61: Chapter 61 River of Metal

The chimera armored vehicle slowly crawled up a gentle slope, and the view opened up in a matter of seconds.

The words Sister Superior Ludmilla had on the tip of her tongue, intending to ask about Vera's condition, were stuck in her throat, and she even subconsciously held her breath for a beat.

It was not a river. No—it was a river. A metallic river so massive it was suffocating.

It stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, spanning the entire field of vision like a precisely calculated arc, encircling the planet's equator.

Viewed from the ground, it hovered high in the sky, far above the red-roofed buildings scattered across the plains, above the vegetation just breaking through the soil, and above all traces of human activity on the ground, lying across the sky like a chasm.

Thirty-four layers.

This number appeared in Sister Superior Ludmilla's mind almost instantly. She hadn't deliberately counted; rather, the spacing between each conveyor belt layer was excessively uniform, so uniform that the power armor she wore completed pattern recognition instantly, feeding the data directly to her.

Thirty-four layers of conveyor belts, spread out layer by layer with precisely calculated vertical drops, extended from the surface to a height approaching the spires of the Hive City. Each layer glided steadily at a different speed, carrying distinct materials—raw ore, crude metal, refined alloys, semi-finished components, and finished assemblies—all flowing orderly on the belts, without congestion or stagnation.

An industrial torrent thousands of meters wide flowed silently between heaven and earth, silent yet incredibly oppressive.

The stacked sprayers and loading machines, like the exposed ribs of a giant, held this river of metal steadily between heaven and earth at a precise elevated height.

There was not a trace of rust on their structures, not a hint of wear and tear; one could not see any of the decay caused by lack of maintenance that was ubiquitous in Imperial industrial facilities, only the air currents stirred up by the high-speed operation of the conveyor belts, proving its ceaseless vitality.

The light of the blue giant star slanted in from a specific angle, falling onto the metallic surfaces of the conveyor belts and the various materials transported upon them, refracting a dazzling luster. In an instant, the entire river of metal transformed into a seven-colored halo encircling the planet.

It operated in constant silence. There was no roaring mechanical noise, no clamor of human voices, only the light, nimble sound of countless treads sliding at a uniform speed, weaving a ring of eternal, ceaseless reason across the surface of this world.

Sister Superior Ludmilla pushed open the vehicle door, stepped down from the chimera armored vehicle, stood quietly beside it, and looked up at the river of metal for a long, long time.

The factories on Ophelia VII were always smoking, always leaking, and always required the servitors of the Adeptus Mechanicus to kneel on the ground, applying oil and praying over and over again just to barely maintain operation.

On every pipe there, prayer parchments hung sealed with wax; every valve had to be carefully anointed with holy oil; every startup required reciting prayers lasting for hours, as if only then would the machine spirit be pleased and willing to obey commands.

But this river of metal before her had no prayers from the Adeptus Mechanicus, no traces of oiling or blessings, and not a single incense candle had been lit. There was not even the slightest mark of religious ritual, and the figures of the servitors responsible for maintenance were nowhere to be seen.

Yet it was operating smoothly.

Yet it was operating so quietly.

This smooth operation alone was enough to make Sister Superior Ludmilla feel a pure, cold shiver.

They worshiped the same god, but matters concerning the Adeptus Mechanicus were not for her, as a member of the Ecclesiarchy, to question.

Gluck had long since ordered all the chimera armored vehicles to stop, specifically leaving time for the three visiting sisters to observe this world.

"What is this?" Sister Superior Ludmilla's voice was hoarser than she had expected.

She could hardly hide her shock.

"The Equatorial Conveyor Bus," Gluck said, walking to her side with his hands in the pockets of his grease-stained uniform, also looking up at the magnificent river of metal. "Icarus's greatest creation, at least so far."

"Icarus?" Sister Superior Ludmilla frowned, repeating the unfamiliar name.

"The Archmagos will explain it to you. I am only responsible for picking people up, not for giving lectures," Gluck smiled, pulling a chocolate-flavored protein bar from his pocket, unwrapping it, and taking a big bite. "However, I can tell you one thing."

Sister Superior Ludmilla turned her head, her gaze falling on him, waiting for what was to come.

"Helmut, that is, the Archmagos, once spent three whole days unfolding his mechanical body and walking along this bus," Gluck said, chewing on the protein bar while his gaze returned to the river of metal. "It wasn't because of work requirements; it was just... he simply wanted to walk. He said he wanted to feel the pulse of this river and understand what kind of reasoning Icarus had used to build it."

"How far did he walk?" Sister Superior Ludmilla pressed, her heart tightening involuntarily.

"Three whole days! But he neither reached the end nor figured it out," Gluck said, stuffing the last of the protein bar into his mouth, his words somewhat muffled. "Because this river has no end; it is a circle, a circle encircling the equator. It—Icarus's philosophy is to return from the starting point of matter to the starting point of matter, from the cycle of matter to the cycle of physics, endless and without limit."

Sister Superior Ludmilla fell silent.

The scene before her overturned her perception, and her doctrine seemed to be ruthlessly shattered by this silent river of metal.

"When was it built?" She asked again, her voice trembling slightly.

"It has been under construction ever since Icarus arrived here," Gluck shrugged. "It adds new things here every day—sometimes new conveyor belts, sometimes new support structures, sometimes parts that we simply don't understand and don't know what they are for. It never asks for our opinions, nor does it explain anything; it just focuses single-mindedly on construction."

"Don't you think... there's a problem with this?" Sister Superior Ludmilla looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion and vigilance.

Gluck turned his head to look at Sister Superior Ludmilla, thought seriously for a moment, and then asked, "Sister Zaragoza, what color have you seen the atmosphere of a Forge World to be?"

"Blood red, or dirty yellow," Sister Superior Ludmilla said, blurting it out almost without hesitation. That was the norm for all Forge Worlds, the mark left by industrial pollution.

"Correct. Three months ago, the atmosphere here was also this blood red," Gluck pointed to the clear blue sky above, his tone flat. "And now?"

Sister Superior Ludmilla did not answer, nor did she need to. The deep blue above, the fresh green beneath her feet, and the clean, operating river of metal before her had already provided the clearest answer.