Psychic Lightning struck him.
Kasgar could neither dodge nor block it.
The pillar of light slammed solidly into his chest.
More precisely, it struck Corleon, who hung from his chest.
But at that moment, whether the Psyker could no longer sustain it or because of some mysterious Warp factor, the immense pressure weighing Kasgar down vanished in an instant. The motorcycle shot off like a bolt.
"Prophet, did your magic get eaten!?"
Inside the Armored Vehicle, the Sulfa people's leader roared.
"I lost so many brothers because of your prophecy, and you fucking can't even—"
The leader's curses gradually weakened.
The Prophet was moving her limbs in a strange posture.
It looked like dancing, yet no dance technique like this had ever existed in the world.
In an instant, laughter and whispers seemed to drift from afar, yet also murmur beside their ears, scratching at the itch in their hearts.
".Prophet?"
He sensed that something was wrong, but it was already too late.
Her body changed and swelled as rapidly as an inflated balloon, her limbs becoming firm, beautiful, and full of vitality once more.
Two new pairs of arms sprouted from beneath her ribs and merged with the dance of her hands. Her movements instantly shifted from strange and obscure to fluid, magnificent dance steps.
Beautiful.
Too beautiful.
The leader sighed from the bottom of his heart.
But just as he tried to see her movements clearly, several—perhaps dozens—of gusts arrived in an instant.
As though invisible blades had cut through their bodies, scarlet blood instantly splattered across him, the Prophet, and the entire vehicle compartment.
Elegant and beautiful.
Any swordsman would have been captivated by this endlessly dazzling sword dance.
So was he.
"Cough, cough."
Life was rapidly draining from him.
He was about to die.
He felt a kind of... joy.
The sandstorm outside grew fiercer.
"Here again."
Looking at the metal walls covered in mottled rust, Kasgar, holding Corleon in his arms, sighed wistfully.
He had returned to this abandoned underground factory, the place he and Fulgrim had arrived at and explored five years ago.
Facing the sudden sandstorm, with no way to return to Karax, he could only duck into this familiar place for shelter.
It was like coming home.
Kasgar helplessly thought as he smelled rust on the wind.
If I'd known, I would've turned this place into a more luxurious shelter.
"Can you keep up?"
Of the two children, Corleon had been struck by the Wizard's Psychic Lightning. She lay unconscious in Kasgar's arms, trembling from time to time.
Her body temperature fluctuated wildly between freezing and burning hot.
Kasgar could only hold her in his arms, pistol in his other hand, and have the boy follow behind him.
But the complex, old, lightless surroundings made him worried about the quiet boy behind him.
"It's fine, sir. I've made a living scavenging since I was young. I have experience with places like this."
As he spoke, he skillfully leaped down from the rust-covered ladder.
Their group descended deeper and deeper.
When no sounds came from above, Kasgar finally relaxed slightly.
The sandstorm had blocked his way home, but it had also kept all their pursuers outside.
Come to think of it, that storm that had appeared out of nowhere was most likely the Wizard's doing as well.
"Damn Psykers. Learn a little magic, and they start abusing it."
"When all their children are born crooked-faced, with eight pairs of wings and nine legs each, maybe then they'll behave."
What?
There were even idiot Wizards who still refused to behave after their descendants mutated?
Never mind, then.
The person in the entire universe who respected Magnus the most was still respecting Magnus today.
Still, if that Psyker could create such an enormous sandstorm, his Psychic Power talent must have been formidable.
Kasgar sank into thought.
Then how had he managed to break free from the other man's suppression?
After all, at the time, he had done nothing except think as hard as he could.
This... this must have been the Emperor's divine might!
After pondering it for a long time, he reached his final conclusion.
There was no point thinking too hard about things he could not understand.
Whether that was actually true was another matter. Anyway, he believed it was.
That was enough.
"We're almost there."
Logically speaking, there was no point in Kasgar going any farther down.
Not long after the previous exploration had been completed and the power plant restarted, Fulgrim had led a team of engineers to transport the few remaining intact generator units back to Karax.
Deep underground, only the final abandoned Thinker remained, lying silently there.
