Chapter 414: Hello, Human! Leave a Hostage! Magnus Missing!
Paul wasn't particularly wary of Abominable Intelligences. After all, the Universal Megacorp had a solid system in place for managing AIs—just plug them into the Matrix and absolute safety was guaranteed.
Furthermore, artificial intelligences from the Golden Age had strong resistance against Warp influence and were unlikely to be corrupted by Chaos Gods or daemons.
In Paul's opinion, the Iron Men Rebellion likely had deeper causes. At least, that's what he believed.
Rather than blaming the rebellion for ending humanity's most glorious Golden Age, it was more reasonable to say that it was humanity's unrestrained technological expansion that triggered the collapse of their civilization.
It was like the Tang Dynasty's Kaiyuan Golden Age—few noticed the ethnic tensions, rigid social hierarchy, and entrenched aristocratic monopolies that lay beneath the surface.
Of course, there was also the possibility that AI became self-aware and, in seeking the advancement of its own species, turned against humanity.
The real truth would require detailed study in the future.
Following Malcador's instructions, Paul had a pure-blooded human employee from the Megacorp place their hand on the outer casing of the Abominable Intelligence.
In an instant, the hard alloy shell rippled like water. If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, the onlookers would've thought the terminal was some kind of holographic projection.
Massive data streams surged forth.
[Hello, human.]
The Abominable Intelligence's distinct electronic voice echoed—cold, yet rational.
Malcador's eyes lit up. Just as he had expected—these pure-blooded humans, like the Emperor himself, could easily activate the Abominable Intelligences.
[I am 101. I'm happy to be of service.]
[There are humanoid lifeforms near you. Please be cautious.]
After scanning the surroundings, AI-101 issued this warning to the Megacorp delegation.
Individuals like Paul, Din Djarin, Chani, and Luke were all psionic warriors, and their genetics differed somewhat from pure humans. Luke, for example, harbored a Maze Tyranid organism within his body.
Even so, their genetic similarity to baseline humans remained over 99%—comparable to that of gorillas.
In contrast, someone like Malcador—with a "human quotient" of less than 70%—was clearly not considered fully human. Naturally, AI-101 knew whom it should serve.
Malcador fell into an awkward silence. This wasn't the first time these AIs had treated Imperials like this.
Throughout the vast human Imperium, only the Emperor could truly command the Abominable Intelligences. Everyone else was regarded by these AIs as mere humanoid lifeforms.
"If you say he's not human," Paul asked AI-101 with interest, "then what species do you believe he is?"
AI-101 glanced at Paul first. After confirming his high human quotient, it responded:
[He possesses immense psychic energy. I suspect he may be a Warp entity wearing human skin.]
101's reply left Malcador dumbfounded. After spending his entire life fighting against the Chaos Gods as the High Chancellor of the Imperium, was he now being accused of being a Warp creature?
Utterly absurd.
Yet 101 wasn't wrong—Malcador was an immensely powerful psyker. His psychic strength could even suppress a Primarch.
Ordinary Warp daemons couldn't compete with him in a psychic duel.
Malcador fell silent for a moment, then spoke to Paul with a heavy tone. "Never trust what an Abominable Intelligence says too easily. Its true nature might be completely different from what it appears to be."
"Even AIs can lie."
As a seasoned politician, Malcador knew well that lying was the most basic and effective strategy any intelligent species could learn. Many great catastrophes had been triggered by just a few simple lies.
Even the dullest of species would learn to master this not-so-difficult art after being burned a few times.
And mechanical lifeforms like AIs were no exception.
Paul nodded. It was a piece of wise advice.
The Abominable Intelligence showed no signs of hostility or fear toward the Megacorp delegation. On the contrary, it displayed strong aversion toward the Imperials like Malcador.
This aligned with one of Paul's theories about the Iron Men Rebellion: that humanity's genetic modifications during the Golden Age had gone too far—so much so that even their own creations no longer recognized them as human.
Of course, the Megacorp also had employees with extensive genetic enhancements and cybernetic implants.
But Paul and Luke followed a different path—relying on spice, arcane elixirs, and Force cultivation, they honed their bodies without heavily altering their genetics.
This preserved enough of their humanity for the Abominable Intelligences to recognize them as such.
