Contrary to the perception of many, the Adeptus chanicus was not primarily a massive political entity or an academic organization; before all else, it was a religious cult.
The vast majority of its mbers were genuine, devout believers in the existence of the Omnissiah, the Machine God. Their level of piety was in no way inferior to that of the Ministorum's priests, and in terms of sheer fanaticism, they were arguably evenly matched.
Thus, it was not difficult to imagine just how incredibly provocative it was for Rowan to blatantly declare himself the Emissary of the Omnissiah right to the face of a devoted follower of the Machine God.
Not to ntion, Rowan had stepped on another massive landmine.
The value the Adeptus chanicus placed on the hoarding and absolute secrecy of knowledge was incomprehensible to outsiders. They believed that knowledge was fundantally priceless and should never, under any circumstances, be shared freely.
If one wished for an ordinary Tech-Priest to voluntarily share technical schematics, it would honestly be vastly more feasible to simply murder him and attempt to extract the data from his corpse.
Therefore, the Enginseer's subsequent reaction was entirely predictable.
"[Binaric Expletive]!!"
Emitting a violent burst of screeching static, the Tech-Priest swung his Omnissian Axe while simultaneously deploying a swarm of octopus-like chadendrites. Various integrated weapon systems humd to life, and without a second word, he launched a lethal assault directly at Rowan.
Calm down? What was there to be calm about?
So what if this individual's identity was clearly extraordinary? So what if he was escorted by an Inquisitor and a Living Saint of the Ecclesiarchy?
What did any of that have to do with the Adeptus chanicus?!
The Imperial Aquila possessed two heads: one represented the Imperium of Man, and the other represented the Cult chanicus. Though seemingly unified as one entity, they belonged to two entirely distinct, sovereign systems.
Even if his chances of victory were microscopic, he would make this mortal pay the ultimate price for daring to insult the glory of the Omnissiah!
However, for so incomprehensible reason, every single one of the Tech-Priest's attacks violently halted in mid-air.
What was this bizarre anomaly?
The attacks fundantally refused to land.
The machine spirits dwelling within every single one of his chadendrites were practically singing with exalted joy... they were unanimously expressing absolute submission to the "human" standing before them. They had flawlessly and instantaneously betrayed their original master, and were now furiously expressing their imnse displeasure toward him.
His chadendrites, his bionic ocular arrays, his synthetic organs, and his internal filtration systems—every single cybernetic component was actively protesting, transmitting a torrent of complaints and interrogations directly into his cortex:
As a follower of the Cult chanicus, why are you betraying your faith?!
What the hell is going on?!
The Tech-Priest was utterly paralyzed by confusion.
This was a situation entirely beyond his capacity to comprehend.
Why were the machine spirits so effortlessly obeying the commands of an outsider?
Was it chaotic corruption? Was it the vile sorcery of the Dark chanicum?
No, that couldn't be it. Every single component of his cybernetic augntations had undergone rigorous, devout binaric litanies during their forging process, granting them a baseline resistance to warp interference. This shouldn't be happening.
Then... why?
His thoughts began to aggressively fragnt.
Because even the cognitive enhancent cortex installed directly into the Tech-Priest's brain was actively resisting his commands.
This beca the final straw that shattered his consciousness.
In a state of absolute delirium, a terrifying hallucination consud his vision.
Everything in the surrounding world morphed into a sprawling, infinite expanse of silver gears, brass components, and violently shifting streams of data, spinning and tumbling. Within his perception, a singular, cohesive entity gradually began to coalesce from the chaos.
These components of vastly differing shapes and sizes interlocked with the surrounding brass-toned structures in a manner so exquisitely perfect it was akin to maintaining the flawless rhythm of a musical masterpiece. Though their physical forms did not change, they flawlessly adapted to every microscopic vibration and operational cycle.
Without a shadow of a doubt, this was the almighty power of the Omnissiah!
Just as the Tech-Priest's consciousness was on the verge of being entirely absorbed by the flawless perfection of the Universal Machine itself, the overlapping, overlapping prayers of billions of souls roared in his ears:
"The God is Broken, the God must be Made Whole."
