The technology of the power station on Chemos was ancient.
Tracing it back, this Cogitator from humanity's Age of Strife symbolized the unimaginable heights that human civilization had once reached.
The Age of Strife, also known as the Old Night, refers to the time when humanity, relying on its own technology, roamed the sea of stars.
But as the Warp storms grew more intense, communication and transport between different human star sectors, galaxies, and planets were severely obstructed, and a vast amount of technology and creations were lost.
Human civilization was thus scattered among the stars, with some even regressing directly to a primitive age.
Chemos was one of these declining civilizations.
If it weren't for the Primarch Fulgrim landing on this planet, it's very likely that in the near future, the human civilization here, along with its ancient technology, would have been buried beneath the cold yellow sands.
And rescuing these scattered human civilizations among the stars was the responsibility of the Emperor of Mankind, the Primarchs, Kasjia, and every single human.
But... Kasjia.
Are you really human?
Kasjia silently looked at the screen, which was exploding with more red error text than one of Ahriman's spells.
An unexpected situation had occurred.
His genes could not be identified by the Cogitator.
What did this mean?
Either the machine itself was malfunctioning, or Kasjia's "human content" was as low as a Primarch's, laced with too much Warp-related shenanigans.
But if that were true, why had he never felt any different from others in the past twenty years?
As the pure and unmutated human Kasjia, he began to doubt his own identity for the first time.
He might be human, but it was also a bit unlikely that he was human.
[GENETIC IDENTIFICATION SUCCESSFUL!]
The Cogitator's breakdown did not last long.
Somehow, it suddenly recovered from its state of frantically spewing garbled code, returning to normal in an instant.
The green light flashed brightly, and it operated smoothly.
As if nothing had happened at all.
"It's... fixed?"
Fulgrim, who was about to start repairs again, was momentarily at a loss.
"Did... did the machine just have a fit?"
Fulgrim, not yet returned to the Imperium, did not have the concept of a "machine spirit" in her knowledge base.
Faced with such an illogical error, followed by an even more illogical recovery, she could only explain it as best she could.
"Perhaps. Maybe this Cogitator is too old, causing the identification interface to have a bad connection," Kasjia chimed in.
"That's right."
"The fact that it couldn't recognize my genes before was probably the same problem."
"Exactly! We're both clearly human, after all!"
"It's all this old Cogitator's fault for having such a strange malfunction, making us all suspicious."
The two of them, tactfully and in unison, shifted the blame to the only one present who couldn't talk back.
[ADMINISTRATOR AUTHORITY ACQUIRED]
[ATTEMPTING TO ACCESS POWER GENERATION CHAMBER MANAGEMENT AUTHORITY...]
After activating the administrator authority, things went very smoothly.
"It's been a long time since things were this convenient," Fulgrim lamented.
"Before, when I was repairing the fortress systems in Kalliston, the nobles were always wary of me gaining administrative control of the fortress."
"Not only did they restrict me from restoring various functions of the fortress, but as soon as I successfully repaired certain facilities, they would frantically demand that I hand over the authority to them for management."
As she spoke, Fulgrim pouted helplessly. The old ruling clan system was convoluted and complex, and she was forced to navigate and guide within it.
What was it that had turned the once-noble aristocracy into what they were now?
"That feeling... it's like..."
"Like a miserly hoarder, who, even on his deathbed, still clings to petty gains, unwilling to let go even when he knows he is unworthy of his position," Kasjia replied, looking at the rapidly scrolling fields on the Cogitator.
"Indeed."
"A very vivid description, Kasjia."
Fulgrim pressed the final button.
"Alright. The damage to the power station is severe, but there are still a few generator units that are intact and in a dormant state."
"It's not difficult to reactivate the dormant generator units. As long as we can add the corresponding high-purity Promethium fuel, they can run again."
"Promethium fuel? And high-purity at that?"
Kasjia was stunned. "Where are we going to find that stuff?"
In the Warhammer world, most starships and power units relied on Promethium as fuel.
This abandoned power station was no exception.
But after a long period of civilizational decline, the already scarce high-purity Promethium on Chemos had been depleted thousands of years before they were born.
Even if the planet's subterranean veins still contained large amounts of unmined crude Promethium, it was wishful thinking for the two of them to build the corresponding detection, mining, separation, and refining technology from scratch.
Even if the Primarch could do it with her innate abilities, they didn't have that much time.
"Oh right, did I forget to tell you?"
Fulgrim calmly pointed into the distance.
There, in the focused beam of a searchlight, lay the wreckage of a pale purple pod.
"This area is where I first arrived in this world."
Twenty years ago.
A purple comet came from the horizon and fell among the mountains.
"Here again... last time it was a boy..."
"Golden light... fire..."
Accompanied by intermittent grumbling, the footsteps of three people approached, and one of them, a woman, cried out in surprise.
"...A child, Corrin."
"This time it's a baby girl."
A moment of silence, followed by the sound of a knife being drawn from its sheath.
"What are you doing, Sulax? Put the knife down!"
"She's an orphan. According to the rules, we have to kill her."
"But she's clearly..."
"Step aside, Tollia. Unlike those noble masters, we don't have enough resources to raise a stray. She'll be a burden to us."
"No, give her to me!"
Fighting, cursing.
Chaotic footsteps, noisy shouting.
BANG!
A shot rang out, and a person fell into a pool of blood.
The sound of trickling water, whether it was blood or primordial fluid, flowed silently.
Everything returned to peace.
The recording segment ended there.
The purple pod from which she had arrived in the world had a built-in recording function, and everything was replayed as images on the Cogitator.
Kasjia knew that this purple wreckage was the Primarch's incubation pod.
"The two workers you saw who were determined to adopt me were my adoptive parents, Tollia and Corrin."
"Not long after I was born, I hid the wreckage of this pod."
"After that, I've been studying its structure, hoping to one day figure out my true identity."
"But the level of technology it contains is far beyond my comprehension."
There was a hint of frustration in Fulgrim's words.
"However, it wasn't a total loss."
As she spoke, she took out a transparent fuel canister, still half-full of liquid, from the wreckage.
"Sanct-Promethium."
"An interesting name. But in terms of purity, it is indeed worthy of the word 'Sanct'."
Fulgrim smiled faintly.
"Get ready, Kasjia."
"It's time to take back what is ours."
-------
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