The illumination runes in the Daemon Inquisitorial corridor flickered, casting eerie shadows on the adamantium walls, and servo-skulls glided low, their mechanical hum echoing within the sealed chambers.
As speculated by outsiders, Knox had indeed confined himself to his room, not taking a single step out.
Outwardly, he claimed to be engaged in sacred meditation.
This was a common excuse used by the Inquisition's psykers, which both explained their long periods of solitude and deterred overly curious colleagues.
After all, in the Imperium's precisely operating war machine, who would dare to rashly disturb a saint who was said to have undergone a 'psychic resonance' with the Emperor?
That would be tantamount to questioning the authority of the Golden Throne itself.
Yet, reality is often more ironic than lies.
At this moment, Knox was performing a forbidden technique that could trigger an 'Exterminatus Protocol' among the Mechanicus on Mars.
If those Tech-Priests who treated the 'Omnissiah's Scripture' as bedtime reading were to witness this scene, their binary canticles would instantly turn into harsh error alarms, causing even the servo-skulls to spew overloaded coolant.
This was a new ability he had gained after the completion of his Knox Hall's side chamber, thanks to the 'selfless dedication' of a Khorne Greater Daemon:
[Aspect · Initial Manifestation]
Energy Source: The Seven Emotions and Six Desires of all living beings (including Warp-sensitive emotions such as faith/fear/battle intent)
Manifestation Specifications: Ten-Hands Emperor Aspect (currently roughly equivalent to the height of a Custodian Dreadnought)
Special Effect: Comes with a 'Soul-Reaping' aura (effect is close to a composite of the Silent Sisterhood + Grey Knights Psychic Shock)
Duration: Directly proportional to the emotional fluctuations of the victim (recommended for use in Imperial assembly settings)
"Isn't this just a low-budget, knock-off version of Emperor 's divine manifestation…?"
Knox muttered to himself.
But if the Inquisition knew he could casually conjure Warp entities, the next second would probably bring:
An entire company of Grey Knights kicking down his door, accompanied by three purification-type Dreadnoughts.
A special anti-psychic containment cage from the Inquisition, possibly even with a 'fragile' label.
An Mechanicus research application form, estimated to require filling out eight hundred pages of documents.
However, Knox remained completely unfazed. Within the tightly sealed room, he sat as still as a statue.
The hum of patrolling servo-skulls could be heard outside the door, so close it seemed to be pressed against the door panel.
Knox didn't even change his breathing rate. The 'psychic' fluctuations he simulated using the damaged Mirror of Retribution were perfectly maintained within the Inquisition's safety threshold.
The surveillance runes on the wall flickered, but consistently displayed reassuring blue psychic readings.
Meanwhile, in his sea of consciousness, a pitch-black vortex slowly rotated, greedily sucking in something like a Warp rift.
At the same time, in the resplendent Inquisition Cathedral of Cadia Fortress, thousands of faithful prostrated themselves before the Emperor's holy effigy, praying with all their might.
A faint halo of faith emanated from above their heads—this energy, which should have flowed into the Golden Throne, was now forcibly intercepted by some power, flowing along ethereal threads into Knox 's sea of consciousness.
The entire process was silent and unnoticed, even by the Imperium's most advanced psychic detection arrays and the prognosticators of the Astropathic Choir.
Knox 's consciousness swept over the scattered halos of faith, and a hint of mockery involuntarily tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"I don't expect these guys to burn incense and pray for me, but is this paltry amount of faith even worthy of being called devout?" He sneered inwardly, "It's probably worse than the low-quality mushroom wine brewed by Orks."
In his consciousness, the faith clusters of those believers appeared in all sorts of bizarre forms:
A certain Tech-Priest's faith was mixed with a secret crush on the Omnissiah, like adding inferior lubricant to holy oil.
A certain Sister of Battle's faith was so fervent it could be used directly as promethium fuel; if thrown into a reactor, it could probably ignite half a Hive City.
The most absurd was a certain tax collector's faith, as thin as the conscience of Terra's high officials, and carrying a hint of the guilt of falsifying expense reports.
"But… even a mosquito's leg is still meat…"
Knox consoled himself. Although these faith energies were pitifully weak, accumulating them, little by little, was better than nothing.
Time quietly slipped away during his meditation…
Ironically, Cadia Fortress, hailed as a beacon of Imperial faith, gradually became his 'faith power bank'.
"If the old man on the Golden Throne finds out I'm stealing power…" Knox 's consciousness shivered, as if he had already foreseen a psychic slap across the Warp, "I estimate that the next second, Custodians will come charging in with the Throne to demand payment for electricity."
However, for now, such worries were too premature.
After all, the Emperor is busy with myriad affairs: Chaos Daemons are doing square dances, T'au are handing out flyers, Orks are demolishing buildings… who would care if a few data packets were missing from the faith network?
Thus, after half a month of 'sheep-shearing' cultivation, Knox thought he had finally accumulated enough starting capital.
But when he examined the results, he saw only a palm-sized ball of faith floating in his sea of consciousness.
"Ha…"
He rubbed his temples. That pitiful ball of faith floated in his sea of consciousness, so weak it would struggle to light even a psychic candle.
"This amount probably isn't even enough to lubricate a servo-skull."
At this efficiency, Knox roughly estimated.
To sustain the Aspect's manifestation for even five minutes, he would probably have to drain all the faithful in Kadia Fortress into spiritual husks.
What kind of faith harvesting was this? It was simply pioneering on the edge of the Warp, with a harvest even more dismal than Orks growing mushrooms.
"Tsk, this faith lending business…"
He looked at the thin halo of faith.
"It's harder to deal with than applying for a technology license from the Mechanicus."
Just as he stretched his shoulders…
"Beep—woo! Beep—woo!"
A harsh ringing, comparable to a Chaos spawn giving birth, suddenly blared, startling the servo-skulls in the corner into spewing two streams of coolant.
That was Sima's unique alert tone for the Inquisition's encrypted channel, deliberately recorded to sound like the final screams of a heretic in an interrogation room, mixed with the mechanical shrieks of a servo-skull being vivisected.
"Teacher."
Knox couldn't help but roll his eyes as he pressed the answer button.
"For the Emperor's sake, can't you use a choir hymn as your ringtone? Like 'The Aquila's Hymn' or something?"
In the holographic projection, Sima's old face, covered in mechanical modifications, appeared. His bionic eye gleamed with the cold blue light characteristic of an interrogation room, and a smile that sent shivers down Knox 's spine spread across his lips: "Less talk, boy, come to my office."
He paused deliberately, letting the word "saint" hang in the air, "It's time to add more fuel to your divine aura."
Knox sighed silently. The old fox's unspoken meaning was all too clear.
The formal appointment he had been putting off, after all, was unavoidable.
He felt as if he could already hear the God of Fate laughing mockingly in his ear.