Warhammer 40k : I'm not a psyker, I'm far worse Chapter 212: Adam: Can't Smile Just Yet

The seawater had swallowed everything.

Adam hovered above what used to be a street—or rather, what was now the deep sea.

Above, sunlight filtered through a hundred ters of inky black water, leaving only faint, swaying patches of dim light. Below, the ruins of the city outlined a blurred silhouette in the gloom, looking like a giant tomb sunken into the ocean floor.

Countless corpses bobbed around him. So maintained their final living postures, hands reaching forward as if still trying to run; others had twisted limbs, clearly broken against obstacles by the force of the waves; still others were bloated and pale, their faces becoming unrecognizable. They floated silently, drifting slowly with the undercurrents, occasionally bumping into one another before drifting apart again without a sound.

They were about to die, and were already dead. They were about to die, yet remained undead.

In the deeper darkness, bubbles gurgled upward. These ca from the interiors of buildings not yet fully subrged, where the last pockets of air were being squeezed out. Strings of silver bubbles drifted from the windows of an office building, swaying as they rose toward the surface, appearing exceptionally piercing in the black water.

Then, everything returned to a dead silence.

Adam watched this scene without speaking. Inferior Cawl hovered by his side, the chanical skull's crimson eye rotating slowly as it scanned the surroundings.

"Lord Adam, according to my scans, the survivors in this city... are less than one-tenth of a percent. And that number is dropping rapidly."

Adam nodded slightly but did not respond. His gaze moved past the floating bodies, landing on a deeper darkness ahead. Following his stare, the seawater was pushed aside, forming a visible trail of current as an object revealed its nacing silhouette.

It was a suit of power armor.

Deep green in color, it shimred with a cold tallic luster under the dim sunlight. Its fra was a size larger than any servo-harness Adam had seen before. Thick armor plates were layered over one another, and two massive chanical claws extended from the shoulders, their curved tips flashing in the water, giving the suit a bizarre "four-ard" appearance.

The Hunting Rig.

A favorite toy of the nobles of Necromunda's Hive Spire. That Hive was one of the most "resourceful" places in the Imperium, and the Hunting Rig was the best gift the Dark Age of Technology had left for those lords. It was more advanced than Astartes Power Armor; unfortunately, most nobles used it to hunt down-hive gangs or to show off at banquets.

Of course, the rig currently in Adam's possession was a version enhanced by the Universal Converter. Not only was it upgraded in every capacity, but the chanicus test reports claid it could withstand a direct hit from a macro-cannon.

Inferior Cawl's voice rang out again: "Lord Adam, this tsunami is highly irregular."

"My scan data shows that geological activity is perfectly normal. No earthquakes, no undersea volcanic eruptions. Gravitational data shows no abnormal fluctuations; it wasn't a displacent of seawater caused by celestial gravity. This tsunami is as if... it appeared out of thin air."

"Designation 169: Leviathan," Adam spoke slowly. "The true form of this anomaly is a giant arthropod eight thousand kiloters long. It seems the Foundation detonated a series of nuclear warheads on its back, startling it from its slumber, causing it to twitch slightly."

Cawl fell silent.

What? Eight thousand kiloters? How did such a thing even appear on a planet? Even the Tyranids weren't necessarily this absurd. The chanical skull's eye flickered rapidly, clearly performing internal calculations to digest this information.

"However, that isn't the point," Adam shifted the topic. "In a way, now that I think about it, my luck in coming to this world isn't so bad."

Cawl was confused, but Adam had no intention of explaining just yet.

As was well known, there were different versions of the Foundation. Different universes and different organizations had power gaps that were worlds apart. This world was at least within the range of Adam's abilities; it wasn't so strong that he was left without any ans of fighting back.

"So, what is your plan?"

"I need to confirm a few things," Adam's voice beca steady. "This will affect all my subsequent actions."

Before his voice finished, he suddenly halted. The Hunting Rig's sudden stop in the water stirred up a violent current, scattering the surrounding floating corpses. Cawl also stopped imdiately, all his eyes turning toward the direction of Adam's gaze.

Cold light shot out from the searchlights on the rig's shoulders, piercing the dark water to illuminate an area ahead. There, a figure was struggling. Or rather, it could no longer be called "human."

Deford flesh twisted slowly in the water. Three—no, five—arms and legs extended from different parts of the torso, flailing wildly. The head had been stretched into a bizarre spindle shape, the features displaced, and the mouth split open to the ears, revealing rows upon rows of densely packed teeth. More teeth appeared on its torso, its arms, and even its fingertips.

It stumbled to its "feet" in the water—if that twisted posture could be called standing. The buoyancy caused its body to wobble incessantly, but it still lunged toward Adam, its extra arms frantically paddling through the water with surprising speed.

Adam did not move. He simply watched the monster lunge in front of him before raising his arm. The rig's chanical power claw reached out effortlessly and gripped the monster's head—if it could still be called that.

The monster's body writhed frantically, its many mouths opening simultaneously to emit a silent screech. It flailed its extra arms, trying to scratch the surface of the rig, but the sharp claws failed to leave even a single scratch on the armor plates.

"Designation 610: The Flesh that Hates," Adam's voice was calm. "This is a flesh-virus particle. Infection turns people into these monsters, and under certain influences, it actively spreads the infection."

Cawl reacted instantly: "Spread via the tsunami?"

"Exactly," Adam nodded. "This combo was executed flawlessly. They were truly afraid that any survivors might live."

As soon as he finished, he waved his hand lightly. The glow of a disintegration field flashed through the sea. The upper half of the monster's body evaporated instantly. The remaining wreckage floated powerlessly, blood spreading into the ocean like a blooming crimson cloud.

Adam withdrew his arm and closed his eyes slightly. Sothing flooded into his body. It was an indescribable feeling—as if faint consciousness fragnts had drifted from the monster's remains and been absorbed by him.

Even a sliver was enough for Adam to confirm certain things. At the mont the monster died, he felt as if he had shaved a tiny shard off so distant, unreachable entity. It was only a negligible amount, but the harvest was far more than Adam had anticipated.

Adam opened his eyes.

"How is it?" Cawl asked.

"I feel quite good," Adam spoke slowly, his eyes growing brighter, and the corners of his mouth even turned upward slightly. "He's dead."

He paused, then repeated that obvious fact with a voice carrying an irrepressible excitent: "He's dead."

Adam forced down the wild joy in his heart, his expression quickly returning to calm. "No," he whispered. "It's not ti to pop the champagne just yet. I still need to confirm more things."

Adam already had a rough answer in his mind. The rules of this world aligned closely with a certain possibility he had hypothesized. If that were the case...

Adam stopped thinking further. He manipulated the Hunting Rig without hesitation, his form instantly breaking through layers of ocean currents, shooting toward the distance like a torpedo. The rig's power system ran at full capacity, augnted by reality-warping power, and his speed began to skyrocket.

The water trailed a long cavity behind him, and countless floating corpses and debris were scattered by the violent current. Adam's goal was very clear.

"First, let's head to... Three Portlands."