Inside the bio-laboratory.
One armored blast door after another sealed shut. Specialized force fields rose. Layered protective grids shrouded the entire area.
The tech-priests operated with extreme care, terrified that even a minor misstep in procedure could cause an accident.
You could tell as much from the fact that the Archmagi Biologis personally burned incense and recited binharic litanies to soothe the machine-spirits.
That was how cautious they were about the special pathogen housed in this laboratory.
Deep within the bio-laboratory was a contagious virus that could infect even tech-priests. Proper containment was non-negotiable.
"No matter what experiment you're running, safety comes first.
"Your precautions are solid. Looks like the research budget actually went where it was supposed to. That deserves praise."
Eden followed the Archmagi Biologis into the lab.
He surveyed the massive equipment and dense isolation infrastructure inside, then nodded with satisfaction.
Before this, he'd assumed projects like "stimulating Necron lust" and "feeding bananas to Flayed Ones" were just ways for the xenos bio-lab to hustle funding or indulge a weird research fixation.
That sort of thing was harmless enough, but it still spent money, so Eden had been a little skeptical of those projects.
But once he saw the sheer scale of the bio-laboratory, the meticulous containment posture, the busy tech-priests, and the various grotesque Flayed One specimens, Eden started to feel the funding had been worth it. The Archmagi Biologis were clearly taking the work seriously.
He wasn't an expert. He just liked metrics he could see.
In a sense, this was also deliberate. It was the Archmagi's way of ensuring that when leadership came to inspect, they saw the best possible version of the operation.
On ordinary days, they probably threw up a small shield and pulled on a protective suit, then got on with it.
As for powering full force-field defenses, that was extravagant. Wasteful. Funding had to be spent where it mattered.
Especially when they still had plenty of ideas that had not even entered research yet.
In any case, having even a single layer of high-grade blackstone force-field protection was already far better than the old Imperium had managed.
"By the Machine God's light, this is the duty of the Xeno-Biologis Institute. We shall explore the deeper mysteries of alien knowledge."
The Archmagos' electronic voice was brimming with devotion and reverence as he went on to describe the hardship and difficulty of assembling the laboratory.
Just capturing Flayed Ones had consumed tremendous resources and had even left one Archmagos severely wounded.
The Mechanicus had changed in many ways, and the Archmagi were adapting quickly to the new environment and shifting trends, especially in how they communicated with the Savior.
"It hasn't been easy.
"The Imperium's technology fell behind by far too much. Building from nothing and catching up is brutal…"
Eden sighed with feeling, offered more encouragement, and promised he would continue to strongly support the institute's work.
The Archmagi grew visibly elated. Their components creaked and clicked, as if they could already smell the funding.
With the Kalozasa Dynasty in the picture, increasing support for studies related to the Necrons was the direction of history.
Even if current research did not produce the results he wanted, he would spend until it did.
"I hope the research into the Flayer Virus can bring change.
"I want to glimpse the pathways that influence the Necrons, and forge a more effective means of control."
Eden thought with anticipation.
With the authority he held across realspace and the Warp, he could do many things.
The problem was how. Where to begin.
That was the true difficulty.
Not long after, Eden saw the Flayer Virus itself, sealed within a blackstone force-field matrix.
It was not a trace sample, but a heavily extracted, concentrated mass.
The Flayer Virus was said to originate from a mighty C'tan, Llandu'gor the Flayer. That entity was betrayed by the Silent King and the phaerons. Its divine body was shattered into fragments.
"I curse you. This gift will not fade, no matter how endless the ages. Fear will be cast upon you and all your kind.
"I am Llandu'gor, the embodiment of hunger. From this moment on, so are you…"
In the instant before its death, it laid down a curse, projecting fear and thirst into countless Necrons, leaving them with an overwhelming craving for living flesh.
That was the origin of the Flayer Virus.
All Necrons infected with it would develop an uncontrollable desire for the warm flesh of the living, and they would worship Llandu'gor, long dead and utterly annihilated.
The Flayed Ones caused serious damage to Necron society.
Worse still, the virus could spread through contact with a Necron's living metal skin, infecting and transferring with terrifying ease.
No wonder the Necrons avoided it like the plague.
Yet over uncounted ages of mutation, the Flayer Virus changed further. Its infection vectors and effects grew even more violent.
Its "curse" no longer remained limited to Necrons.
It could infect other mechanical beings too, whether vehicles, weapons, or tech-priests whose bodies were dense with augmetics.
Within the forbidden archives of the Mechanicus were records of special infection cases.
Some tech-priests studying Necrons had tested living metal and, by misfortune, contracted a hidden strain of the Flayer Virus.
