Chapter 240: The Emperor's Blessing
The tenth sacrifice opened its eyes. The daemon that had taken the body looked immediately at Kian — flamer raised, pointed directly at it — and then at the nine charred bodies on the floor. The situation was self-explanatory.
"Heh. I think I took a wrong turn actually. Can we be friends instead?"
Kian pulled the trigger.
"AAAAAAAAAGH—"
*Ding.* Daemons destroyed: 10 of 10. Mission complete.
The God-Emperor turns His gaze upon you for 0.0000002 seconds. That you completed His task this quickly has increased your weight in His estimation.
Imperial Favour: Level 0 → Level 1. Reward granted: The Emperor's Blessing.
Kian set down the flamer and held still, experiencing what was happening.
A mark — the faintest possible impression of the Emperor's psychic resonance — had been placed on his soul. His soul's immaterium signature, which had previously been colourless, now carried the faintest trace of gold.
He opened his attribute panel.
Mental Fortitude: increased to 50 — five times the human baseline. Warp Resistance: 400. Psychic Resistance: 400.
Full magical immunity.
He spun toward Silentium.
"Hit me with something. Right now."
"...Are you certain?"
"Do it."
Silentium shrugged, raised a hand, and applied a gravity working. Kian didn't move.
Silentium increased the output. Then increased it again.
Kian felt pressure — the sensation of a heavy training vest, roughly. Nothing more.
"Full power?"
Silentium was sweating visibly. "Yes. Full output. I've flattened vehicle-weight targets with this. You're just standing there."
He dropped the gravity field and walked a slow circle around Kian, studying the air near him.
"There's a field around you. Most warp-based workings can't find purchase on your soul."
He raised his hand again and fired a psychic shockwave — not at Kian, but testing the edge. The detonation scattered the remaining bodies against the walls. Kian felt it like someone had pushed him firmly in the chest. He staggered half a step, then steadied.
Silentium gave a thumbs up.
"Direct psychic attack is effectively useless against you now."
Kian laughed. "From this day forward, I am the natural predator of every practitioner of the arcane arts. The Warp's worst nightmare. The Psyker's Dad."
They had time to fill while waiting for the elevator. Kian decided to use it productively.
"Can I learn anything now?"
Silentium pointed at the floor.
"Try gravity. Lift as many of these as you can — that tells us what we're working with."
Kian raised his hand. Warp energy extended from him — he could feel it now, identifiably, where before it had been vague sensation. One body lifted. Two. Three.
At the fourth, vertigo arrived sharply. He stopped.
"Good," Silentium said. "Your soul has enough strength to learn. Start with psychic shock — the offensive technique. Three components: explosive force, heat, and tearing. The simplest attack form and it scales directly with soul strength. Compress warp energy in your hand, hold it until it's about to detonate, then release it forward."
He demonstrated — a wide-arc discharge that hit the remaining bodies and nearly destroyed them.
Kian focused, gathered energy in his palm, felt it thicken and destabilise.
"Now — before it blows in your hand—"
He threw it.
A small gold-tinted shockwave hit the wall. Three-metre fan spread, enough force to tear through unarmoured flesh — against armoured targets, insufficient. Silentium's equivalent covered ten metres of arc, extended over a hundred metres, and could damage light armoured vehicles.
The effort left Kian's head ringing. One more and he'd be done for the session.
"Rest," Silentium said. Then: "Next technique. The kinetic null field — what I use to stop projectiles."
He produced a pistol, pressed it to his own torso, and fired. The round stopped half a centimetre from his skin, hung in the air. He plucked it and held it up.
"The round's kinetic energy is erased at the warp level before it transfers to physical matter. You can't generate a full-body shield yet, but chest-coverage should be achievable."
He levelled the pistol at Kian.
Kian built the field over his chest, felt it holding, nodded.
The shot came. He felt a brief drain from his reserves — the energy cost of negating the round's momentum — and the bullet stopped and hung.
He picked it up.
Turned it over in his fingers.
"I can use this."
He lifted the stopped round with the gravity working, oriented it toward an intact-enough body across the room, and used his psychic field to strip away its existing inertia and replace it with an entirely new vector — then flicked it with one finger.
The round crossed the room and the target came apart.
Kian looked at his hand with considerable satisfaction.
A stolen bullet, turned around. Fired by thinking about it.
This is going to be useful.
[End of Chapter 240]
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