Chapter 52: Forward, and Keep Hope Alive.

"According to strategic simulation data, the victory probability for this engagement is below 0.7%."

The central processor of the mechanical ark Soul of Steel emitted a shuddering hum as Archmagos Cawl's newest proxy awoke from the stasis life-support pod.

As this mechanical chassis—shrunk by nearly two-thirds compared to standard models—flexed its joints, the electronic hymns chimed by the servo-systems echoed through the cabin. The exposed frame's identification markers had long since been scrubbed away.

Standing before the observation screen, the Magos had data streams surging beneath his cloak, his identity codes overwritten with triple encryption.

"The dedicated data link has been physically severed, but the public frequency remains synchronized."

Cawl calibrated the signal-linking interface with the Dawn.

"This is an observation window deliberately left open by them, Archmagos."

As the dust illuminated by the lights distorted, a tall figure gradually materialized.

This was a Space Marine, yet far more imposing than a standard Space Marine, and his armor did not belong to any existing model in the Imperium, though it was evidently far superior to the currently issued power armor.

It was the Mk X power armor, a gift Archmagos Cawl would bestow upon the new generation of Space Marines in the future.

"The target vessel has passed the Level Three purification protocol. Among the seventy-two observation nodes we deployed, 67% have been logically overwritten, and the remaining units have initiated self-destruction procedures."

The report from the Primus carried the characteristic distortion of encrypted communications.

"Furthermore, according to the personnel data streams, the crew's quality of survival index has increased by 82%, and the production efficiency curve shows exponential growth—the ancestors are moving quickly."

He showed no surprise whatsoever at the Archmagos changing his body, clearly long accustomed to such occurrences.

"As expected of the elite of that era; it seems my concern was redundant—however, the Dawn does not carry workers from civilized worlds, and the educational background of those technicians will likely make the implementation of the new policies rather thorny."

Cawl's sigh was wrapped in the vaporizing mist of lubricants, a low murmur lamenting their professionalism, while showing no covetousness toward the transmigrators' technological prowess.

The skull servitor projected images from inside the cruiser, displaying the faces of countless technicians.

Vacant, turbid, dull.

"No matter how exquisite the blueprint for reform, it is difficult to sow seeds in an uncultivated cognitive wasteland."

The so-called surveillance was not out of malice, but because the appearance of these ancient warriors in this era was undoubtedly a gift from the Omnissiah. For their safety, Cawl had to be exceedingly cautious.

"Lord Romulus emphasized in his orders to the high-ranking officers of the warship that they must at least try; as for the results, that is another matter."

Seeing Cawl assume a listening posture, the Primus continued:

"Lord Karna, who is directly responsible for managing the civilians, strictly monitored every single process. He watched with his own eyes as every pill entered the workers' mouths."

"And Lord Arthur publicly executed several fleet executives to establish the authority of the new laws, while secretly purging heretical beliefs within the ship."

"Lord Ramses presided over the retrofitting of the warship, cataloging the technical knowledge of the Tech-Priests while testing the effects and interference of warp phenomena upon them."

"Regarding the deployment of unknown production lines within the warship, it is tentatively concluded that they may possess STCs (Standard Template Constructs) and pocket dimension technology, alongside an exceptionally high degree of understanding of the warp."

At this point, the Primus paused.

"All of the above are what the lords wished for us to see."

"A clear division of labor."

Countless images flashed across the processor. Cawl uttered an exclamation of wonder, then asked:

"And?"

"What?" the Primus asked, puzzled.

"What did you see yourself?"

The Primus pondered for a moment, finally pulling from his memory the image that had left the deepest impression upon him.

"I saw rationality, and their expectations for humanity."

"They have a sufficient understanding of the warp, yet they do not blindly reject any single phenomenon; instead, they combine past experience and attempt to change it."

"They believe that even mortals can have their character, capability, and living standards elevated alongside their desire to become better."

"Compared to all other humans I have seen, they are far more confident. In their eyes, there seem to be only problems that have been solved and problems about to be solved, completely unlike the Imperium of today."

"To forge ahead, and to harbor hope."

The Primus whispered the words murmured by the elders as they watched the technicians inside the ship.

"This is what they want to tell humanity."

"Do you think doing this is right?"

The Primus fell silent, then said: "I do not know—but they are very confident."

"Right now, they are merely attempting to change a single ship, and in the future, I cannot guess where the limits they wish to touch might lie."

Such confidence was akin to countless people under the Emperor's leadership gazing up at the starry sky ten thousand years ago, ignorant of the universe's vastness and challenges, yet marching forward unflinchingly. Just because the moment they touched the stars, humanity's future would shine bright and full of hope.

They firmly believed that humanity could live out a different, better existence.

Simply because they had witnessed it before.

"Heh..."

Cawl laughed, his entire mechanical chassis vibrating.

The Primus was certain that prior to today, the Archmagos had not utilized this physiological function native to humanity for a very long time.

"How much time has passed, Primus?"

Cawl asked the Primus beside him.

In truth, he knew very well; the atomic clock within his mechanical body always allowed him to precisely control the passage of time.

Yet inquiries resembling casual daily conversation could ultimately help him reclaim a trace of his humanity.

"Thirteen hours until departure," the Primus replied.

"Ten thousand years have passed."

Cawl stroked the staff inlaid with ancient fragments, the binary code leaping within his electronic eyes suddenly weaving a temperature gradient unique to humanity.

At this moment, he no longer seemed like an execution terminal blindly laboring for some protocol, but rather the young technician who calibrated power armor for the Primarchs after a great battle—a living person capable of carving jokes into the inner lining of armor with machine oil.

Then he strode forward, stepping onto the transport craft.

"During my absence, you shall guard the ark."

"I will take the Titan Legion with me, but I authorize you to deploy the Primaris Space Marines should the safety of the ark require it."

He commanded:

"Understood, Archmagos."

This operation could not afford the slightest margin of error.

Cawl desired to achieve his goals while preserving his existing achievements.

Whether it was the Fate Armor currently under development or the already completed Primaris Space Marines, nothing could possibly go wrong before that man awoke.

He was rather greedy, after all.

He also wanted to preserve the miracle of the Omnissiah.

"I hope those Sons of Dorn understood my explicit hint."

The hatch slowly closed, Cawl thought silently to himself.