chsdbacks Chapter 10 Ascension
Chapter 10 Ascension
Before leaving the nest, Liu En completed one last preparation in his safe house.
Facial reconstruction.
He had a mutation on his face, a mutation inherited from the body's original owner. His mouth opened at a much wider angle than normal, the corners extending almost to his ears. In the Underworld, such mutations were not uncommon, and he had never been bothered by them. But it was different for someone impersonating a member of the Mechanicus. Mutation was a sensitive word in the Empire's context, especially within an institution like the Mechanicus, which had a strict understanding of the "sanctification" of the body. A member of the Mechanicus could be faceless, could be entirely mechanical, but could not have an "unsanctified mutation."
Having gained experience from previous live animal modification experiments using bottom-nest rats, he had full confidence in his abilities.
Using the technology from the Marcus dataset, he performed an atomic-level reshaping of his face at a workbench in an underground bunker. The target area was from below the bridge of the nose to the jaw, reshaping the entire mouth area into a semi-mechanical, semi-biological structure. The external skin and muscles were preserved, while a thin layer of ceramic steel skeleton was implanted internally. Cracks at the corners of the mouth were filled with mechanical structures, and miniature sensors and voice-assisting modules were embedded inside the lips. A translator was integrated into the ear—a miniature vibrating module attached to the surface of the temporal bone, transmitting signals to the auditory nerve via bone conduction.
The entire process was painless because the nerve endings were temporarily severed during the reconstruction and then reconnected. Forty minutes later, he looked at his reflection in the metal casing of the machine on the worktable. His mouth was no longer the horrible gash that stretched to his earlobe; instead, it was a normal, closed mouth. A pair of tiny metal nodes had appeared on the outer corner of his mouth. A metallic sheen was faintly visible beneath the skin of his chin. A standard vocal unit had been implanted.
He stared at the reflection for a while, then made a decision.
Facial alterations were just the beginning. To impersonate a member of the Mechanicus, especially for extended periods of time spent outdoors, a face alone was far from sufficient. The Bottom Nest's body was too fragile—fragile bones, atrophied muscles, and chronically damaged internal organs. He needed a more radical transformation.
Liu En sat back down at his worktable, his consciousness sinking into a higher dimension. He retrieved the design blueprints for standard mechanical prostheses and bio-ports from Marcus's data in the database. He had browsed those blueprints before, but had never seriously considered applying them to his own body. Now, he needed to take that step.
He started with the simplest part: the right forearm. This body's right forearm had an old injury starting from the mid-forearm; the ulna had been fractured and healed crookedly, making its grip noticeably weaker than the left. Liu En used his field to lock onto the skeletal and muscular structure of the right forearm, his consciousness touching it and issuing decomposition commands. From five centimeters below the elbow to the fingertips, all biological tissues—bones, muscles, blood vessels, nerves, and skin—silently dissolved into an atomic cloud, storing in a higher-dimensional space. He precisely sealed the nerve endings and blood vessels at the fracture site, preventing a single drop of blood from seeping out.
Then he began to sculpt. Atoms were retrieved from the warehouse and assembled layer by layer according to the blueprints of the standard Mk.III mechanical prosthesis in the Marcus data. A high-strength plastic steel frame served as the core support, with precision brushless servo motors at the joints. Covering the outside of the frame was a lightweight ceramic steel armor plate, coated with a biomimetic dark gray layer that looked less like metal and more like some kind of keratin. The fingertips integrated micro-tool interfaces—normally covered by biomimetic skin, but capable of directly popping out welding torches or data clamps when needed. The entire prosthesis extended from below the elbow to the fingertips, with a biocompatible sealing ring used to transition into the biological upper arm, giving it a distinctly mechanical appearance without appearing abrupt.
The entire shaping and implantation process took less than half an hour. The moment the neural interface connected with the sensor array inside the prosthesis, Liu En's consciousness returned to his right forearm. He tried to bend his fingers, and the servo motor hummed softly as his five fingers smoothly closed and opened. His grip strength was at least five times stronger than his original bio-arm, and he didn't experience fatigue.
He didn't stop.
