A direct assault? Taking the priest hostage? Both are too inefficient.
The Machine Spirit Throne possesses its own energy barrier and will defense; any forced invasion by external forces will only provoke the fiercest resistance.
However, if the Machine Spirit's own power serves as the "carrier," and it travels upstream against the flow of Lightning it actively releases, everything becomes perfectly logical.
Didn't you want to burn me alive?
Then I will borrow your Thunder, enter your halls, and enter your rooms.
The source of the Rust Plague was fully awakened the moment it came into contact with the energy circuit.
Like a drop of ink falling into clear water, the dark brown rust marks spread rapidly along the electric current, eroding the core of the throne's Machine Spirit consciousness along the dense network of pipes.
Wherever it passed, loose rust appeared on the metal surface, the luster of the energy circuit became murky and dim, and even the jumping electric arcs were stained with a sickly dark green.
The Machine Spirit immediately detected the intrusion.
It let out an angry roar.
It's not sound; it's a piercing scream that acts directly on all electronic devices.
The alarm lights throughout the entire Machine God flashed wildly at the same time, the optical lenses of all the Servo-skull turned red instantly, and the data stream on the control consoles rolled wildly like boiling water, frequently freezing and displaying garbled characters.
"What happened?!"
"Abnormal fluctuations in the energy circuit! The corrosion rate is increasing!"
"The will of the Machine Spirit is weakening! It... it's being corrupted!"
The priests were in complete disarray.
They watched helplessly as the golden reading, symbolizing the purity of the Machine Spirit, plummeted downwards at a terrifying speed.
From its initial 97%, it plummeted below 90% in just a few dozen seconds, and continues to plunge.
The electric arcs around the throne were no longer pure blue and white, but were mixed with more and more dark green and rusty colors.
The raging steel beast, as if its limbs were bound by an invisible virus, only caused the corrosion to spread faster with each struggle.
Phelps has a weak will.
In terms of soul strength and size alone, his remnant soul was nothing more than an ant compared to the Machine Spirit of the millennium battleship.
The most terrifying aspect of the Rust Plague is never its direct, overwhelming force, but rather its gradual, insidious erosion.
It's like the most stubborn mold; it takes root on metal and spreads when it comes into contact with energy.
Every counterattack by the Machine Spirit, every energy surge it unleashes, causes the plague's power to spread deeper along the energy flow.
It contaminates pipelines, corrodes nodes, and gradually undermines the Machine Spirit's control over the entire warship.
The weaker the control, the less power the Machine Spirit can mobilize; the less power, the more difficult it is to remove the rust.
A vicious cycle, like an unsolvable dead end.
When the bridge received the report, Dominic had only walked halfway there.
"General! Urgent report from the Machine God! The core of the Machine Spirit has been contaminated by a rust plague! The entire ship's systems are out of control on a large scale!"
The voice on the communicator was choked with sobs, with the background filled with the piercing wail of sirens.
Dominic stopped abruptly, the color draining from his face instantly.
My worst fears have come true.
He turned around almost immediately and sprinted toward the Machine God.
The Celestial Lions Terminator followed closely behind, their heavy armored footsteps echoing like a rapid drumbeat in the corridor.
The closer they got to the temple, the more obvious the signs of things getting out of control became.
The lights on both sides of the corridor flickered, sometimes pale white and sometimes dark green.
The ventilation system emitted an ominous hum, and the air it blew out carried a faint smell of blood.
Dark brown rust seeped from the joints of the pipes on the wall, spreading slowly like ruptured blood vessels.
Gravity also begins to become unstable, with occasional moments of weightlessness followed by a sudden return to normal, causing dizziness.
The moment Dominic rushed into the Machine God, his heart sank to the bottom.
The once golden Machine Spirit, is now covered in a layer of grayish rust.
Dark green mold covered the surface of the throne like a spider web, the electric arcs became sparse and dim, and even the height of the throne dropped by tens of centimeters.
The air no longer carried the defiant scent of steel and Thunder; instead, it was filled with the damp, musty smell and the metallic odor of rust.
"General!"
The senior priest at the head of the group turned around, his voice, hidden behind his mask, filled with barely concealed panic:
"It's the Rust Plague; it's mixed in with the Machine Spirit's Lightning and seeped into its core!"
"We... we can't stop them!"
"Have you tried all the purification procedures?" Dominic's voice tightened.
"Holy oil flushing, prayer calibration, overload burning... we've tried everything!" The priest's voice was filled with despair.
"The plague is intertwined with the energy circuits; for every inch we clean, it contaminates two inches more along the energy flow."
"If this continues, the Machine Spirit will be completely corrupted within twelve hours at most!"
Twelve hours.
Dominic stared at the throne, which was growing ever dimmer, and felt a chill run through him.
The Gemstone was his root, the glory of his family, and the culmination of his life's work.
If the Machine Spirit is completely overrun, this battleship will no longer be an Imperium warship, but will become a plague fortress floating in space.
At that point, without the enemy even lifting a finger, he himself would have to order it sunk.
"Summon all the priests to the temple." He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"Initiate the highest-level purification ritual! Use all sacred objects, all holy oils, and all prayers!"
"Yes!"
The ceremony began half an hour later.
Nearly a hundred Tech-Priest and Ministorum Priest gathered at the Machine God, forming a three-tiered circle.
Red robes and black robes intertwined, hymns and binary prayers mingled together, and golden aura of faith and silver-white mechanical holy light layered upon each other, converging into a massive pillar of light that enveloped the central Machine Spirit Throne.
Holy oil flowed along the patterns on the throne's surface, and golden flames leaped and burned on the runes.
This was the largest purification ceremony held on the Gemstone in nearly a decade.
When the luster is at its peak, the rate of rusting does indeed slow down.
The dark green mold sizzled under the holy flame, shrinking continuously, yet it could never be completely eradicated.
The power of the plague had already penetrated deep into the core, like tree roots, embedding itself in the deepest recesses of the Machine Spirit's consciousness.
The ceremony lasted for a full three hours.
The priests were drenched in sweat, the pastors' voices were hoarse, and the golden beam of light gradually thinned.
When the last wisp of holy flame died down and everyone collapsed to their knees, utterly exhausted, they were horrified to discover that the purity of the Machine Spirit had only recovered by less than one percent.
And the rust is still slowly seeping outwards.
The only difference is the speed; it changed from "running" to "walking".
It's useless.
The same thought arose in everyone's mind.