Blasphemy

Rovi ignored the cheers.

He turned around, feeling his back drenched in cold sweat.

That fight just now looked easy, but it was actually fraught with peril.

If the monster hadn't fallen into the trap.

If the incendiary mix had been off by even a fraction.

If the Defense Force had broken a little sooner...

Then Granary Seven would likely be a dead city by now.

"Data analysis complete."

Alpha the Priest walked up beside him, his tone grave.

"This biological sample's mutation level has reached the physical strength of a 'Quasi-Astartes.'"

"Without this Fire Trench, our standard weapons couldn't have killed it before it breached the line."

"It was just a Scout."

Rovi pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. "The Lord of Pestilence is testing our hand."

He walked to the map.

Picking up a red pen, he drew a large X over the Eastern Sector.

"Now they know we have heavy weapons and fire. Next time, they won't charge in so blindly."

"When do you think the next attack will come?"

"Soon."

Rovi looked up, gazing out the window.

Sunlight pierced the thick radiation clouds, spilling onto this scarred land.

What should have been warm, bright sunlight now carried an eerie purple-red hue.

He could feel the Amulet Fragment on his chest, long dormant, now faintly warming.

That nauseating sense of being watched.

It hadn't vanished with the monster's death.

Instead, it had grown clearer.

As if something, across the endless Warp, was idly observing an ant trying to defy fate.

"Alpha, pass the word."

"Collect all the charred corpses—I mean, the monster remains, except for the big one."

"You intend to?"

The Priest's mechanical eye flickered.

"High protein. Can't waste it."

Rovi said flatly.

"After high-temperature burning, any virus is dead. This is the best carbon-based fertilizer."

"Also, note the name of that Old Servitor who was blown up. Pay his family double the standard death benefits. If he still has family."

"Advisor."

Half a standard Terra hour later.

Buck pushed open the office's heavy blast door.

His face bore undisguised exhaustion, his single eye bloodshot.

He carried a linen bag, still dripping black water.

"When we cleaned up the big one's remains, we found this where its heart should have been."

He set the bag on the table and cautiously pried it open with a dagger.

Inside was a fist-sized, sickly green polyhedral crystal.

It wasn't lifeless.

Instead, it pulsed rhythmically under the light.

Each contraction oozed a faint yellow-green mist.

As if it harbored some nauseating life within.

Rovi's expression sharpened.

He didn't reach for it.

Instead, he pulled a sanctified long-handled metal clamp from the drawer.

This crystal gave him a terrible feeling.

It was like someone whispering secrets of rot and immortality through a thin veil, right into his ear.

This was high-purity Warp Condensate.

Tech-Priest Alpha leaned in.

The auspex on his back erupted with a sharp, urgent alarm.

Red warning lights flashed wildly.

"Detecting severe Ethereal Fluctuation, readings exceed safe thresholds by 300%!" the Tech-Priest exclaimed in panic.

"Advisor, this is heretical artifice! According to the Basic Purity Codex, it must be immediately annihilated with Plasma Fire!"

"I know it's dangerous, Alpha."

Rovi used tongs to steadily pick up the crystal and held it before his eyes.

Through its translucent shell, twisted, writhing shadows were faintly visible inside.

If mishandled, this thing could tear a rift in reality at any moment, turning the entire admin building into a playground for Nurglings.

But if handled properly...

Rovi's mind raced.

The thermodynamic laws of his past life clashed violently with this world's forbidden knowledge of the Warp's essence.

They gradually fused into a bold plan.

Energy conservation.

No matter how evil or twisted this thing was, its core remained a highly compressed and extremely unstable energy source.

It constantly radiated Warp energy outward, trying to corrupt reality.

And this radiation process

was often accompanied by intense exothermic reactions—

just like nuclear waste giving off heat as it decayed.

As long as he could strip away its "corrosiveness" and retain only the pure "heat"...

"Seal it in a Double-Lead Lined Stasis Field Box, then inject high-concentration Sacred Oil."

Rovi quickly constructed a conversion system in his mind.

"Then send it to the basement. Don't let it touch any equipment directly. Suspend it inside the main cooling Water Tank of the 'Kais' server."

Seeing Tech-Priest Alpha's confusion, Rovi patiently explained:

"This crystal will continuously release Ethereal Fluctuation, heating up the surrounding medium."

"The Sacred Oil and lead layer can filter out most of the harmful psychic contamination, allowing only heat to conduct outward."

"That way, the sealed box becomes a 'heating rod' that never goes out."

Rovi pointed at the floor beneath them.

"It will boil the cooling water in the tank. The resulting high-temperature steam can be routed through Heat Exchange Pipes to the Fermentation Workshop, providing a constant temperature for bacterial cultivation."

"In other words... boiling water?" Tech-Priest Alpha grasped the core principle.

"Exactly."

Rovi nodded.

"Use the power of destruction to nurture life. Use the embers of the Lord of Pestilence to ripen the Empire's grain."

Rovi said flatly.

His tone carried only a near-cold pragmatism.

"I think... as long as the final output is protein that fills people's stomachs,"

"whether it's the one on the Golden Throne or the one in the garden, neither should mind this little 'technical borrowing,' right?"

Tech-Priest Alpha froze.

His logic circuits seemed to enter an infinite loop, emitting a faint hum.

It took several full seconds

before the red light in his eyes gradually stabilized, turning into a deep blue, representing a kind of fanatical reverence.

He slowly raised his still-flesh hand

and traced a gear symbol over his chest, representing the Adeptus Mechanicus.

"Turning the disorder of Chaos into the order of machinery... This isn't just use—this is taming."

The priest's voice trembled, filled with an almost possessed admiration.

"Your logic... carries a beauty that is both blasphemous and sacred. Praise the Omnissiah."