Next was the spine. Using the same method, he dissected a small piece of skin and subcutaneous tissue in the lower back, embedding a fingernail-sized data interface between the L3 and L4 vertebrae. The interface's outer shell was ceramic steel, and inside was a row of precise gold contacts connected to sensory nerves on the sides of the spinal cord via nerve bundles. This interface could directly interact with any thinker or vehicle system—no translator needed, no keyboard required, a direct connection between consciousness and machine.
Finally, there was his left eye. Instead of removing his original biological eye, he implanted a tiny, two-millimeter-diameter optical enhancement module behind the retina, alongside the optic nerve bundle. The module was connected in parallel with the optic nerve and powered by a pea-sized radionuclide battery, which could be switched on and off by thought. Once activated, the left eye gained eight times optical zoom, low-light night vision, and basic thermal imaging capabilities. The module was invisible; his left eye looked exactly the same as before.
After completing the three modifications, Liu En stood in front of the workbench and stretched his right arm. His mechanical fingers opened and closed, the servo motors at the joints humming evenly. He tried connecting to the simple Thinker on the workbench via the data interface—without any external devices, a string of data about ambient temperature, air composition, and energy reserves appeared directly in his consciousness, like a completely new sensory channel.
He took a few minutes to adjust to the new sensations, then nodded. That was enough. Any more would be too conspicuous. What he needed now wasn't combat prowess, but a "seemingly respectable" field guild image. The prosthetic right arm, the data interface in his lower back, the enhancement module in his left eye—plus the metal nodes on his face and the temporal bone translator—were enough to distinguish him from ordinary bottomhound inhabitants at first glance.
Liu En reassembled the last piece of skin tissue around the interface, making sure there were no gaps. Then he stood up and stretched his neck. His right arm was slightly heavier than his original bio-arm, but the power armor's shoulder support would distribute the load, preventing it from hindering prolonged movement.
Now, a deep red robe draped over his body. The fabric was thick, radiation-resistant fiber, with a thin insulating layer underneath. The hood was large, and when pulled down, only the lower half of his face was visible. The Om Messiah Axe was slung across his back—a ritualistic tool, more of a symbol of identity than a weapon. The axe handle was engraved with prayers of the Mechanicus and runes in High Gothic, and the internal sound-emitting device was switched off. Both the robe and the ritual axe were reconstructed from atoms in a higher dimension using clothing and diagrams from the Marcus data; every detail conformed to the Mechanicus's field standards.
Six servants followed behind him.
These six mechs were created over the past week. The first three—Enpu, Auxiliary One, and Auxiliary Two—were responsible for reconnaissance, transport, and data processing. The latter three—Number Three, Number Four, and Number Five—were used to expand the ranks and enhance visual deterrence. Their shells were painted a deep red, and their chests were etched with numbers and the gear and skull emblem of the Mechanicus in High Gothic script. The six mechs stood in a row, their movements perfectly synchronized, each step falling to the same rhythm. Their arms ended in standard gripping structures, without any weapons—Liu En didn't need them for combat for the time being.
There is a winding road nearly forty kilometers long leading from the pumping station to the second elevator station. It took him several hours to walk that distance.
Elevator Zone Two is located in a relatively open underground plaza. The plaza is over two hundred meters in diameter, and its dome is one hundred meters high. The entrance to the shaft is in the center of the plaza, surrounded by a thick terracotta steel railing, behind which is a huge freight elevator. There are multiple passageways around the plaza, leading to different areas of the underground structure.
There were quite a few people, scattered sparsely throughout the area. Some had hand tools hanging from their waists and large and small packages slung over their shoulders, haggling with the merchants. Others wore slightly neater coarse cloth clothes and identification tags hanging from their waists, appearing to be purchasing personnel from some merchant or workshop.
As Liu En entered the square, dozens of gazes swept over him simultaneously. His deep red robes stood out against the gray-black crowd. Those gazes lingered on his robes for a moment, then on his six mechs for a longer time, before quickly shifting away. No one stared—staring was an offense in itself, and no one wanted to offend someone accompanied by six mechs.
He walked toward the elevator.
