Adventure

"Speaking of sorcerers." Oeno changed the subject, as no one could provide an answer to that topic. "When Maggot Eye came in earlier, he said the only sorcerer was dead. It seems the people outside don't know you're a sorcerer."

"Psyker." Qin Xa corrected him, then voiced his own opinion: "I think he was faking it. I am quite certain the people outside cannot be unaware that I am a psyker."

"You haven't hidden the fact that you're a sorcerer—a psyker—from the very beginning." Oeno frowned. "Perhaps that's because you don't think you can hide your abilities, but what if the people outside really don't know you're a sorcerer?"

Qin Xa met Oeno's gaze, pondered for two seconds, and asked in return: "If you arrived at a place and found a person lying among the shredded remains of hundreds of corpses, with no signs of a prolonged or intense battle at the scene, would you think the person lying among the remains used some method to kill those hundreds of people?"

"Using sorcery." Oeno answered instinctively.

"Obviously." Qin Xa nodded. "It must have been another slaver party that sent me into the arena. They discovered me, so it is impossible for them not to know I am a sorcerer."

"Then what if someone deliberately hid it for you?" Oeno asked again. "For example, the slaver captain is an acquaintance or friend of yours, or there is someone you know—a good brother—among the high-ranking officials of the arena. He couldn't stop you from being sent to the arena, but at least he could help you hide the fact that you are a sorcerer."

"Ha." Qin Xa smiled and said nothing more.

But he had to admit, if one operated on the premise that the people outside truly did not know he was a sorcerer, then someone must have hidden it.

Yet, no one had any reason to help him hide it, so it was more likely that "the only sorcerer" was a trick played by the host, another lousy idea to toy with the gladiators.

To increase the viewership of the gladiator matches, to increase the drama of the arena's side shows...

"Buddy, if your ability is dangerous, just like Caesar's, then I personally think you should be more vigilant." Oeno said very sincerely. "You mentioned before that you are a man of letters, you understand the technology monopolized by the High-Riders on Nuceria, so maybe you could invent something..."

"Invent?" Qin Xa felt conflicted by Oeno's idea. "I need a laboratory, I need materials, I need a lot of equipment. I can't get these things at all."

"I thought about it too simply. I thought you could just knock a few things together and build a weapon." Oeno recalled the movies he watched with the others in the slums when he was a child. "Just like the ones on the holographic projections."

Qin Xa didn't know what to say, so he lowered his head and muttered to himself.

When I transmigrated here, it wasn't like the books I read before, where I started by merging with a C'tan.

Even if Angron couldn't hear this inner thought, neither of them could offer any practical comfort, and in the end, they could only fall silent.

"You can detect that my psychic power is very stable, so can you tell me exactly how stable it is, what my psychic talent is actually like, and what my soul projection in the Immaterium looks like? Can you help me gain a deep understanding of my talents and abilities, and then I could..."

"Sorry, kid. I can't. I can only simply sense that you are stable. My prophecies revealed your existence to me, revealed that you used psychic power to kill the traitor soldiers who wanted to kill you under extreme circumstances, and revealed that your psychic power does not lose control even under extreme rage. But a deeper investigation requires preparation and time."

Qin Xa and the Librarian were sitting face-to-face, communicating.

That was when they were leaving on a White Scars cruiser after the planet had just experienced a rebellion.

"What preparation is needed?" Qin Xa asked.

"A lot. Rituals, certain ritual items, ensuring your mind is very stable, in a very good state, and controllable." The Librarian replied. "When we return to Quanzhou Fortress, I will find other Librarians. We will set aside a year or two to help you, to watch over you, and only then can we safely delve into your talents."

After saying this, the Librarian added: "As far as I know, the Grey Knights should have better methods, but unfortunately, we only know of their existence now. If you could join the Grey Knights, you could understand your talents much faster, but unfortunately, you cannot join them."

"Then you still said you would teach me how to use psychic powers in the future." Qin Xa said. "At a time when we only know my psychic talent is stable, but don't know to what degree it is stable, and know nothing else at all."

"First, I will ensure you don't become a conduit for demons to enter reality, because I would kill you before you lost control to that extent." The Librarian replied. "If you learn to use psychic power and your head doesn't explode, that proves you can become a Librarian."

"Sorry, child, I don't want to be this cold, and I am not a cold person. But this cruel screening, while not the best, is the fastest. This galaxy today will not give us much time."

