Necessary Pain

In the basement of the Seventh Repair Workshop.

Rovi stood before a workbench slick with grease.

A gun-cleaning cloth in hand.

He slowly wiped the coolant staining his fingers.

His movements were unhurried, carrying a touch of careless elegance.

But that was only the surface.

His gaze never left the machine being "desecrated" before him.

A Heavy Logging Gun.

The brass pipes originally meant to circulate cooling water had been forcibly severed.

Tech-Priest Alpha was hunched over the gun's body.

Three Mechanical Tentacles simultaneously operated a welding torch and wrenches.

They spliced a black hose, wrapped in heat-insulating asbestos, onto the barrel's cooling jacket.

The other end of the hose connected to a High-Pressure Steam valve on the wall.

That pipe came from the Fermentation Workshop.

What flowed through it wasn't ordinary steam.

It was a special vapor, infused with excess vitality and high heat, after being "heated" by that Warp Crystal.

"Esteemed Advisor, this modification severely violates the regulations of the Imperial Armoury Codex."

Tech-Priest Alpha's voice crackled with static.

His infrared bionic eye flickered, betraying a struggle deep within his logic core.

"The Machine Spirit screams. It cannot comprehend why steam at four hundred degrees must enter a zone meant for cooling. This will cause the barrel to overheat and deform within thirty seconds."

"It won't deform, Alpha." Rovi set down the cloth and walked over to the weapon.

"Because the enemy we face isn't ordinary flesh and blood. A standard kinetic round hitting a Nurgle Beast is like poking a rotten slab of butter with a toothpick—utterly meaningless."

"We need heat. We need enchantment. We need a little 'fight poison with poison' from the Warp."

He pointed at the dark red veins beginning to emerge on the barrel from the excessive heat.

"This isn't overheating. This is 'charging,'" Rovi emphasized. "As for the Machine Spirit's scream... tell it this is the Emperor's wrath. Wrath is always scorching hot, isn't it?"

Tech-Priest Alpha fell silent.

In that moment, a storm raged within his logic circuits.

On one side stood the Imperial Armoury Codex, etched into his core code for millennia—an unbreachable dogma.

On the other stood the mad yet brilliantly practical plan proposed by this mortal, steeped in theological sophistry.

By all reason, any Tech-Priest would have drawn a Boltgun and executed this heretic defiling the Standard Template Construct on the spot.

But Alpha didn't.

Perhaps it was the time spent working with Rovi, witnessing a series of seemingly "heretical" operations that ultimately yielded astonishing efficiency.

Or perhaps even a cold mechanical heart, when tempted by the promise of greater firepower, could stir with something close to biological instinct.

In the end, the purest craving for "destruction" shattered the firewall of dogma.

"Praise the Omnissiah."

The priest no longer hesitated.

His voice trembled with fervor.

"Modification complete. Running pressure test."

As the priest turned the valve.

A piercing hiss filled the entire basement.

High-Pressure Steam surged into the barrel's jacket.

No physical explosion occurred, as some might have expected.

Instead, the Heavy Logging Gun began to vibrate.

Not the tremor of machinery at work, but something like a living creature taking a deep breath.

The once-dark metal barrel turned an unhealthy, sickly purple within seconds.

A faint network of vein-like light patterns surfaced across it.

The temperature around them spiked sharply.

Rovi felt a stinging sensation on his skin.

That was a faint psychic radiation.

"Kais, assess the status." Rovi ordered in a low voice.

The Wetware Server's cold synthetic voice came through the earpiece:

"Warning: Phase transition detected in the barrel's metal structure. Hardness decreased by 15%, thermal conductivity increased by 300%."

"As the projectile passes through the barrel, its surface will be coated with high-energy plasma and Warp thermal energy."

"Theoretical lethal effect: Causes molecular-level burning and ulceration to organic targets."

"Good."

Rovi nodded.

He didn't need this gun to last long.

He only needed it to burn those damned Nurgle Chosen to ashes before it blew apart.

"How many were modified in total?"

"Six, Advisor. That's all our heavy firepower stock." Alpha Priest retracted his Mechanical Tentacle, his tone fervent. "Now they feel more like... Sacrificial Weapons."

"Whatever they are, as long as they can kill."

Rovi turned and walked out.

"Move them to the defensive line. Notify Buck to bring his squad leaders and gunners to my office."

Stepping out of the basement, the outside world was shrouded in a suffocating gloom.

The stench of decay in the air had grown even thicker.

Rovi crossed the Granary's square.

Laborers were hauling sandbags and ammunition crates.

They moved with great effort, even tirelessly.

But on every face hung that eerie, dazed smile.

A Laborer dropped a heavy ammo crate on his toe, blood seeping out.

He didn't scream. Instead, as if feeling no pain, he grinned foolishly, picked the crate back up, and hummed a tuneless song.

