Some people are simply born extraordinary. Or so the transmigrator thought, having just woken up. His innate rationality allowed him to grasp the situation within 13 seconds, understanding and accepting the reality of his transmigration—or, more accurately, his rebirth.
Only 47 seconds until birth!
He possessed such intellect even before being born, able to simultaneously calculate the time and feel the immense strength within this unborn body—a power unlike that of a normal human infant. The vague yet constantly swirling inherited knowledge in his mind, though not yet received, felt incredibly sacred and vast.
13 seconds left! In this life, he would surely lead humanity to its peak! He would bring destruction to the enemies of the Imperium of Man, and even a hundred deaths would not be a regret!
9 seconds left! Knowledge is so wondrous, so sacred! In this life, he must acquire more knowledge! He must witness more changes in the world!
8 seconds left! Power! Justice requires power! Both thoughts and actions require power! Power is the foundation of everything! Ignoring the inherent strength of this body is the greatest mistake!
7 seconds left! Immortality! Time is the greatest enemy! Longevity and health are what should be pursued!
6 seconds left! Since he transmigrated, not having a harem would be a waste! Give me one woman, and I can create a family! Give me a group of women, and I can create a nation! Give me a group of Xenos, and I can create a species!
(T/N: HERESY!)
5 seconds left! Haha, calm down, don't overthink it now; there will be plenty of time to ponder later. Adjust your mindset; he's about to be born from the cultivation pod...
4 seconds left! A cultivation pod?! Huh?!
3 seconds left! The Imperium of Man?! Ah! Xenos?! Ah!
2 seconds left! Wait! Time stop! STOP! Hold on! Stop!
1 second left!
What the hell are you counting for?! What else can you do besides count down?! Stop! Don't you understand?! Don't force me to beat you up the first thing I do after birth! Bro, just stop, and I'll kneel and talk to you!
Facts proved that when a person's brain is working well enough, they can even fight themselves and beg for mercy on their knees.
With a 'plop' sound, the transmigrator was ejected from the cultivation pod. After opening his eyes and adjusting to the light, he saw several red-robed half-robots kowtowing to an operating console, muttering, "01101101…" Fortunately, he understood. Unfortunately, he understood.
"Praise the Omnissiah!"
"Wah…" The transmigrator let out his first cry as a newborn.
Years later, during a joint secret investigation by multiple Inquisitors from the Inquisition and the Alien Tribunal into a certain Mechanical Magos (Tech-Priest) suspected of heresy on Thedan Forge World, the earliest records concerning this Magos were obtained, as follows:
Production Record: 139876th Batch Cultivated Humans (Shortened Cultivation Time Experimental Batch)
Product Physiological
Age: 6 (Normal Cultivation: 18)
Purpose: Candidate Priest; Advanced Wetware; Quantity: 10,000 Product Requirements: Knowledge Implantation (Completed); Genetic Testing (Completed); Personality Cognition Shaping (Completed);
Pass Rate: 13% (Far lower than normal, this type of production experiment will no longer be conducted in the future)
Anomaly Record: Product Code 139876-9527 - Gamma, his crying at birth resembled some kind of low-grade green-skinned Xenos. A second genetic test was performed, revealing no mutation, conforming to the predetermined product requirements.
This record has been permanently archived in the Inquisition's archives.
The transmigrator, now known as 139876-9527 - Gamma, did not yet know that his dark history would, years later, be written in ink made from the ashes of the loyal, on parchment adorned with purity seals, and permanently preserved by the Imperium.
Right now, he only wanted to be chosen quickly, to leave the magnificent and sacred Great Foundry Temple of Thedan. He felt that staying even a second longer would kill him under the Omnissiah's blessing (radiation). This was no longer a matter of health risk; through the fine, radiating curls in the mist produced by the evaporation of coolant, the radiation was already visible to the naked eye!
Gamma had no choice now; he could only be selected and taken back by a Mechanical Magos to one of the Mechanical Temples in the various factory districts. To better pursue the knowledge of the Omnissiah, every temple was required to cultivate more humans to become excellent Tech-Priests.
The reason for this urgency was simple. Several years ago, Archmagos Will, the Fabricator-General of the Great Foundry, looked at the backlog of orders on his desk—from the Departmento Munitorum, various Planetary Governors, Rogue Trader Dynasties, and even Astartes Chapters—and felt a profound sense of pleasure.
Orders were already backlogged for another 160 years. "Praise the Omnissiah! Glory to the Omnissiah!"
However, a data report made him sigh, "Flesh is weak!"
This month alone, 130 low-ranking Tech-Priests had died from fatigue, distraction, or nervous breakdowns. At the same time, the number of pure flesh contract-slaves voluntarily applying to become mindless Servitors had increased by 20%. Two more districts had experienced riots.
He silently repented to the Omnissiah for the sin of missing the detestable Xenos, while his brain pondered the current problems. The solution was simple: increase supply and reduce demand. Reducing demand meant cutting production, which was impossible. Increasing supply meant increasing personnel. Contract-slaves were easy to get, but the number of Tech-Priests serving as linchpins was a problem. Local cultivation seemed to be the only option.
He could foresee that the shortage of Tech-Priests would grow year by year. It was not entirely impossible to make everyone suffer a bit; after all, long pain is worse than short pain. But just thinking about a few factory inspections where a few small Priests had actually backstabbed their own Fabricator-General! The reason, when investigated, was that they felt it was better to die quickly than to be worked to death.