Behind the control panel next to the railing sat a fat man in a gray uniform, with an old scar on his face that stretched from his forehead to his chin. His uniform bore the logo of the Helsard Nest City Transportation Authority.
Liu En stopped in front of the control panel. The machine crews stood in neat rows two meters behind him, six of them side by side, silent.
The obese transport manager looked up, scrutinizing him with one cloudy eye. His other eye was glassy, fixed blankly in its socket. He didn't speak, just stared at Liu En.
Liu En remained silent. He pulled a small data panel from the inside pocket of his red robe and placed it on the control panel. The panel displayed a string of binary code and High Gothic characters—a temporary field identification code he had extracted and recompiled from Marcus's data core. The code's format perfectly conformed to the Mechanicus's standards, including all necessary fields such as name, title, diocese, and issuing authority; however, it lacked online verification from the central database. In the lower and lower nests, no one would verify it on-site.
The transport manager glanced down at the data panel, then looked up at the six mechs behind Liu En. His gaze lingered on Liu En's face for a moment—his lower face was only visible through the shadow of the hood and the filter canister, along with the two metal nodes at the corners of his mouth. Those two nodes reflected a metallic sheen under the stark white light.
The manager nodded and pointed to a small entrance on the left side of the elevator. "Over there. The freight elevator. Take this one up."
Liu En put away the data panel and led the machine servant toward the entrance.
Behind the small entrance was a narrow passageway leading to an even smaller elevator platform. Two people were already standing on the platform, dressed in the same gray uniforms as the transport administrators, with communicators and tool bags hanging from their waists. When they saw Liu En and the six mech servants enter, they automatically moved aside.
Liu En stood in the center of the platform. The servants stood behind him.
The platform began to rise.
The air began to change—the smell of sulfur faded, replaced by a dry, slightly disinfectant-like odor.
He passed the first platform. The sign on the gate read "Lower Nest - Residential District 21" in Low Gothic. He didn't stop, and continued to ascend.
The passageway down to the elevator platform flashed by through the crack in the door. The rust on the walls had lessened, but the patches on the pipes had increased. The lighting had changed from a dim yellow to a stark white. The residential units on both sides of the passageway had transformed from illegally constructed tin shacks into slightly more orderly brick and stone structures.
The platform's takeoff and landing controller emitted a short beep, the door opened, and a sign read "Lower Nest - Seventh Transportation Zone, Traffic Control Zone".
Liu En stepped off the elevator platform.
Descend from the nest.
The passageway was wider and flatter than the bottom nest, with neatly arranged fluorescent tubes overhead, casting a pale and even light. Faded propaganda slogans covered the walls, and double-headed eagle emblems were visible everywhere, the paint peeling off. The air was filled with a mixture of disinfectant and industrial lubricant odors, which, compared to the sulfur and rot in the bottom nest, was at least not as nauseating.
There were even more people. Workers in gray, coarse overalls wore hard hats and dust masks, carrying toolboxes or lunch boxes. Clerks, dressed slightly more presentably, carried folders and had communicators hanging from their waists.
Everyone wore the same expression: serious, numb, and exhausted.
Liu En stopped at the edge of the passageway and pulled his hood down. Six mechs followed silently behind him, their crimson ranks forming a striking dividing line among the gray-white workers.
He needs information.
In the lower hive, he could only rely on Marcus's data from thousands of years ago and fragmented memories of this body. But the lower hive was different—here, there was a hive capital public information terminal, connected to the hive capital's official data network. However, the terminal didn't offer all its contents to everyone. To access any information beyond the basic map and public notices, identity verification was required first.
He asked a passing worker for directions to the terminal. The worker gave him a wary look and pointed around the corner of the passage. It was a device embedded in the wall, about the height of a person, its screen covered with a thin layer of dust, but it was fully functional. Next to the terminal were instructions inscribed in low Gothic: "Please show your identification code. Different access levels grant different information access ranges."
Liu En stood in front of the terminal and placed the data pad close to the sensor area below the screen. The terminal read the binary identification code, the screen flickered, and a confirmation message popped up:
"Identity verified. Technician, Level Two. Welcome, Cohen Severo."