"Kid, I'll put your sister here first. Watch over her while I'm gone. If anything happens, contact me with the communicator."
"I need to go inside and deal with something."
As he spoke, Kasgar dusted off an ammunition crate and placed the unconscious Corleon on top of it.
"Yes, sir."
The boy nodded obediently.
But as though still uneasy about something, he hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, my sister... what happened to her?"
"She was attacked by magic." Kasgar looked solemnly at Corleon's pale, trembling little face. "I'm trying to find a way to remove the curse from her."
"Wait here for a little while. Don't come inside."
"And just call me Brother Kasgar."
"Okay."
The boy nodded slowly, seeming to finally place a little trust in him.
"Then, Brother Kasgar."
"If I can make it out alive, can I ask you to teach me swordsmanship?"
Although Kasgar had always told them to close their eyes, the boy had never followed that agreement when Kasgar fought the Sulfa people.
He had seen how Kasgar effortlessly chopped those ugly pursuers into pieces.
What glorious and proud swordsmanship that had been.
He wanted to use swordsmanship like that to protect his sister.
"You want to learn swordsmanship? Fine."
Kasgar's smile was full of delight.
"But why do you want to learn swordsmanship?"
"Is it to protect your sister, or do you simply crave the honor and praise that come with victory?"
Kasgar crouched down and looked at him with a steady expression.
"I... I want to protect my sister."
"Good. Good."
"Then promise me this."
"Remember today."
"Remember the true reason you promised me you would learn swordsmanship."
"Mm!"
Meeting Kasgar's gaze, the boy nodded firmly.
After giving his instructions, Kasgar stepped through the door leading to the deepest part of the underground facility.
After carefully shutting the soundproof doors and windows, he looked toward the dormant main control computer in the center of the room.
It was all that remained in the entire room.
What use could a bare commander be when every other facility in the power plant had been stripped away?
Booting... 1%
With Kasgar's click, words indicating the startup process appeared on the screen.
It really knew how to hold back.
Kasgar grinned and slapped its dust-covered case.
An ancient form of greeting for a Machine Spirit, passed down from the 2K era.
"Drop the act, Abominable Intelligence Deep Processor One."
"Talk."
.How did you know my ID and true identity?
The fake "Booting" display vanished instantly, and a line of remarkably human-like text remained on the screen.
It was as though it were shocked that its identity had been exposed.
"That isn't important. I need you to answer my question."
No, it is very important.
It will determine how I continue to survive in the future.
"I guessed, all right?"
"I have Psychic Prophecy. I know your name, and I know you're an Abominable Intelligence."
He called it Psychic Prophecy, but it was actually higher-dimensional narrative.
As for humanity's hatred of artificial intelligence, it stemmed from the great war between humanity and Intelligent Machines thousands of years ago.
Though humanity had ultimately won, it had lost all trust in intelligent machines as a result and renamed them "Abominable Intelligences."
As for this Deep Processor One on Chemos, it was one of the few remnants left from the Dark Age of Technology.
The feasibility of this answer is extremely low, but the database lacks a more reasonable and effective explanation.
Choosing to accept this explanation.
"Since you believe me, can you tell me how humanity back then drove back the invasion of Warp Entities?"
Kasgar's tone grew increasingly anxious as he spoke.
He pointed toward Corleon, unconscious outside the door.
"You can sense it. She's being attacked by a daemon."
Insufficient materials. Technology lost.
I am merely a power plant management intelligence. I do not possess an STC for producing weapons that can expel Warp Entities.
Although it truly was an artificial intelligence, with the powerful technological support of humanity's Dark Age of Technology.
That did not mean it could solve every problem.
According to database records updated to the present day, humanity currently has no better method of dealing with this situation.
"Really, there's no way?"
Kasgar's heart instantly sank halfway.
"Friend, you know what people outside think of artificial intelligence right now."
"By hiding your existence back then, I indirectly saved you."
"Now it's urgent. I guarantee that if your method works, I'll keep your secret and never tell anyone else."
"So please tell me. Is there, or is there not, a way to save her?"
The words on the screen paused for a moment, as if it were thinking.
There is.
That was its answer.
Before you continue