[This simulation has ended. Duration: 245 days.]
[The following rewards are available:]
[I. The Lion Sword (Artifact)]
Note: This is the melee weapon wielded by Primarch Lion El'Jonson during the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy. Legend claims it was forged on Terra by a master weaponsmith who served the Emperor personally.
Note: "The Lion Sword is a power sword. Its blade emits a faint luminescence, and when it cuts through anything, mysterious flames burst forth, igniting everything in its path."
Note: "The shattered Lion Sword was once reforged by Master Holguin and returned to Primarch Lion El'Jonson. Now, as Lord Cypher, you wield this mighty Primarch weapon."
Note: "Anyone who harbors disrespect or commits unforgivable acts and touches the Lion Sword will be dragged into a vivid illusion. There, a blurred figure resembling a roaring lion will engage them in a terrifying duel until they release the blade."
Note: "'You are already dead,' the sword spirit says coldly, arms crossed."
[II. Dark Angels Vengeance-Pattern Land Speeder (Standard)]
Note: "The Vengeance-pattern Land Speeder is a rare derivative model currently used exclusively by the Dark Angels Chapter and its successors."
Note: "The Vengeance-pattern Land Speeder is the primary vehicle the Dark Angels employ when hunting Fallen Angels. Equipped with four engines far larger than standard speeders, plus a plasma storm cannon, this craft can handle most combat scenarios."
Note: "The STC for the Vengeance-pattern Land Speeder and all related information are strictly sealed by the First Legion. Even the Mechanicus remains completely unaware of its existence."
Note: "What?! An extremely rare Land Speeder STC?! Where is it?!" exclaimed the delighted Archmagos of the Mechanicus.
[III. Salamanders Assault Centurion Heavy Combat Exoskeleton (Master-Crafted)]
Note: This is an Assault Centurion heavy combat exoskeleton from the Salamanders Legion. Equipped with siege drills and flamestorm weaponry, this combat exoskeleton becomes a walking tank that strikes terror into enemies and fortifications alike.
Note: "The Assault Centurion can be equipped with meltaguns, heavy flamers, or hurricane bolters, as well as any other weapons you wish to mount."
Note: "This Salamanders Assault Centurion is a heavy combat exoskeleton that old Cypher accidentally acquired from the Blood Ravens Chapter. Unfortunately, lacking proper support crew, he never wore it."
Note: "Power armor? That's outdated thinking! Heavy armor is the true romance of the Astartes!" declared a Centurion operator from the Ultramarines Chapter.
[This simulation cost one Throne Coin.]
[Current Throne Coin balance: Zero.]
[Insufficient resources for next simulation. Please acquire additional resources as soon as possible.]
[Would you like to proceed directly to the prayer support page?]
The simulation faded like mist burning off in sunlight. Nolan's awareness snapped back to his body, to the present moment, to reality.
He blinked hard several times, eyes dry and gritty from the extended mental immersion. His focus shifted to the simulator interface, reading through the text and annotations carefully.
"I actually inherited the title of Lord Cypher," he murmured, voice rough with disuse. "And survived. That's... unexpected."
His fingers drummed against his thigh, a rhythmic tapping that helped him think.
"I was hoping for the space-time crystal. Even if we couldn't figure out how to use Golden Age technology like that, its collector's value alone would be immeasurable. We could probably trade it to the Mechanicus for a Gloriana-class battleship, if we played our cards right."
He paused, reconsidering.
"Then again, the more likely scenario is that every Mechanicus fleet in the sector would descend on us with Skitarii legions and Servitor hordes, all trying to capture Lord Cypher. That would be far worse than dealing with the Dark Angels."
His expression shifted, thoughtful now rather than disappointed.
"But this is the second surviving simulation, isn't it?"
Nolan rubbed his chin, eyes distant as he processed the implications.
