Numb, Afa Causes Trouble on the Boat

Chapter 8: Numb, There's an Alpharius on the Ship

On the bustling construction site, rows of heavy machinery were in operation, overseen by the warriors of the Fourth Legion who had spent the last month resting and recuperating.

They were truly born with a natural talent for manual labor. Once the Fourth Legion took over, the construction speed of Alicia skyrocketed. Sturdy, artistic buildings rose from the ground one after another, and in a remarkably short time, the primary infrastructure of Alicia was complete.

Still eager for more, the Fourth Legion even wanted to take on additional tasks. However, the Great Crusade was the Legion's primary duty. Before departing, the fully rested Legion enjoyed one last feast, stocked the warehouses with a massive supply of cola and combat stimulant samples personally gifted by their Primarch, and set off on their quest to find their father.

"Wish them luck. It's a shame to lose such good laborers," Hogg muttered, standing at the prow of the Blacklight.

Two years into the refit, a message from the Astropathic Choir reached Hogg. The crusade had begun, and the search for the Primarchs was the mission Emperor had entrusted to Blackwatch.

Perhaps because the Great Crusade demanded all of Emperor's attention, Hogg had been left to his own devices for the past few years, much like the other Primarchs—though Emperor would occasionally drop by to inspect his increasingly heretical physical condition.

At the Alicia starport, the massive Blacklight and its accompanying fleet sailed into the void, reaching the edge of the system before plunging into a Mandeville Point and diving headlong into the Warp.

For humanity in the Warhammer universe, corruption by Chaos is a predetermined dark fate. As an interstellar power, humanity relies on the Warp for long-range communication and navigation; if you use it, you have to swallow a mouthful of Warp filth.

Some might suggest developing technology to create a method that doesn't require the Warp. One could only say it is possible, but incredibly difficult.

Perhaps it would have been possible in the universe Hogg came from, but in this universe, living beings possess souls. Unless you discard your soul like the Necrons, or play on a local area network like the Orks, you have to endure the "dung-beetle swimming" convenience of the Warp, or else your efficiency will plummet.

Because this is, damn it, a fantasy world. Moreover, not everyone can even get a taste of that Warp filth; smaller races like the Tau can only skim the surface of the Warp, leading to the bizarre phenomenon where a Tau ship's communication arrives long after the Imperial fleet has already reached the destination.

Hogg had once asked a psyker what his Warp shadow looked like. According to them, his shadow was a collection of tentacles unconsciously devouring the surrounding Warp energy; any psyker who laid eyes on it would feel horror and nausea.

That psyker later chose to undergo a memory-wiping procedure, and the incident was classified as a Legion secret, never to be mentioned by anyone.

Entering the Warp for the first time, Hogg felt no discomfort, only curiosity. Massive tentacles stretched out within the Warp, as if celebrating the arrival of their other half. With the unconscious swaying of these tentacles, some unlucky Warp entities were scooped up and dissolved.

Under Hogg's control, the tentacles stopped swaying and wrapped around the Blacklight. As they closed in, the restlessness of those aboard the ship ceased, and a deathly silence settled over their hearts.

Only the Navigators could rely on the Astronomican of holy Terra to guide their way, which is why the Astropathic Choir remained the pillar of the Imperium.

Voyaging is monotonous; many people might never set foot off the ship they were born on.

Take the Blacklight, for instance—21 kilometers long. As the master of the warship, Hogg was not just a Legion Commander; he was also a mayor.

Although Hogg had absorbed fragments of the Void Dragon and gained some traits of the C'tan, allowing him to conjure up all sorts of strange "black technology" based on the knowledge in his mind, even with his current abilities, he could not perfectly monitor every corner of the ship.

"So, am I going to become a ship-girl?"

As emerald-green dimensional lightning danced across the Blacklight, the flesh beneath Hogg's feet transformed into tentacles, merging with the warship. A joyful consciousness touched the Primarch's mind, and threads of information were shared between them. Hogg knew this consciousness was the Blacklight itself.

Human bodies live and die within these hulls, and combined with such massive machinery, the formation of a Machine Spirit was inevitable. The good news was that the Blacklight liked Hogg; it was a newly born, complete consciousness, and it was incredibly powerful.

A glimmer of light was cast into Hogg's body by the Blacklight. According to her, as long as he possessed this, he could communicate with her and master the ship's functions—it was essentially a television remote.

Let me see what my warriors are doing.

As his perspective shifted, a cabin came into view. Some Blackwatch members were honing their skills in the gladiatorial cage—though their moves were a bit sleazy, that was fine. Others were playing cards and resting, even cheating—that was also acceptable. My daughters were praying to my statue—fine, let them be. This is Emilia; what is she doing on the bed? No! Don't use my figurines for strange things!

Hogg hurriedly switched perspectives, exploring every corner like a ghost. Some were resting, some were browsing intelligence, and some were frantically stuffing their faces.

Thanks to a preference for a tidy environment, the lower decks were not chaotic. Squads of Imperial Guard patrolled the pipes; there was no pollution, no purple-skinned baldies, and no Orks.

"Very good! Hmm? Wait."

He quickly jumped his perspective back. A Blackwatch recruit appeared in Hogg's view and was projected onto the bridge.

"Father, is something wrong?" the Primarch's Honor Guard, Lyla Lynn, and several other Blackwatch members asked.

"Think carefully! Browsing classified intelligence isn't the point. Even if you can't sense it, I can tell at a glance that he is absolutely not one of ours. Even if his disguise is exquisite, it's just a clumsy facade." Hogg's eyes turned sharp.

"Are you all blind? His behavior is too normal—too normal to be one of you idiots. And his hair! Where is our Legion's signature cool hairstyle? This guy is clearly bald, isn't he?" Following the Primarch's words, everyone spotted the blind spot.

Rossmanderson shouted in response: "That's right! Hair is our Legion's signature culture. Even a recruit who just finished surgery gets dragged off to pick a signature style. There are barely any bald people on the entire ship!"

One minute later, a squad of the Primarch's Honor Guard in Terminator armor stormed into the archives. The staff organizing the data were detained, and everyone had to verify their identity. However, the Blackwatch member who should have been there had vanished.

But this couldn't stump Hogg. Emerald lightning flashed, a shadow in the corridor was shattered, and a figure was spat out. It was the infiltrator who had disguised himself as an archivist. He was now wearing the white uniform of the staff, standing abruptly in the middle of the corridor.

The moment he was discovered, the target began to flee. The already-locked bulkhead was smashed through, and the others couldn't keep up with his speed.

Perhaps the act of smashing through the bulkhead annoyed the Machine Spirit. Sensing the target's location, emerald lightning flashed, the metal turned soft, and liquefied ceramite and adamantium enveloped the fleeing target like a slime monster.

A crackling sound erupted as a massive blue-white electrical surge struck the figure, who had only managed to poke half his body out of the metal sphere.

Twenty-seven seconds later, a figure was escorted by the Honor Guard before the Primarch.

Hogg, with his flowing snow-white hair, detached from the fusion state and sized up the fake Blackwatch member. The others drew their bolters, pointing them at the imposter, while the imposter on the ground looked back at him.

"How was I exposed? I wish to know the reason, my brother."

The fake Blackwatch member—or perhaps, Alpharius, the 20th son of Emperor and the most inscrutable of the Primarchs—asked his brother.