They began secretly devouring flesh, self-mutilating, and worshiping Llandu'gor.
Not only that, their mechanical augmetics would stain blood-red and gradually warp into twisted shapes.
Judging by the infected tech-priests' behavior, they were no different from Flayed Ones. Some would even proactively join the enemy.
The concentrated Flayer Virus before his eyes was itself a horrifying weapon. If released, it could inflict massive trauma upon Necrons, driving great numbers into ghastly hunger and madness.
Eden shook his head.
"Unfortunately, we not only can't use it, we have to prevent it from spreading.
"Mad Necrons are even more terrifying than sane ones."
If he turned large numbers of Necrons into Flayed Ones, humanity's losses would only worsen.
At least proper Necrons, when it wasn't necessary, did not slaughter humans indiscriminately.
But Flayed Ones, slipping through dimensions and caring for nothing, were far more likely to inflict mass casualties. Merely preventing their ambushes would consume enormous resources and effort.
"By the Machine God above, we have no cure for the infected.
"But with basic protective measures, we can avoid its erosion."
The Archmagos Biologis stared at the concentrated Flayer Virus bound in the blackstone matrix. His electronic eyes, faintly reddened, burned with focus.
"At present, the only thing we can confirm is this: the Flayer Virus is not a purely physical intrusion.
"It is a blended corruption of matter and malign power. At least, the strain we recovered is.
"Through joint research with high-level psykers, we discovered that the Flayer Virus, by some bizarre means, grants Flayed Ones a slight ability to brush against the Warp.
"It builds an interface of some kind. It allows infected Necrons a sliver of possibility to connect to the Warp.
"Although that possibility is not yet sufficient to cause full corruption…"
Eden watched the Flayer Virus floating in midair, flowing like a living thing, and listened carefully to the Archmagos' report.
He gained a broad understanding of the virus' evolutionary path.
In short, from a certain stage onward, the Flayer Virus developed a subtle link to the Warp, gaining non-physical properties.
Certain Flayer cults even worshiped a Chaos Knight known as the Death's Blade, a crimson mass draped in gore and flesh.
They believed that Chaos Knight was an avatar of Llandu'gor.
Such an abrupt shift and linkage might well have something to do with the Changer of Ways, that idiot bird.
The Necrons were one of the most powerful intelligent civilizations in the galaxy.
The Changer of Ways could not possibly ignore a force that vast, so ripe for manipulation, provocation, and engineered change.
It might have attempted something in secret, still in the planning stages, without much success.
Or perhaps it had already failed and abandoned the plan.
"Either way, this helps me immensely.
"It's like standing on the shoulders of giants."
Eden was genuinely pleased.
Most of his authority was tied to the Warp. Meanwhile, the realspace authorities he held over Tyranids and Orks were too blunt. It was difficult to directly interfere with a Necron's mind.
Those things had no Warp shadow at all. There was nowhere to grab hold.
But now, things were different.
The Flayer Virus had an interface-like structure. It could indirectly introduce Warp influence and give his authority a way to function.
Eden turned to the Archmagi Biologis and gave an order.
"Prepare everything. I'm going to infect myself with the Flayer Virus and experience its infiltration firsthand."
"Your Majesty, that is…"
The Archmagos tried to dissuade the Savior from such a dangerous act, but when he saw Eden's eyes, he stopped.
He had no right to question the power of the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium.
If that being had made his decision, then he could certainly overcome the Flayer Virus' erosion.
Soon, they began their preparations with tense precision. From the Dreamweaver's cloning laboratory came the specialized body the Savior required.
Bzzzt.
Eden took control of and adapted to his mechanical body. Pale green light flickered across him. In silhouette, he looked like a towering Necron.
It was a body built from mechanical augmetics and a living-metal dermis.
"Feels pretty good. The cloning budget wasn't wasted."
Eden lightly tapped his chest. A crisp metallic knock rang out, yet his body felt nothing at all.
That high-purity living-metal shell stripped away most physical sensation.
This cloned body had been in development for over a decade, a novel experiment. He had once thought he would never need it.
And yet, now it finally had a use.
Eden had unlocked a "new skin." Even more Necron than a Necron, heavy with authority.
In this state, he was effectively a high-level Necron who could wield psychic power, able to perceive more than before.
This was the body he would use for testing. Nothing was more instructive than infecting himself.
Of course, Eden was not the first fool to ignore warnings and gamble with his own body.
But those people were either neutralized or thrown into the Inquisition's black cells. Until a cure was found, they were never coming out.
Infection carried risk, but Eden was confident he could withstand it.
A C'tan was indeed powerful, a god of the galaxy.
But the Savior was also a being on a higher-dimensional sequence. Even the Chaos Gods would not dare claim they could simply "poison" him with a virus.
