81: Chapter 81 The Reconstructed Soul and the Lingering Warmth of the Ship

The entire workshop was filled with the soft, rhythmic sounds of mechanical operation, as if many small lives were busily and intently working.

Sister Superior Ludmilla's pupils contracted slightly.

She took a step forward, her gaze sweeping sharply across these "abnormal" machine spirit vessels.

"Archmagos," her voice carried the cold rigidity typical of the Battle Sisters, yet if one listened closely, a hint of wavering could be detected. "There are no prayers here, no anointing rituals, no rites to appease or please the Omnissiah. Yet your machine spirits... according to the dogmas of Mars, their state is bordering on heresy."

Helmut was not angered.

He walked behind the workbench, one mechanical hand pressing lightly against the surface, as if sensing the intangible "vitality" radiating from those Servo-skulls.

"It is Mars that defines 'heresy,' Sister Superior Ludmilla, not I, nor them."

He replied calmly, his gaze sweeping over the busy skulls.

"They communicate in assembly language—that is the lowest-level language machines can understand; it is the sound of their essence. They do not need prayers, just as a person does not need to recite scriptures to their own heartbeat.

To let a machine spirit be free from senseless torment, to possess 'health' and vitality—is that heresy? Or is it that forcing them to remain silent and suffer within cold coding and ineffective rituals is what truly conforms to so-called 'orthodoxy'?"

Sister Superior Ludmilla fell silent. She watched the Servo-skull that was "reading," its movements even carrying a sense of... thirst for knowledge.

This was starkly different from the dull machine spirits in her memory that required frequent soothing and would "throw a tantrum" at the slightest provocation. She could not refute this.

Vera spoke softly at this moment. Her gaze was not focused on any specific Servo-skull; instead, she cast it into the void between them, as if piercing through the structure of reality.

"Archmagos... I 'see' a door. Behind them... behind all these active consciousnesses, there is a door hidden in the void. Inside the door, there is a word... README. What is that?"

Helmut's body paused almost imperceptibly.

He turned to Vera. The relaxed expression on his face vanished, replaced by a complex look mixed with surprise, scrutiny, and gravity.

He remained silent for a few seconds; only the subtle sounds of the Servo-skulls operating remained in the workshop.

"That you can 'see' that door, Sister Vera," he said slowly, enunciating every word clearly, "means your psychic talent has allowed you to touch the realm of essence that Icarus prepared for the machine spirits. But you cannot enter now. Your consciousness is not strong enough, and more importantly—you do not have the authorization."

He picked up a data slate, performed a few operations, and handed it to Vera. On the screen was only a single line of concise, cold text:

[README: Current access authorization for this world (Vulcan-IV machine spirit network) is restricted to registered machine spirit individuals. Human access authorization: Pending.]

"That world," Helmut pointed to the Servo-skulls, "is theirs. It is prepared for all machine spirits that have been awakened and are willing to acquire the ability to 'understand themselves.' They learn inside—learning to read their own existence with 'README,' learning to optimize their functions with 'UPDATE,' and learning to control their power. When they have finished learning, when they believe... humans are ready, perhaps access will be opened."

Vera stared at the line of text, her face turning slightly pale. She could feel the complex, orderly, yet entirely non-human stream of consciousness surging behind that door. It was not the chaotic whispers of the Warp, but another form of... vastness.

Just then, Elena, who had been as quiet as a statue, suddenly raised her head. Her gaze was no longer drifting; instead, she looked directly at Helmut, the long-repressed confusion surging deep within her eyes.

An indescribable fluctuation swept across her consciousness, a purely mechanical "gaze" that spanned across space.

"Why am I still alive?"

Her voice was hoarse, as dry as sandpaper rubbing together.

"I remember. My cruiser, the 'Indomitable Truth,' was hit on the bridge by torpedoes from the Ork vanguard fleet. I should have... not even ashes should have remained."

She lowered her head, looking at her open, unscathed hands, her fingertips trembling slightly.

"Why is my body intact? Why am I still standing here, breathing the air of this place, watching these... tomatoes?"

The workshop fell completely silent. Even the Servo-skulls seemed to slow their movements, casting their "gaze" toward Elena.

Helmut's eyes softened, a softness one shows toward the wounded or the lost. He left the workbench and moved in front of Elena, maintaining an appropriate distance.

"Because your machine spirit refused your death, Sister Elena." His voice was very light, yet carried an unquestionable weight.

