But before Cyril could sigh in relief, the hissing sound of a door opening came again. The Rust Sage appeared once more, dragging the limping One-eyed Jack.
The Rust Sage's electronic eye flickered frantically, its red light leaving multiple afterimages on his half-human, half-metal face.
"And I thought I had one hour. What are you here again for?" Cyril asked.
"Proof." The static from the speaker sounded like a saw scraping glass. "Data doesn't lie, but I've never seen a psyker who can fabricate data out of thin air. Show me your methods, Mr. Valdo."
Cyril stood at the edge of the altar, his nonchalant aristocratic demeanor pushed to the extreme. He did not even take that grimy hand out of his pocket, merely gesturing with his chin toward the erratically pulsating purple core.
"Hm.. Watch."
He quickly issued a command in his mind.
Consume 15 deception value points, exchange for 'Psyker Resonance (Visual Effects)'
The air suddenly became viscous.
This was no illusion. Dust particles suspended in mid-air seemed captured by an invisible force field, ceasing their drift before beginning to rotate counterclockwise.
Cyril raised his right hand, palm facing down, hovering it three inches above the core.
Hum~~!
A previously non-existent golden ripple exploded from between his fingers. It was not real psychic energy, lacking that nauseating stench of the Warp, consisting only of pure light and shadow effects. But in the Rust Sage's sensors, this registered as high-intensity energy interference.
Those golden points of light rapidly sketched out a string of obscure, incomprehensible runes, spinning wildly around the purple core.
The previously violently throbbing "heart" seemed soothed by a giant hand, its pulsations abruptly becoming rhythmic and deep.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Each vibration carried an echo.
The nutrient fluid in dozens of surrounding cultivation tanks simultaneously began to boil.
The experimental subjects, who had been twitching in pain moments before, now seemed to have their neural connections severed, uniformly ceasing their struggles, their eyes rolling back to reveal large expanses of stark white sclera.
"Resonance rate... ninety-eight percent?!"
The mechanical tentacles behind the Rust Sage suddenly stiffened. Several cables connected to the mainframe snapped due to overload, bursting with a shower of sparks.
"Impossible... my algorithms ran for three years and couldn't break sixty percent! What kind of art is this? The Holy Mathematicians? Or a forbidden heretical formula?"
Cyril withdrew his hand.
Those golden runes did not disappear immediately. Instead, they lingered like an afterimage on the retina, fading only after a full three seconds.
He pulled out that non-existent handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his palm, which was not sweaty.
"Formula?" Cyril scoffed, his voice filled with contempt. "You tried to calculate a god's emotions with an abacus. That's why you failed. I simply made it recognize who its true master is."
[Deception check successful. Gained deception value: 10 points. Current remaining: 20 points.]
The Rust Sage took a step forward. His one remaining human hand trembled as it reached out to touch the core, but stopped mid-air.
"Genius... this is art." The mechanical voice was no longer cold, instead revealing a terrifying fanaticism. "You're right. I am a mediocrity. This thing requires the consecration of a soul."
"Then get out."
Cyril turned his back to the Sage, his tone brooking no argument. "My ritual doesn't appreciate being watched by sensors reeking of machine oil. Take your dog and clear the area."
"You dare order a Sage?!" One-Eyed Jack scrambled up from the floor, clutching his broken wrist, his single eye filled with venom. "He's a fraud! He's stalling for time! Don't believe him!"
Crack.
The Rust Sage's servo-arm shot out without warning, grabbing Jack by the neck like a chick and lifting the burly man into the air.
"Quiet." The Sage didn't even glance at Jack, all his sensors locked firmly on Cyril. "If you disturb Master Valdo's train of thought again, I'll stuff you into Tank Four as fuel."
Jack's face turned beet red, his legs kicking wildly in the air, gurgling sounds of suffocation escaping his throat.
"One hour."
The Rust Sage dragged Jack toward the door, the six sentry cannons behind him slowly retracting into wall compartments. "If I don't see pure condensate in one hour, when this door opens again, it will be your death."
Boom.
The heavy blast door slammed shut, the sounds of massive bolts locking echoing through the hall.
As the last sliver of light was cut off, Cyril's straight spine instantly slumped.
Leaning on the edge of the altar, he gasped for breath. That profound, inscrutable master's mask shattered instantly, revealing the utterly exhausted mortal beneath.
