The basement.
This had originally been the backup generator room for Granary Seven.
Now it had been converted into a temporary "Alchemy Workshop."
The walls were covered with soundproofing and insulation panels made of asbestos.
The dim yellow light of the Lumen Balls flickered among the complicated brass pipes.
In front of the giant cooling tank.
Rovi held a pocket watch in his hand, his gaze shifting slightly with the ticking of the second hand.
In front of him.
Priest Alpha was wielding three Mechanical Tentacles, lowering a lead-gray metal box into the depths of the tank filled with coolant.
The Warp Crystal from the heart of the Nurgle Chosen was sealed inside the box.
To isolate the maddening whispers and corruption, Rovi had designed three layers of protection.
The innermost layer was a Pure Silver Lining engraved with prayers to the Emperor.
The middle layer was filled with Sacred Oil blessed by a High Priest of the Ecclesiarchy.
The outermost layer was three inches of Industrial Grade Lead Plate.
This was not an act of faith.
It was based on the dual considerations of physics and psychic phenomena.
The lead blocked radiation.
The Sacred Oil neutralized psychic fluctuations.
The silver layer served as the final reactive barrier.
"Sealing complete."
Priest Alpha's slightly trembling voice came through the Voice Unit.
It was reverence for Forbidden Technology.
And excitement over such a mad idea.
"Coolant injection in progress... Heat Exchange Valve open."
"Record the readings," Rovi said calmly, putting away his pocket watch. "I want temperature readings every ten seconds."
"Understood. T+10 seconds, water temperature has risen 0.5 degrees... T+20 seconds, water temperature has risen 1.2 degrees... T+30 seconds, the rate of increase is accelerating. Signs of boiling in the core!"
The Augur Array behind the Priest flashed wildly.
Its originally blue indicator lights gradually turned warning orange-red.
A low gurgling sound came from inside the tank.
As if a monster were waking in the depths of the sea.
The heat-conducting copper pipes connected to the top of the tank quickly turned from dull to bright red.
It was proof that high-temperature steam was surging through them.
Rovi held a hand out and pressed down lightly, signaling the Priest to stay calm.
He walked over to the pressure gauge and lightly tapped the glass face with his finger.
"Law of Conservation of Energy."
He sounded as if he were talking to himself, and as if he were preaching to this follower of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
"No matter how evil or indescribable its source is, as long as it's still in the Material Universe, the way it releases energy must follow the Material Laws."
"Heat is heat. It has no allegiance."
"But, Advisor..." Priest Alpha watched the pressure reading continue to climb. "This energy reaction has already exceeded that of a conventional small Nuclear Fission Battery. The crystal... it's 'breathing.'"
"Let it breathe," Rovi said coldly. "As long as what it breathes out is hot air and not a virus, it's the boiler we need."
He turned and walked toward the Main Valve connected to the Fermentation Workshop.
This was his real objective.
The underground fermentation vats of Granary Seven had been kept at a low temperature year-round due to a lack of fuel.
The Synthetic Protein Strain, which thrived in warmth, grew at an excruciatingly slow pace.
But now, he held an everlasting sun in his hands.
"Start the Circulation Pump," Rovi ordered. "Send this steam, warmed by the crystal's 'body heat,' through the jackets of the Fermentation Tanks. Don't let our strains go hungry."
As the heavy valve was hoisted by a winch, scalding steam roared through the pipes.
The entire basement trembled slightly.
Rovi stared at the white steam seeping from a pipe joint, his nostrils twitching faintly.
No smell of sulfur, no stench of decay.
Only the pure, scorching smell of water vapor.
His tense shoulders relaxed a little.
The first gamble had paid off.
The dual physical and mystical filters of lead and Sacred Oil had successfully stripped the Warp energy of its "toxicity."
All that remained was the most primordial "heat."
It was scientific, and very Warhammer.
Three hours later.
Rovi sat in his office, a freshly delivered sample set out in front of him.
An aluminum lunchbox.
It held more than half a box of Green Soup.
Usually, Green Soup smelled like moldy feet and felt like chewing on wet newspaper.
But today's batch was different.
It was still steaming, its surface gleaming with a strange, alluring sheen of oil.
Thanks to the constant high temperature acting as a catalyst, the microbes in the Fermentation Tanks had completed in three short hours a reproductive cycle that usually took three days.
The proteins had broken down more thoroughly.
It had even developed a caramel color, like something produced by the Maillard Reaction.
Rovi picked up a spoon and stirred it.
The consistency was perfect.
But he didn't rush to eat it.
He took a silver needle from his drawer and dipped it into the soup.
The needle hadn't turned black, which meant there were no conventional toxins.
Then he took out a piece of Litmus Paper. The acidity was within a safe range.
Finally, he scooped up a small spoonful and put it in his mouth.
There was none of the stench he'd expected.
Instead, as the warm paste slid across his tongue, Rovi was briefly stunned.
It was sweet.
Not the clean sweetness of cane sugar, or the sharp sweetness of saccharin.
It was a heady aroma, like fruit that had ripened to the point of rotting.
Rovi swallowed the mouthful of soup.
A warm current slid down his esophagus into his stomach, then spread through his limbs.
His fatigue began to fade.
The ache in his temples from staying up all night eased.
An indescribable sense of satisfaction filled him, stirring an intense urge to take another bite.
"Clack."
But Rovi suddenly tossed the spoon back into the lunchbox, where it clattered sharply.
He stood and went to the washbasin, splashing cold water fiercely over his face.
The icy shock pulled him free of the strange, soothing sensation.
Looking at his pale face in the mirror, his eyes gradually turned cold.
"There's no such thing as a free lunch."
The physical filtration and the Sacred Oil's neutralization had indeed blocked the viruses and overt corruption.
But the nature of Warp energy was a projection of thought.
The idea of absolute "abundance" and "vitality" had still seeped into the steam and entered the food in the form of trace elements.
This "sweetness" was Nurgle's bait!
It wouldn't make you mutate right away, or make you sick.
It would only make you feel happy, letting you grow complacent as you savored that satisfaction.
Then, at last, you would walk in your dreams toward that eternal garden.
This was a slow-acting poison for the mind.
Rovi looked out the window.
In the square, tens of thousands of laborers stared longingly at the canteen doors.
Their stomachs were growling.
Their eyes were hollow from long hunger.
If he didn't give them food, there was no need to wait for Nurgle to act. A riot would destroy everything tonight.
Compared to starving to death or being torn apart by a mob.
Eating a little sweet soup with side effects seemed like the only choice.
That was the logic of survival in this fucked-up world:
When offered two cups of poison, choose the one that takes longer to work.
Before you continue