The effects of the "Green Slop" were deepening.

This "happiness," laced with Warp power, was stripping these beings of their most basic biological warning mechanisms—

Pain and fear.

Rovi strode quickly into his office.

He locked the heavy blast door behind him.

From the bottom drawer of his desk, he retrieved a silver briefcase.

He opened it.

The deep blue potion lay quietly on the velvet lining, radiating a faint, cold light.

This was the "Clarity" sent by Governor Alicia.

Rovi didn't hesitate.

He took out a set of chemical vials and distilled water, beginning to dilute it.

He wasn't a pharmacist, but he understood basic dosage.

A single shot of this high-purity mental stabilizer, injected directly into these chronically malnourished soldiers, could cause immediate cardiac arrest.

He needed to dilute it into twenty doses.

This would reduce the potency and extend the activation time.

But it would still be enough to tear through that false fog of happiness.

Ten minutes later.

A knock came at the door.

Buck entered with five Defense Force squad leaders.

They looked "good."

Buck's one eye no longer held its usual ferocity; instead, it radiated a hazy softness.

A faint, barely-there smile hung at the corner of his mouth.

This was the aftereffect of drinking too much "Enhanced Green Slop."

"Advisor, you called for us?" Buck saluted, his movements a bit limp. "The brothers' morale is high. Everyone feels... hopeful."

"Hopeful?"

Rovi stopped what he was doing, looked up, and stared at him coldly. "Buck, do you think that out there is hope?"

Buck froze for a moment, as if struggling to process the question.

But his brain was clearly clogged by some cotton-like substance: "Uh... at least no one's hungry or scared anymore. Isn't that a good thing?"

Rovi didn't answer.

He lined up six syringes filled with pale blue liquid on the table.

"These are the 'Stimulants' gifted by the Governor." Rovi told a lie—a necessary one.

"They'll boost your reaction speed and perception. There's a big fight tonight, and only the core officers are qualified to use them."

At the words "Stimulant," a flicker of instinctive greed flashed in Buck's eyes and the others'.

In the depths of the Hive City, anything that could make a person stronger was hard currency.

"One each. Inject now." Rovi's command brooked no argument.

Buck hesitated.

But the long-established inertia of obedience made him pick up the syringe.

The other squad leaders followed suit.

The needle pierced the vein.

The pale blue liquid slowly pushed into the bloodstream.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Suddenly, one burly squad leader dropped his empty syringe to the floor with a sharp clatter.

Then he clutched his head, and a beastly growl tore from his throat.

"AAAAHHH!"

It was a scream of sheer agony.

Like a red-hot knife stabbed straight into his cerebral cortex, churning wildly inside.

Then came Buck.

This man, who killed without blinking on the battlefield, now went weak in the knees and crashed heavily to the ground.

His face turned deathly pale, sweat beading on his forehead like peas.

He retched violently, as if trying to vomit out his very organs.

The false "happiness filter" that had shrouded their senses was brutally shredded by this overpowering drug.

The real touch of the actual world came crashing back like a tsunami.

The itch of healing wounds turned into searing pain;

The sour, rotten stench of low-grade synthetic starch in their stomachs hit their noses;

The sweet scent of decay in the air instantly became the nauseating stench of corpses.

Worse still was the emotional collapse.

The euphoric satisfaction vanished.

In its place came the bone-deep fear, anxiety, and oppression of surviving in this hopeless universe.

All the negative emotions, suppressed for so long, erupted with tenfold intensity.

"Advisor... what... what is this..."

Buck lay on the ground, trembling all over, his single eye bloodshot.

His gaze shifted from dazed to terrified and ferocious in an instant.

"This is 'Clarity,' Buck."

Rovi sat in his chair, looking down at the writhing officers, his voice cold.

"The special Green Soup can turn you into tireless slaves, or mindless fools."

"If you went into battle with that stupid grin, you'd be swallowed by the plague in the first clash."

He stood up, walked over to Buck, crouched down, and met his trembling, one-eyed gaze.

"Does it hurt?"

"Hurts... hurts like I want to die..." Buck gritted his teeth, blood seeping from his gums.

"Good. It's supposed to hurt."

Rovi slapped Buck's cheek, not lightly.

"Pain is humanity's last line of defense. Only pain reminds you that you're alive, that you're still human, not a walking corpse."

He stood up and pointed toward the door.

"Remember this pain. Take it with you when you operate the Heavy Logging Guns. I want you to use this fear and rage to pull the trigger. Only the clearest-headed deserve to survive tonight."

Buck gasped for breath as he struggled to get up from the ground.

His body was still trembling.

His eyes were still filled with fear of the world.

Yet the false weakness had vanished, replaced by killing intent.

"It's... Advisor!"