The Poison of Hope (Part 1)

Psychic Lightning struck him.

Kasgar could neither dodge nor block it.

That pillar of light slammed squarely into his chest.

More precisely, it struck Corleon, who hung from his chest.

But at that very moment—whether because the Psyker's strength gave out, or due to some obscure Warp factor—the crushing pressure on Kasgar vanished in an instant, and the motorcycle shot forward like a flying arrow.

"Prophet, did your wizardry go to shit or what?!"

Inside the Armored Vehicle, the Sulfa leader bellowed.

"I lost so many brothers for your prophecies, and you fucking—"

The leader's cursing gradually faded.

The Prophet was moving her limbs in a bizarre manner.

It looked like dancing, yet no dance like this had ever existed in the world.

In an instant, laughter and murmurs came as if from afar, then whispered right by the ear, tickling the heart with an itch.

"...Prophet?"

He sensed something wrong, but it was too late.

Her body swelled and expanded like a balloon being blown up, her limbs growing firm, toned, and vibrant again.

Two new pairs of arms sprouted from her ribs, merging into the dance of her original hands. The movements shifted abruptly from eerie and obscure to a smooth, flowing grace.

Beautiful.

Too beautiful.

The leader sighed from the depths of his heart.

But just as he tried to make out her motions, several—perhaps dozens—of wind sounds arrived in an instant.

As if struck by invisible blades, crimson blood instantly splattered across him, the Prophet, and the entire cabin of the vehicle.

Elegant and beautiful.

Any swordsman would be captivated by this endlessly dazzling sword dance.

He was no exception.

"Cough, cough."

Life was rapidly draining from him.

He was going to die.

And he felt... a kind of joy.

Outside, the sandstorm grew fiercer.

"Here again."

Looking at the mottled, rusted metal walls around him, Kasgar sighed as he held Corleon in his arms.

He was back in this abandoned underground factory—the place he and Fulgrim had reached and explored five years ago.

Caught in a sudden Sandstorm with no way back to Karax, he had no choice but to duck into this familiar spot for shelter.

Like coming home.

Kasgar thought wryly, catching the scent of rust in the wind.

If only I'd known, I'd have renovated this place into a fancier shelter.

"Can you keep up?"

Of the two children, Corleon had been hit by that Wizard's Psychic Lightning. Now she lay unconscious in Kasgar's arms, trembling from time to time.

Her body temperature fluctuated wildly between hot and cold.

Kasgar could only hold her with one arm while gripping his pistol in the other, letting the boy follow behind him.

But the complex, old, and lightless environment made him worry about the silent boy at his back.

"It's fine, sir. I grew up scavenging for a living. I'm used to this kind of situation."

With that, he nimbly leaped down from a rust-covered ladder.

The group descended deeper and deeper.

Hearing no sounds from anyone above, Kasgar breathed a sigh of relief.

The Sandstorm might have blocked his way home, but it also kept the pursuers trapped outside.

Come to think of it, this sudden storm was very likely the Wizard's doing as well.

"Damn Psyker. Knows a bit of sorcery and starts abusing it."

"When will they learn—once their kids are born with crooked mouths and slanted eyes, each sprouting eight pairs of wings and nine legs, they'll finally behave."

What?

And there are still idiot wizards who won't behave even after their descendants have mutated?

Well, that settles it.

The person who respects Magnus the most in the entire universe is still respecting Magnus today.

Still, since this psyker could create such a massive sandstorm, their psychic talent must be considerable.

Kasgar fell into thought.

How had he managed to break free from the other's suppression?

After all, back then, he hadn't done anything except think hard.

This... this must be the Emperor's divine power!

After pondering for a long time, he reached that final conclusion.

If you can't figure something out, don't overthink it.

Whether it was actually true was another matter—he believed it was, and that was enough.

"We're almost there."

Strictly speaking, there was no point in Kasgar going further down.

Not long after he'd completed the exploration and restarted the power plant, Fulgrim had led a team of engineers to transport the few remaining intact generator units back to Karax.

Deep underground, only one last abandoned Thinker remained, lying quietly in place.