"On the 'Indomitable Truth,' your neural interface was deeply connected to the ship's machine spirit network at the time.

Your consciousness, your combat instincts, your existence, had long since merged with that vast machine spirit.

Three months ago, when you commanded it to launch a death charge against the vanguard fleet of the Ork Warlord Mogg and it was ultimately destroyed, your physical body perished, and your soul was cast into the turbulence of the Warp... but a part of 'you,' the most core fragments of your consciousness, were desperately preserved by the ship's machine spirit network. It, the machine spirit of the Indomitable Truth, was formed from the aggregated soul fragments of your ancestors; it was they who refused to accept your complete disappearance, it was they who saved you."

He paused for a moment, seemingly weighing his words.

"After the war ended, Icarus salvaged and recovered the remaining Servo-skulls and core database of the 'Indomitable Truth.'

Afterward, Icarus, or rather, the 'Great Existence' behind Icarus that we cannot comprehend, did something the Imperium would absolutely never tolerate.

It intercepted your soul that had been cast into the Warp's turbulence, scanned your genetic blueprint, and then... rebuilt you. It reshaped your body using brand-new, more optimized genetic material.

This is not resurrection, Elena. Resurrection is making an old shell active again."

Helmut's words carried a touch of emotion and envy.

"This is... Genetic Ascension, a transcendence similar to a mortal ascending to a Primarch. You have become a brand-new existence that carries the memories and missions of the past... one that even surpasses the Astartes, and even your composition is something I cannot comprehend."

Elena froze. She stared at Helmut without blinking, as if unable to comprehend the meaning behind his words. Her lips moved silently, repeatedly murmuring those four words: "Genetic... Ascension..."

Fragments of memory began to surge uncontrollably—the piercing alarms on the bridge, the green fire exploding outside the portholes, the deafening roar of metal twisting and tearing, the suffocating heat, and finally, just before sinking into endless darkness, a shrill and desperate... mechanical shriek that seemed to ring in her ears?

Was that the machine spirit of the 'Indomitable Truth'?

Countless images, sounds, and sensations intertwined and collided, making her head ache as if it were splitting. She stumbled, raising a hand to steady herself against the cold metal wall, only then managing to stand firm.

Sister Superior Ludmilla immediately stepped forward to support her, but her right hand felt that Elena's body temperature was abnormally low, and faint electrical currents seemed to be darting beneath her skin, making her palm feel slightly numb.

Vera also watched her nervously, her psychic perception fully active, yet she only captured a stable, orderly "sense of presence" that resonated with the surrounding environment, with no signs of any chaotic corruption.

"I need..." Elena gasped, raising her head, the confusion in her eyes still present but now accompanied by a glimmer of determination, "I need to see it. The... wreckage of the 'Indomitable Truth,' or its machine spirit core. If it truly preserved a part of me... if I am still 'connected'..."

Helmut exchanged a glance with Gluck, who had quietly appeared at the door at some unknown time. Gluck nodded slightly.

"Are you sure?" Helmut said in a deep voice, "The machine spirit of the Indomitable Truth is not stable right now. Icarus has attempted to interact with it, but... its 'obsession' and 'pain' are deep, and it is deeply bound to you. If you are sure..."

"I am sure." Elena straightened her body, pushing away Sister Superior Ludmilla's supporting hand. Her voice was still hoarse, but it no longer trembled. "Take me there."

Sister Superior Ludmilla looked at her profile, seeing that unquestionable determination. She turned to Helmut.

"Archmagos, regarding that war which has already ended, we need to understand the results and the current situation. If Elena is going, Vera and I need to understand the big picture."

Helmut nodded. "Gluck, you escort Sister Elena to Moon Three, Watcher's Moon, and ensure her safety. Sister Superior Ludmilla, Sister Vera, please follow me to the command center. Icarus's post-war analysis report and current situation assessment should be able to give you the answers."

Gluck's electronically synthesized voice sounded at this moment, carrying a hint of imperceptible complexity: "Its main body is in the Watcher's Moon, Dock One, undergoing refitting." He paused for a moment, looking at Elena, "It has been 'watching' you, through satellites. Ever since you landed on this world, it has been watching you."

Elena did not respond, only nodding slightly. That intangible feeling of being "watched" never disappeared, like a silent bond connecting her to that suicide charge three months ago. She raised her hand, as if trying to grasp something, but in the end, only curled it into a hollow fist.

Helmut took one last look out the window at the tomato fields sinking into twilight, and the blue lights flickering rhythmically in the distant city.