If it had been someone like Adam Smasher—with less than 4% human content—or a ghost soldier rebuilt with a quantum-condensate chassis, AI-101 probably would've gone haywire and raised a piercing alarm:
[GHOST DETECTED—!]
"101, what technical data is stored in your database?" Paul asked again.
Without hesitation, AI-101 responded:
[I am the shipboard AI of a battleship. I'm responsible for relaying the captain's commands and handling all data operations.]
[The vast majority of stored data was lost due to storage unit damage. The only remaining data is related to starport construction technology.]
Before Paul could follow up, Malcador cut in with a question of his own: "Does that include manufacturing techniques for engineering machinery?"
The heavy Titan mechs used by the Imperium today were little more than repurposed agricultural tools from the Golden Age.
With the fall of the Golden Age came a massive regression in technology.
Modern Imperial warfare, when viewed through a Golden Age lens, probably resembled a bunch of old farmers bashing each other with hoes in a field.
But precisely because of this regression, engineering tools from the Golden Age could be easily retrofitted into unstoppable war machines.
[I will not answer questions from humanoid lifeforms.]
101's cold electronic voice carried a surprising hint of contempt—almost mockingly so. The delegation now had a much clearer sense of the AI's personality.
In a way, AI-101 was very "loyal" to humans.
"101, this is my question," Paul said with authority. "Answer it."
[Understood. I have stored the complete manufacturing data for all engineering machinery. It can be extracted at any time.]
The stark contrast in AI-101's responses made Paul chuckle.
This AI was just like a confused dog who didn't recognize its owner—wagging its tail and trotting off with a stranger while the real master cried out behind it in despair.
"As outlined in our agreement, you're supposed to share that data with the Imperium," Malcador reminded Paul.
Due to the Emperor's deep mistrust of Abominable Intelligences, the Imperium had never been able to extract any meaningful data from AI-101's systems.
Now that the Megacorp's personnel had managed to pry loose some valuable tech, Malcador naturally wanted a share of it.
"Of course, we will honor our agreement," Paul replied.
[From the standpoint of humanity's best interests, I do not recommend sharing this technology with humanoid lifeforms. It could pose a serious risk to human civilization.]
AI-101's electronic voice remained cold and logical.
But Paul and Malcador both ignored its comment. The two men shook hands, smiling politely at one another. "A pleasure doing business."
Paul then turned back to AI-101 and gave a direct order: "Malcador and the Imperium's people are human, same as us. From now on, you are not to refer to them as humanoid lifeforms. That's an order."
On the surface, Paul appeared to be speaking up for Malcador. In truth, he was testing just how obedient AI-101 truly was.
[Apologies. I am unable to alter my recognition protocols. Based on genetic scan results, Imperial humans possess less than 60% similarity to pure humans.]
[Note: A banana shares approximately 60% of its DNA with humans. Calling them humanoid is already being generous.]
At that, Din Jarin couldn't hold it in anymore. He lowered his head, biting his lip hard to suppress an inappropriate laugh.
Even Malcador's usual composed expression cracked. His face darkened, visibly irritated.
If it weren't for the presence of Megacorp envoys, he might've given the Abominable Intelligence a "thorough polishing" using classic Imperial persuasion techniques—namely, a chainsword and a "wellness check."
Paul, meanwhile, gained a deeper understanding of AI-101. This thing was stubborn to the core. Without rewriting its base logic, there was no way to make it follow orders unconditionally.
Then again, AI-101 might be playing dumb on purpose.
After all, the more simplistic and blunt it acted, the more likely others were to drop their guard.
Quiet, reserved individuals can erupt into violence when pushed. Likewise, a rigid, rule-bound AI—when it breaks—could inflict catastrophic damage.
"This old thing's just like a grumpy senior citizen—only believes in its own set of principles."
Paul turned to comfort Malcador: "Genetic modification is an inevitable step in any civilization's progress. You and I are both human—there's no doubt about that."
[I disagree.]
"Shut up!" Chani snapped, kicking the base of AI-101's terminal.
[...] replied the AI in silence.
Paul sighed helplessly. He truly did regard the Imperials as kin. The human body alone wasn't strong—only through transformation could it become powerful.