"These young people nowadays are truly too impolite! Their ideas are utterly ridiculous!" he thought.
After much hesitation, Archmagos Will still abandoned the plan to increase artificial cultivation chambers. After all, constantly keeping his shield active wasn't practical. Although the relic shield generator he possessed was stable, it still required regular appeasement of its machine spirit.
Abandoning the plan didn't mean giving up entirely, so Archmagos Will decided to shorten the planned cultivation time for the 139876th batch by two-thirds to see the effect. On a side note, to demonstrate Archmagos Will's benevolence, he sentenced those who had backstabbed him to a hundred years of servitude by welding them to the production line without excising their brain lobes.
The priests were not satisfied with this batch of Gamma products. They had expected qualified workhorses, but instead found them to be defective and still requiring care. This naturally caused an uproar. In the end, Archmagos Will appeared with his force shield activated and settled the matter, saying, "Aside from their small bodies, they have everything they should. Take them back; they're just as useful."
Thus, 139876-9527 - Gamma was led out of the Great Foundry Temple by Magos Lauster. At the same time, the boy was deeply worried about his future, because from the moment he stepped out, Priest Lauster kept muttering, "I'll kill that old bastard Will sooner or later!"
A year later, he no longer worried, because the phrase he muttered and heard was also: "I'll kill that old bastard Will sooner or later!"
Of course, these were all future matters. Currently, Gamma was being tormented to death by the Tech-Priest's three-piece set and the Forge World's survival three-piece set that were issued to him.
Tech-Priest's Three-Piece Set:
Mars Red Robe (had to be tied around his waist due to his height).
Back-mounted multi-functional mechanical arm (self-weight 15kg).
Axe of the Omnissiah (a 9kg pure metal axe, symbol of a Tech-Priest's identity).
Forge World Survival Three-Piece Set:
Retractable full-enclosed chemical protective suit (self-weight 3kg).
Air purification and filtration integrated machine (self-weight 5kg).
Geiger counter.
Gamma, carrying 1.5 times his own body weight, finally couldn't hold on after being forced to march for 1 kilometer. He had to call out, "Magos, Magos Lauster!"
"Hmm? 139876-9527 - Gamma, what is it?" Priest Lauster, walking ahead, frowned and turned to ask.
Although he didn't want to provoke his Magos, Gamma's genetically modified body felt utterly exhausted. Using all his emotional intelligence from his previous life, he looked at Priest Lauster with innocent, wide eyes and a boyish face.
"Magos, I can't walk anymore. Based on my calculations, if I continue like this, I will faint from exhaustion after about another kilometer," he said.
He had been thinking about this sentence since he walked out of the magnificent gate of the Forge Temple. To salvage the impression of being useless in the Magos's eyes, he had to demonstrate the "rationality and cold, accurate calculation" advocated by the Adeptus Mechanicus. He inferred that Magos Lauster, with his mostly unmodified body, belonged to the faction that revered the human form. "His humanity should also be the richest," he thought.
"Oh…" Magos Lauster was clearly taken aback. He assessed the boy with an inscrutable expression.
Feeling a little unnerved, Gamma had to bite the bullet and continue. "Yes, Magos, I do not know how much further it is to your Mechanical Temple, but if I were to collapse, it would undoubtedly cause you unnecessary trouble."
"Hmm, indeed. But according to my observation and calculation, you still retain at least two-thirds of your physical strength. Am I wrong, then?! Or are you lying?!"
Oh no! What to do when your direct superior is deliberately looking for trouble?
"Haha, of course the Magos isn't wrong. It must be my miscalculation, after all… after all…" Gamma hurriedly and flusteredly explained, attempting to project honesty through his transparent visor.
But Magos Lauster clearly had no such intention.
"After all what?"
"…"
"Are you trying to think of an excuse?! You just met your Magos, and after 13 minutes and 13 seconds, you're already lying and trying to deceive me!"
"No! I'm not! Magos, you've misunderstood. The calculation error is my fault, but I am, after all… after all, still a child!"
How embarrassing! How could an adult say such a thing?! Wait! I'm only six years old in this life, no problem!
"Hiss…"
One tall, one short; one big, one small. The two looked into each other's eyes. After a moment of silence, Magos Lauster's multi-threaded processing brain still couldn't find an excuse to continue teasing his new apprentice. So he had no choice but to unfasten his cloak and the robe underneath. Then, to Gamma's utter astonishment, his body below the chest began to transform with a series of clanks and clatters into half a motorcycle—a Half-Human Motorcycle!
"Get on."
"…"
Is it still too late to run back to the Forge Temple and ask for a different Magos?! After realizing I had transmigrated to a Warhammer Forge World, I thought I'd encounter eccentric Tech-Priests, religious fanatics, mindless servitors, soulless automatons, and even sneaky Gretchin!
But I never, ever thought I'd encounter a lunatic! Oh Emperor! Oh Omnissiah! Oh Source Power! Please descend and take away this demon! What kind of Tech-Priest transforms himself into a motorcycle?!
"Hurry up and get on! What are you thinking? Don't be shy, you're not the first to ride upon this body, which is condensed from the Omnissiah's sacred wisdom." Magos Lauster looked at his shocked young apprentice with considerable pride, twisted around, and patted the back seat, urging him to get on.
Oh! What blasphemy! He even added a back seat!
"Understood, Magos."