Bio-Forge

After giving Old John his orders, Rovi returned to the Supervisor's office at the top of the tower.

The heavy weight in his heart hadn't lifted, not even after that impromptu "incognito inspection."

The rot in this world was bone-deep.

He'd just saved three women with a thunderous hand—maybe he could save thirty more—but he couldn't save everyone.

Not unless he could fundamentally change the living conditions here.

Either establish a system that could run itself, even in the dark.

"Advisor."

Alpha stood before the Holographic Map, though he wasn't looking at it.

His red bionic optical eye, modified through cybernetics, was fixed intently on a Dataslate in his hand, flickering at a rapid frequency.

That meant his core processor was running at an extreme load, teetering on the edge of overheating.

"What's up? Is that vehicle fixed yet?"

Rovi shrugged off his dust-caked coat, sat back in his chair, and rubbed his tired brow.

"Fixed? No, 'evolved' might be more accurate. Even if that evolution is steeped in blasphemous beauty and lethal danger."

Alpha's Mechanical Tentacle quivered with excitement, projecting a set of microscopic images into the air.

In the image, dark purple metal cells were frantically devouring and tearing apart a pale white chitinous structure.

Yet the next second, the shredded chitin rapidly reassembled into harder crystals, piercing back through the metal cells.

"The 'Wall of Gluttony' has lost control of its activity."

Alpha's voice carried a strange mix of fear and fervor.

"Before, it was just the product of Plague Power corroding metal—a 'dead cycle of decay and rebirth.'"

"But this time, it absorbed biomass from the Genestealer: the Tyranid represents ultimate adaptation and evolution."

"These two forces have erupted into a violent war at the microscopic level."

Alpha pointed at the cells, constantly dying and regenerating, and spoke quickly:

"The Plague's power tries to corrupt the Tyranid cells, dragging them into eternal stagnation; the Tyranid biomass tries to analyze the Plague, evolving immunity to devour the other side."

"And the result?"

"The result is a terrifying dynamic equilibrium." The Priest's tone grew low. "Neither can destroy the other, so they've started seeking external energy to sustain the war."

"That means ordinary Walking Dead corpses and low-calorie rotten flesh can no longer meet its maintenance needs. Its metal cells are shrinking from energy depletion."

"If we don't supply high-energy organic matter, it'll turn on the vehicle for energy—or even digest the living people in the cockpit."

Rovi was silent for a moment, fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

"That doesn't add up, Alpha." Rovi's gaze sharpened. "If it were just a war of attrition, this structure would have collapsed long ago. The fact that it's still holding together means these two forces have created a new mechanism in the process of tearing each other apart."

Rovi stood and walked to the projection.

"The Plague gave the metal 'immortality'—even if damaged, it can repair itself. The Tyranid genes gave it 'adaptability'—letting it adjust its structure against different attacks."

He paused again.

Then, like an auditor spotting a ledger discrepancy, he threw out a bold guess:

"Is it possible that the current 'Wall of Gluttony' is actually a Bio-Forge? What it lacks isn't energy, but 'Fuel.'"

"It needs the heat from burning high-energy organics to suppress the conflict between these two forces, forging them into a new alloy by force?"

At that, Alpha shuddered.

As if a lightning bolt had struck through his logic circuits.

"A Bio-Forge... using heat to suppress conflict... forging the chaos of disorder and the greed of evolution into orderly machinery..."

The Priest began muttering to himself, his Mechanical Tentacle dancing wildly in the air, as if performing some sacred calculation.

"Praise the Omnissiah! If this theory holds, we're no longer passive feeders—we're blacksmiths wielding hammers!"

Watching the Priest fall into a fervent trance, Rovi didn't smile.

He walked up to Alpha, reached out, and grabbed the trembling Mechanical Tentacle, forcibly interrupting his calculations.

"Alpha." Rovi's tone was deadly serious. "Do you know what this means?"

The Priest froze, the red light in his bionic eye gradually steadying.

"It means the path you're about to tread is one even the Dark Mechanicum hasn't walked. Even if they did, no one ever came back alive."

Rovi's face was grim as he warned:

"You're trying to use mortal wisdom to harness the curse of gods and the nightmare of the cosmos. This road is fraught with extreme danger and a loneliness the outside world won't understand."