"Kid, I'll leave your sister here for now. Watch over her while I'm gone. If anything happens, contact me with the communicator."

"I need to go in and take care of some things."

With that, Kasgar dusted off the ammunition crate and set the unconscious Corleon on top of it.

"Understood, sir."

The boy nodded with remarkable maturity.

But as if still uneasy, he hesitated for a moment before pressing further: "Sir, my sister... what's wrong with her?"

"She was struck by sorcery," Kasgar said, his face grave as he looked at Corleon's trembling, pale little face. "I'm trying to find a way to lift the curse on her."

"Wait here for a bit. Don't come in."

"And just call me Brother Kasgar."

"Okay."

The boy nodded slowly, as if finally beginning to trust him a little.

"Then, Brother Kasgar."

"If I make it out alive, can I ask you to teach me swordsmanship?"

Earlier, even though Kasgar had told him to keep his eyes shut, he'd never followed that rule while Kasgar was fighting the Sulfa people.

He'd seen how Kasgar easily chopped those ugly pursuers into pieces.

What glorious and proud swordsmanship that was.

He wanted to be like that too—to use the sword to protect his sister.

"You want to learn swordsmanship, huh? Fine."

Kasgar's smile was full of satisfaction.

"But why do you want to learn it?"

"Is it to protect your sister, or just to crave the honor and praise that comes with victory?"

Kasgar lowered himself, his expression calm as he looked at the boy.

"I... I want to protect my sister."

"Good. Good."

"Then, from now on, promise me this."

"Always remember today."

"Remember the true reason you promised me you'd learn swordsmanship."

"Mm!"

Meeting Kasgar's eyes, the boy nodded firmly.

After finishing his instructions, Kasgar stepped through the door at the deepest part of the underground chamber.

Carefully sealing the soundproof doors and windows, he looked at the dormant main computer at the center of the room.

That was all that remained in the entire room.

What use was a lone commander stripped of every facility in the power plant?

Starting up. 1%

As Kasgar clicked, the words "Starting up" appeared on the screen.

He sure can hold it in.

Kasgar laughed and slapped his dust-covered chassis.

An ancient greeting passed down from the 2K era for the Machine Spirit.

"Stop pretending, Abominable Intelligence Deep Processor One."

"Talk."

.How do you know my ID and true identity?

The fake "Starting up" disguise instantly vanished, replaced by a small line of text that seemed almost human.

As if shocked at being exposed.

"That's not important. I need you to answer my questions."

No, it is very important.

This will determine how I continue to survive from now on.

"I guessed, alright?"

"I have Psychic Power Prophecy, know your name, and know you're an Abominable Intelligence."

Calling it Psychic Power Prophecy was really just high-dimensional narration.

As for humanity's hatred of artificial intelligence, it stemmed from the great war between humans and Intelligent Machines thousands of years ago.

Though humanity ultimately won, they lost all trust in intelligent machinery and renamed it "Abominable Intelligence."

As for this Deep Processor One on Chemos, it was one of the few remnants from the Dark Age of Technology.

Probability of answer being valid is extremely low, but database lacks a more reasonable and effective explanation

Choosing to accept this statement

"Since you believe me, can you tell me how the humans back then actually drove off the Warp Entity invasions?"

As he spoke, Kasgar's tone grew more urgent.

The direction he pointed was toward the unconscious Corleon outside the door.

"You can sense it—she's being invaded by a demon."

Lack of materials, technology lost.

I am only a power plant management intelligence, and do not possess the Standard Template Construct for producing weapons to expel Warp Entities.

Though it was indeed an artificial intelligence with powerful technological support from humanity's Dark Age, That didn't mean it could solve every problem.

As of today's database update, current humanity has no better solution.

"Really none?"

Kasgar's heart sank halfway.

"Friend, you know what the attitude toward artificial intelligence is out there right now."

"Keeping your existence hidden back then was indirectly saving you."

"Now it's urgent. I promise, if your method works, I'll keep your secret and tell no one."

"So please, tell me—is there really a way to save her?"

The text on the screen paused for a moment, as if thinking.

There is.

It replied.