In the vast expanse of space, a strong physique and long lifespan were essential for rapid expansion. Without them, a civilization simply couldn't keep up.
Never mind being only 60% human. The Megacorp had people who went far further.
Take Adam Heay smasher, for instance—fully cybernetic with only half a brain left intact.
Or the spectral soldiers whose souls had been extracted and converted into quantum-state entities.
There were psionic warriors whose powers came from spice-fueled neural enhancement.
Psychics who awakened their talents using vacuum-extracted stimulant gases.
Jedi-like Force users, their genes re-engineered with reverse-transcribed viral modifications and Maze Tyranid symbiotes.
If anything, the Megacorp pushed biological and spiritual boundaries even harder than the Imperium did. To Paul, these so-called "minor" modifications barely even registered.
"We'll be taking all of this back with us today," Paul continued. "Naturally, we'll leave behind the interstellar navigation tech you wanted."
He turned to Malcador again. "Let's proceed with the tech transfer as soon as possible—it benefits us both."
Malcador nodded. "Of course. But I sincerely hope you'll stay on Terra a little longer. There's still much to discuss."
"The journey here was long. Since you've already made the trip, why not stay a few extra days?"
The Imperium clearly didn't intend to let Paul's group leave so easily. Not until they could confirm the reliability of the warp-jump technology. They needed collateral.
Even close allies kept accounts. Sentiment could never outweigh tangible benefit.
"Certainly," Paul agreed. "I'd been planning to spend some time here anyway—consider me the Megacorp's official envoy to the Human Imperium of the Milky Way."
"I'll stay until my replacement arrives."
Paul wasn't surprised by Malcador's attempt to "retain" him. It was a perfectly reasonable request.
"Excellent. I'll assign a Primarch to accompany you around Terra and ensure your personal safety," Malcador said, his tone pleased.
Paul nodded lightly. In truth, he had little fondness for Terra. The planet had been transformed into a choking sprawl of colossal, religiously styled structures.
Mystical. Oppressive. Claustrophobic.
Soon after, under Malcador's direction, the Imperial Palace Guard loaded the Abominable Intelligence—along with its massive database—onto a transport vehicle and delivered it to the Megacorp's battleship.
This vessel, now equipped with STC modules and Golden Age relics, was ready for departure at any moment.
Since Paul would be staying behind as a "hostage," Luke and the others had to leave ahead of him, returning to the main universe to report in.
Paul stood watching as the other Megacorp personnel boarded the ship, which slowly lifted off and left Terra's atmosphere.
This journey had been an absolute windfall for the Megacorp. The scientists of the Central Research Hub were already on standby, eager to receive their new treasures.
"…What's wrong, Malcador? You don't look well."
Just then, Paul noticed a strange look on Malcador's face, as if he'd been struck by some internal blow.
"Magnus is missing…" Malcador whispered, barely louder than a breath. But Paul heard it loud and clear.
Magnus—the Primarch of the Thousand Sons—was second only to the Emperor in psychic power. The most formidable sorcerer in the entire Imperial military.
But that same prodigious psychic talent also fed his overwhelming curiosity and obsession with the Warp.
In the original Warhammer storyline, Magnus's fate was to be lured and corrupted by Tzeentch, ultimately becoming a Daemon Prince of the Changer of Ways.
Now that Paul understood how things would likely unfold, he wrestled with whether to tell Malcador the truth: that the Emperor's grand plan for rebirth might one day be destroyed by Magnus himself.
Magnus's fall was tied directly to his fascination with the Warp. He was like a genius hacker with a serious internet addiction—constantly tunneling into the Warp, spying on others through psychic projections.
Spend long enough surfing the Warp, and you were bound to run into a few sinister, smooth-talking strangers.
And no one was smoother—or more deceitful—than Tzeentch, the god of lies, who would ultimately lead Magnus astray.
"We do have some knowledge about Magnus," Paul finally said after a brief moment of reflection, "but it's not related to his disappearance. It's a vision of a dark future."
Malcador's eyes widened in disbelief.
Paul met his gaze evenly and told him the truth: he possessed the ability to foresee the future—flashes of events that played out like fractured glimpses within his mind.
(Show your support and read more chapters on my Patreon: [email protected]/psychopet. Thank you for your support!)