A Blessing from the Five Gods

"Right!"

Fulgrim hadn't taken two steps before turning back, smiling as she poked her head in from the doorway.

"I might be pretty busy for a while, so I won't be able to guide you."

"But I found someone really amazing in the Legion—she can definitely teach you to become a proper Space Marine!"

"Bye!"

"Is this the place?"

Kasgar pushed the door open, puzzled.

As a training chamber, the room's decor was extremely minimalist.

Aside from a few essential crates, a table, and a training cage, the rest of the space was a wide-open floor.

On the simple gray walls hung dozens of old, heavy broadswords of various styles. These blades were long, ornate, and each bore its own unique engravings—a stark contrast to the uniform standard-issue weapons outside.

That entire wall of swords felt like the collection of someone with a hoarding obsession, showing off their treasures.

And in the center of the room, a young man was already waiting.

Kasgar knew him—no, he was intimately familiar with him.

"Hey, Lucius."

I even held you when you were a kid!

"Big brother Kasgar! You're here for training too?"

Seeing Kasgar enter, Lucius's face lit up with delight.

Ever since Kasgar saved him over twenty years ago, Lucius and his sister Corleon had lived on Karax and successfully enrolled in the military academy Kasgar had proposed and established.

There, they received advance training for the expeditions to come, and both graduated with top marks as part of the first batch, joining Chemos's expeditionary forces.

"Of course. How's Corleon doing?"

"She's better than me." Lucius gave a wry smile. "I don't know how she does it—she seems born to communicate with a ship's Machine Spirit. The Imperial Army already snatched her up as a prized asset."

"That's a good thing. She might serve in the Third Legion soon and become the captain she's always dreamed of."

"Hopefully."

Lucius didn't commit to an answer.

Though the room's setup was simple, it wasn't entirely empty.

On the iron-gray table by the entrance sat a small metal tray.

And in the tray was a batch of cookies—baked with extreme care, yet distinctly odd.

The baker had clearly put effort into shaping them, but each cookie seemed to have its own unique idea of what it should look like.

In terms of actual effect...

They looked like crap.

Kasgar didn't mince words.

He picked up one of the cookies. It seemed freshly baked, still giving off a bit of warmth.

He sniffed it.

This cookie... why doesn't it smell right either?

A strange, indescribable odor hit him, making him feel uneasy.

Even more like crap.

Is this what a fresh-baked cookie is supposed to smell like?

"Whatever, why overthink it?"

Kasgar didn't dwell on it and popped it into his mouth.

At least it's a nice little snack.

Even if it looks a bit rough, how bad can a cookie really taste?

He'd been eating corpse-starch for decades—surely he could handle—

"Ugh—!"

Kasgar doubled over in agony, clutching his mouth.

What the hell is this?!

How can a single cookie unleash such a complex, torturous storm on my taste buds?

One bite felt like eight hundred and eighty-eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight Nurglings throwing a wild orgy on his tongue!

A bizarre flavor beyond human description exploded in his mouth in an instant.

He collapsed to the floor on the spot.

"Kasgar, are you okay?!"

"Do I need to call the Apothecary?"

Lucius also looked extremely panicked.

"Uh..."

Kasgar didn't answer Lucius.

Or rather, he couldn't answer him anymore.

He collapsed to the ground, twitching and writhing a few times.

"Kasgar!"

Then he quickly went still.

"Kasgar!!!"

Kasgar felt as if he were adrift in the Sea of Souls.

He sensed countless beings roaming there, casting their gazes upon him from infinite spans of time and space.

Among them, four seemed especially vast and significant, all curious about Kasgar's arrival.

One praised his courage in daring to eat the cookie.

One coveted the recipe for the cookie he had consumed.

One was astonished by the infinite transformations of taste buds blooming on his tongue. (But still within the plan!)

One licked at the novel pain Kasgar was enduring.

Each had their own desires.

Then, Kasgar felt these four presences all dispelled by a warmth.

Amid endless hallucination and flux, he seemed to see a figure blazing with golden light.

Majestic, solemn, and sacred.

Yet it still couldn't dispel the miraculous flavor of that terrifying cookie.

The figure sat silently upon a throne forged of gold, gazing down upon all living things.

And at that moment, in its eyes, there seemed to be only helplessness?

"Ah, child."

"Not this moment, not now."

"Return quickly."

"Ughhhh—"

"Cough, cough, cough!"

"Ptoo, ptoo, ptoo!"

Huff. Huff.

Feeling his soul return to his body, Kasgar nearly coughed up his stomach.

Surviving by a hair's breadth, he was still shaken.

"Bro, you okay?"

"Huff. Hard to say I'm okay."

It seemed he had nearly returned to the Golden Throne.

Kasgar struggled to stand up from the ground, only to find he had lost all his strength.

"I thought you baked this thing."

He picked up the terrifying cookie blessed by the Five Gods, brought it close, and slowly stared at it.

Then he blinked hard a few times.

No.

This thing was way too terrifying, wasn't it?

Could a cookie really have such power?

Was this truly the human food made from sugar, oil, milk, and wheat flour, called a cookie?

Or was it a new simulated poison developed by Malcador's assassins?

Kasgar turned his head to look at the somewhat awkward Lucius.

"I don't know either."

His expression was utterly innocent.

"I smelled it, found it strange, and didn't dare eat it."

"It's fine."

Having survived the ordeal, Kasgar seemed to have awakened a new ability from the disaster.

--He could determine the maker's name just by tasting the food.

He was truly foolish, wasn't he.

When he saw the wall full of Xhanabal Sabers, he should have realized it.

To collect so many sabers, to be a sword master whom even Fulgrim greatly admired.

And to be a Son of the Emperor with such "miraculous" cooking skills—who else could it be?

"Is it you?"

"Brother A, Akur Duna?"

Watching the woman walk into the room with a tray full of cookies, her face full of dejection, Kasgar declared.

Wait, woman?