Cold sweat on his back had already soaked through his dirty work clothes.
"What are you still standing there for?!" Cyril turned and growled at Lil Mouse, who was slumped on the floor. "Keep crying if you want your brother to die!"
Lil Mouse shuddered, scrambling and crawling toward Cultivation Tank Three.
"Disconnect the tubes! Pull out those damn tubes!" Cyril commanded while rushing toward a tool bench in the corner, grabbing a hydraulic cutter and throwing it over.
Lil Mouse caught the cutter, his hands shaking so badly he almost dropped it. He climbed onto the tank's maintenance platform, looking at the emaciated boy inside covered in tubes, and tears welled up again.
"Stop fucking crying!" Cyril, busy working around the altar, cursed without looking back. "Tears will make your hands slip! Cut the infusion tubes, don't touch the spinal interface! Pulling that out now will kill him!"
Snap. Snap.
The sound of the hydraulic cutter biting through plastic tubes was especially jarring in the dead silence of the hall.
Yellow-green nutrient fluid gushed out, splattering all over Lil Mouse. Ignoring the disgust, he frantically dragged his unconscious brother out of the tank.
The boy was as light as a bundle of dry twigs. The metal rod at the back of his head wobbled with the movement, looking painful.
"Big Brother... what do we do now?" Lil Mouse asked, his voice trembling as he carried his brother on his back. "The door's locked. We can't get out."
"Who said we're using the door?"
Cyril was now crouched beneath the altar, holding the stolen scalpel and rapidly carving something into the base of the purple core.
It was not some psychic rune, but the pattern of a 'Banishment Sigil' he had memorized from playing Warhammer tabletop games in his past life. Utterly useless, but sufficient to fool anyone inspecting the scene afterward.
He pulled a small pouch of silvery-gray powder from a hidden pocket in his sleeve.
Magnesium powder.
A magician's essential tool for creating bright light and smoke, and the only thing now that could interfere with those thermal imaging monitors.
"That drainage outlet over there." Cyril pointed to an inconspicuous grate in the corner. "It's for waste fluid. Leads straight to the Underhive wastewater treatment plant. It'll smell awful, but it's better than dying here."
"But... what about this thing?" Lil Mouse pointed at the still-throbbing crystal on the altar. "Didn't you promise that tin monster..."
"Promise? I never keep promises with the dead."
Cyril sneered.
He evenly sprinkled the magnesium powder around the core, then poured a bottle of high-purity alcohol he'd swiped from the Stitch Hag over it.
Next, he reached into his innermost pocket and pulled out the cold metal badge.
The Inquisitorial Rosette.
It felt heavy in his hand, as if carrying some invisible oppressive force.
[Warning: High-concentration Warp energy source detected. Direct contact may trigger uncontrollable psychic tides.]
The system's red warning box flashed frantically before his eyes.
"Uncontrollable is good," Cyril muttered to himself.
He took a deep breath and pushed Lil Mouse toward the drainage outlet. "Get your brother in there. Now. Don't look back no matter what you hear!"
Gritting his teeth, Lil Mouse crawled into the filthy pipe with his brother on his back.
Cyril stood before the altar, looking at the eerie purple crystal.
He pulled out a lighter and ignited the circle of magnesium powder mixed with alcohol.
Hiss—!
A blinding white light instantly erupted, illuminating the entire hall as bright as day. All the surveillance cameras were instantly overexposed, turning into a field of white snow.
In this brief blind spot, Cyril raised the Inquisitorial Rosette high.
"System, use all my remaining deception value points."
He stared at the crystal, his expression ferocious.
[Consume 20 deception value points, exchange for 'Emperor's Wrath (Aura Effect)']
Boom!
An illusory yet majestic golden pillar of light descended from above, directly piercing through the sanctuary's dome. It was not physical destruction, but a hammer blow on a spiritual level.
Sacred, majestic, unviewable.
Bathed in that golden light, the Inquisitorial Rosette in Cyril's hand seemed to ignite, bursting with a radiance intense enough to sear one's eyes.
"This is the consecration you wanted, mediocrity."
Cyril slammed the badge, symbolizing the Empire's highest authority, hard into the cracked fissure of the purple crystal.
Crack.