Adam spread his arms.
Akiva radiation—or rather, the power of faith.
The moment the term surfaced in his mind, Adam felt the strange energy gathering toward him. It was intangible and weightless, yet undeniably real. From every corner of Mars, something was being extracted, rising and converging upon his person.
The sensation was difficult to describe.
Adam squinted his eyes, suspended in the crimson Martian sky, allowing the peculiar force to permeate his existence. His nature as a reality warper greedily absorbed it all, converting the power of faith into something more fundamental.
Authority, soul, and faith. These were the three key elements Adam needed to ascend further.
Regarding souls, the Warp held plenty of demons ripe for harvesting. The soul fragments extracted from the fire he set in Nurgle's Garden were enough for Adam to digest for a long time. As for faith, having now claimed the identity of the Omnissiah, it was flowing into his body in a steady stream.
And authority...
Adam's gaze pierced through hundreds of kilometers, landing on a strange area shrouded in eternal night.
The Noctis Labyrinth. Or rather, the Labyrinth of Night.
"...It seems things are on the right track," he whispered to himself, his lips curling upward.
Truthfully, Adam had prepared for a long war of attrition. According to his original plan, hand-crafting Emperor-class Titans was just an appetizer, and transforming a hive city into a Phalanx-class starfort was merely a starter. Adam had a series of "miracles" lined up—such as converting Mars' moon Phobos into a massive mobile forge station before the eyes of all the Magi, or opening a wormhole to other Forge Worlds so followers could witness the Omnissiah's power simultaneously.
But as it turned out, he had overestimated the Mechanicus's threshold for acceptance. Or rather, he had underestimated how much they had stagnated over the last ten thousand years.
Indeed, stagnation sometimes had its benefits. At least during this millennium, the Mechanicus's disdain for innovation and fear of unknown technology had effectively prevented countless dangerous technological horrors from flooding the Empire. If every Forge World were allowed to freely excavate, replicate, and use Dark Age of Technology relics capable of destroying planets, the Empire would have blown up many times over.
However, the downsides remained immeasurable. Adam's eyes grew deep.
In these ten thousand years, the Mechanicus had devolved into a rigid and conservative religious cult. They turned a deaf ear to the Empire's needs, kept their technological secrets hidden, restricted production at will, and squandered precious resources.
"The best way to destroy a system is to execute it at 200%," Adam shook his head.
The Mechanicus had executed rigidity to such an extreme that every Forge World was now practically an independent kingdom. They had their own interpretations of dogma, their own political agendas, and their own interests. As the homeworld, Mars was the nominal leader, but its actual control over other worlds was limited.
This was the mess the Emperor hadn't had time to clean up ten thousand years ago.
Adam knew the Emperor hadn't simply ignored it back then. As the Master of Mankind, He certainly saw the issues. But the Emperor had his own burdens—during the Great Crusade, He had to race against the four Gods of the Warp to unify humanity before alien civilizations could grow. Thus, the Mechanicus was left to its own devices for ten millennia. The Emperor chose to trust the wisdom of future generations.
Adam was that future generation.
"This is truly..." Adam smiled softly.
He wouldn't make the same mistake. Even though he knew the entities of the Warp wouldn't sit idly by while he reformed the Mechanicus. But the problem was, Vashtorr had already been sent to play the "respawn" game. With the Malevolent Arts now under Adam's control, the remaining Chaos forces would find it exponentially harder to make a significant move in the short term.
"Now, let me handle my own affairs," Adam muttered.
He shifted his body and began flying toward his destination. Red deserts, rolling mountains, occasional abandoned hives, and scattered Mechanicus forges passed beneath him. From high above, it formed a bizarre and magnificent picture where humanity's peak technological achievements intertwined with the primitive landscape of Mars.
The Noctis Labyrinth grew closer. The terrain here was starkly different. A complex, deep, and steep canyon system acted like scars on the earth, crisscrossing a vast area. The soil here was darker, almost an ominous dark red, as if something deep underground was affecting the land.
This was also one of the most mysterious regions in the Empire. Adam knew the reason this area was nearly uninhabited wasn't because of the rugged terrain—Tech-priests could conquer any terrain with technology. The real reason was that every attempt to build factories here had ended in failure.
Adam hovered over the Noctis Labyrinth, calmly watching the rugged ground covered in crimson soil. He could feel it. Deep underground, something was sleeping. It was a gargantuan mass of energy. Even after ten thousand years of imprisonment and layers of seals placed by the Emperor himself, it still radiated a heart-stopping pressure.
The pressure of a C'tan.
Just then, Adam's eyes flickered. A female voice echoed in his ear. The voice was calm, but beneath it lay an unmistakable exhaustion—like a poor soul forced into ten thousand years of unpaid labor by an unscrupulous boss.
"Please leave, unknown guest. There is nothing here for you to find."
The corners of Adam's mouth turned up. "Hello, Dalia Cythera. Guardian of the Dragon, jailer of the Void Dragon."
The air seemed to freeze.
"Who... who are you?" The female voice spoke again, this time devoid of its previous calm, replaced by unmasked astonishment.
Adam didn't give her time to react. "I am here to end your duty."
His voice wasn't loud, but above the silent labyrinth, every word was transmitted clearly into the depths of the earth.