A purple gold gourd appeared in Datch's game inventory. His heart stirred slightly as he took it out to examine it closely. The gourd wasn't large, but once held, it felt heavy. Its material was neither gold nor jade, but radiated a warm glow, with ancient runes inscribed on its surface, and faint, pulsing streamers flowing across it, almost as if alive.
"Good, very good," Datch said, touching the purple gold gourd with an excited face. "With this baby, let's see who dares get angry with me—I'll just put them in."
"Abaddon, I'll call you out. Do you have the guts to accept?"
"Red-skinned, one-eyed Magnus, dare to answer my call?"
"Fulgrim, you ass-selling bastard, I'll call you, got the courage to agree?"
"..."
One by one, they could all be sucked in—what a wonderful thought. Datch fantasized about using the gourd to take down the Chaos God, but footsteps sounded behind him. He quickly stowed the gourd and turned around to see Saisa entering with a group of people. After repairs by the tech-priests, Saisa's prosthetic was working normally again. Unlike when they first met, she could walk upright now, not crawl on all fours.
"Dear lord," Saisa saluted, hand on her chest and bowing to Datch. The others behind her did the same, gazing at Datch with reverent, fanatical eyes.
Some tech-priests in red robes regarded Datch as the human incarnation of the Omnissiah. Datch glanced at Saisa—there were no mission marks or question/exclamation marks above her head, indicating she had no further quests.
Ignoring the group, Datch bounced out, looking for somewhere to test the gourd's power. Heading for the hall doors, he kicked a box he hadn't noticed before.
Thud!
The sound echoed in the Chamber of the Astronomican, drowned out by the mechanical roar and the Astronomican's light. Datch groped inside the box and, lucky this time, found two Throne Gelts. He didn't know who had put them there. Stowing the coins, he hopped past the NPCs and left the hall.
As Datch left, someone moved to stack the fallen boxes, but a tech-priest stopped them.
"That lord never does anything meaningless—maybe it's a ritual. Just leave it."
Everyone scattered in a panic, carefully guarding the scene.
"The lord has left. He's given us this place—conduct the ritual as before," said a white-haired, wrinkled old man stepping forward. White-robed psykers, faces set with determination, were guided to the platform and into cocoon-like huts. Some were just in their early teens—children who, in the past, would never have met the requirements. But after the last disaster, so many had died that even children had to be used as fuel to keep the Astronomican running.
Tech-priests helped repair the psykers' bodies and connect cables. Saisa and the others recited solemn, ancient prayers to send off the dedicated psykers.
But the mechanical hum didn't sound, and the rune indicators didn't change.
"What's wrong? Why hasn't the ritual started?" people whispered in confusion.
Several tech-priests immediately stepped forward, scanning and analyzing the Astronomican's pedestal and connectors with various detectors. After a while, shock and disbelief appeared on their faces. One priest approached Saisa and the others, his synthetic voice trembling with excitement.
"The Astronomican... no longer needs additional psychic fuel. Its current efficiency is unprecedented—using only the psychic power channeled from the Golden Throne is enough to guide ships through the warp."
"Moreover, redundant auxiliary machinery has been eliminated, the structure is astonishingly refined, and maintenance costs are greatly reduced."
Everyone was stunned and overjoyed. Now, with only the Golden Throne's power, they could guide ships through the warp!
"A miracle... it's truly a miracle!" The old man's voice trembled with excitement as he gazed at the steady, majestic Astronomican core, tears glistening in his eyes.
Tribune Italeo, upon hearing this news at the Chamber of the Astronomican, was also shocked. As the Emperor's bodyguards, the Custodes knew far more about the palace and Terra's key facilities than ordinary people. Italeo had studied the Astronomican's design carefully and knew how it had swollen and become inefficient over ten thousand years, relying on cruel living fuel just to maintain output. He thought simply reigniting the ancient structure was the limit of human capability.
