The applause from the crowd still echoed in the back of my mind, a pleasant hum that accompanied the rhythm of my work. But fame was a fleeting distraction; the real work lay on my workbench. I needed a heart for my creations a core capable of producing clean, safe, and immense energy, yet small enough to integrate into my more... ambitious designs.
"Just a few more days," I muttered to the empty lab, reaching for a sandwich Z23 had left for me.
I took a hurried bite, the flavors barely registering as my eyes drifted toward the containment canister sitting in the corner.
"Actually, I can't just let that Gene-Seed sit there. It's a masterpiece of biological engineering; it would be a sin to let it go to waste."
I swallowed the last of the sandwich, washed my hands with surgical precision, and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. The Gene-Seed shimmered under the lab lights as I prepped my instruments.
"Let's see what makes you tick," I whispered. I leaned in, scanning the genetic markers and the dense, artificial cellular structures. A dry laugh escaped my lips.
"Whoever designed this must have had a serious fetish for biomancy. This isn't just science; it's an obsession."
Somewhere on Holy Terra...
"Atchoo!"
The Emperor of Mankind blinked, the sound of his sneeze echoing through the vast, gilded chambers of the Sanctum Imperialis.
"Are you well, my Lord?" a Custodian asked, his golden armor clanking softly as he stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of his guardian spear.
"No, no... I am fine," the Master of Mankind replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I simply felt a sudden ripple in the Warp. As if someone, somewhere, was making a very specific reference to me."
The Custodian tilted his helm. "I do not follow, my Lord."
"Don't worry about it," the Emperor sighed, staring into the flickering light of the Golden Throne.
"It's probably just the Eldar being dramatic again."
Back in the Lab
"Well... regardless of the creator's eccentricities," I said, scribbling notes onto a digital pad, "this 'Gene-Seed' is terrifying. It can turn a baseline human into a literal demigod. But the process? Nightmare fuel. I'd need a dozen extra organs and a surgical suite that doesn't exist yet. This goes on the 'maybe later' shelf."
I pushed the biological wonder aside and turned my focus back to the primary issue: The Power Source.
I needed a core. Something compact, something potent, and something that wouldn't explode if I sneezed on it. I opened the System interface and spent five minutes scrolling through the blueprints. Finally, three candidates blinked on the HUD.
The Candidates
[Arc Reactor: Compact, proven tech, relatively easy to stabilize.]
[Camera Titan Core: High output, offensive capabilities, energy redirection.]
[Mini-Sun Generator: Virtually infinite power (100x more than the others).]
I pulled out a physical notebook, preferring the feel of a pen for my final pros and cons list.
"The Arc Reactor is the classic choice," I mused, tapping the pen against my chin.
"It fits anywhere. But it's fuel-dependent, runs incredibly hot, and the energy ceiling is actually quite low for what I have planned."
I moved my gaze to the second option.
"The Camera Titan Core is... tempting. It's a battery and a weapon in one. Blue fire energy, energy absorption it's perfect for a frontline use. But if I use the offensive systems, the drain is massive. I'd be constantly managing the thermal load."
Then, there was the final option. I stared at the Mini-Sun blueprint for a long time.
"One advantage: infinite power. One disadvantage: if the containment field flickers, the entire planet becomes a second sun." I shuddered, crossing it off with a heavy black line.
I leaned back, my eyes darting between the Arc Reactor and the Titan Core. The current Wisdom Cubes were efficient for the girls, but for my independent inventions, they were lacking. I needed more "oomph."
"Arc or Titan... Titan or Arc..."
The weight of the day finally began to settle in my bones. My eyes felt like they were filled with sand, and the hum of the lab equipment was becoming a lullaby.
"Decision for tomorrow," I grumbled, switching off the main terminal. "Even a genius needs sleep."