Warhammer 40,000: Echoes of Divinity

For Qin Mo, research and creation were the greatest forms of entertainment.

His hands moved swiftly across the data panel, engraving knowledge into its interface with the precision of a Tech-Priest crafting a prayer to the Omnissiah.

His eyes remained locked onto the data streams, his mind a maelstrom of calculations, processing new theories and refining his designs.

Every day since he had begun his study of dimensional transit technology had followed the same pattern—

A cycle of deep focus, discovery, refinement.

There was, however, one exception in his otherwise repetitive yet fulfilling routine—

He had learned the C'tan's method of communication from the Shapeshifter.

The Star Gods did not rely on primitive vox-transmissions or psychic conduits tainted by the Immaterium.

They spoke through stellar magnetic fields, encoded within the very fabric of reality.

No matter how vast the distance, if both parties were willing—

They could communicate instantaneously.

....

〈"How's your power recovery going? Think you can come rescue me yet?

You don't actually believe I told you everything I know about dimensional technology, do you?

I'm just a fragment—I don't remember much. Even if I were whole, I'm not a Star God like you.

I remember you had a good relationship with some C'tan that specialized in technology… but I forgot its name.

If I remembered, I could tell you, and you could just go find it instead of struggling to learn everything from scratch.

By the way, when are you leaving the Underhive?"〉

Qin Mo ignored the rapid-fire stream of words coming through the magnetic fields around him.

Perhaps the Shapeshifter had always been this talkative.

Or—

Perhaps it was just desperate for conversation.

If it weren't for the occasional useful insights on dimensional theory, Qin Mo would have severed the link long ago.

....

〈"Why do you keep verifying the knowledge I give you before using it?

Are you that wary of me?"〉

〈"Shut up."〉

Qin Mo snapped impatiently—

And the voice vanished.

In the newfound silence, he continued his work—

Only realizing much later that he had instinctively shut off the link.

The moment he thought about reconnecting, the Shapeshifter's voice returned.

〈"What do you plan to do after developing dimensional transit technology?

Head to Terra? Show it to that psychic ape and spread the use of dimensional engines?"〉

Qin Mo paused.

He set aside his data slate, staring at the void beyond his workstation.

He had never seriously considered that question.

If this were the Great Crusade era, or if the Emperor still walked among men, the answer would be obvious—

Find Him. Give Him the technology.

Elevate humanity beyond the Warp's tyranny.

His human consciousness made it impossible not to want to save his own species.

It would benefit both mankind and the material universe itself.

But—reality was different.

The Emperor was half-dead, entombed upon the Golden Throne. His flesh rotting, His will shattered, His spirit bleeding into the Warp like carrion into the mouths of scavengers.

He wasn't going anywhere.

And the Adeptus Custodes, along with the Imperial Palace's defenses, would never allow him near Terra's heart.

Which meant…

Even if he succeeded, how would he implement it?

Convince the High Lords of Terra?

What a joke.

A den of sycophants and bureaucratic carrion-feeders who had long since abandoned innovation in favor of stagnation. They would sooner see humanity burn than risk losing their dominion over its ashes.

〈"Humanity has never lacked creativity."〉

Qin Mo finally responded.

〈"The Imperium's greatest struggle isn't developing new technology—it's implementing and spreading it."〉

The Shapeshifter sounded puzzled.

〈"I don't understand. If you can replace Warp travel, why wouldn't humanity immediately adopt it?"〉

Qin Mo scoffed.

〈"By that same logic, why would the Silent King reject immortality? You lack perspective."〉

He leaned back in his chair, voice cold and methodical.

〈"When the C'tan met the Necrontyr, the Warp wasn't as nightmarish as it is now."〉

He continued, his voice growing colder

〈"Imagine you're not a Star God—you're just a mortal bound by flesh and bone.

You know the Ruinous Powers can reach into your mind, that every fleeting thought, every stroke of brilliance, could be a whisper from the Dark Gods.

Would you still dare to use some unknown technology?

Would you stake your soul on the hope that your inspiration is your own—and not the lure of a daemonic predator?"〉

A long silence followed.

Then—

〈"That's miserable."〉

The Shapeshifter's voice was laced with distaste.

〈"If humanity has fallen to such paranoia, what's the point of even existing?

Might as well have the decency to go extinct."〉

Qin Mo laughed.

A dry, mocking sound.

〈"You say that, yet here you are—a fragmented husk.

I don't see you trying to end yourself.

Aren't you doing everything in your power to win my favor—hoping one day I'll go beg the Silent King to put you back together?"〉

"…"

The link went silent.

For a long time, the Shapeshifter did not respond.

Finally, it spoke again.

〈"If the Forgemaster's consciousness still existed alongside yours…

You two would get along perfectly.

You both wield words like knives."〉

Qin Mo smirked and returned to his research.

....

The Underhive knew no time.

For Grey, days blurred into each other.

Only when he woke up, walked to the mirror, and noticed his beard had grown long, did he realize—

It had been nearly 100 days since Qin Mo locked himself away for research.

For those 100 days, Grey had done only one thing—

Hunt.

He and Anruida scoured the Underhive, accelerating the hertics and xenos' extinction.

They fought until exhaustion.

Rested.

Woke up.

And fought again.

"Anruida, you awake?"

Grey grabbed his vox-communicator.

"Awake."

Anruida's calm voice came through.

"I'm ready to move out whenever you are."

"Grot's still locked in the fortress?"

Grey took a drink of water, settling into the sofa.

"Still can't deploy."

Anruida confirmed.

"Before starting his research, the Lord Commander ordered him to stay behind and guard the fortress."

Grey snorted.

"Qin Mo doesn't need protection. I bet Grot was punished for something."

"Who knows?" Anruida sighed. "I'm suiting up. Ending transmission."

....

New Kato

Grey walked to the window, gazing down at the city below.

As one of Qin Mo's Thunderborns, he had been assigned a residence in New Kato—

A twentieth-floor apartment overlooking the city center.

Half the fortress-city was already complete.

Drones printed new buildings, working tirelessly.

Civilians moved efficiently—

Children were delivered to education blocks before their parents departed to manufactorums and barracks.

Massive holo-screens displayed Imperial forces crushing the alien rebels.

Thousands of drones patrolled the city, ensuring absolute order.

Grey exhaled, his breath fogging against the reinforced glass.

For him, this was entertainment.

Watching the city rise—

Watching it become something greater than the war-torn filth pit it had once been.

As he observed, a transport drone appeared on the horizon

Anruida stood in the open hatch, helmet under his arm, giving Grey an exasperated look.

Grey chuckled.

"On my way."

He suited up in his Thunderborn armor, opened the window, and leaped onto the transport.

"Where to today?" he asked, running diagnostics on his armor's systems.

"Seven hundred kilometers north," Anruida replied. "Five minutes ago, we received a distress call.

A woman reported her husband missing—he vanished while exploring an ancient ruin.

The garrison is busy with training exercises. It's just us."

"Alright."

Grey secured his weapon.

"Let's go."