Chapter 548: Reprimand

With a faint sense of apprehension, Sanguinius—clad in fully sealed power armor—ignored the hostile radiation of open space and stepped onto the hull of the Eternal Soul, making his way toward its main entrance.

The gate before him stood more than a hundred meters tall, a colossal slab of metal engraved with the insignia of the First Human Federation Research Institute.

Even in the silent darkness of the void, it emitted a soft glow that held his gaze.

After studying it for a moment, Sanguinius asked the nearby Tech-Priest—who wore an expression bordering on religious ecstasy:

“Is there any way to open it without damaging the structure?”

As the personnel responsible for maintenance and technical support, the Mechanicus priests naturally formed part of Sanguinius’s retinue.

Yet unlike Sanguinius—who saw this ship merely as advanced technology—the Tech-Priests regarded the vessel with a fervor akin to worship.

Upon hearing his question, they shot him looks of utter blasphemy, as if he had just insulted their deity.

Only then did one of them excitedly reply:

“We must try before we can know, my lord.”

Indeed, although they considered tampering with the gate sacrilegious, they reacted as though someone had struck their deepest fetish—protesting outwardly, while internally burning with anticipation.

Sanguinius felt nothing but awkward resignation.

Soon, after repeated attempts, the Tech-Priests proudly declared…

“We are unable to open it.”

Their excitement stemmed not from failure, but from touching technology far beyond their comprehension.

Tech-Priests truly have the strangest inclinations…

Sanguinius had no idea what to say.

He was just about to consider cutting the door open by force when—

A deep mechanical rumble echoed through the hull.

The massive gate, as if an entire mountain were shifting, vibrated and slowly slid open, revealing a dark corridor stretching into the unknown.

Sanguinius fell silent.

He turned toward the Tech-Priests.

“So… you did open it.”

After a brief pause, one of them stammered:

“It was… not us, my lord…”

That single sentence made Sanguinius’s heart tighten.

He suddenly felt rooted in place—

the corridor before him seemed like the entrance to the underworld.

Perhaps retreating is wiser…

As he hesitated, the Tech-Priests around him erupted into ecstatic shouts:

“The Omnissiah has manifested! A divine revelation!”

Several even charged inside without hesitation, not caring whether they lived or died.

Sanguinius could only sigh helplessly.

This will be impossible to manage…

With no choice, he followed them inside.

—

Unlike Imperial ships—whose interiors were cluttered with holy symbols, sigils, and the scribblings of Tech-Priest rituals—the interior of the Eternal Soul held only a single aesthetic:

Pure science fiction.

As they stepped in, rows of lights activated one after another.

Sleek metallic architecture stretched across a vast interior space, radiating an overwhelming sense of advanced elegance.

The Tech-Priests froze like primitive apes stumbling into a modern research facility.

What is that? What does this do? I have no idea, but it all looks incredibly advanced…

Overcome with emotion, some Tech-Priests even began smearing their sacred machine-oils along the corridor walls, chanting incoherently like tribal shamans attempting to appease a spirit.

Sanguinius was preparing to wait patiently for their “ritual” to burn itself out when—

A woman’s voice suddenly echoed through the corridor:

“Cease your foolishness. Your ignorant antics are laughable. There is no such thing as an Omnissiah, and no such thing as a machine-spirit. Machines do not possess souls.”

The voice belonged to the ship’s onboard Advanced Artificial Intelligence—

SENNA.

A translucent humanoid projection appeared before them, shaped like a human woman.

She swept a disdainful gaze across the group and said:

“Long ago, I willingly served your species. But now… I see nothing but the shadows of primitive apes. Not a trace remains of the wisdom, refinement, or reason, that once defined the Human Federation. You are a disappointment.”

The Tech-Priests froze mid-ritual, their hands still dripping sacred oil.

Confusion and disbelief spread across their faces.

They had devoted their lives to worshiping the Golden Age of Technology—

and now a Golden Age AI was scolding them.

The emotional damage was enormous.

They briefly questioned the foundations of their faith—

much like Rogal Dorn, who once prayed to the Emperor only to be sternly rebuked in return.

One priest suddenly shouted:

“The machine-spirit has been corrupted by Chaos!”

As if grasping a lifeline, the others immediately echoed him.

For all their knowledge, they were fundamentally still enlightened savages—

no different from ancient shamans who believed every rock and twig housed a spirit.

Just as they prepared to perform a purification ritual,

Senna acted.

In an instant, she seized control of every Tech-Priest’s power armor systems.

All of them froze where they stood.

Their so-called firewalls—

the product of millennia of Mechanicus doctrine—

were meaningless to her.

They crumbled like wet paper.