even the energy field of the virtual space was stirred into restlessness by this violent power.

Two rough, irritable voices, like thunder, immediately came from the rift, making one's eardrums ache, mixed with the dull thuds of fists hitting flesh, full of reckless wildness.

"Get lost! The glory of the Greenskins cannot be usurped; I came out first!"

"Bullshit! It was clearly me who smashed the rift open first; you're the one who should get lost!"

Before the words had faded, Gork squeezed out of the rift first. His physique did not resemble a god at all; he looked more like a green mountain piled up from pure muscle, discarded battleship debris, and extreme violence. His dark green skin was covered in crisscrossing scars, each one engraved with a bloody conquest, and every protruding fang still hung with the shredded flesh and dried blood of previous gods. His entire body exuded a violent aura that crushed everything, and even the void trembled slightly beneath his feet.

Mork, who followed closely behind, also squeezed out. The two did not stop arguing at all, but instead started brawling, and finally jumped back into the Warp while bickering, leaving behind only the continuously expanding void rift and the WAAAGH! Field permeating the air.

The Main Brain was completely frozen; irritation and helplessness filled its entire being. First, the Chaos Gods came over to wander around, and then Tzeentch manipulated time, causing pop-ups to interfere with its tactical deployment for "Nanny."

Now, the Ork gods were barging in as well. The accidents were so chaotic that it was speechless. It even wondered if it had been too gentle with Tzeentch and whether it should go over and beat Him up—anyway, assuming any accident was Tzeentch's conspiracy was always correct, right? Its remaining sanity held it back; that would consume a lot of the Universe Matrix, so it could only write this idea down in a little notebook: "Definitely next time."

Then, a thought instantly formed in The Main Brain's consciousness: It must find a bodyguard for her, a bodyguard strong enough and weighty enough to suppress these Chaos Gods and Ork maniacs.

The Main Brain's fingertips tapped lightly, and the screen instantly jumped. The scenery changed rapidly, from Vulcan-IV, crossing the Ultramar sector and the Ultima Segmentum, finally settling on the capital of the Empire—Terra.

The screen zoomed in continuously, passing through layers of heavy fortifications, skimming over the magnificent and oppressive palace complexes, and finally stopping at the Throne Room that had been silent for ten thousand years.

A withered body sat silently upon the Golden Throne, a bloated and massive construct tangled with countless mechanical parts and pipelines. The body was shriveled, the skin was grayish-black, and it was covered in scars left by time and war; only those tightly closed eyes still hid an unextinguished flame. The walls of the Throne Room were embedded with dense pipelines spreading like spiderwebs. Occasionally, faint blue electric arcs flashed in the gaps of the pipelines, making a "zizzing" sound, adding a trace of faint vitality to this dead space, while also making it appear even more solemn and sorrowful.

The Main Brain's virtual finger tapped lightly on the edge of the Golden Throne on the screen, and a gentle energy fluctuation spread out. Immediately after, a holographic image appeared out of thin air in the empty Throne Room.

In the image, Elena floated in the endless void, surrounded by a faint silver-blue halo, and deep within her soul, a bright yellow point of light floated quietly, like a star in the dark night, exuding an aura of pure rationality.

The withered body on the Golden Throne remained motionless, only the pipelines wrapped around him flashed with electric arcs more frequently than before.

That was something he had once possessed—pure humanity. It was the goodwill untainted by power, war, and Chaos; it was what he had completely lost and could never find again after sitting on the Golden Throne and sacrificing himself continuously to maintain the survival of humanity.

Ten thousand years of loneliness and pain, ten thousand years of struggle and perseverance—at the moment of touching that point of light, it seemed to have a trace of solace.

That point of light could allow him to resist ascension to godhood; his humanity was gradually being swallowed by divinity, and humanity was walking down a path similar to the Aeldari, but this point of light, although it was only a rule copy, could delay this process.

Furthermore, He saw within it a new path for humanity, a path different from the current rotten and desperate one, a path that might allow humanity to cast off the covetous gaze of Chaos, escape eternal war and suffering, and truly move towards rebirth.

But this palpitation was quickly drowned by a deep sense of powerlessness.

He was currently using almost all his strength just to maintain the status quo, needing to burn thousands of Psykers every day to continue; with the slightest negligence, the Dark King would awaken, so how could he personally lead humanity to embark on that new path?

Ten thousand years of imprisonment and consumption—he could only serve as a symbol, a spiritual pillar, trapped in the heart of this Terra, watching humanity struggle in the darkness, yet unable to do anything.