It was hard to imagine a seemingly cobbled-together contraption surviving a century while remaining fully operational, with even its machine-spirit preserved intact.
As the engine roared to life beneath his palm, Zhang Ge took half a step back, his eyes scanning the shuddering chassis and rattling components.
Truly preserved that classic Orkish charm. How in the Warp did human pilots keep such a violently trembling machine from shaking apart? Unless... perhaps its machine-spirit had grown overly excited after centuries untouched?
That made a twisted sense. Languishing in a vault for ages, only to suddenly glimpse the promise of daylight again – of course it'd be thrilled.
After sheathing his power sword, Zhang Ge circled the awakened Killcan, finding an access ladder behind its hulking fra.
He waited a few dozen seconds, confirming the machine wasn't about to collapse, then climbed the ladder to the cylindrical head. A tank-style hatch – likely scavenged from so armored vehicle – topped the fra. Twisting it open revealed the pilot's nest.
Peering down, the cockpit's dim lighting revealed an instrunt panel full of crude yet surprisingly complex controls. Pathetic glow-globes strained to illuminate the space, their efforts only shifting the gloom from re darkness to murky amber.
No ti for complaints anyway. His window for mastering this contraption's controls was narrow.
Dropping into the pilot's seat, Zhang Ge noted two imdiate realities: the cockpit was oppressively cramped, and the outwardly primitive machine hid an absurd array of arcane dials and switches beneath its rusted exterior.
Initial tests proved the controls utterly barbaric – left foot on brake, right on throttle, knees steering leg movents, hands busy with gearshifts and arm-mounted weapon articulation.
The limbs had painfully limited mobility. You'd manage area suppression fire, but close combat? Forget it.
To be fair, this matched expectations. A jury-rigged Ork Killcan... operational status alone was a miracle.
Just as Zhang Ge began to relax, the predictable unpredictability struck.
A growing vibration pulsed at his waist. Initially dismissed as random chassis shuddering, the truth soon beca apparent – Ascalon was trembling in its scabbard.
What in the Emperor's na did that ancient relic want now?
To be honest, all of this fell within expectations. The fact that this Ork-modified kill-can could still move at all counted as a miracle.
Just as Zhang Ge began to relax, the inevitable happened.
A growing vibration manifested at his waist. At first, he dismissed it as so component digging into his flesh, but realization struck when he saw the source - Ascalon was trembling in its sheath.
What the hell did this damn thing want now?
The sword's quivering intensified until Zhang Ge could no longer ignore it. Cramped within the cockpit, he awkwardly drew the blade at an angle. Its unadorned surface showed no visible changes, yet a subtle guiding force tugged at his wrist, directing the weapon toward the kill-can's control console bristling with buttons.
"Stab it?"
The sword remained silent. Zhang Ge took that as confirmation. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he thrust down with all his might.
There was no resistance - in fact, he felt nothing the mont the blade touched tal.
Did I... grow taller?
That was Zhang Ge's first thought after the split-second darkness cleared. He quickly realized the truth. Examining his "arms" through multiple layers of awareness, he arrived at an unsettling conclusion:
He'd sohow beco the kill-can itself.
Or rather, not exactly. His original body remained accessible through so subconscious control chanism, like breathing or blinking - easy to overlook yet fundantally present. The duality of perception left him simultaneously piloting and being the war machine.
Zhang Ge released his grip on the hilt, exiting the control state over the murder-tin. Wait... a transformation device?
An absurdity rose in his heart. He might be the only intact human to ever experience Dreadnought operation thods?
After several repetitions, Zhang Ge revised his conclusion. He realized he wasn't directly piloting the war machine, but synchronizing with its Machine Spirit through Ascalon, then commanding the spirit to operate the chassis. Whenever he touched Ascalon, the murder-tin's Machine Spirit beca unusually excited, then despondent when released.
Though... still insane, there were precedents. The Eldar's spirit stone machinery shared similarities in certain aspects. Zhang Ge stared at Ascalon with complex emotions.
If I'd known earlier, I'd never have taken that decapitation mission. Had I stayed in the trenches waiting for Chaos Space Marines to drop, none of this would've happened.
Ah... Since things have co to this, let's just hope the control precision is poor. Ti to test.
His hand gripped the hilt again.
To Amilia's eyes, the clumsy murder-tin controlled by Zhang Ge rapidly gained fluidity. Soon it took its first step, plunged the right arm's circular saw vertically into the ground, then crouched and leaped skyward - perfectly balancing the entire chassis on the embedded rotating saw-blade. The massive wreck began stable high-speed rotation through torque transfer.
After ten seconds, the supporting arm flexed and launched the chassis into a backflip landing.
"This... is piloting talent?" Amilia murmured, having never seen机甲-acrobatics before.
Zhang Ge erged from the cockpit with grave expression. "It works," he said heavily.
"Any flaws?" she asked.
"No. I'm just... overjoyed."
For this underhive excursion, he no longer cared about life and death, only praying no new functions would manifest. Ascalon must be disposed of as a cursed blade after returning to the surface.
Leaning against rubble while waiting, Zhang Ge felt the hollowness of shattered hopes perate his being.
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