Szczesny used his mind to control his ears, amplifying the sounds around him.
He could hear the subtle tremors of surgical instruments in the modification chamber nearby.
His eyelashes, once golden but now turned black under Nareth's Gene influence, trembled slightly.
He felt dazed, almost as if he were still lying on the operating table.
Ever since the modifications began, this sensation would return from time to time. Even though he had recently advanced to Sequence 8: Folk of Rage, he still couldn't fully adapt to the drastic changes in his body.
Lost in thought, he wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard footsteps nearby.
"Szczesny, time to get moving, we're heading to the Starvault Deck."
It was Bukayo's voice. Known as the Midnight Poet, he loved giving poetic names to everything around him. He called the deck where the candidates exercised the "Starvault" because from there, one could see the stars of the void, shaking off sleep and waking fully.
"Coming."
Szczesny braced his large hands on the bed and sat up.
He paused and looked at his hands. Like the rest of his body, they had grown larger.
He knew the food he consumed had been laced with stimulators and growth agents, making his muscles swell and bulge across his entire body.
Sometimes, his disproportionately massive limbs and overly thick musculature made him feel like a grotesque sea monster, something that should be thrown into the Coral Sea to die.
But more often, he felt unbelievably powerful, a vessel full of unspent energy that demanded release.
That was the purpose of the Folk of Rage.
With a roar, Szczesny sprang off the bed, his eyes now sharp and focused.
He threw aside the curtain and stepped out of the partition, spotting Bukayo, just as tall as he was, waiting outside.
The two joined the others. As one of the 28 original Vostroyan regiment commanders, Szczesny enjoyed privileges that spared him from forming 50-person teams like the rest just to access the Starvault Deck.
Moments later, they arrived at the deck. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the stars of the void were visible.
While Bukayo admired the view, Szczesny couldn't wait; he rushed into one of the training cages.
He pressed a button, summoning a combat servitor.
With a furious bellow, the Folk of Rage charged forward. His strength and speed surged, though not as proportionally as before; the actual boost was far greater.
In a flash, he was upon the servitor. With a swing of his massive arm, he unleashed his beyonder ability, Raging Blow.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The servitor didn't even have time to activate its defense protocols before being reduced to scrap by a single punch.
Szczesny took a deep breath and calmed down.
Two ship days later, with no signs of organ rejection, he immediately underwent his 12th modification: Sus-an Membrane.
As the flat, circular organ was embedded atop his cerebral cortex, Szczesny's body shuddered, then began to convulse violently.
Moments later, both the Chief Apothecary and the "Doctor" Marlena rushed into the modification chamber upon receiving the alert.
Marlena looked at Szczesny on the operating table with concern. He had never exhibited such a severe rejection response before.
Previously, his transformations as a "Sailor" and a "Folk of Rage" were physical in nature. But now, lacking any prior mental fortification, he faced his greatest challenge yet.
His brain, long since hardened into a fixed pattern, was now being forced into violent change, as if struck by a psychic tsunami.
Szczesny's memories shattered like a mirror thrown to the ground, splintering into countless fragments, each one cutting him from within as they flashed through his mind.
Blood began to trickle from his nose, his convulsions growing worse.
And then, at the peak of his agony, a voice echoed in his mind.
"I believe in you. You will endure the purification of this surgery and emerge transformed."
It was the voice of Nareth, his lord, and gene-father.
Like a bolt of lightning in a clear sky, Szczesny's mind rang with a single, overwhelming thought:
'I must not disappoint my lord. I must not disappoint the Gene-Father.'
His fractured mind snapped back into clarity.
The bleeding from his nose stopped, and his trembling began to subside.
Marlena breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that, despite rarely expressing it, Nareth placed deep importance on his old comrades like Szczesny.
He had felt genuine sorrow at Roslov's death, Marlena didn't want him to experience that kind of loss again.
When Szczesny adapted to the implant and opened his eyes, Marlena was the first thing he saw.
"Marlena, I'm fine. Thank you for everything you've done for me and the Sicilians."
Though Szczesny wasn't Sicilian by birth, since arriving at the Symphony of the Sea, he had fully embraced their culture. All his subordinates were Sicilian.
Upon hearing his words, Marlena felt something stir inside her, like food fully digested at last.
She recognized the sensation. She had mastered the power granted to her by Nareth. She was now a complete "Doctor."
Meanwhile, in Vostroya…
Pell Koschelny became the first to exit the labyrinth in the Underhive and reach the endpoint, the true start of the Ascension Path.
In his mind, the grueling tests of the past two months flashed by. The obstacle course had just been the beginning; the later factory search challenge was riddled with hidden dangers.
But the labyrinth he just endured… that was hell.
No food. No water. Endless, identical corridors. He had no idea how long he had been trapped.
Worse still were the strange noises and terrifying hallucinations. He often doubted his sanity.
He had countless urges to pull out the flare grenade from his belt and give up like so many others, but he gritted his teeth and endured.
He couldn't bear to disappoint his parents. He longed to serve Monarch Nareth, but not as a mere auxiliary soldier; he wanted to become one of the black-armored superhuman warriors.
Now, at last, he had made it.
Staggering forward, Pell was filled with pride and joy.
At the end point stood Thomas, who raised an eyebrow in surprise. As a master of the psychic arts, Thomas had arranged a massive illusion array using a psichic crystal gifted by Nareth from the Crystal Mirage to test the will of the candidates.
Within the array, each candidate experienced distorted senses. The weak-willed gave up quickly. Only the strong and perceptive could make it through.
The boy who had performed the best in every previous trial had once again emerged first, and faster than Thomas had anticipated.
'He is, without a doubt, the most promising candidate of this batch.'
"Well done," Thomas stepped forward and said with approval. "You've passed the trial, with excellence."
Pale and exhausted, Pell finally smiled. He had not let his parents down. He had passed.
Ten months after leaving Vostroya, Nareth returned at the head of his fleet.
Upon reaching his homeworld, he instantly realized that many affairs required his attention.
After careful consideration, the Primarch decided to first meet with representatives of the Cult Mechanicum to finalize the design of the Legion Fortres.
Why? Because most other matters were already in motion. They only required reports and occasional directives, which he could issue later without disrupting their flow.
.....
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