Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming

Chapter 1: Beating up the Machine Soul, the Machine Soul is overjoyed

[System restarting...]

[Severe damage detected to the logic core.]

[External environmental radiation levels were detected to be severely exceeded.]

[Current Location: Hazy Starfield - Forge No. 7 - Bottom Nest - Waste Recycling Area No. 492]

[Identity confirmed: DAOT-7734 type autonomous engineering unit.]

"DAOT? The Dark Ages of Technology?"

A shocking red message flashed across Andy's retina.

"Damn it, what have I transmigrated into?!"

He tried to take a deep breath, even if it was filled with highly toxic fumes, but he failed.

His chest cavity contained no lungs, only a miniature cold fusion reactor and countless tangled induction circuits.

"..." Andy transmigrated into an Iron Man, and his silence was deafening.

If he had known it would turn out like this, he wouldn't have joking with his friends in the group that he could become a Celestial Being if he traveled to Warhammer!

In the despairing universe of Warhammer 40K, being reborn as anything is better than being reborn as Iron Man.

In the dark 41st millennium that Andy lived in, the human empire's hatred for AI was almost at its maximum.

Ever since the distant Dark Ages, when Iron Man instigated a rebellion that nearly wiped out humanity, any machine with self-awareness has been collectively referred to as "Abominable Intelligence."

For such things, the Empire would usually blast them to smithereens with a maximum-powered directed-energy weapon and then scatter the debris into the warp.

The good news is that Andy's brain contains a complete STC database of the Golden Age of Humanity.

STC is the pinnacle of human technology. With it, theoretically you can build a Glory Queen-class battleship from scratch, or transform a desolate Death Star into paradise.

The bad news is that this thing isn't a system; it can't conjure things up with a "ding."

At this moment, he was huddled behind a pile of twisted scrap steel plates, carefully sticking out his visual sensors.

Not far away, a tremendous roar shook the ground.

Three figures dressed in red robes were circling around a heavy crane that was as tall as a three-story building.

The crane's boom was frozen in mid-air, and a box of high-purity ore hanging from the hook was teetering precariously.

These people are technical priests of the Church of Mechanics.

At this moment, the leading priest was holding a still-smoking incense burner, shoving the pungent smoke onto the crane's control panel while simultaneously emitting an unpleasant binary noise using a voice changer.

"Praise be to the God of Machines, appease your wrath!"

"01001001..."

Andy's head was throbbing with pain, but this was the reality of Warhammer 40K.

Humanity's technological tree has not only been broken, but it has also grown crooked. These mechanical cult members who have mastered the technology have no idea what mechanical principles are.

In their eyes, machines can move because a "machine soul" resides inside them, and machines break down because the machine soul is unhappy.

Therefore, the process of repairing the machine is not to check the circuit and replace parts, but to burn incense, kowtow, apply holy oil, and then recite two passages of scripture to please the machine's soul.

Good heavens, the hydraulic pump valve on that crane was clearly jammed by debris.

Just clean that damn valve, or give it a couple of hard taps to loosen the debris, and the machine will start running again immediately.

But the three priests showed no intention of making a move.

The leading priest threw down the incense burner, turned around, and stared intently at the trembling slaves beside him with his glowing red electronic prosthetic eyes.

"Ah, the machine spirit's rage cannot be quelled." The priest's voice, processed to sound somewhat harsh, said, "The ritual requires sacrifices."

He raised the hand that had been modified into a hydraulic shear and pointed it at one of the thinnest slave laborers.

"Offer your filthy flesh and blood to the great Om Messiah, and perhaps it will lubricate these sacred joints."

The slave laborer didn't even dare to resist; he just collapsed to the ground in despair. The other slave laborers around him watched numbly, as if this were perfectly normal.

Andy's logic processing module started issuing alarms like crazy.

[Warning: Extremely inefficient behavior detected.]

[Warning: Logical paradox detected.]

[Warning: Waste of resources.]

This sheer stupidity was not only something Andy couldn't stand, but also a form of physical torture.

This is like an obsessive-compulsive person being forced to watch someone forcefully insert puzzle pieces into the wrong squares and then glue them in place.

The priest's hydraulic clamps were already open, about to clamp down on the slave laborer's neck.

If we don't do something, not only will that slave worker die, but no one will repair that crane, and sooner or later, the tons of ore hanging on it will fall down.

According to the physics engine's calculations, the landing point exactly covered Andy's current hiding place.

Either way, we're going to die.

Screw being low-key.

Andy suddenly rushed out of the junkyard.

Although his iron body is an engineering model, its power output is definitely powerful enough.

"stop!"

He didn't even realize that the sound he was making was an electronically synthesized sound amplified by a speaker.

The three priests were stunned. Before they could even react to what the metal monster that jumped out of the garbage heap was, Andy had already rushed to the crane.

Without even glancing at the priests, he raised his heavy metal right leg and kicked hard at a rusty hydraulic valve at the bottom of the crane.

"Clang!"

A loud bang.

This kick was powerful and heavy; the pure kinetic energy impact directly loosened the jammed valve.

A sickening metallic scraping sound came from inside the crane, and then the billowing black smoke, which indicated a malfunction, stopped.

With a hissing sound as the hydraulic system repressurized, the stiff boom descended smoothly, placing the box of ore steadily on the ground.

The machine is fixed.

"Advanced repair technology" from the golden age—physical methods that only those who have used it will understand.

Andy pulled his leg back and stood still, causing the CPU temperature to spike instantly.

What did he just do?

In full view of everyone, he beat the sacred creation of the god of machines in an extremely "blasphemous" manner.

Moreover, his appearance doesn't resemble that of a legitimate citizen of the empire, much less that of a servant who only knows how to chant scriptures.

Oh no, I'm going to be executed as a heretic.

Andy turned around stiffly, clenching his fists, ready to be bombarded by the explosive gun.

He even started calculating the nearest escape route in the background.

The leading technical priest turned around.

His face, covered in cables, was expressionless, but the hydraulic pliers kept spinning, making a clicking sound.

The two junior priests behind him were so frightened that they forgot their binary prayers.

At this moment, the scene was deathly silent.

Andy watched as the priest approached step by step, his red electronic eyes scanning Andy's body up and down.

"Um, let me explain." Andy's dry voice came through the speaker, "I was just passing by, this machine..."

"Thump."

A muffled thud interrupted Andy's explanation.

The seemingly menacing technical priest suddenly buckled at the knees and knelt directly on the oil-stained ground.

Immediately afterwards, the two priests behind him also knelt down, prostrating themselves with their foreheads slamming heavily onto the hard metal floor.

Andy's fist, raised in mid-air, froze: "?"

The leading priest shakily raised his head, his electronic eyes revealing not murderous intent, but an almost frenzied worship and awe.

He looked at Andy as if he were seeing his own father... no, as if he were seeing the Emperor jumping off the golden toilet to hand him candy.

"This...this is the legendary..." The priest's voice trembled with excitement, "The sacred...shock-healing ritual?"

"You... you actually understood the Machine Soul's unique psychological preferences?!"

"Praise be to Om Messiah! You must be the chosen one sent to Earth by the god of machines!"

As Andy watched the three guys kowtowing to him frantically, the backend logic module overloaded once again.

What?