Immediately afterward, the main menu appeared. However, the menu items were clearly not all there—some were bright white, indicating they were accessible; others were gray, marked with "Insufficient permissions." Liu En glanced at the gray items: Imperial Military Dynamics, Planetary Defense Deployment, Internal Announcements of the Mechanical Guild, Advanced Logistics Scheduling… As a second-tier technical craftsman, this content was automatically hidden by the system.
However, the parts he can access are already sufficient.
He first clicked on "Planet Overview." Basic information immediately appeared: Armageddon—an important industrial world of the Empire, a military hub in the Solar System. Population statistics of the hive capital Helsard, major industrial output, standard time zone... and then the date.
Imperial Calendar Armageddon Standard Time: 930.M41.
Liu En stared at the string of numbers.
930.M41.
His past life's memories of Amegadoton began to surge in his mind. The First Amegadoton War—when was it? It seemed earlier, around M40. The Second… the Second Amegadoton War broke out in 941.M41, when the orc warlord Bonecrushers launched a massive invasion. It was now 930, eleven years before that war that nearly destroyed the entire planet.
Eleven years.
In the timescale of Warhammer 40, eleven years is but a fleeting moment. But for a transmigrator without Imperial Navy support, without a Star Guard organization, and even whose legal status is questionable, eleven years is hardly enough to accomplish anything.
He took a deep breath, returned to the main menu, and clicked on the "Transportation and Employment" category. This category was completely open to him—a second-tier technical craftsman's permissions allowed him to view recruitment information for merchant ships, cargo ships, and planetary ronin vessels, information that was supposed to be publicly available anyway.
The menu listed dozens of items. Most were readable within his permissions: cargo ships, transport ships, and exploration ships, each recruiting crew members for different positions. However, some items were grayed out—"Imperial Navy Recruitment" required higher permissions, "Guild Contract Transport" required guild certification, and so on. He simply ignored those.
Liu En read through them one by one:
"Cargo ship 'Iron Anvil' is recruiting an engineering assistant - must hold an Imperial-recognized technical qualification certificate - salary negotiable - departure destination: Belis III"
"Exploration vessel 'Wandering Stars' is recruiting entry-level technicians - those with mechanical repair training experience will be given preference - no fixed route."
"The transport ship 'Resolute' requires a temporary equipment maintenance worker - short-term contract - itinerary: Armageddon to Foundry World Lucis"
Each entry included the port office's address and hours of service. His Tier 2 status was barely enough to qualify him for these low-level positions—the recruiters only required "imperial-recognized technical qualifications," and his binary identity code and the Mechanics Guild's field service registration were perfectly acceptable on paper.
Liu En stored this information in the data tablet and then exited the terminal. He didn't continue browsing the grayed-out entries due to insufficient permissions—it would only cause him more trouble. Imperial military updates? He would never see them under his current status. Internal notices from the Mechanicus Guild? Unless he could obtain a higher level of access.
But he doesn't need those now. He just needs a boat.
Now, he needs a temporary place to stay.
Liu En, accompanied by his mech servant, continued deeper into the passageways of the Seventh Transportation Zone, scanning the surrounding walls and pipes with his ability field as he went. The ten-meter radius field acted like an invisible probe, revealing every void and crevice he passed through. Most of the voids were pipe shafts, ventilation ducts, or small, still-operating equipment rooms, unsuitable as safe houses.
After walking for about twenty minutes, his gaze swept across an inconspicuous wall—behind the wall was a space of about sixty square meters, with no pipes or cables connected to it. The door was located in an inconspicuous recess in the wall, which from the outside looked like an ordinary ceramic steel plate.
He walked closer and examined it carefully.
It was a metal door, coated with the same gray paint as the surrounding walls, but the paint was peeling away, revealing the dark metal beneath. The label on the door was faded to almost invisible; he scratched it with his finger and could vaguely make out a few traces of low Gothic script: "...Spare Supplies..." The cracks in the door were filled with thick dust and rust, indicating that it hadn't been opened in a long time. He pushed hard, and the door creaked and moved a few centimeters inward.
It was completely dark inside.