Unless two Chaos Gods manifested in person, they could not stop him, much less kill him.
And Llandu'gor had been dead for who knew how long.
If anything went wrong, Eden could cut the link immediately and abandon this cloned shell to avoid greater risk.
"This area will be declared a restricted zone. Until further notice, no one is to enter."
Eden issued the command.
He ordered all personnel to withdraw, shut down surveillance systems, and reinforced the outer armor and force fields.
When everything was ready, Eden walked toward the blackstone force-field matrix.
The moment he stepped inside, he smelled thick blood.
The liquid-like Flayer Virus sensed the presence of life and began to twist and convulse violently.
The thing had no mind, yet Eden could feel its barely restrained excitement.
"Lively little monster.
"Come on. Let's see what you can really do."
He reached out and seized the crimson fluid. Before it could react, he slammed it onto his chest.
He allowed it to seep into his living-metal body.
The Flayer Virus spread rapidly.
Seconds later, Eden felt endless hunger and craving, as if he needed to devour all flesh in existence.
He could sense a new distortion in the dimensions around him. Echoes of devoured flesh and torn souls spread outward. The shadow left behind by a dead god still lingered in reality.
"No wonder the Flayed Ones can enter special dimensions.
"They're exploiting the leftover shadow of Llandu'gor."
Eden observed his own transformation from multiple angles, even actively accepting it and accelerating the process.
His living-metal body began warping at high speed. His limbs twisted into sharpened, predatory attack forms.
Even the nails of his fingers extended forward, eager to become claws.
The most violent change was within the dimension of his consciousness.
A towering flood of flesh crashed down upon him, mixed with a great deal of Chaos taint.
Yet that corruption was held firmly outside his mind, blocked at the threshold.
And then, he pushed deeper.
He dissected every component of it.
Ahh.
As he delved further, Eden heard a shriek that shook the heavens, the ear-splitting funeral cry of a realspace god's death-song.
Eternity had been annihilated.
Deicide.
"This curse granted to the Necrons also contains Llandu'gor's final memories.
"A god's remains are hard to erase.
"Maybe when I die someday, I'll also 'come back' now and then. A lingering soul, a phantom visitation."
The moment Eden discovered the memory residue, his interest ignited.
"Let's see what happened."
He wanted to pry into ancient secrets, to see what a C'tan truly looked like at its height, and how it devoured souls.
That was rare knowledge indeed.
The instant he touched the memory, Eden felt as though he had stepped into another dimension. An ancient tableau unfolded with brutal clarity.
The stars were burning. The light from dying suns illuminated a void on the brink.
The galaxy seemed devoid of life, with only faint remnants left behind in the wake of the C'tan's feasting.
Dusk had arrived.
The sight alone made the heart go cold, leaving only dead silence inside.
"No wonder they call it the peak bracket.
"Compared to that era, what humanity faces today doesn't even measure up…"
Eden murmured.
Then he saw an eternal metal temple floating in the void. A throne loomed high, and the rules of physics were twisted out of shape around it.
Upon that throne was no humanoid figure.
Instead, it was a spiraling tower made of flayed skin, warped metal, and the shadow of hunger itself.
Every layer of flesh screamed in unison. Countless souls were torn apart amid their wailing.
At the top sat a faceless visage. Down its center was a vertical split, a jagged maw lined with fangs.
It was the Flayer C'tan, Llandu'gor.
Llandu'gor's mere existence rewrote physical law. Even planets were toys in its hands, and flesh and souls were nothing but sweet snacks.
It was hunger given form. Even the metal of the throne screamed under its influence.
But Eden could tell Llandu'gor was weakened. The spiral turned more slowly than it should have.
The C'tan had only recently destroyed the Old Ones, and the expenditure had been immense.
"Wretched traitors…"
Suddenly, Llandu'gor reacted.
Its "voice" was not speech. It physically tore the void apart, then stuffed that reality into the bodies of every living and unliving thing in the region.
Eden's awareness sharpened.
He turned toward the temple's entrance and saw a figure.
As expected.
That man had arrived. The one who, as a mortal, had slain gods. His record was carved into history.
He was the only high-tier being known to have survived a peak-bracket run, having slain at least four C'tan.
The Silent King.
Whether or not the bastard had won by backstabbing, he still stood at the top of the galaxy. He had even fought beyond it.
He was not to be underestimated.
Even Eden, the Savior, had to treat him with caution.
In Eden's vision, the Silent King Szarekh strode forward alone, without a single guard.
Only the god-slaying spear in his hand, forged from the final stellar core of the Maynarkh Dynasty, burned quietly with ghost-green antimatter flame.
(End of Chapter)
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