"We are the instrunts of the God, forging His divine vessel."
"Forged in accordance with His divine design, we are filled with absolute faith."
...
Ah, I see.
Ever since the first Emissary of the Omnissiah ascended the Golden Throne ten millennia ago, He had been broken. And now, the second Emissary, fully realized after ten thousand years, had returned to lead them.
I understand. I comprehend everything.
The conclusion was absolute.
The Tech-Priest imdiately deactivated his weapons and deeply bowed his head. Every single red-painted chadendrite smoothly lowered to the deck. He fell to his knees, pressing his forehead firmly against the steel plating.
"[Praise the Omnissiah.]"
At this mont, he profoundly loathed himself for being nothing more than a lowly Enginseer rather than a Magos of the chanicus. He lacked the requisite authority and power; he wasn't even qualified to openly proclaim His true na.
If I had only progressed further along the Path of the Universal Machine, perhaps I could have served Him better.
"[Praise the Omnissiah,]" he repeated, praying devoutly, desperately hoping to atone for his previous blasphemous transgression.
"Your divine radiance and power remain as awe-inspiring as ever," Lucia murmured in genuine reverence as she witnessed the Tech-Priest's instantaneous submission.
Cybia's focus, however, was elsewhere. Observing the bizarre spectacle, she asked Rowan, "What did you just do? His reaction is highly irregular."
Rowan shook his head, sidestepping the question: "I did nothing. I rely allowed the conceptual manifestation of the Machine God I hold within my mind to be projected into his consciousness."
Subsequently, he addressed the Tech-Priest directly: "I require the schematics for super-heavy tanks. Do you possess the relevant data-vaults for the Stormsword and the Stormlord? I need to interface with your mory engrams to extract the blueprints and structural designs."
"[Apologies...]" The Tech-Priest buried his head even lower, his synthesized voice heavy with profound sha. "[I am rely an ordinary Enginseer; the knowledge I possess is exceedingly limited. I only retain the internal structural schematics of those super-heavy tanks. As for the actual fabrication protocols and manufacturing processes, I am entirely ignorant.]"
"That is more than sufficient."
Rowan said, extending his hand toward the Tech-Priest's cranium.
"[It was my own arrogance to presu I could comprehend the limits of Your almighty power. Please forgive my transgression.]" The Tech-Priest felt the conceptual gaze sweeping through his neural pathways, and the fanaticism in his heart burned even brighter.
Finally, Rowan withdrew his hand and nodded.
"It is done."
He then cast another glance at the kneeling Tech-Priest, pondering slightly.
This incident had birthed a new, overarching strategy in Rowan's mind regarding the grand issue of salvaging humanity's future.
The fundantal reason for the Imperium's abysmal industrial capacity was that the overwhelming majority of its manufacturing output was entirely monopolized by the Adeptus chanicus.
And the internal structure of the chanicus was spectacularly unreliable; its fragntation and disunity were arguably even worse than the Imperium's.
If the Imperium was a bloated, decaying corpse, the Cult chanicus was a grotesque amalgamation of severed limbs violently stitched together, entirely lacking a cohesive form.
The various Forge Worlds were constantly engaged in vicious political and dogmatic cold wars. Naturally, this resulted in the modern Imperium's production and fabrication capabilities frequently falling behind those of newly established, upstart xenos empires.
Now that Rowan had objectively verified the terrifying impact his reality-bending dominion had upon the Cult chanicus, an audacious idea took root.
Should I attempt to fundantally reform the Adeptus chanicus? To forcefully integrate them into a singular, cohesive entity so they can properly serve the survival of mankind?
However, such a monuntal undertaking required ticulous long-term planning.
Converting a perfectly ordinary Enginseer into a devout believer didn't even qualify as the first step of this grand design; it was, at best, a microscopic starting point.
To truly set this colossal plan in motion, Rowan needed to acquire a piece on the board who possessed overwhelming authority and influence within the Cult chanicus.
And the ideal candidate for that role was actually quite obvious.
Wouldn't you agree, Belisarius Cawl?
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