"Once exposed, the Fabricator General of Mars will personally order you dismantled into parts; your name will be carved on history's pillar of shame, cursed by all."

"You might even be abandoned by the Machine God."

This time, Alpha was silent for a long time.

He lowered his head, gazing at his own steel-forged hands, and spoke slowly after a long silence:

"Advisor, when I first saw metal grow like flesh and blood on that Harvester, I knew I could never go back."

The Priest lifted his head, his voice regaining its usual calm solemnity:

"Truth often hides within the deepest heresy."

"If safeguarding this granary, this vital artery of the Empire, requires someone to leap into the abyss and steal the spark... then why not me?"

He extended a Mechanical Tentacle and gently clasped Rovi's hand.

The cold touch of metal came through, yet it brought Rovi a warmth he had never felt before.

"I have a request, Rovi."

This was the first time the Priest had called him by name, without using the title "Advisor."

"You already know that within my logic core is inscribed the highest protocol: 'Loyalty.'"

"But I am still flesh and blood. My brain can still be corrupted by the whispers of the Warp."

Priest Alpha pointed to the blue-glowing interface slot at the back of his own head.

"If one day, my thirst for power outweighs my reverence for truth."

"If the dark forces overwhelm my loyalty to the Emperor, and my self-destruct mechanism fails..."

The Priest pleaded, almost humbly:

"Then you must kill me with your own hands. Do not hesitate. Do not show mercy. Use your Boltgun to blast apart my logic core, along with this head."

"I don't want to become one of those monsters that oozes pus and praises decay. I want... to die cleanly, as a human."

Rovi stared at the face half-flesh, half-steel, and remained silent for a long time.

He offered no cheap comfort like "That day will never come."

In this world, promises were as flimsy as scrap paper; only death was eternal.

Rovi simply placed his hand on the holster at his waist, fingers lightly brushing the rough leather, and said in a low voice:

"I promise you, Alpha."

It was a vow from one man to another.

And a guarantee from one madman to another.

Hearing this, the oil-stained face of Priest Alpha twitched stiffly at the remaining corner of his mouth.

"Zzzt, zzz, ha—ha—"

A staccato noise of grinding gears came from his Voice Unit.

Rovi didn't know if Alpha, after undergoing Adeptus Mechanicus modifications to purge so-called "weak emotions," had retained the emotional module for something called "laughter."

But this strange sound, laced with static, truly seemed joyful.

Once the "laughter" ceased, Priest Alpha quickly reverted to his cold, technical demeanor.

"Also, Advisor, calculations show that with the restoration of heating and population growth, our fertilizer reserves will run out by next month."

"Without fertilizer, the fungal greenhouse yields will plummet. Then we won't even have Green Soup to drink."

Fuel was secured, but a new shortfall had emerged.

It was a vicious cycle.

Rovi walked to the map, his gaze crossing the boundaries of Granary Seven, passing over the perilous marshlands, and finally settling on a red dot.

Granary Nine.

"Kais, pull up the data on Granary Nine."

The holographic projection shifted, revealing a massive industrial complex.

"Granary Nine, former seed and fertilizer base," the Kais Server's electronic voice explained. "Also, Fertility II's largest primary Corpse Starch processing center."

"Due to insufficient local population, it houses a small Orbital Elevator Receiving Station, specifically tasked with receiving 'organic waste'—i.e., corpses—from external Hive Worlds, as well as high-energy organic residue from the Promethium Refinery."

Rovi's eyes narrowed.

High-energy organic residue.

Corpse Starch.

Fertilizer.

These were exactly the three things he needed most.

To feed the voracious Wall of Gluttony.

To keep the land producing grain.

To sustain the fragile prosperity just established.

Granary Nine was a strategic node that had to be taken.

"What's the situation there now?" Rovi asked.

"It's very strange," Kais Server replied. "According to remote thermal imaging scans, Granary Nine shows no large-scale living reactions. Unlike Granary Four, which is crawling with Walking Dead."

"But?" Rovi caught the unspoken implication.

"But the temperature there is abnormally high."

Kais pulled up a thermal map. The entire Granary Nine area blazed in a dazzling deep red.

"The core zone's temperature peaks above eighty degrees Celsius, and it's remarkably stable."

"It's like..." Kais Server seemed to search for the right words.

"Like a giant oven?" Rovi said it for him.

"Yes, Advisor. An oven that's baking something..."