Liu En had his servant stand guard outside the door before entering alone. The moment he stepped inside, the entire space's structure was revealed: over sixty square meters, with gray structural steel walls and an anti-static rubber mat on the floor. Several empty metal shelves were piled in the corner, along with a broken-backed operating chair, and a thick layer of even dust covered the floor. Clearly, this had once been a warehouse or equipment room, forgotten and never entered again.
He decided to use this place as a safe house.
Liu En spent nearly an hour transforming the space.
He first cleaned away all the dust and debris from the inside, using his abilities to break them down into atoms and store them in a higher-dimensional space. Then he began reinforcing the walls—not by adding to the outside of the existing structure, but by growing a ten-centimeter-thick layer of ceramic steel directly from the inside, a seamless, atomically integrated structure. The floor was similarly reinforced, and a layer of plastic-steel anti-slip mat was laid on top of the anti-static rubber mat. The metal door at the entrance was disassembled and replaced with a hydraulically operated, airtight ceramic steel door, locked from the inside by a mechanical handwheel. From the outside, the wall appeared completely intact, without any trace of a door or handle.
He divided the room into sections. In the inner corner, a separate cubicle of about eight square meters was partitioned off with PVC partitions as a rest area, containing a simple bed and a worktable. The worktable was fixed to the wall and equipped with a self-made cool white light panel. Outside the cubicle was the activity area, where six machine servants were set to standby mode, arranged against the wall, maintaining a state of alert.
The ventilation system was originally an exhaust duct connected to the main passage. He inspected it and confirmed that the duct was narrow and winding, making it impossible for anyone to pass through. Therefore, he retained the original vents and added a dust filter to the inside of the vents. There was no water source for the time being—the pure water stored in the higher-dimensional space was enough for him to use for a long time.
Once everything was ready, Liu En closed the airtight door and turned the handwheel all the way down. External sounds were completely cut off.
He sat down against the worktable.
The safe house is ready. The identification code is ready. Now all he needs to do is figure out the route from the Seventh Transportation Zone to the port area in the next few days, and then apply for a job on one of the ships.
The moment he stood before the information terminal and saw "930.M41," a chill rose from his stomach. It wasn't fear—fear had been exhausted after countless nights in the deep nest. It was something more primal, almost instinctive: run.
In the Deep Nest, he had convinced himself that he had enough time to accumulate, prepare, and grow. But now the clock was ticking. The Necropolis slumbered, the Bonecrushers were still amassing their Greenskin armies in distant galaxies, and the Imperium was still basking in a false peace. But history had already written its own ending—Armageddon would become a scorched wasteland in the coming decades, and three devastating wars would tear the planet to pieces.
He wasn't capable of saving the planet. All he needed to do was find a ship and leave the system before all that happened.
Liu En retrieved a piece of ant beef and a block of synthetic starch from a higher-dimensional space, heated them up on a small stove next to his workbench, and ate. After finishing, he sat back down at his workbench and projected the job postings recorded on the data board onto the lighting panel, analyzing them one by one.
The "Anvil"—a cargo ship, destined for Belis III, the Foundry World—needs an engine room assistant. The Foundry World is the territory of the Mechanical Guild, too risky for him, a fake technical craftsman; going there would be tantamount to walking into a trap.
"Wandering Stars"—exploration ships with no fixed routes and low-level technicians. Exploration ships mean long periods away from the imperial center and bureaucratic oversight, but also mean scarce resources and unpredictable dangers. Too many uncertainties.
"The Resolute"—a transport ship, on a temporary contract, for a short trip to the Forgeworld, Lucis. Again, the Forgeworld, the same risks.
Neither of them is an ideal choice.
But he didn't have much room for choice. Being a second-tier skilled craftsman was only enough to get him into the lowest tier. At this level, shipowners wouldn't spend a lot of resources verifying the background of each applicant; they just needed him to be able to work and not cause trouble.
Tomorrow he'll go to the port office of the "Perseverance" ship to at least get a feel for the situation.
Liu En turned off the light panel, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
Six machine guns stood silently against the wall, their optical lenses reflecting a faint light in the darkness. In the distance, the low murmur of water flowing through pipes could be heard from outside the airtight door.