Unexpectedly, the mysterious nameless one had restored the Astronomican to its original form, as the Emperor designed it. This went beyond repair—it was nothing short of a new Astronomican.
Italeo immediately contacted the Chief Custodian to report the situation.
"If we can repair the Golden Throne with that nameless one's help, there should be no problem."
"I understand."
...
Datch left the hollow mountain, returning to the open area where his gunboat was docked.
"Let's test this prop's power here," he said, taking out the purple gold gourd and summoning Skarbrand with a Poke Ball. Far from the Astronomican core, the daemon's suppression was weaker, though the great daemon still looked thin and unstable, but it was enough for an experiment.
"Skarbrand!" Datch unplugged the gourd, pointed it at the giant daemon, and deliberately dragged out his words: "I'm calling you—do you have the guts to accept?"
Skarbrand's ape-like face twisted with humiliation and helplessness. Being bound by a contract was already a severe blow to a great daemon's dignity—now, he had to play along with this childish game. Was this truly the shame of a Khornate daemon?
"Skarbrand, can I call you out?" Datch asked again, grinning.
"ROAR..." Skarbrand bellowed in fury at the repeated taunts.
In the next instant, an irresistible, terrifying suction burst from the gourd's mouth!
Skarbrand, shocked, tried to resist, but his massive body was twisted into a stream of bloody light and sucked in with a "whoosh" sound.
Datch quickly plugged the gourd, shaking it proudly—the muffled sounds inside proved its power. After playing around for a bit, he released the shocked and furious Skarbrand, returning him to the Poke Ball.
"This purple gold gourd is really something. Even a greater daemon is easily subdued."
"When the time comes, I'll see who dares act tough before me. I'll catch them all, I promise."
Putting away the gourd, Datch felt it was truly his baby—bullying great daemons in the future would be its job.
After testing the gourd, Datch summoned Halo hover bike—his reward for escorting Inquisitor Crowl and others to Terra. When he completed that mission, he was in space and hadn't found a place for a test ride. Now, he'd use it to practice driving—next time he encountered the daemons, he'd show those grassland bosses what real driving looked like.
...
That same day, Terra's residents received two pieces of excellent news. First, the Astronomican had been restarted, the Emperor's light once more pierced the darkness, and subspace navigation for food relief would soon resume. Second, myth became reality: Roboute Guilliman, the Emperor's son, who had slept for ten thousand years, had returned from Macragge and arrived today on holy Terra.
Under the High Lords' sponsorship, Terra held a grand, symbolic ceremony to welcome the Primarch's return. Surrounded by honor guards, the landing craft smoothly touched down on an intentionally empty platform. Historic marble pedestals, surrounded by statues of human heroes from all ages, shone in the floating spheres of light, making it seem like daytime.
On stage, the Imperium's dignitaries gathered: the High Lords, officials of every department, admirals, army commanders, planetary governors, Mechanicus representatives, and high clergy—all eager to witness the living legend, a demigod walking the earth.
A thousand-strong choir sang majestic and sacred hymns—offerings to the Emperor and tributes to his returning sons. As Guilliman disembarked, all present bowed and saluted. Together, they placed hands over hearts, gave the Imperial Aquila, and thundered their oaths of loyalty.
Guilliman smiled as best he could, greeting the sea of people, though complex emotions swirled within him. Ten thousand years had passed since he last visited Terra. Back then, Terra radiated the brilliance of diligence and innovation. Now, that spirit had vanished, replaced by grotesque gothic architecture, warped and expanded industrial complexes, and ominous religious emblems.
Everything had changed, and Guilliman felt a pang of sorrow. Yet, seeing a Custodian flying overhead with little propellers, still cutting guns and knives even now, that sorrow turned to helplessness.
Nameless one, isn't there anywhere to relax in this situation?
Even as he finished complaining, Datch landed beside him, learning to wave at the crowd as well.
…
Bonus chapter at 300 PS
Read advanced chapters at patreon.com/AbsoluteCode