"..."

Qin Xa opened his eyes in the memory.

He had just been "sleeping" in his memories, although he didn't need to sleep now, but there was nothing else to do anyway.

Caesar's corpse was still lying there.

Like a signpost, it read:

Psykers awaken randomly, and they die just as randomly.

While pondering where to bury Caesar, Qin Xa looked away.

Almost all the gladiators were fast asleep, including the female gladiator who had called Caesar a sissy and was also splattered with his blood.

Clearly, death—even very random death—would not keep the gladiators awake, because such things were too common in this place.

Angron had not rested yet; he was sitting in the corner opposite Qin Xa, wondering what he was thinking about.

And Qin Xa began to think about Angron.

The Primarch looked to be in decent condition right now; at least he was normal, not a bloodthirsty maniac who would pick up an axe and hack everyone to pieces without a word.

This was because Angron had not yet been fitted with the implant known as the Butcher's Nails, and had not yet been tortured by the Butcher's Nails' trait of causing pain if one did not kill.

If he remained in the arena, he would be fitted with the nails sooner or later.

Not just him, Qin Xa felt that he would likely meet the same fate, because the slave owners all expected such strong and powerful gladiators to cast aside all humanity and morality, presenting the most extreme slaughter before them.

The Butcher's Nails plus the magical narcotics among the three treasures of Nuceria—whoever it was, they would fall for it.

"Should I delve into my own abilities myself?"

A thought suddenly emerged in Qin Xa's mind.

But his vigilance quickly suppressed the thought.

Yet the thought lingered in Qin Xa's heart like a breeze, accompanied by a series of questions.

"If I continue to wait for the help of people like the Grey Knights or Librarians, just like in my second transmigration to before the 30th Millennium, is it possible to wait long enough before being fitted with the nails?"

"If I don't delve into my own abilities and instead try to figure out more ways to use psychic power, is it possible to escape from the arena?"

Although he had been inexplicably sent by the Immaterium to the 30th Millennium, ten thousand years earlier than the 41st Millennium of his first crossing, he had arrived nonetheless.

Qin Xa thought to himself.

If the result of his arrival here was nothing more than Angron having one more nail-driven, murder-obsessed lunatic by his side in a hundred years, that would truly be...

Qin Xa began to consider whether he should take the risk.

He first suppressed the impulses in his heart and made a rational judgment.

From the unknown stability of his psychic talent—which had remained steady ever since he learned the basics of using psychic powers from a White Scars Librarian without ever losing control—to the feeling of ease he experienced whenever he channeled those powers.

These factors led Qin Xa to believe that he might be able to safely explore his own abilities.

But even without considering these, Qin Xa felt that he still had to take the risk.

The reason was simple: without risking a deep exploration of his psychic talent and without relying on those powers, trying to escape the gladiator pits was nothing more than a pipe dream.

Qin Xa still remembered the accounts of Angron he had read before he crossed over into this universe.

Angron fought tooth and nail against slave owners on Nuceria, looking for all the world like a Spartacus-style uprising; those who didn't know better would have thought he was a mere mortal rather than a Primarch.

Yet, after The Emperor took him away, Angron easily tore a Custodian apart with his bare hands.

Angron was not weak; it was just that on Nuceria—a hellish starting point filled with small temples, wicked winds, shallow waters, and countless turtles—his superhuman physical constitution alone could achieve nothing.

And for an Astartes who could not utilize his psychic talent to a powerful degree, even staying alive was a difficult problem.

"It seems I must change my mind," Qin Xa muttered to himself.

Qin Xa decided to alter his short-term goals, shifting from escaping the gladiator pits to exploring his own psychic talent while waiting for the right moment, gathering information, and finding ways to organize more people.

Unless he was purely looking for death, he had to realize that the gladiator pits were not his greatest enemy, nor should he think that leaving the pits meant everything would be fine in the world of Nuceria.

The gladiator pits were merely a relatively safe corner within the hell of Nuceria; if he were to leave this hell to step into an even more terrifying one, it would be best to be fully armed, thoroughly prepared, and accompanied by a large group of companions with the courage and strength to enter that greater hell.

Risking an exploration of his psychic talent was necessary, as it was the only choice other than waiting for death or actively seeking it.

Even if this choice was merely one that didn't guarantee a one-hundred-percent certainty of death.