Power of Faith

At this moment, Lord Rowan, still on the bridge of the strike cruiser, naturally knew nothing of the Emperor's Manifestation that had spread to cover nearly the entire Imperium of Man.

If he had known in advance, he would have immediately grown wary—after all, he had already experienced firsthand the Big Gold One's inhuman way of doing things.

But unfortunately, a strike cruiser owned by a Chaos war band devoted to Slaanesh could have any facility imaginable, except a chapel of the Ecclesiarchy.

"Lord Rowan, your hand... why is it glowing?"

Sibyl's slightly puzzled voice rang out, snapping Rowan back from his thoughts.

He had just been straining to recall memories from his past life, searching for clues about Warp Minor Gods and C'tan Shards, hoping to find the best breakthrough to open the next Path of Promotion.

"What's going on?"

Rowan raised his arm and took a closer look.

In his field of vision, a golden Two-Headed Eagle Mark was clearly visible, shining on the back of his hand, radiating a soft glow in all directions.

Wait—wasn't that the mark the Emperor had left behind before tricking him into this universe?

"Not good!"

Rowan felt his vision go dark.

What fresh hell are you, Big Gold One, about to pull now?

But the others on the bridge couldn't grasp Rowan's mood at that moment. They gazed at the miracle before them with nothing but profound reverence.

It was as if a golden sun had suddenly risen. Streams of flowing light flew from the back of Rowan's hand, wrapped around his body, slowly lifted him, and suspended him high in the air.

Then, a dazzling brilliance erupted, almost too bright to look at. The warm aura it emitted cleanly purified everything around it, utterly expelling the nauseating stench of Chaos Corruption from the ship.

Where the light passed, the abnormal alloy hull—where flesh and steel had fused—gradually returned to its original state. The blasphemous "artworks" arranged throughout the space spontaneously caught fire and turned to ash.

So that's it.

Rowan probed slightly with his Reality Warper's perception and quickly found the answer.

These were something extremely common in the universe.

—Power of Faith.

In this universe, faith wasn't just feudal superstition; it carried tangible, real power. For instance, the worship of countless humans over vast stretches of time could even create new gods in the Warp.

But this stuff couldn't improve his Reality Strength, and even if it could produce its usual effects, it was basically useless to Rowan—an "insulator" who didn't even have a Warp projection.

What's this all about now?

Rowan muttered to himself.

But soon, he realized something and let out a relieved smile.

"Alright, that's so like you!"

For the Emperor, worshipped as a god by countless humans across the entire galaxy, the faith gathered upon the Golden Throne was undoubtedly an astronomical number beyond imagination.

Since the Power of Faith was so convenient and useful, why didn't the Emperor use it more often?

Because the Power of Faith came with a small side effect.

That was—under the endless, varied torrent of human faith and thoughts—the Emperor's own will had become the least important part.

After all, the image, authority, and every detail of the Emperor in the minds of billions of people were vastly different. Sometimes, they couldn't even agree on something as basic as "how many arms does the Emperor have?"

The most direct manifestation of this was that the Emperor on the Throne often existed in a state resembling schizophrenia—babbling nonsense, his thoughts chaotic, unable to actively interfere with reality.

From this, Rowan naturally understood the Emperor's Intent.

Using a Reality Warper's ability to completely annihilate and erase the abnormally chaotic Power of Faith, allowing the Emperor's own mind to recover somewhat.

In simple terms—enjoy the benefits of faith without suffering its drawbacks.

He was basically freeloading off it all.

But the problem was—fine, you freeload off the faith—but why are you freeloading off me too?

Without hesitation, Rowan activated his Reality Warping Ability. A wave of intangible information materialized and transmitted directly through the Golden Two-Headed Eagle Mark.

You want someone to work, treating me like a paper shredder—at least give me something in return, right?

The Emperor said nothing, just kept sending the Power of Faith.

Rowan's fists clenched.

"...Don't play dead, Mr. Neos from Terra. You wouldn't want me to just use my Reality Warping Ability to erase the mark you left behind and stop helping you build the Imperium, would you?"

Almost the moment that threatening message was sent, the Two-Headed Eagle Mark reacted instantly.

What followed was no longer the chaotic Power of Faith, but the vast, overwhelming psykana power of the Emperor Himself.

"That's more like it. The Big Gold One can still listen to reason sometimes."

With the Emperor's psykana—nourished and perfectly attuned by millennia of boundless faith—now in his grasp, Rowan immediately started scheming.

Under the awestruck gazes of the three below, the flowing light around Rowan, dazzling like starlight, gradually spread and condensed into ethereal particles.

Using the Emperor's Psychic power as the base, Human Faith as the material, and his own Reality Warping Ability, he created an anomalous substance. Following his will, it flew before him, converged, and solidified into a physical form—a Silver-White Longsword.

Its blade was pure white and razor-sharp, its hilt made of Black Crystal, and its crossguard a golden Two-Headed Eagle in the Imperial Style.

The three present couldn't help but hold their breath simultaneously.

Just by laying eyes on this sword, they could feel the terrifying power contained within it.

Rowan slowly descended, raising a hand in gesture. The silver-white longsword drooped its tip, suspended in midair, and began to orbit slowly at his side.

"What is this?"

Lucia's eyes widened. "I can sense a dense holiness within it."

"...You could understand it as a weapon forged from the combined power of the Emperor and myself."

Rowan said, "It carries the Emperor's power, an extension of His might, capable of doing things I currently cannot."

As he spoke, he stepped forward.

The air seemed to solidify into solid ground. Rowan walked upward as if climbing a staircase, quickly reaching his destination.

There, a massive iron throne stood silently—the Captain's Throne.

This was a device common to most void ships of human forces, capable of linking the captain's soul with the entire vessel's Machine Spirit, thereby commanding and controlling the ship.

However, the Machine Spirit of this Strike Cruiser had long been corrupted by Chaos Heresy. An ordinary person rashly connecting to it would likely be twisted on the spot into a Fanatic of the Lord of Pleasure.

With Rowan's current Reality Warping Ability, purifying it personally would take an excruciatingly long time. But with this Emperor's Holy Sword in hand, the outcome was entirely different.

He raised the holy sword high and thrust it heavily into the Captain's Throne.