Chapter 369: The Source of Disaster
The moment the Eternal Crusader leaped into the Warp, a powerful Gellar Field rose like an invisible shield, tightly enveloping the entire battleship.
Heavy blast shutters subsequently closed behind the observation windows and all possible external openings, completely severing any visual or physical connection between the ship's interior space and that maddening dimension.
At this moment, the interior of the battleship became a sealed iron box sailing alone amidst the waves of the Warp, relying on its own systems to maintain the laws of the real universe.
However, within this near-absolute isolation, there existed a necessary and extremely dangerous exception: the Navigator's spire located at the highest point of the battleship.
This was the sanctuary of the Navigator, and the only node on the entire battleship permitted to establish a "connection" with the Warp.
The elderly Navigator sat upright in a specially crafted high-backed chair. His weathered forehead was covered by a meticulously embroidered headband, beneath which lay that tightly shut, inhuman Third Eye: the eye of psychic power.
Only this eye could pierce through the barrier of the Gellar Field and directly "see" the bizarre, color-cascading reality of the Warp outside, a realm composed of pure energy and malice.
His duty was of paramount importance: within the endless, chaotic turbulence, to find and lock onto the radiance of the Astronomican, maintained by the self-immolation of the Master of Mankind, the Emperor, from tens of thousands of light-years away on Holy Terra.
That light, within the visual spectrum of the Warp, was like a cold yet incomparably resolute sun, the lighthouse guiding all Imperial ships home.
The Navigator had to constantly calibrate the course, guiding the Eternal Crusader forward along this path of light paved by will.
This was a dance with madness.
The Warp was not empty; it was filled with indescribable evil entities, beguiling whispers, and terrifying visions sufficient to disintegrate a soul.
The Navigator had to rely on unwavering willpower to construct a mental bulwark, resisting all this corruption that attempted to invade his mind.
He was like a sailor tightly gripping the helm amidst stormy seas; the slightest lapse in concentration, and he might be smashed into the abyss by a single wave.
As long as he remained lucid and steadfast, he and the battleship relying on his guidance were relatively safe.
But once a crack appeared in his will, seduced or crushed by what he saw and heard, then that Navigator's eye on his forehead, which was supposed to guide the way, would instantly become a conduit for the Warp's demons to flood into the real universe.
At that point, this guide would no longer be a beacon of hope, but would incarnate into the deadliest and swiftest source of disaster within this giant steel ship.
The entire Eternal Crusader and everything it carried would face total annihilation.
Therefore, as the battleship traversed the torrents of the Warp, the silence within the Navigator's spire was far more suffocating and heavy than the roar of the engines and the shouted orders of the officers on the bridge.
Sitting upright within the Navigator's spire was an old Navigator who had served the Eternal Crusader for decades.
The long years and continuous contact with the Warp had left indelible marks upon him.
He was already elderly, and the recent voyages had only accelerated his... changes.
From the unique and increasingly insular perspective of the Navigator Houses, he was perhaps becoming more "pure," closer to the ancient form at the source of their bloodline.
But in the Imperium, especially in the current era—having experienced the Horus Heresy and being extremely sensitive to any mutation—any inhuman trait on his body would be unhesitatingly viewed as explicit proof of Chaos corruption, and a severe mutation indicating an extremely deep level of depravity, almost losing all human form.
Currently, he still maintained a rough human outline.
However, fine scales shimmering with a gloomy luster had already covered most of his exposed skin, replacing its original texture.
Gill-like structures had grown behind his ears, constantly opening and closing slightly as if silently breathing a non-existent aether.
The joints of his hands were abnormally enlarged, his fingertips extending into sharp claws as hard as obsidian, having long lost the function of operating ordinary tools.
At this moment, this Navigator was enduring unprecedented pressure.
The exceptionally violent Warp storm they had traversed on the way here had already ravaged his spirit, accumulating a massive burden.
Now, on the return journey, the aftermath of the storm had yet to subside, and in some sectors, it had become even more turbulent.
In this environment, he had to forcefully concentrate his willpower, which was on the verge of snapping, to capture that distant and cold light of the Astronomican.
The severe depletion of his spirit was most intuitively reflected in the rapid mutation of his physical body.
During this voyage swept up by the Warp storm, the attendant sent by the Navigator House to serve the old Navigator was standing nervously by his side.
He knew clearly that this rapidly accelerating mutation under heavy pressure was absolutely not some so-called "purification," but a dangerous deviation leading straight to destruction.
Once the Navigator's mind was completely lost amidst the drastic physical changes, he would no longer be a guide, but the source of disaster bringing total annihilation to the entire ship.
Suppressing the fear in his heart, the attendant closely watched his master's changes.
He saw those scales thickening and spreading at a visible rate, their color shifting from gloomy to an ominous blue-purple; he heard the unnatural shifting of shoulder blades from beneath the clothing, as if bones were forcefully tearing through muscle, attempting to stretch out and take shape.
His master's entire silhouette was twisting in agony, evolving toward some avian form with feathered and scaled wings.
Every course correction was accompanied by suppressed roars from deep within the Navigator's throat and the bizarre sounds brought by physical mutation.
The attendant dared not be the slightest bit negligent. Following the ancient methods inherited by his House, he injected specialized psychic soothing elixirs into the Navigator at the appropriate moments. In a low and firm tone, he repeated the bloodline aphorisms into his ear, attempting to anchor that consciousness, which was on the verge of dissipating, to reality.
His mission was not to observe and record, but to help the Navigator hold on at all costs to complete this vitally important piloting.
He had to ensure that this dangerous process of metamorphosis was controlled before the critical point, preventing this old Navigator from ultimately becoming an abyssal gateway that would devour everyone.
Cold sweat had already seeped from the attendant's forehead. Following the ancient rituals inherited by his House, he carefully injected the precious secret medicine into the Navigator's trembling limbs, while continuously whispering those aphorisms inherited from their bloodline into his ear, attempting to reinforce the mental bulwark that was being madly eroded.
In the past, relying on these methods and the Navigator's own will, it might have been possible to temporarily suppress this terrifying mutation, keeping it at a controllable edge.
However, this journey of the Eternal Crusader was destined to be a heavily cursed voyage.
Especially when certain indescribable entities within the Warp cast their "gaze" upon this ship, the situation had already exceeded the scope of the conventional.
Even though this ship itself seemed to be under the gaze of another great entity, this could not completely isolate all targeted malice.
And the old Navigator, situated within the Navigator's spire, his psychic eye forced to be continuously exposed to the frantic tides of the Warp, unfortunately became a fragile yet conspicuous channel.
The attendant watched helplessly as all his efforts were swallowed instantly, like pebbles thrown into raging waves.
The blue-purple scales on the Navigator's body rapidly hardened and spread, like armor covering his entire body; his back suddenly tore open, and a pair of membranous wings covered in twisted feathers and scales burst from his flesh, frantically flapping within the limited space of the spire.
The Navigator's head underwent a terrifying deformation amidst a miserable scream so shrill it sounded inhuman. A beak-like structure broke through flesh and blood, extending outwards, and his eyes were swallowed by pure psychic light.
The attendant was violently pushed away by an invisible force, slamming into the cold wall.
He saw in despair that the being before him was no longer the mutated but still rational Navigator, but a hunched, bird-headed, human-bodied monster exuding a thick aura of Chaos.
The monster turned its head, looking at the attendant with a "gaze" burning with malice. The Third Eye—that portal leading to the Warp—was bursting with a dangerous and chaotic light.
The Navigator's spire, this sanctuary of guidance, had in the blink of an eye transformed into the deadliest core of disaster on the entire Eternal Crusader.