Invincible after death, but in Warhammer 40K

After opening her eyes, Amelia took a step forward and grasped the hilt of the silver-white longsword.

The moment her palm made contact with the hilt, the sword, which had been entirely featureless and monochromatic, began to transform.

From bottom to top, the pommel took the form of small golden crosses, the hilt became a black crystalline material, the guard was shaped into golden eagle wings, and the blade turned pure and unblemished white.

Though there was no scabbard, when Amelia released her grip, the sword floated on its own, following behind the nun and gently rising and falling in sync with her steps.

Witnessing this, Zhang Ge inwardly thought, "This is bad. The Emperor is involved."

As if sensing Zhang Ge, Sister Amelia walked toward him. The light that had been overflowing from her eyes receded, but her irises remained a brilliant gold.

"The collapse of the defense line is inevitable. I plan to destroy this place to prevent it from being defiled by heretics. It will take a few hours to set up the explosives. You can go and attend to other matters in the meantime."

When she stood before Zhang Ge, he noticed that her height had increased by nearly twenty centimeters, reaching over 190 cm, making her taller than him.

But what caught his attention the most wasn't this. Hearing her words, Zhang Ge opened his mouth, then fell silent for a moment:

"..."

She continued:

"...It's possible, but shouldn't you find some clothes to wear first?"

"Not necessary. I'll find a usable force-feedback powered armor later."

That's not the issue here!

With that, the nun turned sideways and passed through the narrow side door as the two walked side by side. As she did so, she casually handed Zhang Ge's cross back to him. She then proceeded down the corridor, stepping over the bloodstains and corpses, and entered the interior of the church. Judging by the direction, she seemed to be heading toward a storage area or something similar.

Seeing her move deeper into the church, Zhang Ge didn't linger to watch further.

Turning his attention back, Zhang Ge thought that since there were still a few hours left, he might as well fulfill his promise and go repair the vehicle outside.

No sooner said than done. After quickly crossing two more city walls, Zhang Ge intercepted the vehicle that was still circling the walls and drove it to the open area of the church.

In an annex building filled with various vehicles on one side, Zhang Ge easily found the full set of tools he needed.

Although he didn't understand the internal structure of the vehicle, washing it with holy water, sticking some scriptures on it, and saying a few kind words to the machine spirit—wasn't that also maintenance? The church might not have much else, but it certainly wasn't lacking in these things.

However, when he returned for the second trip to fetch enough holy water, Zhang Ge noticed a dull thudding sound coming from somewhere.

Following the sound, he discovered that it was emanating from a Martyr's Mech deep inside.

This type of bipedal mech, which looked golden and resembled a mobile shrine, was actually one of the Empire's most severe punishment machines—essentially a plus version of the Penitent Engine.

Martyr's Mechs were typically used to punish nuns who had committed the most heinous crimes. The sinners would be encased in the adamantium protective shell at the center of the mech, which resembled an iron maiden, serving as both the mech's attachment and its pilot. Inside, they would endure extreme suffering.

Due to the shell's extreme durability, unlike the pilots of ordinary Penitent Engines who could atone for their sins through death, the sinners piloting Martyr's Mechs often had to endure such torment for decades.

It was the kind of thing that even a Hell Beast would say was a bit too hardcore.

Now, the problem lay here: as everyone knows, sound is transmitted through the vibration of a medium—but adamantium is so durable that it's difficult to process with most Imperial tools. Forget punching it, even a mortal with a hammer couldn't make it vibrate.

Yet, the thudding sound was unmistakably real.

Just as Zhang Ge decided not to meddle and was about to take a detour, the Martyr mech suddenly moved, taking a step forward as he took a step back.

Alright, so that's how you want to play?

Zhang Ge wasn't opposed to piloting it, but if he were to do so out of mere curiosity and ended up getting killed by whatever was inside, it probably wouldn't count as a normal death.

But now, with a valid reason, that was a different story.

After drawing the plasma pistol from his waist, Zhang Ge approached the Martyr mech and fumbled around until he found the way to open its protective shell: a sizable wheel valve.

He tried it, and it wasn't as hard to turn as it looked. With just a bit of force, he managed to rotate it. After turning it about a hundred times, the protective shell slowly opened and swung to one side.

A figure resembling a novice nun tumbled out from the pilot seat, which should have been restraining a sinner.

Since Zhang Ge had no intention of catching her and instead cautiously raised his plasma pistol while taking a few steps back, she fell face-first onto the ground.

The nosebleed from the impact, the dust from the ground, and the tears streaming down her face as she cried all mixed together, staining her face.

But she herself seemed indifferent to it, curling up in extreme grief, as if she wanted to wail, yet only opened her mouth with difficulty, unable to produce any sound. Between her fragmented tones, tears overflowed.

Zhang Ge pondered for a moment and asked:

"Deserter?"

Only then did the person react to this word, lowering her head further and burying it between her knees amidst the tears.

A novice sister, facing a Terminator that had been teleported in and had slaughtered hundreds of sisters, expecting her to win would be akin to asking Banbo to eliminate the Tang Monk and his disciples.

And hiding inside the adamantine shell of the Martyr's mech, considering the Terminators' tight schedule and heavy tasks, even if they detected a novice sister, they probably wouldn't bother spending time prying open such a hard shell. Coupled with the consideration of not wanting to risk being targeted by vehicles in open areas, it made sense that she ultimately survived.

But at least in this world, none of this could be a reason to forgive her.

Of course, on the other hand, since the machine spirit of the Martyr had taken her in and now allowed Zhang Ge to rescue her, he didn't intend to act as a judge. He only wanted to extract some information from her.

Moreover, he had just arrived and, although not averse to it, wasn't particularly interested in the Empire's extreme doctrines.

Reaching to his waist, he pulled out a crucifix and threw it at her face, then casually opened a few bottles of holy water and poured them over her head and body to ensure she wasn't a demon in disguise. After her body's trembling subsided slightly, Zhang Ge asked:

"Tell me, how many attackers were there?"

She didn't answer, still sobbing incessantly.

Helpless, Zhang Ge had to use a method more suitable for a sister to calm her down.

He crouched down halfway, reached out to grip her slender neck, and exerted force to lift her, gradually drowning out her voice as she instinctively struggled in suffocation.

After a while, when she was almost unconscious, Zhang Ge finally released his grip, causing her to collapse weakly onto her knees in front of him, gasping for air.

Immediately, Zhang Ge removed the scabbard from his waist, moved behind the novice sister, and mercilessly struck her back repeatedly, causing her suppressed cries to replace her previous wailing. However, she never resisted or dodged, instead clasping her hands tightly, closing her eyes, and praying through her tears.

After a short while, it seemed that the continuous onslaught of pain finally somewhat neutralized the novice sister's endless guilt. She began to stammer out words, pausing every half-word to bite her lips and prevent herself from crying out in pain during the next lash:

"Three..."

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