"If enough simulations survive in the future, could I call on them for help during support missions? It's possible, theoretically. Though the Warp has no consistent timeline. Lord Cypher might not exist at the same temporal point as me. We'll see. If we meet, we meet."
He shook his head, clearing the speculation away, and refocused on the three reward options displayed before him.
The Lion Sword was clearly the most valuable. A Primarch's weapon. It could serve as proof of legitimacy when dealing with the Dark Angels, or simply as an incredibly powerful tool of war.
But the Dark Angels' inner circle...
Nolan's expression hardened, jaw tightening with barely suppressed anger.
Their actions during the simulation had been nothing short of heretical. Abandoning Imperial citizens to save face. Treating loyalty to the Emperor as secondary to hunting their own brothers. The corruption wasn't Chaos, but it was corruption nonetheless.
"If I ever get the chance," he muttered, voice cold and flat, "I need to purge the Dark Angels' inner circle. They're so obsessed with the Fallen that they've forgotten their actual duties. They've abandoned the Emperor's vision and the people they're supposed to protect."
He stared at the Lion Sword option for a long moment, then deliberately looked away.
No. Not that one.
His gaze moved to the Vengeance-pattern Land Speeder. Or rather, its STC template, if the annotation was accurate. If it truly was the complete STC, he'd give up the Lion Sword without hesitation. That kind of technological knowledge was priceless.
But it wasn't. Just a single speeder. Rare, certainly. Powerful, yes. But for his current needs, it was like the old Earth saying about chicken ribs: tasteless to eat, wasteful to discard.
That left the Assault Centurion.
Nolan studied the description carefully. Master-crafted Salamanders work. Siege drills. Heavy weapons mountings. Walking tank capabilities.
This could significantly enhance his overall power. In the future maybe put it on one of the Elite Stormtroopers, or save it for a critical mission. The tactical applications were extensive.
Decision made, he pressed the selection.
THRUM.
The air itself seemed to vibrate, a low harmonic that Nolan felt in his bones rather than heard. Reality rippled.
Then, with a sound like thunder compressed into a single metallic note, the Assault Centurion materialized.
Four meters of ceramite and adamantium. Ten tons of armor plating, siege equipment, and weapon hardpoints. It appeared suspended in the air for a fraction of a second, then dropped.
CRASH.
The metal floor buckled slightly under the impact. The entire room shook. Nolan's private quarters weren't designed to support that kind of point-load.
He stood from his meditation position on the bed and approached the towering exoskeleton. Even at his enhanced height, the Centurion dwarfed him. He had to tilt his head back to see the helmet assembly.
His hand reached out, fingers tracing the cold ceramite plating. Forest green paint, black trim, the Salamanders' drake-head iconography barely visible under layers of wear and battle damage. This armor had seen combat. Survived it. Thrived in it.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
Then his practical nature reasserted itself.
"I wonder if Raditus and Doom could modify this into an automatic deployment system. Make it easier to don without a full support crew. If they can't manage it..."
He smiled slightly.
"Maybe Tony. The design principles and construction methods would be worth more to him than any favor I could offer. He'd jump at the chance to study Imperial technology this advanced."
Nolan opened his private quarters' door and glanced into the corridor. Two teams of servo-robots trundled past, their optical sensors swiveling to track his movement.
He raised one hand, beckoning them over.
"Take this to the foundry," he ordered, gesturing at the Centurion. "Deliver it to Raditus. I'll transmit the modification specifications through the command channel."
The servo-robots approached cautiously, their simple machine spirits calculating weight distribution and load capacity.
"Careful," Nolan added. "This thing weighs over ten tons. Don't let it crush you."
The robots emitted a series of acknowledgment beeps, their mechanical voices oddly cheerful despite the warning.
Nolan watched them begin the careful process of securing the Centurion for transport, then turned away. He had specifications to write, modifications to design, and Raditus to convince.
The Assault Centurion would be ready when they needed it.
And they would need it soon.
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